Watching the faint but definite change in his legendary vitality, Char felt a surge of excitement and awe ripple through his heart.
When he'd first managed to enhance his vitality to the legendary level, he'd wondered if it was possible to push it even further—to reach the mythical tier. Yet, no matter how many rewards he accumulated, no matter how hard he pushed himself, that next step always seemed impossibly far away. Several rounds of reward harvesting had failed to bring about any change in his legendary life. Over the years, Char had simply grown used to it, focusing on accumulating other abilities instead.
But now—after plunging from the sky at breakneck speed—he saw the legendary life ability brighten, if only by a tiny fraction. Even the smallest improvement was something that hadn't happened in years.
Char's mind quickly seized on a possibility. "Could it be that moving from Legend to Myth isn't just about accumulating rewards? Maybe some external conditions are needed as well. Maybe, for a legendary being to ascend to the mythical level, they must be impacted, injured, or tempered by the outside world?"
A sense of enlightenment washed over him. He thought of the myths and legends he'd read as a child—heroes who'd endured impossible trials. Odin in Norse mythology had given up an eye for runic wisdom. Hercules had survived twelve impossible labors before earning his place among the gods. Perhaps, Char realized, his own legendary abilities would only reach the mythical level through similar external tempering.
Looking at the slightly brighter legendary life ability, Char couldn't help but laugh out loud. The road is long, but if you keep moving forward, you'll get there. As long as it's possible, Char would never give up.
He was still grinning when a thunderous roar echoed across the Quidditch field. "Char Sprout! What have you done?!"
The sound made Char freeze. His heart skipped a beat. Aunt Sprout was here. And from the tone of her voice, she was furious.
Danger!
A few minutes earlier, in the headmaster's office, Dumbledore had been discussing the Philosopher's Stone's protection with Professor Sprout.
"This magical plant, Devil's Snare, is a bit dangerous," Dumbledore mused. "If a first-year doesn't know its weakness, they're helpless. Pomona, even though this isn't first-year Herbology material, you'll need to find a way to teach them about Devil's Snare's weakness this term."
Professor Sprout eyed Dumbledore skeptically. "I really don't understand you, Albus. You're old, but you still treat everything like a game. If you have time for this, how about increasing the Herbology budget? Or allocating more funds for greenhouse renovations? I'd like to expand the greenhouses, you know."
Dumbledore only chuckled and offered vague promises about future funding.
Sprout gave him a frosty look, then her tone grew serious. "Headmaster, I have a request."
Dumbledore's demeanor shifted as well. "What is it, Pomona? We're old friends. You don't need to beg me for anything."
Sprout pressed on. "Have you heard of the legendary talent-enhancing potion?"
Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "You mean the potion that's said to improve innate magical talent? But Pomona, most of the ingredients are extinct."
Sprout's voice was resolute. "I'll gather them, one by one. As long as there's hope, I'll keep searching. Dumbledore, can Phoenix Tears help?"
Dumbledore glanced at Fawkes, his loyal phoenix. He nodded. "Of course. Char is a hardworking boy, and the students love him. If it can help, I'll support it as headmaster. Fawkes is preparing for his next rebirth—maybe next year, Pomona. You might get fresh Phoenix Tears then."
Sprout's face softened in gratitude. She mentally tallied her progress. "Perfect Margarita… Phoenix Tears… We're almost there. I'll make that potion for Char if it's the last thing I do."
She turned to look out the window—just in time to see a black dot spiraling down from the sky. Even at a distance, she recognized Char instantly.
That's why she came storming onto the Quidditch field, her voice like a whipcrack.
Now, Professor Sprout looked like a force of nature as she marched across the pitch. Her rapid-fire scolding made the Gryffindor lions quake in their boots. They'd thought Professor McGonagall was scary when angry, but Sprout was on another level.
Char hung his head. "Aunt… I'm fine, really. I know I was wrong."
Sprout glared at him. "Do you? I don't think you do. Would you dare do it again next time?"
She took a deep breath, her anger mingling with worry. "Merlin above, if anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself. So, Char, you need to be punished—severely. I'll make sure you never forget this day!"
The Gryffindors nearby swallowed nervously. Was this going to be the legendary "biting kale stool" punishment? That was supposedly so brutal it had been banned for centuries.
Char braced himself for the worst. He knew Sprout's anger came from love. Whatever punishment she chose, he'd accept it—whether it was extra chores, solitary confinement, or something else. For him, these punishments were nothing.
But Sprout had something different in mind. "Char, I know ordinary punishments won't work on you. I won't make you clean trophies or do extra work in the greenhouses—that would just be rewarding you! No, for the next seven days, the greenhouses are closed to you. You're not allowed to work. And I'll warn Professor Snape—if he tries to get you to handle potion materials, he'll never get another herb from me!"
She fixed him with a stern look. "Oh, and I almost forgot. You'll also hand over all your textbooks. No studying—just reflect on your mistakes!"
Harry and the others looked dumbfounded.
No work? No studying? That was a punishment? They'd gladly take that for a month!
Char, however, was devastated. "What?! Aunt, you can't! That's too cruel! I protest! I want to work, I want to study! If I can't work, what's the point of life? If I can't study, my world is empty. Can't we negotiate? Just one day? Three days?"
But Sprout was unmoved. "Seven days. Not a day less. Now, hand over your textbooks."
With a heavy heart, Char slowly pulled out his textbooks—Charms, Herbology, and more. "Can I at least keep History of Magic, Aunt? Please?"
Sprout shook her head. "Hand it over. And don't try to hide anything."
Char hesitated, then reluctantly produced his copy of "Succubus Queen and Dragon Maid," his heart pounding. He didn't want her to discover the Sharp Edge Spell hidden inside.
But Sprout just glanced at the cover, her expression softening. "Good. Finally, a decent book. You can keep that one. Read it carefully. I'll return the others in a week. Until then, reflect on yourself!"
With that, she turned and left, though Char caught a hint of a smile on her lips. "The child's finally coming to his senses," she thought. "Maybe the Sprout family will have more branches and leaves after all."
Char let out a long sigh of relief. That was close. At least he'd managed to keep the Half-Blood Prince's textbook hidden. Still, the thought of an entire week without work or study filled him with gloom. How would he survive?
Just then, Harry approached, envy clear on his face. "Char, you're so lucky! That's the best punishment ever!"
Char could only stare back, despairing. "Harry, I really want to work and study. Really."
Harry's eyes lit up with an idea. "Char, Hagrid's looking for help. He's wanted to invite you over for ages. Would you be interested in a job with him?"
Char's spirits lifted instantly. Hagrid wanted to see him? If he remembered right, Hagrid had taken the troll back to the Forbidden Forest after the Halloween incident. Maybe this was his chance to encounter the troll again—and experiment with using it to speed up the cultivation of goldfish spider plants. The goldfish plant wasn't grown in the greenhouse, after all.
And, thinking ahead, Char remembered that Hagrid would soon get a dragon egg. If Char wanted to cultivate blood emeralds, he'd need the blood of powerful magical creatures. A dragon would be perfect.
If he could cultivate blood jade on a large scale, the reward for blood-forming capacity would stack with his legendary life. And now that he knew legendary life required external tempering, maybe he could make even greater progress.
He looked at Harry, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Harry, you've been a great help!"
Harry grinned, encouraged. "So, would you reconsider what I asked last time? Just as a thank you?"
Char hesitated only a moment, then shook his head. "Goodbye, Harry. See you later. I appreciate your kindness, but I'm not getting involved in Dumbledore's savior games."
But as he walked away, Char turned back and whispered, "In the Potions classroom on the third floor, third locker from the left, there's a book called 'Advanced Potion Making.' The cover says 'Succubus Queen and Dragon Maid.' Harry, am I being nice?"
If you'd like even more expansion or a particular focus, just let me know!