Sylas continued his journey, the pony-drawn cart gently rolling along the well-worn dirt road.
After cresting a low hill, he spotted a cozy town nestled in a shallow valley below.
This was Longbottom.
Located in the Southfarthing of the Shire, Longbottom was renowned throughout Middle-earth for a single, celebrated export: pipe-weed.
No other town could match its reputation. Longbottom was the heart of pipe-weed cultivation and trade, its name known even beyond the borders of the Shire.
Even Gandalf the Grey, the wandering Wizard, was known to favor Longbottom Leaf above all others, often seen puffing contentedly on his pipe with a twinkle in his eye and a trail of smoke curling above his wide-brimmed hat.
As Sylas rode into town, he quickly noticed a marked difference in atmosphere.
The Hobbits here were even more relaxed than those in Hobbiton. Everywhere he looked, he saw small groups lounging in front of tidy burrow homes, pipe smoke curling lazily into the summer sky. Some waved as he passed. Others simply offered mild, curious glances before returning to their conversations or dozing in the sun.
Even the Hobbit women had pipes tucked between their lips, rocking gently in chairs as they surveyed the quiet day.
But no one questioned him. No one stopped him. Longbottom was a town that didn't hurry, and it certainly didn't fret over strangers.
The pony, sensing no urgency, ambled calmly into the town square.
As the wheels of the cart came to a slow stop in the cobbled plaza, a faint shimmer of light flashed before Sylas's eyes.
A system prompt floated gently in the air:
[Hogwarts Sign-In System: Location detected – Shire: Longbottom. Would you like to sign in?]
Sylas blinked and smiled. "Sign in."
[Sign-in successful! Congratulations. You've obtained the Herbology Year One textbook: One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi!]
He paused, surprised.
A Herbology textbook?
He had been hoping for something a little more exciting, perhaps a new spell or artifact. Something he could use to bolster his magical prowess or defend himself in battle.
Herbology, after all, was the study of magical plants. Valuable, yes, but not exactly thrilling. And more importantly, most of the flora listed in the textbook came from the magical world of Hogwarts, not Middle-earth.
He was skeptical.
Could any of the magical plants described in this book even be found here?
Still, curiosity got the better of him.
He opened the worn leather-bound cover.
To his surprise, the contents weren't dry or overly academic. Instead, the pages were filled with vivid illustrations, detailed care instructions, magical properties, and practical applications. There were tips for brewing potions, warnings about plant toxicity, and enchanting facts about how even the humblest weed could be made into something powerful.
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi wasn't just a textbook, it was a treasure trove of knowledge.
To his surprise, the Herbology textbook offered far more than he expected.
It didn't just explain how to care for magical plants, it included methods for transforming ordinary plants into magical ones.
One such example was the Essence of Dittany, a healing elixir widely used in the wizarding world. Known for its powerful regenerative properties, it was often used to seal wounds in seconds. Sylas remembered the story, when Ron Weasley suffered a splinching injury while Apparating, it was Hermione who applied Dittany to save him.
Interestingly, the plant from which this elixir was derived—Dittany—wasn't even magical to begin with. It was a common herb in the Muggle world, long known for its medicinal qualities.
What gave it magical potency wasn't the plant itself, but how it was cultivated.
According to the textbook, the distinction between an ordinary herb and a magical one often came down to how it was nurtured. Most magical plants had mundane counterparts found throughout the non-magical world. The difference was that magical herbs were imbued with magical energy, a result of specialized cultivation techniques.
There were two primary ways magical plants came into being: naturally or through artificial cultivation.
Natural magical plants were rare and typically grew in places saturated with magical energy, like the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts or the depths of ancient Elven woods.
Artificial cultivation, however, was something wizards could control. The book outlined three primary methods:
First, and most commonly, was through magical creature manure. Fertilizer made from creatures like Mooncalves, Dragons, or Hippogriffs could trigger magical mutations in otherwise normal plants. This method was traditional, accessible, and effective, if you didn't mind the smell.
Second was Potion-based cultivation. This method required brewing special nutrient-rich Potions and using them to irrigate the plants. It was fast and had a high success rate, but required knowledge of Potion-making, and the ingredients could be expensive or difficult to source.
The third method was the most unique: infusing the plants with magic directly.
A wizard could channel raw magical energy into a plant to encourage transformation. But this process was inefficient. It drained magical reserves quickly, required daily attention, and produced limited results.
Because of its demanding nature, this method had largely fallen out of use in the modern wizarding world.
However, Sylas closed the book with a thoughtful smile.
For him, this third method was perfect.
After all, if he hoped to brew Potions one day, he would need a steady supply of magical herbs, and that meant starting with cultivation.
Originally, Sylas had planned to leave Longbottom right after completing the sign-in, but the unexpected gift of the Herbology textbook had changed everything.
Longbottom was not only famous for its peaceful pace and expert farmers, but also for being the heart of pipe-weed cultivation and trade in the Shire. The legendary Longbottom Leaf was known throughout Middle-earth, favored by Dwarves, Rangers, and Wizards alike.
Even Gandalf himself was seldom seen without a wisp of smoke curling from his pipe.
With that in mind, Sylas visited a well-stocked pipe-weed shop tucked between two round-doored homes. The air inside was rich with the earthy scent of dried leaves, and jars lined every shelf like ingredients in an apothecary.
"I'll take a full pouch of Longbottom Leaf," he said, placing a few silver coins on the counter. "It's for a dear friend, Bilbo Baggins."
The shopkeeper, a plump Hobbit with thick eyebrows and a stained apron, grinned. "You've got good taste, Mister Wizard. Best blend we've got."
As the pouch was packed and sealed, Sylas leaned in casually. "By the way… do you happen to know where I might find Dittany plants?"
The shopkeeper raised a brow, clearly puzzled. "Dittany plants? That wild herb? Folk here wouldn't touch it. Can't cook it, can't smoke it. Not much use, really."
Still, he scratched his chin and pointed toward the east. "But if you're set on finding some, try the shaded valley beyond the eastern hills. Grows wild there. Damp, mossy ground, just what it likes."
Sylas offered a grateful smile. "Much appreciated."
...
By the time he rolled out of Longbottom, his carriage was notably fuller.
One side carried a carefully tied sack of Longbottom Leaf for Bilbo, while the other held two small clay pots, each cradling a freshly transplanted Dittany plants.
The little plants didn't look like much yet, just tender shoots pushing up through the dark soil. They drooped a bit, still recovering from the sudden change in habitat, but Sylas was hopeful. In time, with the right care, they might blossom into something extraordinary.
His next destination was Bywater, nestled in the Eastfarthing of the Shire. A scenic village set along the East-West Road, it sat near the banks of the Brandywine River and wasn't too far from Hobbiton itself.
But the road was long, and the journey slow.
By twilight, Sylas decided to make camp in a peaceful meadow just off the road.
At midnight, when the moon reached its peak in the sky, its silvery glow bathed the quiet countryside.
Seated by the campfire, Sylas gently pinched the tender shoot of the Dittany plant and began channeling magic into it, letting the energy flow steadily from his fingertips into the soil.
According to the Herbology textbook, this method of cultivation was precise: every night at the peak of the moon's light, the herb needed to be "watered" with magic. This ritual had to continue each night until the plant reached full maturity, at which point, it could be harvested and refined into Dittany potion.
Remarkably, the book had noted this was one of the few potions that could be made without a wand or a cauldron.
After several minutes of magical irrigation, the sprout perked up. Its leaves no longer drooped, and the green had deepened. It wasn't much, but Sylas could feel it, a flicker of life, as if the plant had taken its first breath.
Still, he knew this was only the beginning.
For the next few months, he would need to repeat the same process night after night. It would be long, slow work.
No wonder, he thought, so few wizards pursued this method. Compared to fertilizing with Mooncalf dung or enriching soil with Potion runoff, infusing a single herb with personal magic was both time-consuming and inefficient.
In the wizarding world, magical farms measured their herb yields by the acre.
Trying to cultivate them one plant at a time, by hand and magic alone, was like trying to boil an ocean with a candle.
But Sylas had no wand, no greenhouses, and no assistants. This quiet, meticulous way, this was the only path he had.
By dawn, the carriage wheels clattered across the bridge into Bywater, the sky still tinged with shades of lavender and gold.
The village lay along the Brandywine River, nestled where water transport was easy and well-used. Barges floated lazily on the currents, ferrying goods, and occasionally people across to the opposite banks near the Eastfarthing and the lands beyond.
Having traveled through the night, Sylas was exhausted.
He headed straight for the Floating Log Inn, a quaint landmark built partially on the water, its stilts rising from the riverbed like an old wooden dock house. As its name suggested, the inn bobbed ever so gently with the ripples of the Brandywine.
As he stepped into the cozy front hall, the familiar shimmer of light greeted his vision.
[Hogwarts Sign-In System: Location Detected, Shire, Bywater — Floating Log Inn. Would you like to sign in?]
Sylas let out a small sigh and nodded. "Sign in."
[Sign-in successful! Congratulations, you've received the first-year Potions textbook: Magical Draughts and Potions!]
He raised a brow, took the book from his satchel, and flipped through it briefly.
Then he closed it.
It wasn't that he was disappointed. The book was undoubtedly valuable, containing formulas, ingredient combinations, and secrets passed down from master brewers, but it was a bit like receiving a gourmet recipe with no kitchen to cook it in.
After all, making Potions wasn't just a matter of tossing ingredients into a pot and stirring.
The final transformation required precise magical control, and most critically, a wand to channel it.
Without a wand, even with the rarest ingredients and the finest cauldron, the result would be nothing more than a foul-smelling, poisonous sludge.
Sylas sighed as he looked out the window. His two Dittany plant sprouts now sat peacefully on the windowsill, basking in the soft morning light.
If he ever hoped to brew real Potions, powerful ones, he'd need a proper wand. But crafting a wand was no simple feat.
He couldn't just shove a basilisk nerve into a birch branch and expect results. If it were that easy, the Ollivander family wouldn't have held a thousand-year monopoly over wandmaking in Britain.