Shire stared at the rapidly expanding reward light sphere hovering above the Shadow Thorns, his eyes wide with pleasant surprise. The Shadow Thorns, masters of Ancient Shadow Magic, were invaluable not just for harvesting rewards—they were formidable in combat as well.
Previously, the Shadow Thorns' growth had been painfully slow, stunted by a lack of nutrients. Even after so much time, Shire hadn't seen any visible development in them. Now, thanks to the special soil in the Little Greenhouse, the situation had drastically changed. By casting the Demeter Ritual magic on the little silver bucket, the soil seemed capable of accelerating the maturation of the Shadow Thorns, an effect Shire hadn't dared hope for.
In an instant, the Shadow Thorns underwent a dramatic transformation. Its thorns grew sharper and harder, each one glinting a deep, dark color that sent shivers down one's spine. Even more astonishingly, the shadow it commanded nearly doubled in size. As if overfed, the Shadow Thorns emitted a series of humorous lines:
"Burp."
"So full."
"Father, I need some time to digest."
Then, it returned to the field, its wriggling shadow gradually normalizing. Shire's eyes sparkled as he observed the much larger reward light sphere above it. Conservatively, the nutrients it had absorbed from the little silver bucket seemed to have advanced its maturation by three years.
If he repeated this process three or four more times, the Shadow Thorns could reach full maturity. Unfortunately, when Shire tapped the little silver bucket again, there was only silence—no pleasant humming as before. Clearly, the bucket couldn't be activated again so soon.
Shire felt a twinge of regret but remembered Dumbledore's legend about the Demeter silver cup. In ancient Greece, the ritual was performed four times a year to pray for a bountiful harvest in each season. Perhaps this was a clue about the bucket's limitations: four activations per year, roughly once every three months.
The thought filled Shire with joy. By the second school year, the Shadow Thorns could fully mature, and he could finally claim the Ancient Shadow Magic reward. If he managed to accumulate enough, perhaps he could comprehend Ancient Shadow Magic in one fell swoop—a much faster path than he had originally anticipated. If he repaired the little silver bucket further, the process could accelerate even more.
Shire then turned his attention to the remaining soil in the bucket. Most of it had been absorbed by the Shadow Thorns, its special ancient magic mostly spent. Yet a small portion remained, retaining the capacity to accelerate the maturation of other magical plants. Shire's eyes lit up.
"There's still some magic left. It can speed up the growth of another plant… but which one?"
The remaining soil's limited power meant he had to maximize its utility. The Guardian Tree and the remaining Shadow Thorns were too far from harvest to benefit immediately. The Devil's Snare required handling tier-three nodes, unsuitable for forced maturation. This left two viable options: Piranha Algae and the newly transformed blood emerald. Both could mature in roughly one to one and a half months.
Piranha Algae was aquatic, and Shire had already tested it with the little silver bucket—no effect. That left only the blood emerald. He carefully mixed the remaining soil into the earth around the blood emerald. Almost instantly, the plant reacted as if it had received a powerful tonic. Its crimson and emerald hues deepened, as though blood now flowed through it. The reward light sphere above it swelled rapidly, like heavy fruit ripening on a branch.
Shire's eyes gleamed with anticipation. Today, the blood emeralds might finally mature under the bucket's influence. But he knew the plant also required fresh, vigorous blood for growth. Shire's expression hardened with determination. A small amount of his own blood for his Legendary Life was a worthy investment.
He waved his wand, slicing his arm and letting a fine mist of blood envelop the blood emerald. The vitality within accelerated its maturation noticeably, and the reward light sphere grew even faster. Shire continued to feed the plant with his blood, his eyes locked on the sphere, awaiting the moment of fruition.
Meanwhile, in the Forbidden Forest, a mournful wail echoed. Another unicorn lay on the ground, rigid and terrified, as a figure in a black hood tore open its throat and greedily drank the blood. Even as the unicorn shriveled, the figure tried to extract every last drop.
From beneath the hood, a chilling voice spoke, cold and measured:
"Not enough. Still not enough. I need more to break through these checkpoints."
Quirrell's trembling voice responded:
"Ma—Master—Unicorn blood is weakening. The curse's power grows stronger. If I continue hunting, I may collapse before recovering enough strength."
Voldemort's voice returned, stern but controlled:
"Then find stronger blood. Blood that restores more power. You must conserve enough to leave Hogwarts, Quirrell. Your strength alone won't suffice."
Quirrell nodded, his ambition and desire glowing in his eyes.
Voldemort softened slightly, offering temptation to ensure loyalty. "Once I obtain the Philosopher's Stone, all hidden dangers will vanish. I will also grant you a body younger, stronger, and more beautiful than your current one."
Quirrell's breathing quickened, excitement evident. "Master, I will do my utmost!"
Voldemort, sensing Quirrell's greed, was satisfied. Then he shifted his focus.
"It's been several days since Shire's detention ended. Those brats caused a commotion, sure, but Dumbledore has likely relaxed his watch. Now it's time to get the method for passing the mutated Devil's Snare from him."
Quirrell nodded again, careful to clean the lingering unicorn blood from his mouth. Confident in his newfound strength, he strode toward the Little Greenhouse.
Inside, Shire's gaze remained fixed on the blood emerald's reward light sphere. Minutes passed, each heavier than the last. The little silver bucket's magic had been entirely consumed. The growth of the sphere slowed. Shire's expression was calm, but his eyes shone with unyielding determination.
One final push. The bucket's effect was gone; he would rely entirely on his own blood. He bit his tongue and spat a particularly crimson mist over the blood emerald. Instantly, the nearly stagnant reward light sphere flickered and surged. Lines of prompts flashed across his system panel:
"You have cultivated blood emerald to maturity. Rewards: slight increase in blood production (Silver-tier), extremely weak purification of bloodline (Bronze-tier), Dragon Fire (Bronze-tier)."
"You have cultivated blood emerald mutated form to maturity. Rewards: slight increase in blood production (Silver-tier), extremely weak purification of bloodline (Bronze-tier), Poison (Bronze-tier)."
Shire's eyes widened in delight. The blood emerald had matured! Heavy light spheres hovered above it, flowing into his body like a tide. Suddenly, [Blood Production Capacity Increased] appeared on his system panel, shimmering silver. Golden light followed, blooming and growing richer by the second. His bone marrow burned as new blood surged through his vessels. Every drop lost in irrigating the blood emerald was instantly replenished.
The golden light continued to expand until it fully occupied the [Blood Production Capacity Increased] text. Shire could hear the sound of rushing blood, a river flowing through his veins. The [Blood Production Capacity Increased (Gold-tier)] had advanced!
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