Outside the room, Lucius Malfoy paced, his anxiety a palpable force in the corridor. He kept glancing at the closed door, hesitating, his knuckles white with the urge to knock. After all, Char had been secluded in that room for three full days with almost no sound emerging from within. A part of him, the part that had invested heavily in the young man, feared some magical experiment had gone terribly wrong.
Just as his worry reached its peak, the door swung open.
A familiar figure stepped out, and Lucius finally let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. A relieved smile touched his lips as he looked at Char, ready to speak.
But the next second, his expression froze and the color drained from his face. An aura, sharp as a newly drawn sword and tinged with the metallic scent of blood, washed over him. The sheer intensity of it made Lucius feel as if he were facing the most vicious of Death Eaters. He instinctively stumbled back two steps before finding his footing.
Seeing Lucius's reaction, Char realized the bloody battles from his time in the illusion must have left a lingering mark. The murderous aura hadn't fully dissipated.
With a hint of apology in his expression, Char spoke. "My apologies, Mr. Malfoy. I've been a bit absorbed in studying swordsmanship these past few days."
Lucius wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead, forcing a brittle smile. "It's quite alright, quite alright."
Internally, however, a storm of speculation was raging. He didn't believe for a second that Char was merely 'studying swordsmanship'. Could one acquire such a deadly presence just from reading a parchment? Lucius himself had delved into the Dark Arts, yet he didn't radiate such a chilling menace.
His mind raced, connecting disparate threads. *He says he was in the room, but what if he wasn't? What if he left Malfoy Manor entirely? Could he have been out there… fighting?* A thought struck him like lightning. *Old Borgin…*
"Yes," he muttered to himself, "that must be it. Knowing Borgin's character, it's impossible he would let his business be taken without any reaction. Those other dark wizards who crossed Char vanished without a trace, yet Borgin has been completely silent. There must have been a fierce, private confrontation, and old Borgin was forced to yield!"
Having constructed this narrative in his mind, Lucius's awe for Char deepened. So young, yet so unfathomable. He had the makings of a Dark Lord.
Char, feeling the weight of Lucius's awestruck gaze, felt a little puzzled but didn't dwell on it. Instead, he got to the point. "Mr. Malfoy, was there something you needed to discuss with me?"
Startled from his thoughts, Lucius quickly and respectfully presented a letter. "This was just delivered for you today."
Char took the letter. A flicker of joy crossed his face when he saw it was from the Sprout family mansion, written in his aunt's familiar hand. Professor Sprout had mentioned she was going to the International Herbology Association to discuss holding the Herbologist Examination in London. He'd been getting worried by the long silence; if another two days had passed without news, he would have approached Dumbledore.
He broke the seal and opened the envelope. The handwriting was unmistakably his aunt's, but the content was perplexing.
"It's something important," the letter read, "But there's no need to rush back immediately. As long as you can get back to Sprout Manor by tonight, that will be enough."
The letter didn't specify what had happened. *This isn't my aunt's style,* Char thought, his brow furrowed in doubt. He was certain the letter wasn't a forgery, but the vagueness was unsettling. What could be so important that it couldn't be mentioned, even briefly? He concluded he would have to return to Sprout Manor to find out. Besides, he had been at Malfoy Manor for several days now; it was time to go back.
Char informed Lucius he was leaving. Lucius nodded repeatedly, carefully avoiding any questions about the letter's contents, afraid of prying into matters that could bring him trouble.
He was quick to offer, "The Thestral carriage is ready. I can have you taken to the Sprout residence whenever you need."
Char considered it for a moment before waving his hand, declining the offer. "I have some business to attend to in Knockturn Alley. The Thestrals are too conspicuous. I'll use the Floo Network."
The mention of Knockturn Alley made Lucius's heart skip a beat. *It all fits,* he thought. *My guess was correct!* Char must have done something significant in Knockturn Alley during his seclusion, something that made Borgin too afraid to even challenge the takeover of his shop. Perhaps, Lucius mused, old Borgin was now secretly working for Char.
Taking a deep breath, Lucius simply said, "There's Floo powder in the room, next to the fireplace. You can travel directly to Knockturn Alley from here. In that case, Char, I won't see you out."
Char nodded. He turned, tossed a handful of the green powder into the hearth, and vanished into the swirling emerald flames.
Lucius let out a long, slow sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow again. A moment later, his spirits lifted, and an involuntary smile spread across his face. While the Malfoy family had never been known for their raw magical power, their ability to judge a situation and align with the winning side was second to none. A powerful premonition told Lucius that his and his family's investment in Char would yield returns beyond his wildest imagination.
Meanwhile, the world spun violently around Char before he emerged from a fireplace into Borgin and Burke's. Borgin was already there, waiting. He was dressed in a black hooded robe, and the signs of shadow magic's erosion on him were almost gone. The shop itself was operating as usual, giving no indication of the recent upheaval.
Borgin carefully handed Char a package. A flicker of heat flashed in Char's eyes as he saw it. This was the delivery from the Mosa Club, containing, most importantly, the Shenyue Flower seeds—an item of extraordinary value to him.
However, Char didn't rush to open it. He first inspected the package meticulously, checking for any magical traps or hidden tracking marks. To be extra cautious, he had Borgin unwrap it. That way, if there were any unforeseen tricks, they would affect Borgin, who was already technically dead and thus couldn't die again.
Fortunately, his worries were unfounded. The Mosa Club hadn't tampered with the package. It seemed they believed the elixir-infused textiles were sufficient to control their peripheral members, making further measures unnecessary. This brought Char a sense of relief.
Only then did he examine the contents. The first item was the Shenyue Flower seeds. They looked exactly as they had in the crystal ball vision. A purple reward message appeared in his vision, confirming the plant was of epic rarity. Seeing the seeds were genuine, Char let out a quiet sigh of relief.
His gaze then fell upon an ancient herbology book. He flipped through it, finding records of nearly a thousand species of ancient plants. It was like an archaic version of *One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi*. Most of the plants were entirely new to him.
To verify its authenticity, Char turned to the entry on the Whomping Willow, a plant he knew intimately. The information recorded in the book was consistent with his own knowledge and even included a few details he hadn't known before. The book's credibility was high. He nodded, satisfied. This ancient tome would be immensely beneficial for his future research into cultivating ancient herbs. He still possessed an old seed he'd gotten from Porgy Charman, its species a complete mystery. Perhaps this book held the answer.
Finally, Char turned his attention to the largest item in the package: a set of exquisitely crafted, silver-shining alchemical tools. A small shovel, a colander, tweezers—there were over twenty different specialized instruments for herbology. It had everything one could possibly need.
Char's eyes lit up. This tool set would be the perfect birthday gift for Professor Sprout.
The moment that thought crossed his mind, he froze. He had been thinking about his aunt's birthday, but the intense, three-day-long session in the illusion had made him lose track of time. When exactly *was* her birthday?
Char slapped his forehead. He suddenly understood why his aunt's letter was so cryptic, insisting he return to Sprout Manor that evening.
"I'm an idiot," he chided himself. "Today is my aunt's birthday. I almost completely forgot."
He quickly turned to Borgin. "Do you have any gift boxes in the store? The kind suitable for giving a gift?"
Borgin nodded woodenly and turned to retrieve a series of boxes. "I crafted all of these myself," he rasped. "This one is made entirely of human bone, giving it a lustrous, natural look. The skull in the center is especially high-end and elegant. If the gift is for a young person, how about this trendy box made from toad skin? The unique spots and contrasting colors give it a very premium feel."
Char stared at the macabre boxes Borgin presented, the corner of his mouth twitching. He felt foolish for even asking. What had he expected from a shop specializing in dark artifacts?
*Knockturn Alley isn't far from Diagon Alley,* he remembered. *In the books, Hagrid quickly got Harry out of here and into Diagon Alley. There must be a normal gift shop there.*
He glanced at the time. It was already two in the afternoon. He needed to get the gift wrapped and buy a birthday cake. Time was short; he had to move fast.
With a new sense of urgency, Char quickened his pace and left Borgin and Burke's, heading toward Diagon Alley. He had only taken a few steps when his brow furrowed, a cold glint in his eyes. Malice seemed to seep from every shadow in Knockturn Alley. Every cloaked figure he passed seemed to glance at him from under their hood with a strange, predatory light in their eyes.
It was obvious that a young wizard alone was a rare and tempting sight in this infamous place. Human organs, especially those of a wizard, were valuable components for dark magic. If not for the Ministry's recent crackdown on dark wizards, he was sure one of them would have already made a move.
Char frowned but chose to ignore the dark wizards who had the ill intent but not the courage to act. He was in a hurry, and there was no benefit in fighting them. As long as they weren't foolish enough to provoke him, he would let them be.
He picked up his pace, navigating the dim, dilapidated alley. The hooded figures didn't dare to attack, but greed made them follow from a distance, their covetous eyes fixed on him. Whispers slithered through the air.
"He came from Borgin and Burke's."
"Must be a rich young man."
"Delicate skin, superior bloodline... and probably a lot of Galleons."
"Just that fine skin alone would fetch a high price from a wealthy dark wizard, wouldn't it?"
"A shame to just let him walk away…"
As Char drew closer to the entrance to Diagon Alley, the whispers grew louder, more insistent. He slowly curled his fingers around the wand hidden in his sleeve, murder in his eyes. He could sense that some of them were losing their nerve, ready to take the risk. The Dark Arts had clearly eroded their sanity and patience.
Just then, the door of a low, crumbling building creaked open. A figure, also cloaked in a black hood that obscured their face, stepped out, blocking the path between Char and the pack of dark wizards. The figure raised a hand and scattered a handful of seeds. With a wave of a wand, the seeds twisted and grew at an astonishing rate. In the blink of an eye, a dense wall of vines and giant carnivorous plants erupted from the cobblestones, blocking the narrow alley.
The figure then hurried toward Char. A clear, young voice came from under the hood. "How did you end up here? This is no place for a young wizard like you. Hurry, we're not far from Diagon Alley. Go that way, and no one will dare to follow you."
But Char seemed frozen, petrified. The figure grew anxious, grabbed his arm, and pulled him along, running toward the light of Diagon Alley. After the magnificent spire of Gringotts came into view, the figure finally sighed in relief.
Char, as if waking from a dream, managed a "thank you."
The figure waved it off, turning to walk back into the darkness. But they paused and glanced back at Char, who was still standing there in a daze. A helpless smile touched their lips. "That child," they murmured to themselves. "So timid. Must be a Hufflepuff. I wonder how he wandered into Knockturn Alley. If I hadn't been there, those dark wizards would have turned him into an experiment."
With that, the figure quickly departed.
Char, however, was anything but dazed. His mind was racing, an expression of sheer surprise on his face. The technique of using plant seeds for spellcasting—he had seen it before, from Porgy Charman. It was a combination of Transfiguration and Herbology, a form of dark magic. But the skill he had just witnessed was far more profound than Charman's.
This niche combination of magics was incredibly rare. As far as Char knew, only one person fit the description: the mysterious "Ed" he had been searching for. According to the Malfoy family's records, Ed's full name was Ed Robinson. But in that brief moment, Char had caught a glimpse of the face under the hood—a pretty girl of about eighteen or nineteen.
*So "Ed" is a pseudonym,* he realized. *I never thought the person who shook the herbology community was a girl not much older than I am.*
He took a deep breath. It was an incredible coincidence. His quest to understand the magic of transforming plant seeds finally had a lead. He couldn't follow up today, but he would find another opportunity. Silently, he memorized the girl's face and the location of the small building she had come from.
Only then did Char leave the gloomy confines of Knockturn Alley and step into the bright, bustling world of Diagon Alley. The air instantly felt fresher, and the sun shone brightly on the red-tiled roofs and clean cobblestone streets. It was like stepping into another world. His mood, already lifted by finding a clue to Ed's identity, grew even brighter.
Now, he just needed to find a shop to wrap the birthday present.
Just then, a cry of surprise came from behind him. "Char?!"
He looked back to see two girls with pigtails hurrying out from the crowd. It was Hannah Abbott.
"I heard you were staying at Hogwarts for the summer!" she said excitedly. "I thought I wouldn't see you until the start of term! Char, have you eaten? Come to the Leaky Cauldron, I'll get you the best meal they have."
Char smiled, happy to see her, but he shook his head at the invitation. Instead, he asked, "Hannah, do you know of any shops that sell high-end gift boxes? Something suitable for a witch's birthday?"
Hannah's expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of disappointment and tension in her eyes. "You're going to a birthday party? Which house? I haven't heard of any girls in Hufflepuff having a birthday recently, not even in the first or second years. Is it an older student? Or someone from another house, like Hermione Granger?"
When Char explained it was for Professor Sprout's birthday, Hannah visibly relaxed, her cheerful demeanor returning in full force.
"I know just the place!" she exclaimed. "They have handmade gift boxes, and they can make the most beautiful ribbon bows. The butterflies on them look like they're alive; they actually dance!"
Char's face lit up. He followed Hannah to the gift shop she mentioned. The owner was a charming witch in her thirties, leisurely enjoying a small cake and black tea when they entered. Even with customers, she seemed reluctant to put down her treat, but she eventually did so with a sigh and stood up to greet them.
After learning that Char was from the Sprout family and was there to prepare a birthday gift for the professor, the shop owner gasped.
"Merlin's beard! Is today Professor Sprout's birthday? I completely forgot!" As she spoke, she skillfully pulled out various magical ribbons and exquisite gift boxes adorned with crystal and satin. "Come, child. Give me the gift you prepared."
When Char took the silver alchemical tools from his package, the shop owner exclaimed in amazement. "They're beautiful! These are all herbology tools, aren't they? It's the perfect gift; the Head of House will absolutely love it. But let me think… a birthday isn't complete without cake and candles. I'm guessing you haven't had time to prepare those."
She then turned to Hannah and gave a series of rapid-fire instructions. "Little Hannah, hurry to Honeydukes and get their best frosting. Then go to the ice cream shop on the corner across from Gringotts and ask them for some ice cream magic candles. I know he can make them; tell him they're for the Head of House's birthday. And we'll need freshly baked cake bases; I know where to get the best ones. You have to hurry! As for you, little Char, these precious tools can't leave your sight. You'll stay here."
Char looked on in astonishment as the shop owner dispatched Hannah. "Uh… what is this?" he asked, trying to understand the sudden whirlwind of activity.
The shop owner gave him a playful wink. "Oh, little Char. You might not understand it now, but when you graduate, you'll learn something important. We Hufflepuffs are everywhere. The proud lions of Gryffindor form their own prides after graduation. The solitary eagles of Ravenclaw live alone. As for the snakes of Slytherin, they all have their own agendas. Only in our Badger den can you always count on help from other little badgers. Professor Sprout was my Head of House too, you know. Of course, we all have to do our part."
As she spoke, she waved her wand. The ribbons wove themselves into intricate knots, decorating the gift box with incredible dexterity. At the same time, sparkling butterflies danced gracefully through the air before settling on the ribbon, transforming into a unique, shimmering bow. Each alchemical tool was exquisitely wrapped and placed inside.
Throughout this process, Hannah darted in and out like a hard-working bee, diligently fetching everything the shop owner requested. Everywhere she went, she gathered more help and more items, as if one quest was leading to three more. When she finally returned to the shop, panting, her face as red as an apple, she was carrying a tightly wrapped three-layer cake and a stack of greeting cards.
Just as she arrived, the shop owner packed the last shovel into the exquisite box. She looked at Char with a proud expression, as if to say, *See? Was I right?*
Char's initial surprise melted into a deep warmth. He offered his sincere thanks, especially to Hannah, who had gone to so much trouble for him.
Hannah's face flushed an even deeper shade of red. She hesitated, stammering, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
Finally, the amused shop owner stepped in with a smile. "If I'm not mistaken, little Hannah wanted to ask if you'd go shopping with her sometime when you're free. Let me see… how about before school starts? There's always a lot to buy, so you'll have to spend most of the day shopping anyway."
Hannah looked at the shop owner with immense gratitude.
Char nodded. "Alright. We'll send owls to each other then. Or I can just stop by the Leaky Cauldron to make plans with you."
After Hannah nodded enthusiastically, Char glanced at the sky, which was beginning to darken. He hurriedly left the shop with the cake, cards, and beautifully wrapped gift. Before he disappeared, he took out a handful of Galleons and, with a lightning-fast flick of his wand, sent them floating onto the counter in a neat stack. Then, he was gone.
The shop owner looked at the gold coins, the words of refusal dying on her lips. She opened her mouth, but Char was already out of sight. A helpless expression crossed her face. "This child," she sighed. "Just like a true Hufflepuff, so kind." Then, she carefully swept the Galleons into her hand. "Hehe," she chuckled. "Now I have enough money to go to Gilderoy Lockhart's book signing!"
Under the dark sky, Char landed his broom outside the Sprout family mansion, carefully balancing the cake and gifts. He had avoided the Floo Network, afraid the spinning would ruin the exquisite decorations on the cake and gift box. Riding his broom felt safer. Besides, emerging from a fireplace lacked the dramatic flair of knocking on the front door.
He glanced at the time and breathed a sigh of relief. "Made it. It's not too late. Still dinner time."
He walked toward the mansion, but he quickly frowned. From a distance, he could tell something was wrong. It was late, almost completely dark, yet there were no lights on inside the house. That was highly unusual. The house-elves were never so careless. And his aunt had said in her letter that she was back and had something important to tell him. Why would the house be dark?
Had something happened?
Char's expression instantly hardened. His hand tightened on his wand, ready to draw the Sword of Gram if needed. A cold, murderous look entered his eyes. If someone had infiltrated the Sprout family home and hurt his aunt, he swore he would make them understand the true meaning of pain.
The next moment, he reached the front door. With a silent flick of his wand, the door swung open without a sound.
At that exact moment, a snapping sound echoed through the hall. The mansion was instantly flooded with bright light. A shower of colorful ribbons rained down from the entryway ceiling.
Professor Sprout stepped out from behind the door and gave Char a big hug. "Child! It's been too long. How is it? Are you surprised?"
Char stared at everything in amazement. "Aunt, what is all this?"
Professor Sprout looked at him with mock disappointment. "I knew you forgot. My child, tomorrow is your birthday! This is a big deal, how could you forget something like that?" Her expression then turned wistful. "On this day all those years ago, you were born. Your father and mother were so happy. It's a big day for the Sprout family. You haven't celebrated your birthday properly in all these years. This year is your first at the Sprout home, and I would never forget it."
She then held out an exquisite box. Just as she did, she noticed the cake, cards, and gift box in Char's hands. Now it was her turn to be surprised. "Hm? What's this?"
Char sighed, looking at his aunt with helpless affection. "Aunt, and you're talking about me. I did forget that tomorrow is my birthday. But you forgot that today is your birthday, didn't you? Happy birthday, Aunt."
Professor Sprout stood there, momentarily blank, before her face turned red. "Oh, is my birthday today? Oh, well, my birthday isn't important. I'm so old, why should I celebrate it?"
Char handed her the gift box. "Aunt, open your present."
Professor Sprout hurriedly and carefully opened the box, as if afraid of damaging the decorative ribbons, wanting to save the box itself. When she saw the shimmering silver alchemical tools inside, her love for them was unmistakable. "What a wonderful little shovel! Merlin's beard, look at them. They are so beautiful!"
Then, Professor Sprout handed the box she was holding to Char. "Although it's not midnight yet, I really can't wait. Happy birthday to you too, Char."
Char opened the package and was surprised to find a plant seed as dazzling and beautiful as a gem. He was very familiar with this seed. It was the same Cinder-fern seed he had discovered on his first visit to Sprout Island. But back then, the seed had only a faint trace of life left in it, needing another volcanic eruption to fully recover.
Suddenly, Char seemed to think of something. He noticed the slightly burnt corner of Professor Sprout's robes and a burn-salve plaster on her arm. "Aunt," he said slowly. "You were late by several days. Did you go find an active volcano to revive the Cinder-fern seed?"
Professor Sprout gave a sheepish laugh. "I was worried about what gift to get you. On my way back, I happened to hear about a volcanic eruption. I immediately thought of this rare Cinder-fern seed… You do like it, don't you?"
Char took a deep breath, treasuring the seed and putting it away carefully. "Aunt, this is the best birthday present I've ever received. Thank you."
Professor Sprout finally breathed a sigh of relief. "As long as you like it. Come on, let's go inside and eat cake. Today is my birthday, after all. We must celebrate it properly."
Just half an hour later, Char sighed as he looked at Professor Sprout, who had fallen fast asleep at the table before even finishing a single piece of cake. She must have gone straight from finishing her work with the Herbology Association to the site of the volcanic eruption. After days of non-stop work, she had come back to prepare a surprise for him. He wondered how many days it had been since she'd had a proper rest.
Char asked a house-elf to help his aunt to her room, then walked toward the Sprout family greenhouse. As soon as he entered, he was met with the sight of densely packed orbs of light. A new batch of Margarite flowers had ripened. Thanks to his careful selection of seeds with the best traits for this batch, the reward orbs seemed slightly larger than the last harvest. The reward was still a black iron-level magic enhancement, but its effectiveness should have been improved.
But when he reached out and touched them, and the orbs of light poured into his body, the feedback was disappointing. His magic power, which was at the gold level, did not reach the platinum level even after absorbing the entire harvest. It was merely flecked with platinum-colored spots.
This left Char with an ugly expression. "The diminishing returns are more severe than I expected, especially at this qualitative leap from gold to platinum. The effect of black iron-level rewards is just too poor."
Although he could temporarily reach the platinum level by using his abilities like water attunement and shadow control, reaching the diamond level now seemed like an insurmountable barrier. At this rate, it could take another five or six years to get there.
"It's imperative that I master a technique to modify plant seeds and improve the Margarite variety as soon as possible," he resolved. "Alternatively, I need to start cultivating Whomping Willow branches to obtain the epic-level magic enhancement reward. But either path requires a high level of expertise in herbology, which is the foundation of all cultivation."
This brought his attention back to the Shenyue Flower seed in his possession. He immediately opened the ancient herbology book and looked up the cultivation conditions for the Shenyue Flower. What he read made his heart sink. The conditions were even more stringent than he had imagined.
This "most beautiful flower in the world" had historically only grown in the gardens of gods or inside temples. Without a god's 'praise', it would not bloom. More than soil, sunlight, or water, what its seeds craved most for germination was a god's attention. The more powerful the god, the more vibrant the Shenyue Flower would become.
"Of all the herbs in the magical world," Char muttered, "this one is a divine sycophant. No wonder they stopped blooming after the age of mythology ended and the gods were gone."
He then read about the attempts made by ancient herbologists to cultivate the flower. Some had even dug up fragments of temples and statues, hoping the lingering divine presence would be enough. One herbologist was said to have unearthed an artifact that still contained traces of divine magic and used it to successfully cultivate a Shenyue Flower just one step short of maturity. But in the end, it still refused to bloom.
Char shook his head, his mood growing more depressed. He had underestimated the difficulty. Even an object steeped in mythical magic wasn't enough? He could receive oracles, but would that have any effect? It was impossible to know.
He carefully read the last record. The herbologist who used the mythical artifact had left a final note: "I have a theory. If the magic and aura left behind by the gods cannot make the Shenyue Flower bloom, then it can only mean that magic power, aura, or even physical fragments are not the true symbols of a god that the flower recognizes. As for what truly represents a god—perhaps only a god knows."
Char read it over and over. If even mythical magic and a divine aura weren't enough, what was?
At that moment, his heart skipped a beat. A flash of lightning crossed his mind. In his spiritual world, on the spiritual embryo, a lightning-shaped scar remained from when he was struck by natural lightning. And on his system panel, it was called… the Authority of the God-King.
His heartbeat suddenly accelerated. "Could it be…" he whispered. "Is the true mark of a god this so-called 'authority'?"
What authority was, he didn't know. He couldn't wield it yet. But the Authority of the God-King, though dim, was imprinted upon his very soul. Maybe I can try, he thought, his mind racing.
Taking a deep breath, Char took the Shenyue Flower seed from its vial. He focused all his attention on it. He pushed his spirit, bearing a mountain-like pressure, to slowly approach the lightning-shaped scar on his spiritual embryo.
At the same time, Char spoke to the seed.
"I am the one who holds the authority of the God-King."
"I am the master of weather and lightning."
"I command you—"
"Grow for me!"
And in the next second, under Char's intense gaze, the Shenyue Flower seed, which had been dormant with only the faintest spark of life, suddenly began to pulse like a tiny, beating heart.
__________________________
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