The sound of an owl's flapping wings echoed through the air. A moment later, a series of letters with exquisite gold-plated fonts landed in Professor Sprout's hands. She glanced at them and smiled before turning to Char.
"The paper on Piranha Algae and the Light of Life Spell has been accepted," she announced. "It's scheduled for the front page of Herbalism right after the Christmas holidays. Congratulations, Char. Once it's published, your career as an herbalist will have officially begun."
Hearing her words, Char was overcome with a mix of emotions. He remembered the agony he'd gone through in his previous life just to get a single paper published for graduation. He never expected that in this new life, publishing in the wizarding world's top journal would be so effortless.
Of course, he knew the real reason for the quick approval was that the corresponding author was Professor Sprout. With titles like Master of Herbology, Head of Hufflepuff, and recipient of the Order of Merlin, she was the equivalent of a Nobel laureate in his old world—an academic titan with a powerful faction behind her. She could probably submit a blank piece of parchment and the reviewers would still treat it with the utmost respect.
But Char had no academic pride about it. What was wrong with getting a little help from his aunt? Besides, the discovery of piranha algae was truly worthy of a top journal's front page. He had just taken a shortcut through the green channel. In this life, his desire for academic fame had all but vanished. He was far more interested in the practical benefits of the experiment—the tangible resources and rewards. Being able to plant one more thing in the Hogwarts greenhouse was what truly mattered to him.
He asked Professor Sprout about the experimental plot. She gave him a helpless look. She remembered being so excited about publishing in a top journal that she couldn't sleep for a week. Yet Char, her nephew, wasn't even a little thrilled. His mind was already on his next planting project. He was truly a natural-born herbalist.
"Don't worry," she said. "I've already prepared your share of the experimental field. Once the paper is published, you'll get it."
Char breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes filled with anticipation. Now, all he had to do was level up his Pruning Spell and wait for the Margaret harvest. Once the Christmas holidays were over, he could start mass-cultivating Devil's Snare in his new plot at Hogwarts. Including the guardian tree, he would have two silver-level plants growing in batches. The thought alone made him giddy with excitement.
He immediately went back to practicing his Pruning Spell. Seeing his dedication, Sprout smiled warmly and left the greenhouse with light steps, a quiet calm settling over the Sprout home once more. The only sound was the faint buzzing of a beetle, which gradually faded away.
A moment later, in the woods outside the Sprout family home, a beetle that shouldn't have been out in this season began to transform. In the blink of an eye, it morphed into a woman with bright green clothes, a golden hair accessory, and ridiculously stiff curls. Any wizard in the journalism industry would have recognized her as Rita Skeeter, a reporter who had been making a name for herself in recent years. She was known for getting first-hand information for major news stories. In the original story, she was the one who interviewed Harry during the Triwizard Tournament and fabricated a love triangle. After Dumbledore's death, she wrote the infamous The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.
But at this time, Rita was only moderately famous, far from the powerhouse she would later become. Still, a fire of excitement burned within her.
"This is huge news!" she whispered to herself. "I was just following a professional hunch. I heard the Sprout family had a new heir and wanted to see if there was a story. I never expected to find something this explosive. Who would have thought that Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff, known for her honesty, would help her nephew with something so unethical? An eleven-year-old wizard getting published in a top herbology journal with her help. This is a full-blown academic scandal. Readers will love this—something that tears down the glamorous facade of a celebrity. It looks like tomorrow's Daily Prophet headline is already booked."
With a look of triumph, Rita Skeeter left. She had only overheard a brief conversation, but making up stories was her specialty. That short exchange was more than enough for her to weave a web of dark rumors. As for the truth? "Humph, readers just love stories of fallen angels," she thought. "They love to see celebrities who are better than them suffer a miserable fate. Reality? If newspapers were truly objective, every single one, from the Muggle world to the wizarding world, would go bankrupt!"
Meanwhile, both Professor Sprout and Char were completely unaware of the bombshell Rita Skeeter was planning. To start planting Devil's Snare as soon as the holiday ended, Char had even suspended his practical combat training. He was now focused on one thing and one thing only: practicing the Pruning Spell.
The idea had come to him in a flash of inspiration. The Devil's Snare was incredibly resistant to the Pruning Spell. Without his water-enhanced magic, he could barely leave a scratch on it. But that resistance, which made it so hard to prune, also made it the perfect practice target. The higher the resistance, the better the training. Could there be a better practice dummy? As for whether it would damage the root for future cultivation, he had a simple solution.
"I just won't use it on the magic nodes," he decided. "There are plenty of other spots for me to practice on."
Char stared at the lively Devil's Snare, his face alight with determination. He found a blank spot without any magic nodes and cast a Pruning Spell. Just like before, a faint white mark appeared, and the Devil's Snare root didn't react at all. In fact, its magical aura seemed to carry a hint of sarcasm, as if to say, "Is that all you've got? Have you even eaten today?"
Sensing the plant's disdain, Char just smiled, unfazed. He fixed his gaze on the system panel, watching the words of the Pruning Spell. His proficiency was close to the platinum level, and the qualitative leap from gold to platinum would be greater than all his previous promotions combined. That also meant it would be particularly difficult. He had spent days trimming the Margaret, and with each individual trim, he couldn't feel any noticeable change in the spell's progress. It was only through massive repetition that he had accumulated any progress at all.
But now, just one cast on the Devil's Snare, and he saw it. An extremely faint, additional platinum luster on the spell. This tiny improvement made Char incredibly excited. He looked at the Devil's Snare as if it were an amplifier.
The next moment, he licked his lips. The ash wand in his hand became a blur, waving in a continuous afterimage. One Pruning Spell after another rained down on the Devil's Snare root like a storm.
At first, the root's magic still pulsed with mockery and disdain. A Pruning Spell of this intensity, and you think you can prune me? How long can this little wizard last?
One hour passed, then two, then three. Char's hands were still a blur, his eyes just as focused as when he began. It was as if each repetition of the boring, tedious spell was a reward in itself. He was completely absorbed, unable to stop. After all, in just these few hours, his Pruning Spell had improved more than it had in the previous three days. With his proficiency skyrocketing, how could he bear to stop?
In the process, the magic emanating from the Devil's Snare root began to subtly change. The disdain and ridicule gradually turned to confusion. What is this little wizard doing? He can't even break through my resistance, so why does he keep going? Isn't he tired?
By now, the Devil's Snare root was no longer as vigorous as before. Char wasn't tired, but it was. Even if the wounds were minimal, the constant healing was draining its nutrients.
Just then, Char suddenly stopped the storm of spells. The Devil's Snare root finally got a break, its magic pulsing with relief. Good. The little wizard is finally tired. He must have given up. He won't be so unreasonable next time, right?
But then, Char took out a small bottle of potion left by Professor Sprout. It was a nutrient solution specially formulated for cultivating Devil's Snare, meant to support the growth of new forks after pruning. Noticing the root seemed tired, Char dripped a single drop onto it.
In an instant, the Devil's Snare was alive and well again, its nutrients fully restored.
The next moment, it heard Char say softly, "Rested up? Shall we continue then?"
And the violent storm of Pruning Spells began again.
The Devil's Snare root began to twist, its magic radiating pure despair. No! Can't you let me rest? What are you trying to do, little wizard? Which one of us is the devil here?
But Char turned a deaf ear to its despair. A single drop of potion restored it to its original state, so what was there to pity? Besides, there was no labor protection law for Devil's Snare. You're so young, you can't endure a little hardship? You've only been working for a few hours and you're already complaining? Your awareness is lacking. It needs to be polished. Increase the effort!
At the same time, the light of the Pruning Spell on the system panel reflected in his eyes. That touch of platinum was becoming more and more intense.
Before he knew it, night and dawn had taken their turns. The sky broke into morning, and the sun shone into the greenhouse. At that moment, the platinum light that had been stagnant for so long suddenly burst forth, brighter than the sun. Before his eyes, on the system panel, the words of the Pruning Spell blurred, then reformed.
[Pruning Spell (Platinum Level)] promoted