Watching the change in his Legendary Life ability, Robert felt as if a storm was raging within his heart.
Back when he first upgraded his Life Force enhancement to the Legendary Level, he had often wondered—was it even possible to reach the Mythical Level?
Between Legendary and Mythical, there seemed to be an insurmountable gap. No matter how much Robert tried, he couldn't make any progress. He had harvested multiple reward cycles, yet nothing ever budged. All he could do was stack other abilities.
Years passed, and Robert had long accepted this as the norm.
But today—falling from a great height—had triggered a tiny change. Just a sliver, but that sliver was more than what he had seen in years.
His heart locked onto a single, burning thought.
"Could it be that promotion from Legendary to Mythical isn't just about stacking rewards? Does it require external conditions? Tempering through impact or damage?"
Suddenly, everything made sense. Beings who attained Mythical strength rarely got there through ease. Odin gave up an eye for runes. Heracles faced twelve impossible labors. Why should his journey be any easier?
Looking at the faint glow now added to his Legendary Life, Robert couldn't help but laugh.
"The road is long, but if you keep walking, you'll reach the end!"
As long as he could work toward it, Robert wasn't afraid of anything.
Just then, a furious roar echoed across the Quidditch pitch.
"Robert Sprout! What have you done?!"
The color drained from Robert's face.
Aunt Sprout?
She sounded beyond furious.
This was bad. Really bad.
— A few minutes earlier...
In the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore and Professor Sprout were discussing the protections around the Philosopher's Stone.
"Devil's Snare is still quite dangerous," Dumbledore said. "First-year students won't know how to counter it unless they've been told the weakness."
"Pomona, I know it's not typical for them to learn this in their first year, but please find a way to teach them the Devil's Snare weakness before term ends."
Professor Sprout sighed deeply.
"You're so old and still playing games," she muttered. "Fine. But if I'm going along with this nonsense, can we increase the Herbology budget? The Greenhouse needs repairs. I'd also like to expand it a bit."
Dumbledore gave a sheepish smile, mumbling vague excuses like, "In due time," and "We're working on it."
Rolling her eyes, Sprout's tone grew serious.
"Headmaster Albus, I have a request."
Now Dumbledore was truly paying attention.
"What kind of request warrants formality between us, Pomona?"
She answered with gravity.
"Have you heard of the Talent Enhancement Potion?"
At that, Dumbledore frowned.
"The potion that enhances innate magic and talent? Many of the ingredients are extinct, aren't they?"
Sprout nodded firmly.
"I've already started gathering the rare ingredients. As long as there's a sliver of hope, I won't give up."
"So tell me, Albus—can Phoenix tears help?"
Dumbledore glanced at Fawkes.
"Yes. Fawkes will undergo rebirth next year. Fresh Phoenix tears might be available then."
Sprout let out a breath of relief, mentally checking off her list.
"Perfect Margaret... Phoenix tears... That makes two ingredients. I will make that potion for Robert."
As she turned toward the window, she caught sight of a dark figure spinning through the air—falling fast.
Even at a distance, she recognized Robert immediately.
And that's how she ended up storming across the Quidditch Pitch like an angry banshee.
The Gryffindor lion cubs froze in terror.
Many thought Professor McGonagall was the scariest when angry, but they'd never seen gentle Professor Sprout like this.
Robert lowered his head sheepishly.
"Auntie... I'm fine, see? I know I messed up."
Sprout's expression darkened.
"You know you messed up? I doubt that. You'll do it again if I let this slide!"
She took a deep breath.
"Merlin's beard. If anything happened to you, I couldn't forgive myself."
"So... you're getting punished. A punishment you'll never forget."
The Gryffindors gulped. What kind of punishment would this be? Would it be the terrifying "Biting Cabbage Stool" rumored to have been used centuries ago and banned for cruelty?
Robert kept his head down, bracing for the worst.
Sprout continued:
"I know ordinary punishments don't affect you. Making you polish trophies or clean the greenhouse would just be a reward!"
"So here it is: You're banned from the Greenhouse for seven days. No cultivation, no potion ingredient prep."
"And I'll warn Professor Snape—if he tries to make you touch a single root, he can forget about getting anything from me again!"
"Oh, and one more thing—your textbooks? Confiscated. For seven days, no studying."
The Gryffindors blinked in disbelief.
That's the punishment? Can we have that too?!
But Robert's face turned pale.
"W-What?! Auntie, no! You can't do this—it's too cruel! I need to work! I need to study!"
"Without them, what's the meaning of life?"
"Please, let's negotiate—one day? Maybe three?"
Sprout shook her head sternly.
"Seven days. Not one day less. Now, hand them over."
Miserable, Robert opened the enchanted satchel Sprout had once gifted him and began pulling out book after book: Charms, Herbology...
"Can I at least keep History of Magic, please?" he begged.
But Sprout was unmoved.
"No exceptions. Oh, and there's one more book. Don't think you can hide it from me."
Robert paused. Reluctantly, he pulled out Succubus Queen and Dragon Maid. His heart pounded. Inside that book was the hidden spell Sectumsempra. If Sprout discovered it...
But to his surprise, she actually smiled slightly at the outrageous title.
"Finally, a decent book. You can keep that one."
As she left, her anger softened into a hidden smile.
"The child is growing up. Maybe one day, the Sprout family will thrive again."
Once she was gone, Robert exhaled in relief.
"Close call... Thank Merlin I didn't lose the Half-Blood Prince's notes."
Still, a full week without the Greenhouse or Potions work?
That was going to be hard.
Just then, Harry approached, eyes sparkling.
"Robert, your punishment is... amazing!"
But Robert looked miserable.
"Harry, I swear I want to work. I want to study. I'm suffering."
Then Harry leaned in, voice lowered.
"Want a side job? Hagrid has something. He's wanted to ask you for a while."
Robert's eyes lit up.
"Hagrid?"
The Troll from earlier had been sent to Hagrid. That could mean another chance to test Goldfish Vine cultivation, which needed unusual catalysts.
Plus, Goldfish Vine wasn't grown in the Greenhouse—it was perfect!
Even better, if he could raise Blood Emerald, which required blood from powerful magical beasts, then...
"In the original timeline, Hagrid gets a dragon egg just a few weeks after Christmas," Robert thought. "If I can get involved... A dragon's blood could massively boost Blood Emerald production!"
Combined with his Legendary Life ability—and now the knowledge that external tempering was key to Mythical ascension...
This could be my breakthrough!
He looked at Harry and said warmly:
"Harry, you've been a great help."
Harry smiled brightly.
"Then... would you reconsider what I mentioned last time? About the Dumbledore plan? As a thank-you?"
Robert turned without hesitation.
"Goodbye. Forever. Thank you so much."
But a few seconds later, he stepped back and whispered:
"Third-floor Potions classroom. Third locker from the left."
"There's a book—Advanced Potion-Making. But inside... it's really Succubus Queen and Dragon Maid."
"Harry. Tell me I'm not the best friend you've ever had."
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