Early the next morning, the first rays of sunlight slanted through the library windows, casting golden spots on the pages of the ancient books. Char, who had been immersed in his reading all night, finally let out a long breath and closed the heavy tome before him, The Mystery of the Quintaped. He carefully returned it, along with several other similar volumes, to their original places on the dusty shelves.
"There are quite a few books about Quintapeds in the library," he mused. "It seems this 5X-level dangerous magical beast, transformed from a human, has indeed captured the interest of many."
Thinking over what he had read, Char shook his head slightly. The library had many records, but most of the authors had never actually seen a Quintaped, let alone visited the dreaded Isle of Drear. Their books were based on hearsay and unsubstantiated rumors, containing very little information of any real value. Char wasn't surprised. The Isle of Drear had been sealed off by the Ministry of Magic for centuries, and the Quintaped was far less known than creatures like dragons or Acromantulas. The information was ancient and unreliable. Still, he believed that somewhere in the vast collection of records, there had to be a useful clue. He just had to be patient and keep looking.
He gathered a few books and left the library, his mind already turning to his next plans. As he stepped into the corridor, however, a figure appeared before him, impossible to ignore. The first thing one noticed was the bubblegum-pink hair. The second was the casual, rebellious attire: patched jeans and a Weird Sisters T-shirt, accented with a bit of smoky makeup.
The girl smiled at Char and held out her hand. "Hello, I'm Nymphadora Tonks. I just graduated from Hufflepuff, so I guess that makes me your senior. The badgers said you were either in the greenhouse or the library, and it seems they were right. I've been waiting for a while." She glanced around. "It's been a bit since I was last at Hogwarts. It's really changed a lot."
As she spoke, her dark, shining eyes were fixed on Char's face, watching for any flicker of emotion, any hint of a reaction. Char raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by her arrival. He was not unfamiliar with the girl in front of him. In the stories, Tonks was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a Ministry Auror, a powerful Metamorphmagus, and later, the wife of Remus Lupin, with whom she died in the final battle. He just never expected her grand entrance into his life would be like this.
His mind raced, and he quickly put the pieces together. At this critical juncture, what other reason could there be for a trainee Auror to be at Hogwarts? She was here to investigate Umbridge's death. A strange mixture of pity and amusement flickered in his eyes. A recent graduate, assigned such a difficult and politically sensitive case by her superiors. It was a classic trial by fire. But from the eager, determined look on her face, she seemed to view it as an opportunity. How young, Char sighed internally, a feeling of déjà vu taking him back to his first days of graduate school.
He shook her hand firmly. "Char Sprout. Hello, Senior. But I suspect you weren't waiting for me just to reminisce. Shall we talk while we walk? I still have a lot to do."
Tonks's own brow furrowed. This little badger is too calm, she thought. Is he pretending, or does he really not care? After a moment, she composed herself. It didn't matter. She was a professionally trained Auror. A first-year student couldn't possibly hide anything from her. If he could, then all her training would have been for nothing.
She fell into step beside him, chattering about the changes at Hogwarts and the differences in Hufflepuff House since her time. Then, out of the blue, she dropped her first question. "Umbridge. You remember her, right? She died not long ago. Did she come to see you again?"
Char's expression remained nonchalant. "Umbridge, the toad? Of course, I remember her. And of course, I know she's dead; the Daily Prophet has been full of it. A good thing, too, if you ask me. But according to the papers, I was quite busy the day she died, and many people saw me. Besides, I'm just a first-year wizard. Do you really think I have the ability to kill a high-ranking official from the Ministry of Magic?" He glanced at her, his tone flat. "Senior Nymphadora. Are you reminiscing with me as a fellow Hufflepuff? Or are you examining a suspect as an Auror from the Ministry? Because it feels a lot like the latter. It seems the Ministry really knows how to change a person. You've only been on the job for a short time, and you've already forgotten the traditions of your own house." He sighed dramatically.
Tonks's face flushed a bright, burning red. Char had reached the door of his greenhouse and turned, his voice now cold. "Auror Tonks. I have no answers to your questions. If there's nothing else, I have a greenhouse full of plants that need my attention."
Tonks took a deep breath, then gritted her teeth and pulled an envelope from her pocket. "Minister Fudge asked me to bring this to you," she said stiffly. "He said it contains what you requested."
Char's eyes instantly lit up. He had thought it would take days for Fudge to issue the reclamation permit. He hadn't expected it to arrive so soon. The Ministry's efficiency was surprisingly high. He immediately returned to the greenhouse, tearing open the envelope with a sense of keen anticipation. I wonder what level of permit Fudge issued, he thought. According to my aunt, the lowest level was one acre. Ten acres was more common. The largest ever issued to an individual was 150 acres, a century and a half ago. The contract was witnessed by Dumbledore, so Fudge shouldn't try to embarrass me with the lowest quality. As for over a hundred acres… He shook his head. Given Fudge's personality, he wouldn't be that generous, would he?
He expected a permit for around ten acres. But when he opened the document and saw the number written on it, he froze. He rubbed his eyes, convinced he was seeing things. "No… what does 'unlimited' mean? Does that mean whatever acres of land I cultivate will be mine? And the Ministry will cover the cost of the protective spells and the Floo Network connection?!"
He stood there, completely bewildered. He felt as if he had fundamentally misunderstood Fudge. Who was the fool who said that old fox deserved to be vilified? This was clearly the wisest, most benevolent minister in the history of the wizarding world! It took a long time for the surging emotions to subside. This reclamation permit meant everything to him. The larger the area he could plant, the more rewards he could get. One step faster, every step faster. This single piece of paper was more valuable to him than a mythical item. The silver bucket and the roots of the World Tree were powerful, but he didn't even know how to properly use them. This document, however, would have an immediate, tangible effect on his future.
A flash of anticipation lit up his eyes. He immediately took out a map of the northern Scottish plateau and the surrounding islands. Originally, he had planned to find a simple ten-acre plot. But now, with the potential to cultivate hundreds, even thousands of acres, he had to plan carefully. He quickly crossed out the options on the mainland. The climate was too cold, and the Muggle infrastructure of roads and railways would cut any large plot into pieces, increasing the risk of discovery and making maintenance a nightmare.
His gaze shifted to the islands. Due to the ocean currents, many of them were much warmer and wetter than the highlands, making them more suitable for growing plants. Many were also deserted, far from shipping routes and rarely visited by Muggles. A few large islands were more than big enough to serve his needs for a long time. The closed ecological environment of an island also meant fewer variables, making cultivation easier.
His mind was made up. "I'll start with island planting. First, I need to find one with the right climate and location."
He grabbed his Nimbus 2000 and shot out over the Black Lake, heading toward the North Atlantic, a sea known in the magical world as the Podhill Sea. Thousands of islands were scattered across it, from tiny reefs to landmasses larger than a dozen Hogwarts combined. He slowed down, the salty sea breeze whipping at his face, and began his search. He was extremely patient, passing over each island of a suitable size, taking detailed notes, and even landing to observe the weather, water sources, and soil composition. He had learned from his past life in scientific research that a lack of proper investigation at the beginning could lead to disaster later on. This was about his future; he would not make any mistakes.
As he flew over the sea, a dark shadow followed him from a distance. It was Tonks, also on a broom. Though embarrassed by their earlier exchange, her gut told her that Char was somehow connected to Umbridge's death. Even if he hadn't done it himself, he knew something. His sudden, strange trip to the sea only deepened her suspicions.
With his enhanced eyesight, Char had, of course, noticed her. His expression didn't change. If she wanted to follow, let her. The Ministry would find out where he was cultivating the land eventually anyway; they had to install the protective magic and the Floo connection. As long as she didn't get in his way… and since she was so determined to follow, she would have to keep up. A strange smile touched his lips.
He continued his patrol, exploring one island after another. Time passed. His notebook filled with densely written information: climate data, temperature and humidity readings, soil composition analysis, and notes on the native vegetation. This information was a treasure in itself, precious first-hand data on Herbology. This was how a true master of the art was made, not by tinkering in a greenhouse, but by surveying the field, by putting theoretical knowledge into practice.
As the sun began to sink below the horizon, painting the sea in shades of orange and red, the clear blue water turned a deep, inky black. The wind grew colder, more biting. Char decided to call it a day. The ocean was home to many large, magical creatures, and flying at night was a risk he wasn't willing to take. He ticked the islands he had surveyed on his map and returned to Hogwarts, his heart full of joy.
Tonks, on the other hand, was in a state of complete disarray. After a full day of tracking him, her whole body was soaked from the waves, and her face stung from the wind and the sun. And she still had no idea what he was doing. Just wandering around a bunch of deserted islands? And why did he look so happy about it? A thought suddenly struck her. Is he deliberately flying around just to get rid of me? What first-year student would be so idle? The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became. She followed him back to Hogwarts, her body aching, her mind already planning her surveillance for the next day. I'm going to keep a close eye on him, she resolved. But first, a shower and some sleep—
To her utter astonishment, Char, who had also spent the entire day at sea, showed no signs of fatigue. After returning to Hogwarts, he didn't even pause for breath before heading straight back to the library. Tonks gritted her teeth. No way! Isn't he tired? He's been flying all day! She clenched her fists. Then I can't rest either. What if he destroys evidence while I'm sleeping? I'm an Auror. I've been professionally trained. This is nothing. If a little badger can handle it, so can I.
She held on, her body screaming in protest, and waited outside the library all night. When dawn finally broke, Char emerged. He had spent the entire night researching the Quintaped, the Pute fruit, and the Isle of Drear, but still hadn't found any useful clues. He wasn't in a hurry. He hadn't even chosen his island yet. He would take it one step at a time.
He saw Tonks, her eyes bloodshot, her face a mask of pure exhaustion. He nodded calmly and walked past her. He took out his map, marked the islands he hadn't had time to explore the day before, and then, mounting his Nimbus 2000, flew back out over the Black Lake.
Tonks's eyes widened in disbelief. No! I was watching him all night! He was reading! He didn't sleep at all! And now he's flying out to sea again?! What is he doing?! She swallowed hard, but then took a deep breath. I'm an Auror. I'm professionally trained. I can survive this. You want to scare me into backing down? Don't even think about it! Gritting her teeth, she mounted her own broom and followed him, just as she had the day before. I just don't believe it, she thought, her frustration mounting. How can you do such a boring thing all day long?
By that evening, Tonks's clothes, which had never fully dried, were soaked through again. She watched Char from afar, her teeth chattering. "I give up," she muttered to herself. "I'm really impressed. You really can do this all day."
Char, completely unaware of her suffering, looked down at his own notebook, a deep sense of satisfaction washing over him. He had found a relatively suitable island, and there were several other promising ones in the same direction that he had yet to explore. It wouldn't be long now. It's getting dark, he thought. I'll go back for now and continue my research.
He turned and flew back to Hogwarts, spending another night in the library. For the next few days, his life fell into a regular, predictable pattern. His notebook filled with more and more information, and he now had three or four potential islands on his shortlist. He even felt his understanding of Herbology deepening with each day of exploration. His research on the Quintaped, however, was yielding fewer and fewer new clues.
This morning, as he walked out of the library, he saw Tonks again. She had been following him almost non-stop for four or five days, and she looked dazed and disheveled. As he walked past her, he caught a whiff of something unpleasant. He paused, then turned around.
"Senior," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Your clothes have been wet for a few days. You haven't washed them yet? Why don't you stop following me today and go take a shower?"
Tonks's face flushed a deep, mortified crimson. He knew! And he thought she smelled! She subconsciously sniffed her own clothes. The salty smell of the sea mixed with the sour smell of sweat hit her nose, and she wished the ground would swallow her whole. Without a word, she turned and hurried away.
Char watched her go, a somewhat amused expression on his face. Really, he thought. Why work so hard for such a job? So young. So naive.
He was about to leave to explore the islands again when a letter from Hagrid was delivered by an owl.
"Char. Very important. Come quickly!"
The urgency in Hagrid's tone made Char's expression turn serious. Was Tonks not the only Auror sent to investigate? Did they find out about Hagrid? With his criminal record, if he were implicated in this, he would almost certainly be sentenced to Azkaban.
Char immediately quickened his pace and headed for Hagrid's hut. A moment later, when he walked in and saw the scene before him, he froze, stunned.
"Hagrid—is this what you called me for?"
The cabin was covered in charred marks. Even Hagrid's beard was half burned off. And Hagrid himself was holding the culprit, Norbert the baby dragon, and giggling. He was thrilled to see Char.
"That's right! Norbert can breathe fire now, Char! This is a very memorable event." There were tears in his eyes. "Merlin, look at him. I've always wanted to raise a dragon. I never dreamed I'd be able to raise one to the stage where it could breathe fire. Norbert, little Norbert, Daddy loves you!" After wiping his tears, he continued, his voice full of emotion. "I've loved magical creatures since I was a kid. Especially the 5X ones. It's my dream to raise them all, just like Newt Scamander. Let me see… I've raised an Acromantula, a dragon, a three-headed dog, a Quintaped—"
He was counting on his fingers, his face full of pride. Char had been listening quietly, but when he heard Hagrid say the last name, his eyes suddenly widened.
"Hagrid—you said you've raised a Quintaped?!"
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