Bacon Flint stormed off. Char watched him go, a sense of understanding dawning on him. He now saw exactly where Marcus Flint's arrogant style at Hogwarts came from. It was true what they said: the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. It was no wonder the Malfoy family, who would even take in the likes of Crabbe and Goyle, wanted nothing to do with the Flints. Their family's way of doing things was uniquely shameful. Being listed as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight had certainly lowered the already low value of that title.
Oh, right, Char mused. The Sacred Twenty-Eight are hardly mentioned in the original stories. It seems to be a rather despicable list. He shook his head, not taking Bacon Flint's threats too seriously. He wouldn't forget them, but they weren't something to lose sleep over. Once the protective magic was completed, Bacon Flint wouldn't even be able to set foot on the island. As for other shady tricks… he wasn't underestimating the power of the Sprout family. And Snape probably wouldn't mind standing up for him, either. He didn't need to worry too much. A family that had to resort to threatening first-year students to gain benefits… one could only imagine their true situation.
His curious gaze then fell on the Ministry staff. They were holding all sorts of silvery objects engraved with strange patterns, nailing them to various locations on the island. They had clearly been at this for a long time; Sprout Island was quite large, and the steps to construct the protective magic were complex. Char looked at the objects in their hands, especially the patterns on them, a hint of strangeness in his eyes. Something to do with alchemy?
He took a closer look. The Ministry staff didn't expel him—they had heard about his close relationship with Minister Fudge—but their expressions weren't exactly friendly, either. They certainly weren't about to explain anything to him.
But soon, Char took a few gold Galleons from his pocket. "You've all come a long way," he said sincerely. "Thank you for your hard work. We in the Sprout family can't be without manners."
A few gold Galleons wasn't a lot, but split among the staff, it was a nice bonus. Under the golden light, their faces immediately became enthusiastic, and they took the initiative to introduce the items in their hands.
"It's a product of alchemy," one of them explained. "Protective magic cast with a wand has a temporary effect; its effectiveness will eventually fade over time. Only magic attached to items like these can last."
Char raised an eyebrow. "What about the Fidelius Charm? I heard that spell is very powerful. As long as the oath isn't broken, it will last forever."
The staff member looked a little surprised that a first-year wizard knew about the Fidelius Charm. He smiled. "The situation with the Fidelius Charm is different. It's not attached to an alchemical item, but to something more mysterious—the soul. However, spells involving the soul are heavily restricted and very difficult. Not many people in the wizarding world can use it." He added meaningfully, "Besides, people's hearts are fickle. The secret depends on the whim of the keeper. In my opinion, it's the most unsafe protection. How many Loyalty Curses in history have managed to remain intact and last forever?" He raised the patterned alchemical item in his hand. "At least these won't betray you."
Char showed an expression of approval. This was his idea as well. In the short term, this kind of protection was enough. He didn't need something on the level of the Fidelius Charm. As for the future, perhaps he could replace it with a more powerful protective magic.
For the sake of the gold Galleons, the staff members were obviously working harder and more seriously now. They even reworked a few alchemical items that hadn't been nailed down properly. The "soap bubble" shrouding the island became more perfect and thicker at a speed visible to the naked eye, giving one a palpable sense of security.
Finally, as darkness began to fall, the protective magic completely enveloped the entire island. The staff checked it carefully one last time, then wiped the sweat from their foreheads. "Alright. Now, those Muggle contraptions will never be discovered here. Even if a wizard were to discover it, the protective magic is enough to easily withstand all kinds of attacks. Unless dozens of wizards work together to crack it, the moment they start, the Aurors from the Ministry will be alerted and rush over. I dare say this island is one of the safest places in the wizarding world, besides Hogwarts and Gringotts."
The staff left him with something like a pass, which could record the information of people Char allowed to land on the island. The Floo Network was also connected, and making a Portkey was simple; he just had to use a simple spell to touch an object to the pass, transforming it into a single-use key to the island. Having explained all this, the staff left.
Char looked at the protected island, a look of satisfaction on his face. Now, he didn't have to worry about being discovered, and his plants would be safe from harassment. He pondered for a moment. Perhaps I can later move the Kraken to the trenches near the island. Then it will be even more foolproof. Even if the worst happens, if the final battle doesn't end as it did in the original story, I can bring my friends and family here to hide. He let out a breath. Having an island like this meant something completely different for him.
He looked out across the vast expanse of land, his face full of eagerness. If all of this were cultivated into farmland, full of various magical herbs… just thinking about it made his eyes burn. A vast world, with great potential.
But before starting to reclaim the land, he still had a few things to do. "Eugene, are you there?"
Eugene's figure cautiously emerged from a corner of the island. "Mr. Sprout, young man. Someone from the Ministry of Magic came earlier. I was afraid they'd find me. If the affair with Porgy Charlemagne is discovered, I won't even have the chance to go to Azkaban. I'll be executed immediately." He was still immersed in his fear.
"Don't worry," Char said softly. "The island is now covered in protective magic. No one can come up here without my consent." He pointed towards the island. "Do you have a favorite place here?"
Eugene was stunned, not understanding what he meant.
"You can choose a place to live on the island," Char said. "Whether you want to build a hut, a thatched cottage, or even a castle, it's up to you. This is your place."
Eugene was struck as if by lightning, his body completely frozen. The words Char had spoken… he had never even dreamed of them. "My… home?!" House-elves had always been servants in other people's homes. Could he also have his own? The impact was too great. It took him a long time to recover, and he even suspected he was dreaming until he tentatively knocked his head against the ground, leaving a large bump. He was finally convinced that everything he saw was real. His eyes filled with tears.
"Mr. Sprout, young man," he said, half-kneeling. "I will serve you with my life."
Char waved his hand. "It's just a piece of land. It's nothing compared to the help you've given me." He added, "That's right. Wait a little while, and maybe you'll meet your future neighbors." He used the pass to make a Portkey, then piloted his Nimbus 2000 towards Hogwarts.
Eugene was full of curiosity, and a little nervous. My own neighbor? Who could it be? He tried to straighten his clothes, to make himself look more presentable. But soon, when a Portkey appeared out of nowhere, and five burly figures materialized on the island, he was stunned. "This is… a troll?!"
He looked at the five giant trolls in confusion. They, in turn, looked at the island with the same expression.
Char had flown back to Hogwarts and come to where they lived. "I promised you I'd find you a wider place," he had told them. "You will have your own place to live, you will not be disturbed anymore, and you will not be forced to migrate. There will also be farmland, so you can grow your own food and have enough to eat. Now, I'm here to fulfill my promise. If you want to come with me, put your hand on this Portkey."
They had done as he said, and now they were here. A moment later, their little eyes lit up. They looked at Char. He nodded. "This is the place I was talking about. Do you like it?"
The trolls roared with obvious joy, pounding their chests. "Gronnak! Gronnak!" Their gaze, when they looked at Char, had turned into a complete frenzy. Even with their limited brain capacity, they would never forget this day. They had come from the Forbidden Forest, and for the first time, they had their own home and land.
Eugene watched the scene, the same excitement surging through him. He could feel what the trolls felt. This thing was called hope. Never in his life had he so desperately wanted to do something, for himself, for his home. He looked at Char. "Mr. Sprout, young man. What can I do?"
The trolls looked at him too. Char pointed to the fields on the island and marked off an area. "First, cultivate the fields. Once the land is cultivated, it can be sown, and crops can be grown. From now on, you will never suffer from hunger or cold again. Watch my moves." He waved his wand, and a piece of soil began to move and become loose, forming crisscrossing ridges. He picked up the dirt. "This level of looseness is about right. The distribution of the ridges should be as even as possible."
The trolls opened their eyes wide, watching with the most focused attention they had ever given him. Then, they began to act. They couldn't cast spells, of course, but a troll's brute force was more effective than a tractor. They simply used their big palms as plows, treating themselves as plowing oxen, and slowly worked their way from one end to the other, back and forth, making the soil increasingly loose. Except for the pregnant female, the other four moved tirelessly. It was too difficult for them to remember how to plan the ridges, but Eugene was very good at it. While the trolls plowed the soil, he kept snapping his fingers, his thin arms waving excitedly, as if he didn't feel tired at all. Under his "command," neatly interlaced ridges gradually took shape.
Char was not idle either. He cast a soil-loosening spell with one hand, and with the other, waved his wand, diffusing the prepared fertilizing potion into bursts of mist, pouring it into the cultivated fields. Sprout Island was a volcanic island, and no vegetation had ever grown on it. The soil, formed by volcanic ash, was extremely fertile. Combined with the potion, its fertility would be further improved. Though not as good as a greenhouse, he would not find better soil conditions in the wild.
From dusk to late night, the rumbling sound on the island never stopped. And when the first ray of dawn appeared on the horizon, a neatly tidy field of about ten acres suddenly appeared in the most central area of the island. Seeing the results of their evening's work, whether it was the trolls or Eugene, though they were exhausted, they all laughed at the same time. A happy smile also appeared on Char's face.
These ten acres of land were just the beginning, less than one-twentieth of the entire island. What if the whole island, over two hundred acres, were developed into farmland? The harvest would be unimaginably rich. Perhaps not mythical, but epic and even legendary abilities could be nurtured by this land. He took a deep breath, an unprecedented surge of emotion in his chest.
"Today is a day worth celebrating. How can there be no feast and no wine?" He returned to Hogwarts and went straight to Hagrid's Hut. Hagrid had been waiting. He looked at the place where the trolls had lived, which was now empty, and his eye sockets suddenly turned red. He gave Char a tight hug. "Really. Char, I never thought anyone would want to give trolls a home. You are a good and kind child, the kindest child I have ever met." His voice was choked with sobs.
Char patted his shoulder. "Hagrid, your mother and brother… if you don't mind, you can also bring them to my island."
Hagrid was shaking all over. This had always been a source of worry and guilt for him. He was "enjoying himself" at Hogwarts, while his mother and brother lived a precarious life in the mountains of France. But he had no choice. In this world, even a relatively normal half-giant like him was met with malice. If his mother and brother caused a disturbance, they might be executed immediately. Where could they go? But now, he saw new hope. He hugged Char and burst into tears. "Thanks. Thank you, Char. I don't know how to speak anymore, I—I—"
"Why don't you come to the island?" Char laughed. "I want to hold a celebration. Hagrid, do you have any more rock cakes, cheese, or anything like that? Oh, and bring Norbert along too. He's too naughty now, and he won't be able to hide in Hogwarts for much longer."
Hagrid nodded repeatedly. "Celebration, yes, this is indeed a day worth celebrating. All the cheese and rock pancakes! But how can we live without wine on a day like this? Wait, I'm going to the Hog's Head Inn now, I want to empty Aberforth's wine cellar!"
Soon, when Char and Hagrid appeared on Sprout Island, waves of fragrance came with them. Big chunks of cheese, freshly baked rock cakes, Hagrid's homemade sausages, and twenty barrels of butterbeer. Char, who didn't like drinking, made an exception today and picked up a bucket of butterbeer. "Cheers," he said to Hagrid, Eugene, and the trolls. "For our homeland!"
Above, Norbert, already more than a meter long, flapped his wings and flew into the air. Looking at the blue sea and sky, it celebrated its freedom, a burst of orange-red flame shooting from its mouth like fireworks. And below, Hagrid, Eugene, and the trolls were all drunk. Hagrid and a troll were even dazedly arm-wrestling to decide who would get the last sausage.
Char watched the scene quietly, a smile on his face. Just then, his eyes fell on his system panel, and he saw something he had never expected. The ritual magic of Demeter, which he had learned from Dumbledore, had always just flashed with a dull, black-iron luster. No matter how much he had chanted, his attainments in it had not improved at all. But now, a touch of bronze suddenly appeared, replacing the previous black-iron luster.
[Demeter Ritual Magic (Bronze Level)], a general upgrade
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