At this time, Char's eyes fell on the system panel. The handwriting of the Severus's Transfiguration potion had been completely covered by the luster of black iron. It had been promoted to the Black Iron level. This meant that he had finally officially gotten started in this magical ability. He also suddenly felt that his understanding of potions seemed to have risen to a completely different level. Although it was still far from the level that Snape had reached when he was in school, where he could easily change the production processes of various advanced potions, if he were given some basic potions now, he also had enough confidence to make improvements to the process based on the different nature of their magic.
This top-level potion skill not only improved his attainments in potion science, but Transfiguration also benefited greatly. After all, the foundation of this skill was Tolman Transfiguration. Severus's introduction to Transfiguration through potions naturally further promoted his Tolman Transfiguration. The silver luster on the words "Transfiguration" became increasingly brilliant.
And as Char was savoring this harvest, Snape was looking at the boil-curing potion made by him. It took a long time for him to recover from the shock. He had always recognized Char's efforts, but based on his judgment of his talent, it would have taken at least a semester of practice to master this potion-based transfiguration technique. Even until the end of his own life, it was very likely that even Char could not master this skill. But Snape had never thought that only one day had passed, and he had actually finished it. How had this little guy done it?
Under such shock and impact, Char's words just now couldn't help but linger in his mind. "Magic is subjective. As long as you believe it firmly enough, is any kind of miracle possible?" After a while, he finally came to his senses. The thick haze that had originally shrouded his heart had been diluted a lot without him noticing. It seemed like there were still a few glimmers of hope flickering.
But soon, looking at the potion made by Char, he still had a look of disgust on his face. "A potion like this makes you so happy? Then your standards for Potions are too low. Don't tell anyone that I taught you Potions, or I'll be embarrassed to see anyone."
Char didn't take his ridicule seriously. Instead, he felt relieved. That was just right. It always felt weird when Snape didn't spit venom. He nodded repeatedly, dealing with his ridicule and comments, then said, "Professor, leave the Potions classroom to me. You can go get busy."
But Snape waved his hand, which was uncharacteristic of him. "You don't have to clean up. Just follow me." When Char showed a puzzled expression, he took him to his office. Then, he took out the cupboard where he kept various potions and magical ingredients. He pulled out a bottle of orange potion and handed it to him. "Take it. There's no room in the cupboard."
He subconsciously took the potion, but immediately felt something unusual. He could feel it even through the bottle. There seemed to be arcs flashing in this potion. His hair stood on end at this. "This is?!"
When he was surprised, Snape spoke nonchalantly, as if he were explaining a trivial matter. "A potion made with a Thunderbird's eye as the main ingredient. It can make a person's magic power have the properties of lightning for a short period of time, greatly reducing the damage caused by lightning to the user. Humph, I originally wanted to concoct a potion that could actually transform a person into lightning, but I only managed to achieve this. It's a topic of no value to me. An imperfect work. It's annoying even to look at it. It doesn't deserve to be in my treasured cabinet. Take it away and dispose of it quickly."
Char fell silent. A Thunderbird's eye. This was an extremely rare material in the magical world. In the cabinet where Snape kept various materials, there was only one, and it had always been kept on the top shelf. Even the bottle containing it had to be wiped regularly to keep it spotless. And it had actually been used to prepare such a potion. Thinking of the various processes required to deal with a Thunderbird's eye, he felt even more complicated. Calculating the time, Snape had probably discovered that he was using the Room of Requirement to generate electricity and practice ancient weather magic. He must have been preparing this bottle of medicine already. Although he said it with disdain, this bottle of potion was obviously prepared to allow him to withstand lightning in nature. It went without saying how much time and energy it had taken.
After a moment of silence, he didn't refuse. This bottle of potion was indeed very useful to him now. He carefully put it in his arms. He said seriously, "Professor, I won't let you down."
Snape waved his hand impatiently, motioning for him to leave. After he turned and left, a smile slowly emerged on the corner of Snape's mouth. And Char, when walking up to the ground level from the underground classroom, found that the heavy rain from yesterday had stopped. The air was cool and fresh. The sun was shining brightly, shining on his body. The rain had stopped and the sky was clear. He breathed a sigh of relief. This bottle of Thunderbird potion that Snape had given him was indeed unexpected. But thinking of its effectiveness, a hint of heat also flashed across his eyes. "It seems we can start preparing for the Quintaped's blood."
In the blink of an eye, it was three days later. A dull, salty sea breeze blew across Sprout Island, but it made people feel even more stuffy. There were low clouds in the sky, as if something was brewing. The troll priest Sirius looked into the distance. A feeling told him that in a few days, an unprecedented storm would sweep across this sea area. When the time came, even a giant troll would have to stay dormant in its cave in the face of such natural power. Fortunately, Sprout Island was protected by protective magic. The crops on the island should not be severely damaged. "But before that, we must complete the tasks assigned by our king."
Immediately, his gaze turned to the highest cliff on the island. There, giant trolls were busy building a huge, pointed device on top. This was the task Char had given to the troll tribe when he had come to the island three days ago. Before the next violent storm arrived, he needed a device called a lightning rod. Sirius had no idea what this was, but as long as it was his order, he would complete it without hesitation. After all, it was Char who had led the troll tribe out of the dark Forbidden Forest and brought them to Sprout Island, allowing them to live and work here in peace and contentment, with enough food and clothing. Not to mention, his arrival three days ago had brought more than just this order. It had also brought Sirius something he had never expected. He carefully took out a notebook, gently stroking its pages. "Nicolas Flamel's notebooks—" he whispered, his voice trembling. Even in the Forbidden Forest, he had heard of his reputation. This was the pinnacle of alchemy, the only alchemist who had created the Philosopher's Stone. The value of such notes was beyond words. But Char had given such a precious notebook to him, a giant troll who was smelly, vulgar, and stupid in the eyes of ordinary people. This was important. He really felt that he was carrying a heavy responsibility.
"My king treats me this way. This matter must be done beautifully. Otherwise, how can we repay his kindness?" Taking a deep breath, he waved the "magic wand" in his hand, which was taller than a man. Ancient runes were chanted from his mouth. The ancient fire magic that had once burned Char horribly once again surged out from the tip of his staff. The blazing flames fell on the metal ores that the trolls had gathered from the island and the nearby beaches. In the blink of an eye, the ore was burned and melted. At the same time, he tapped the ground with his wand. An alchemy array then lit up, and the melted ore flowed into its patterns. With the light of alchemy, the originally rough and impure ore was immediately transformed into metal of extremely high purity. The giants loaded the unsolidified metal onto the cliff and poured it onto the tall, sharp building.
While Sirius was busy, a voice of appreciation came from behind. "Sirius, your alchemy skills are growing too fast." He heard the voice and quickly turned around. The figure that came into view was none other than Char. He watched the alchemy displayed by Sirius, his expression quite satisfied. The alchemical talent of this giant priest was really incredible. It seemed that the blessing of the Fire God's bloodline on alchemy was truly beyond the imagination of ordinary people. If things continued to develop in this way, Sirius might actually be able to inherit Nicolas Flamel's mantle. If this was really possible, the help it provided to him would be beyond imagination.
And Sirius, faced with his praise, had a face full of seriousness. "My king, my alchemy attainments are still far from enough. I will learn the contents of Nicolas Flamel's notes as quickly as possible and will never waste the opportunity my king has given me."
Char smiled and waved his hand. Originally, he had always wanted to correct the way Sirius and the trolls addressed him. Things like "my king" really sounded a bit weird. But Sirius insisted that the distinction of identity was necessary. The king was the king. To the king who had led the giant tribe into the future, he must not be disrespectful. After a few attempts, he had no choice but to give up. At this time, he asked about the progress of the lightning rod project. Sirius stated confidently, "My king, three days at most. We'll be able to finish the installation before the storm arrives. Only," there was worry in his eyes, "I'm afraid this storm will be much bigger than expected. Lightning and thunder... this kind of magic, even in the blood memories left by our ancestors, makes the gods tremble in fear. My king, do you really want to endure this?"
Char narrowed his eyes slightly. If it was before, he might not have been very sure in his heart, but now he had the bottle of Thunderbird potion that Snape had given him. Coupled with the diamond-level ability to regenerate severed limbs, his recovery ability had skyrocketed. As long as his brain and heart were not destroyed instantly, he would be able to recover quickly from his injuries in a short period of time. What's more, he had already experienced the electric current in the Room of Requirement before. There was already a natural will within his body that could drive thunder. It was somewhat resistant to lightning. Even facing the lightning in nature, he was also very confident. At least there was no danger to his life. Not to mention, this time, he had also prepared a "shield" for himself. It should be enough to weaken the power of lightning by another level. Thinking of this, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly. He seemed to be expecting something. "I don't know what's being prepared in the temple on Delos. Don't let me down too much."
At the same time, on the island of Delos, in the strange temple that he had once seen, a strange cursed magic was shrouded. Even more bizarre scenes emerged. A group of ferocious and bloodthirsty Quintapeds were gathered outside the temple. A strong look of fanaticism appeared on their heads. They seemed to be worshipping the temple. Even the temple door was now wide open. A figure in a black robe walked out from among them. The black robe seemed to have been worn for hundreds of years. The various protective magics that were once attached to it had dissipated. The originally valuable materials had become tattered. Even the badge worn on it, representing the honorary status of a master of transfiguration, had become dull. The figure was hunched, but when the Quintapeds saw him, their eyes became even more fanatical, seeming eager to try something. And then, a skinny finger covered with red hair stretched out from under the black robe. The finger pointed at three of the Quintapeds in succession. Those who were selected immediately showed ecstatic expressions. The next moment, they crawled in the square in front of the temple and lay down. The rest of the Quintapeds uttered vague sounds of praise, then rushed forward, eating up their three kind. During this strange and bloody ceremony, wave after wave of strange power surged out from them and flowed into the temple. In the deepest part, a hateful voice echoed.
"The cooldown time for the Ritual of Demeter... it's almost there. That little kid stole so much of my power last time. He must have tasted a lot of sweetness. I can sense that there's still a lot of Quintaped's blood out there. He must have saved it for the ritual. Just wait, blasphemer, there will be no good end. Those who possess the power of Demeter will eventually prostrate themselves before the temple gate. The Transfiguration masters who came to the island of Delos hundreds of years ago were no exception. That little wizard from the Weasley family is no exception. And you, the heir of Demeter, will be no exception. Quick, perform the ritual. You'll never imagine what kind of surprise I have prepared for you!"
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