Perhaps if all living creatures were burned to ash, one would find that their final constituent elements were much the same. Yet while they lived, they were vastly different.
DNA caused this result; it was known as the blueprint of life.
Flowers could rely on bees for pollination, while animals had to reproduce through desire and love. That was common knowledge.
Yet there was one man who broke this natural rule. Of course, he might have been lying. If so, humanity had spent the past two thousand years celebrating a liar's birthday and even begun counting time from the year of his birth.
One person's birthday meant nothing in the vast universe, so how did humanity determine its coordinates in time and space within the cosmos?
That was not Pomona's concern.
Ron and Harry had handed the burden of thinking over to the top student, Hermione. All they had to do was follow Hermione's arrangements.
It felt relaxing not to think for herself and simply follow orders. After wrapping the presents, Pomona went to the kitchen to cook.
Since it was a birthday, there had to be a feast. Although she had only one House-elf helping her, she only needed to prepare a banquet for five people—provided Draco was willing to sit at the same table as Fiona.
She was a Muggle, but she was far better than a Werewolf. As for persuading Draco, that was Astoria's responsibility. Pomona's task was to figure out how to make a table full of delicious food that could satisfy young Master Draco's picky palate.
There was a reason Draco was thin as a rake. Who told him to be such a picky eater?
"Master, are we drinking this bottle of wine today?" Honey asked Pomona, cradling the bottle of elderflower wine that gleamed