The strange changes in the small silver bucket surprised Char. This mysterious object, suspected to be the legendary Demeter's silver cup, had been silent for so long, and was still damaged. It had only been activated once, with great difficulty, using the Demeter ritual. What could be causing this abnormality now?
He took out his wand and tapped it carefully. The sound was not pleasant, but it was definitely not as dull as before, and it echoed faintly in the small greenhouse. A strange color flashed across Char's eyes. Just the day before, the bucket had definitely not recovered to this extent. It felt as if more than half a month had passed. What had caused this change? Countless images flashed through his mind, finally settling on the admiring gazes of the trolls.
Could it be… worship? Or rather, faith? Char was filled with uncertainty, but when he considered that the bucket was likely a product of the Olympian era, the conjecture seemed more reasonable. According to the legend Dumbledore had shared with him, the powerful wizards of that era were revered as gods by Muggles. They had gathered on Mount Olympus and held grand celebrations, and countless Muggles had vied to offer their worship. It was the era when wizards had the greatest influence on the world. To compete for the Muggles' offerings, many wizards had even started wars. This had puzzled Char at the time. If there were no gods on Mount Olympus, only powerful wizards, what value could Muggle offerings have for those who could refine any alchemical item they desired?
Could it be that what they were fighting for was actually faith? So today, when I received the fanatical worship from the hearts of these trolls, the Silver Cup of Demeter also absorbed some power from it, and thus sped up its recovery? Is there some connection between faith and wizards? Char's eyes showed deep thought.
The wizards of the Olympus era, as depicted in the myths, were superior to any wizard of today. Both Dumbledore and Voldemort paled in comparison to the top wizards of that time. But that didn't make sense. So many years had passed; magical theory had developed from generation to generation. There was no reason why modern wizards should not be better than their ancient counterparts. And yet, after the Age of Olympus, the power of wizards seemed to decline drastically. What was the key?
Could it be faith? Before that era, wizards were worshipped as gods by Muggles. After, things took a turn for the worse. By the Middle Ages, wizards had become a target of public condemnation, burned at the stake. And now, they were almost completely forgotten by the Muggle world. Wizards no longer had the faith of Muggles; faith only arose from within their own community. The enthusiasm many had for Dumbledore could be considered a vague belief. The fear of Voldemort, to the point of not even daring to mention his name, was also a kind of belief. It was the same when Grindelwald was at the height of his power. Even Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the savior, was a belief in the hearts of many people.
A flash of lightning went through his mind. He seemed to have figured some things out. In the original story, when Voldemort first returned, he was at the height of his power, and the wizarding world's fear of him was at its peak. He was even stronger then. And by the time of the final battle, Harry was able to deflect Voldemort's curse, not only because he was the true master of the Elder Wand, but perhaps also because Harry at that time was the hope of the entire wizarding world. The admiration and expectations for him had reached an unprecedented peak. On the other hand, Voldemort's situation had become precarious, and the fear he inspired was challenged again and again. Could that also be a factor?
Although there was no relevant theory to prove it, as he looked at the Silver Cup of Demeter, he felt that he was on the right track. Faith itself must have some kind of mysterious power. This gave him an idea. How about I try to get more faith? Given his current popularity within the school, he just needed to lay the groundwork for a while longer, and then, with a loud cry… Dumbledore would probably come after him with the Elder Wand.
He gave a wry smile and decisively shook his head. To think that he could achieve such a thing at Hogwarts was just a dream. As for the wider magical world? He still didn't think he had what it took to compete with Harry. And the Muggle world was out of the question; the International Statute of Secrecy was not to be trifled with.
Besides, the human heart is unpredictable. Char never assumed the worst of others, but human nature was complex. Even the wizards of the Olympian era had faced betrayal from their followers. He didn't have the ability to win people's loyalty like Dumbledore or Voldemort. To put himself in danger for some uncertain benefit was a big risk.
On the contrary, in his opinion, gaining faith from the trolls might be possible. Trolls are stupid, of course. But they don't know what betrayal is. If you treat them well and provide them with a home, they will repay you with gratitude and worship. He remembered a saying: The more people I meet, the more I like trolls. He would move the troll tribe from the Forbidden Forest to the island. Perhaps he could gain some faith from them and further test its effect. And there were the house-elves; he could try to get them on his side as well.
But now, he cleared his mind of these thoughts, the root of everything is land reclamation. These things can only be done gradually after the protective magic is established and the land is cultivated. To focus my energy on chasing these things before I get my work done is to miss the point. I might end up losing the watermelon while picking up the sesame seeds.
He took a deep breath. His sight fell on the Cinderis Fern spore again. Before he went to reclaim the land, he had to rescue this dying spore. The reward for it was something he was very envious of, and the value of the fern itself was extremely high. He couldn't miss this opportunity. But its situation was beyond what he could handle. His aunt still had to take action.
He hurried to Professor Sprout's office with the spore. As soon as he came in, he heard her rather annoyed voice. "Char. I heard from Madam Pomfrey that you and Tonks had some trouble at sea? Tonks was taken to the infirmary before. What kind of trouble could make a trainee Auror faint?"
Char opened his mouth to speak, but his aunt snorted. "Don't tell me Tonks really hit the rocks. I taught her for seven years, and I know her character very well. She looks rebellious, but she's actually very reliable. She would never make such a stupid mistake."
He scratched his head. "It was Porgy Charlemagne."
The moment she heard the name, Professor Sprout stood up suddenly, a cold light flashing in her eyes. "That shameless guy! How dare he follow you? I'll kill him!"
Looking at the murderous expression on his aunt's face, Char shuddered. "Tonks has already taken care of him," he said quickly. "He's already where he should be."
Her murderous aura finally subsided a little. "Azkaban? Hmph. He got off easy."
Azkaban is on an island, anyway, Char thought silently. And Porgy Charlemagne also died on an island. Rounding it off, that's about right. He didn't want to tell her the whole truth and make her worry. He quickly took out the Cinderis Fern spore. "Let's not talk about scum like Porgy Charlemagne. Aunt, I also found this when I went out to sea this time."
Professor Sprout saw the spore, and a fiery light suddenly burst out in her eyes. Even her voice was trembling a little. "This is… Merlin, is this a spore of a Cinderis Fern?!" She looked as if she had seen some rare treasure. But when she saw the state of the spore, she was heartbroken. "What a shame, what a pity. This fern was almost ripe. But in the end, it still failed, leaving only a single spore." She immediately described the state of the fern when Char had discovered it, and he was once again amazed by her mastery of Herbology.
"Aunt, is it possible to re-cultivate this spore?" he asked.
She found a thick book and read through it. After a long time, she reached a conclusion. "There should still be hope. We just have to put it through the post-eruption conditions again. With some potions, it might be able to come back to life. I've heard that a prophet predicted that a volcano would erupt this summer vacation. Many people, especially those herbalists who have spent their entire lives searching for the Cinderis Fern, want to seize this opportunity. We can go there. If the volcano really erupts, perhaps this spore can be revived."
She couldn't wait, asking Char to keep the spore. She would deal with it with the utmost care to preserve the little life that was left. Char, seeing this, tactfully left the spore behind.
As he was leaving her office, he still felt that something was off. Why was she so excited? he wondered. Is it my imagination, or was her excitement more than just because she saw a rare plant? He shook his head. It was just a spore. Even if his aunt really wanted it, so what? He always believed that she would not do anything bad to him.
In Professor Sprout's office, she clenched her fists, her eyes filled with a deep longing. The Cinderis Fern. This is also a material for a talent-enhancing potion. The Perfect Margaret, the Cinderis Fern, and the Phoenix tears Dumbledore promised me… I've gathered the ingredients for three talent-enhancing potions. She couldn't calm down. Almost there, almost there. Give me another two or three years at most, and I will definitely be able to collect all the materials. Talent will never become a cage that traps my Char. I'll crush it to pieces, at all costs!
Char returned to his small greenhouse. With the Cinderis Fern spore in his aunt's care, he no longer had to worry about it. Now, he could concentrate on reclaiming the land. Just as he was thinking about the various matters related to the task, words appeared on the parchment again. It was Voldemort.
Since he had last heard from Char about the heavily guarded island, the more Voldemort thought about it, the more he felt that the Philosopher's Stone was most likely there. The levels at Hogwarts were just bait, a trap. Dumbledore, that sinister old bee, is always so despicable! he fumed. But this time, I was more skilled. He could never have imagined that I had secretly won over Char. His plan is already clear to me! The more this happened, the more urgent his desire to obtain the Philosopher's Stone became. He had had enough of living off Quirrell. He couldn't wait to get the stone and reshape his body.
He couldn't help but urge Char. "Junior, when do we leave for the island?"
A strange look flashed in Char's eyes. Of course, he couldn't be so anxious to go to Drya Island with Voldemort. The Quintapeds were weird, and the ancient black magic that shrouded the island was the ancestor of many modern techniques. The dangers were not limited to the Quintapeds; there was also the two-faced man himself. Char would never act rashly without thorough preparations.
He had already thought of a reason to hold Voldemort back. He wrote on the parchment, "Senior, I know you're anxious. But don't rush. That island is very well protected. I don't know what kind of protection measures are included in the protective magic. There's only one chance to get in, so we have to find out everything. I plan to find an island during this period. On the surface, I'm going to reclaim land there, but in reality, I'm going to take it step by step and find out the defenses of that island. When I've finished my investigation, I'll draw their fire for you, Senior. You can take this opportunity to see what's hidden inside."
Even Voldemort couldn't find anything wrong with the explanation. It was a very careful arrangement. In comparison, Quirrell's previous operation to break through the levels at Hogwarts was quite crude. With Char, Voldemort sighed sincerely, it's like adding wings to a tiger. If only every Death Eater could be as secretive as him. Why worry about not accomplishing my great cause? He valued Char more and more. A young wizard, so talented in dark magic, and so thoughtful at such a young age. He was indeed a rare find. He readily agreed to the arrangement, and they agreed not to contact each other until Char was ready.
As the words on the parchment faded away, Char breathed a sigh of relief. But his nerves were tense again. The next period of time will be a rare time without interruptions. But there's no room for waste. Voldemort can't take much longer. I not only need to cultivate the land before then, but also prepare to plant the Pute fruit and Chalati grass. I also need to be fully prepared to land on Drya Island. If possible, it would be best if I could trick Voldemort again so that he has no time to bother me. But what should I do?
His current magical strength was severely limited by his magical perception. It would be difficult to make further progress in a short period of time. There were only two ways to improve his strength now. One was to continue to improve his Legendary Power and Legendary Talent. But the new batch of Blood Jade was not yet mature. To improve, he would have to rely on external forces to temper himself. The effect of the trolls' hammering was already very small. Only tempering with the Kraken would bring significant results. But the creature had run away last time; who knew where it was hiding in the vast ocean? The second way was to gain external forces from allies. But who in the wizarding world would form an alliance with a first-year student to face a monster as notorious as the Quintaped, and possibly even go against Voldemort?
He shook his head. It seemed difficult to make significant progress on either path in the short term. He felt a little depressed. But a moment later, he calmed down. He once again came to the volcanic island he had named Sprout Island. If there were no clues on other aspects, he wouldn't waste his time. He would farm. Maybe a change of scenery would free up his mind and he could think of other ways.
He waved his wand. Blast after blast of loosening spells fell, loosening the ground. Although his magical attainments and power were no longer what they used to be, and the range of the spell had been greatly increased, it was still quite small compared to the size of the island. Just loosening the soil was enough to keep him busy for a while. But he didn't seem to mind. He enjoyed it. After all, the land he cultivated now would provide him with rich returns in the future.
A night passed. The sky gradually brightened. And while Char was still working tirelessly on the farm, there was a loud bang of Apparition. The figure of a house-elf appeared before him. It was Eugene, the former Charlemagne elf. Seeing Char farming with his own hands, even after having reclaimed a large piece of farmland, a strange look appeared in Eugene's eyes. He knew the status of the Sprout family. The Charlemagne family was nothing in comparison. Char was the only heir, his status so noble that it was rare even in Slytherin. But Eugene couldn't believe it. Such a noble person actually did labor? He had also witnessed Char's magical power, a dimensionality reduction attack among his peers. He looked at Char with more awe in his eyes. The Honorable Mr. Sprout, he thought. He will definitely become a great wizard in the future.
A hint of desire emerged in his bulging eyes. He did not want to suffer the same fate as before, being tortured by villains like Porgy Charlemagne. As a house-elf, he had no power of choice. But if he could take refuge under Char's wings, maybe he could live a different life.
He had already made his decision. Without the slightest hesitation, he came to Char. He took out a package. "The Honorable Mr. Sprout. This is the treasure I stole from the Charlemagne house. I thought there might be something in here you could use. Besides…" He took out from his arms the piccolo that Porgy had used to summon the Kraken. "Last time, I hurriedly sent my former master to that island. His piccolo was not sent in, but fell into the sea. I got it back."
Char looked at Eugene, his heart moved. He felt a little relieved. He was glad he had let the house-elf go. Otherwise, even if he knew that Porgy was dead, he would never have known where he kept all his treasures. Porgy was certainly a rogue, but his reputation was the result of years of accumulation. The things in the package were definitely of great value. But for Char, the most important thing was the piccolo, whose effectiveness he had seen.
His eyes lit up. The thing that had been bothering him before, how to increase his strength in a short period of time… in that moment, he had a clue.