It wasn't until an owl-delivered letter arrived that Char realized another week had slipped by.
"Has it really been a week already?" he murmured, momentarily stunned by how quickly time was passing.
His eyes instinctively flickered to his system panel. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face as he saw the changes.
"This week has not been wasted."
The word [Transfiguration] was now almost completely covered in a bronze luster, just one small step away from a full promotion. That was the result of a week spent observing Shadow's magic and attending daily Q&A sessions with Professor McGonagall. Under her systematic guidance, his understanding of both Gamp's and Tolman's Transfiguration had progressed in leaps and bounds. With a little more accumulation, or another harvest of Goldfish Plants to boost his magical perception, the final push to the bronze level would be easy.
"Just as Professor McGonagall said," he thought, "with this foundation, I can learn many advanced spells ahead of time. I'll be able to master them far more quickly than before." This meant that his entire spell system could be significantly expanded in a short period. New spells might not start at the Iron level anymore; it was possible they could start at bronze or even silver right from the beginning. The thought filled him with anticipation.
He then looked at his other spells, and a flicker of disappointment tempered his excitement. His understanding of magic at the microscopic level was deepening, so logically, his platinum-level spells should have improved as well. But their platinum luster seemed solidified, almost unchanged.
"It seems my understanding of magic is outstripping my ability to apply it," he sighed. "My magic perception isn't strong enough yet." He hoped that a few more batches of Goldfish Spider Plants would help. In the worst-case scenario, these spells wouldn't see another qualitative improvement until his [Magic Perception Enhancement] finally reached the platinum level.
But he didn't dwell on it. With Transfiguration as his current growth point, his overall magical level was still developing. He could think of his other spells as accumulating strength, waiting for the right moment to explode.
He also glanced at his [Legendary Power] and [Legendary Life] abilities. Their luster was a little richer than before. It was a small change, but in practice, the difference was significant. He felt a vigorous vitality humming within him, a raw power surging from his very flesh and blood. When he clashed with the trolls now, he was barely pushed back, the jarring recoil and numbness in his arms much milder than before.
A wave of emotion washed over him. "Just this slight improvement makes such a significant difference. It shows how vast the gap is between the legendary and mythical levels. To say it's a world of difference is no exaggeration."
He calculated the time. "The dragon egg should be hatching soon. Then I can try to cultivate Blood Jade in large quantities. The blood-forming capacity it brings might create even more changes in these two legendary abilities."
His thoughts finally settled, and he opened the letter. It was from Cedric Diggory.
"Char, I know you've been busy, but I have to remind you—remember the match against Slytherin is tomorrow, right? We've already beaten Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. If we beat Slytherin, we'll secure a spot in the finals. We'll be one step away from the Quidditch Cup. Hufflepuff hasn't made it to the finals in years, Char. We're making history!"
Looking at Cedric's passionate handwriting, Char scratched his head in embarrassment. If Cedric hadn't reminded him, he, the tactical core of the Hufflepuff team, would have completely forgotten about the game.
He took a deep breath, his expression turning serious. He had come this far. For Professor Sprout, for his teammates, for all the students who had supported him so unconditionally, he would win that Quidditch Cup. Not even the Chosen One himself could stop him.
"I won't be busy today," he decided. "I'll treat it as a day off. Let's go to Quidditch practice."
He returned to the castle and immediately sensed the electric atmosphere. The entire school was focused on tomorrow's "semi-final." For Hufflepuff, a win would break a finals drought that had lasted for over a decade. The significance was immense. The Hufflepuffs were buzzing, all of them wearing badges that showed a glittering, animated badger with a venomous snake in its claws, about to take a bite. The text on the badge read: "THE SNAKE EATERS."
The Slytherins, in turn, were just as fired up. A win for Hufflepuff would mean a historic failure for them. They had already lost to Gryffindor; another loss would knock them out of the running for the finals, a humiliation their house hadn't suffered in over ten years. No one wanted to be carved on that pillar of shame.
The hostility between the two houses was even more intense than their rivalry with Gryffindor. Whenever students from the two houses met in the corridors, the air crackled with tension. Char, as the core of the Hufflepuff team, felt it acutely. Every Slytherin he passed glared at him with cold, resentful eyes. If not for the terrifying power he had already displayed, he had no doubt some of the more unscrupulous snakes would already be planning a pre-game hex.
Just as he was about to reach the Quidditch pitch, three familiar figures appeared, lurking suspiciously nearby. It was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.
Char frowned. "This is the Hufflepuff practice area. What are you doing here? Scouting for information?"
His mocking tone made Malfoy's face flush with anger. "Information? Who needs information on your pathetic house? Do you really think you're invincible?" Malfoy seemed to have found some new source of confidence. "You'll find out tomorrow," he sneered. "Your little tricks won't work anymore. Victory belongs to Slytherin!"
He turned to leave, but after only a few steps, the memories of his past humiliations at Char's hands seemed to bubble up. He spun back around. "And it's not just the victory we'll be taking from you tomorrow! You won't be keeping that little greenhouse you got through your connections, either. And your aunt's job might be lost, too!"
Char, who had been about to walk away, stopped dead, his brow furrowed. "What did you say?"
Seeing he had finally gotten Char's attention, a malicious glee spread across Malfoy's face. "You think no one can hold you and your aunt accountable for your little schemes? I heard everything. You didn't meet the criteria for the greenhouse; your aunt pulled strings for you. Well, now the school board is going to investigate. You won't be able to hide it. And it's not just you. The other professors are going to be implicated as well."
Malfoy puffed out his chest, his voice full of pride. "I told you before, my father is a school governor. He's coming to the castle tomorrow with the review board. Just you wait. Tomorrow will definitely not be a good day for you!"
Finished with his tirade, Malfoy looked smug. But he also seemed to fear that Char might snap and attack him. He quickly turned and scurried away, leaving Crabbe and Goyle grinning foolishly in his wake.
Char didn't move. He remembered the meeting his aunt had attended early that morning, how she had come back looking so depressed and angry. Now it all made sense. He thought about how little he had seen her recently, about the thick piles of materials in her office. He thought about the weariness on Professor McGonagall's face during their Q&A sessions, her office also piled high with similar documents. All the professors had seemed exhausted lately.
"So that's it," he murmured, a coldness spreading through him. "They're all busy preparing for this so-called review board." The thought of the stress on his aunt's face made the coldness harden into a sharp, cutting anger. If they wanted to mess with him, fine. But to target his aunt, to implicate the other professors who had helped him… that, he could not stand.
But how to fight back?
His mind churning, he walked onto the Quidditch pitch. The moment he appeared, even Cedric and the other players could feel the rage radiating from him.
"What's wrong, Char?" Cedric asked, quickly dismounting from his broom. "What did those dastardly Slytherins do to you?"
Char shook his head and repeated what Malfoy had just said. "I'm trying to figure out how to respond."
Cedric's eyes lit up. "Like you did at the Ministry hearing? Give them an unforgettable memory?" He looked at Char, who was still lost in thought, and then he spoke, his voice suddenly serious. "Char, it's actually very simple."
Char looked up, confused.
Cedric patted his broom, his eyes shining. "The Malfoy family and the rest of the board are almost all Slytherin supporters. They're coming tomorrow, so they'll definitely be at the game. Let's give Slytherin an absolute bloodbath in front of them. Not only will we make our history, but we'll nail them to their own pillar of shame!"
The words sparked an idea in Char's mind. Of course, he couldn't directly attack the school board. But for the fans… was there any torture worse than watching your own team be utterly, hopelessly slaughtered?
"Cedric," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "let me confirm one more rule. The game doesn't end until the Golden Snitch is caught, right?"
Cedric paused, not understanding why Char would ask such a basic question. Then, a moment later, his eyes went wide with dawning horror and delight. "Merlin's beard… Char, you don't mean to…"
Char grinned, a cold, sharp smile that didn't reach his eyes. He nodded. "They shouldn't have messed with my friends and my family. Since they've provoked me, they have to be prepared for the consequences. A small revenge, to make sure they never forget."
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