Taking a deep breath, Char solidified his resolve. He had to plant more trees. He needed to substantially expand his current planting scale. As long as he had enough land, even the mundane crops he had once grown on a Muggle farm—crops that couldn't even provide Black Iron-level rewards—could, through sheer, overwhelming numbers, raise some of his abilities to the legendary level. And that wasn't even considering the magical herbs he now had access to, which already provided Black Iron-level rewards. He would build his power through quantity, a task that would be much easier now than before.
The only problem was the land.
Char fell into deep thought. For magical herbs, a greenhouse was undoubtedly the optimal environment. Not only did they mature faster, but the quantity of rewards they offered was also greater. But to acquire enough greenhouse space to meet his ambitious needs would be incredibly difficult. Each greenhouse was a vital resource for a Herbologist, their lifeline. Research funds were obtained by selling the herbs produced within them, and space always had to be reserved for experimental plots. Finding even a few spare plots in any given greenhouse was a stroke of luck. Even with Professor Sprout's favor, cobbling together enough scattered plots for his grand plans would be a logistical nightmare, an investment of time and effort that would yield disproportionately small returns.
He shook his head, rejecting the idea. "My requirements are simple," he thought. "The land must be large enough and centralized enough to be manageable. And ideally, I would have complete sovereignty over it, to avoid disputes and wasted time." In that case, there seemed to be only one viable choice.
A strange, determined light glinted in his eyes. "I'll have to create my own."
The idea had occurred to him before, back when he had nothing but a small share of an experimental field. But at that time, he had only just arrived at Hogwarts, his magical abilities still weak. Juggling his classes, spell practice, and the simple cultivation of potions ingredients had kept him constantly busy. Furthermore, cultivating land in the wild was infinitely more difficult than working within the controlled environment of a greenhouse. There were too many interfering factors. If his knowledge of Herbology wasn't up to the task, months of hard work could be wiped out overnight. Not to mention, magical herbs had a tendency to attract magical creatures, and at that time, his magical level was nowhere near sufficient to handle such threats. He had abandoned the plan.
But now, things were different. In terms of Herbology, he was already capable of growing Guardian Trees in large quantities. He had successfully cultivated plants of a much higher level. While growing plants in the wild was certainly more challenging, he was confident he could manage some of the more resilient, Black Iron-level reward plants. As for the danger of magical creatures… he had faced down and killed an Acromantula. Even if luck had played a part, he no longer feared ordinary magical beasts. It wasn't as if simple farming would attract another 5X-level monster, right?
The biggest hurdles to reclaiming his own land were the hard work and the vast amount of resources required, but for Char, these were non-issues. With his physical strength, cultivating a hundred acres of land without sleep wouldn't be a problem. And the resources he would need, like fertilizing potions, could be requested from the Ministry of Magic as part of the contract he had signed.
As these thoughts flashed through his mind, Char was struck by a surprising realization: he had grown a great deal without even noticing. All the conditions for cultivating his own land were now in place. He could truly give it a try.
But he wasn't impulsive enough to just find an open space and start digging. "My aunt should have experience with this kind of thing," he reasoned. "I'll go ask her for advice first."
He found Professor Sprout in her office and, after explaining his idea, was met with a look of pure astonishment.
"Char," she began, "isn't the small greenhouse enough for you? With so many experimental plots, even if you were a mule plowing the land, you would be—" She paused, picturing Char's tireless, sleepless nights of work. The words died in her throat. Comparing Char to a mule was an insult to Char. Others complained about having too much work; even mules could be lazy. But Char… he was afraid of having too little. He was a pure, natural-born workhorse.
Professor Sprout sighed helplessly. "You child. You're so young, why do you spend all your time studying and working? Isn't it good to play, maybe have a relationship, and enjoy your time on campus? If you're willing, I can even apply for you to take the rest of your courses this year by correspondence. As long as you pass the final exams—and don't worry, if you so much as write the word 'Answer' on the test paper, I'll have the professors give you a passing grade." She looked at him, her eyes shining. "Why don't you take one of the girls from the house out on a trip? Several of them were fighting over your cake before, you know. It was quite intense."
Char's cheek twitched. It felt as if his aunt was already trying to ensure the continuation of the Sprout family line. He quickly shook his head, much to her resentful disappointment.
"Alright, alright," she sighed, her expression turning serious. "You always have your own ideas. But reclaiming land… this isn't something that can be done just anywhere. First of all, it's not allowed on the Hogwarts campus, and that includes the Forbidden Forest. The nature of this land was determined by the Four Founders, and its use is strictly regulated. Even Dumbledore would face intense scrutiny if he tried to repurpose a corner of the forest. Not to mention you want to clear a large area for planting."
She continued, "If you cultivate wasteland elsewhere without setting up protective magic, Muggles will inevitably stumble upon it. You know, they're everywhere these days, even at the North and South Poles. And those things in the sky… satellites, I think they're called. They make the Ministry's secrecy work much more difficult. Also, any illegally reclaimed land, even if you build a house or an entire manor on it, cannot be connected to the Floo Network without going through the proper channels at the Ministry. So, to solve all these problems, it is best to obtain a pioneering permit from the Ministry first. That way, they can set up the protective spells and connect you to the Floo Network directly."
Char's eyes flickered. The pioneering permit was indeed important. He could request it from the Ministry at the same time he requested the fertilizing potions. He immediately wrote a letter and sent it off with a Hogwarts owl.
"I'm afraid it will be a few days before the Ministry can reply," Professor Sprout sighed. "With Umbridge dead, reporters are swarming the Ministry every day. Minister Fudge is probably having a very difficult time. I don't know who killed her; the Aurors haven't figured it out yet. They must be getting anxious."
A strange look crossed Char's eyes. After a few more words with his aunt, he left her office, his expression growing deep and thoughtful. The death of a high-ranking Ministry official, no matter how unpopular she was, would have serious repercussions. If the Aurors couldn't find an explanation, they wouldn't let it go. Moody himself might even come out of retirement to look for clues. At that point, Hagrid's attempts to cover his tracks and the Acromantulas' role in delaying Umbridge's death might not be enough. Moody was incredibly capable; even Dumbledore respected him.
But a moment later, Char's expression relaxed. He had anticipated this. He had to kill Umbridge in the Forbidden Forest for a reason: there was someone else in there who was much better suited to take the blame. If the Ministry wanted to investigate, let them. The two-faced man would be far more concerned about their investigation than he was. Quirrell couldn't risk the Aurors finding any trace of him before he got the Philosopher's Stone. Char was certain that the two-faced man would find a way to stop them from even entering the forest. And after the school year ended, and Umbridge's body was inevitably found in the woods… well, of course, it was the two-faced man who did it. What did that have to do with Char Sprout? He was just an innocent student.
The dark thoughts in his mind gradually subsided, and he returned to his greenhouse. The moment he stepped inside, a look of surprise crossed his face. A black shadow suddenly emerged from the darkness and rubbed affectionately against his legs. It was the Shadow, awakened from the deep sleep it had fallen into after "eating too much."
"Shadow?" Char asked, surprised. "Has your ancient shadow magic increased again?"
The shadow swayed back and forth on the ground, a silent nod. Lines of text emerged from the darkness. "I'm full. Grown up. More strength. Shadow can carry Father now. Would you like to try, Father?"
Char was stunned. "Carry me?" The shadow shook urgently, then transformed into a dark, deep vortex on the ground, a swirling portal that seemed to lead into a world of pure shadow.
Char's eyes lit up with a strange, excited light. He had asked the Shadow before if it could transport him through its dimension, but at the time, it had been too weak. Now, after its recent growth, it had gained the ability. To be safe, he had it transport a few inanimate objects first—a table, a stone. The vortex swallowed them, and they reappeared a moment later, completely intact, a short distance away.
Char's mind raced. In a life-or-death crisis, this ability could be a perfect escape. It could even be used to turn the tide of a battle. This was the true power of ancient shadow magic. It was mysterious, and it was incredible.
He took a deep breath and stepped into the vortex. The next moment, an incomparably wonderful sensation washed over him. The world disappeared, replaced by a tunnel composed of pure shadow, filled with the raw, undiluted magical power of ancient shadow magic. He had had the Shadow demonstrate this for him many times before, but due to his own insufficient magical perception, he had never been able to truly grasp its nature. But now, completely immersed in it, with no other magical energies to interfere, the secrets of shadow magic became clearer than they had ever been.
A moment later, the shuttle was complete, and he was "spat" back out into the greenhouse. He had returned to the normal, chaotic magical environment, but the transition from the pure shadow world back to the real one had given him a profound insight. The secrets of a major branch of Transfiguration, the one dealing with shadow and darkness, were now open to him. It was like watching someone swim from the shore a thousand times, versus jumping into the water for just ten minutes. The difference was immense.
He subconsciously looked at his system panel. His Transfiguration skill, which had previously been promoted to Bronze, was now shining with a much deeper, richer light. A fiery look appeared on his face. He had already experienced how much a single promotion in Transfiguration could improve all his other skills. He had thought his progress would slow down after reaching this level, but he had never expected to find a "personal trainer" like the Shadow.
He took a deep breath. "Good Shadow," he said. "Do you still have the strength? Can you take me again?"
The shadow hesitated. "Father. You do not know shadow magic. Traveling through the shadows multiple times in a short period will cause you damage."
Char looked down and saw that there was indeed a faint residue of shadow magic clinging to his skin, causing a slight, stinging pain, much like the attacks from the Shadowthorns. But a moment later, a wide grin spread across his face.
"It's fine," he said. "I'm not afraid of a little pain. As long as it doesn't kill me. Shadow, continue."
The shadow opened the passage again, and Char plunged back in, shuttling back and forth, again and again. Each time, the residue of shadow magic on his body grew a little stronger, the erosion of his flesh and spirit more intense. The pain was even greater than the practical training he had endured during his confinement. But Char's eyes were fixed on one thing: the word "Transfiguration" on his system panel, its light growing more and more intense with each trip.
"That's enough," he gritted his teeth, the pain making him dizzy. "Continue!"
Time flew by. Two days passed in a blur of pain and progress.
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