When Ciel saw the silver bucket's unusual change, he was truly surprised. This mysterious item, suspected to be the legendary Chalice of Demeter, had been dormant for so long and damaged to this extent. Previously, it had barely been activated through the Demeter Ritual magic. Now what was causing this abnormal reaction?

After brief contemplation, he took out his wand and carefully tapped it once. A sound that wasn't particularly pleasant but absolutely not as dull as before echoed quietly in the greenhouse. Strange light flashed through his eyes.

Just the day before, the silver bucket had definitely not recovered to this degree. This was like half a month had passed. What caused this change?

Countless images flashed rapidly through his mind, finally settling on the trolls' worshipful gazes. "Could it be... worship? Or rather, faith?!"

His heart filled with uncertainty. But considering the silver bucket likely came from the Olympian era, such speculation seemed reasonable. According to legends Dumbledore had previously shared with him, that era's powerful wizards were revered as gods by Muggles. They gathered on Mount Olympus, with grand celebrations throughout the year. Countless Muggles competed to make offerings.

That was arguably the era of wizards' greatest influence on the world. To compete for Muggle offerings, many wizards even waged wars. This had puzzled him at the time. If Mount Olympus housed not gods but powerful wizards, what value would Muggle offerings have to wizards capable of creating various alchemical items?

"Perhaps what they competed for was actually faith. So today, when I gained these trolls' heartfelt fanatical worship, the Chalice of Demeter also drew certain powers from me, accelerating its recovery progress? What relationship exists between faith and wizards?"

His eyes showed deep contemplation. From Dumbledore's descriptions, Olympian-era wizards' performances in myths and legends exceeded any current wizard. Whether Dumbledore or Voldemort would pale before that era's top wizards.

But this seemed somewhat unreasonable. After so many years, compared to that primitive era, wizards' magical theories had developed generation by generation. There was no reason modern wizards couldn't surpass ancient ones. Moreover, no era after the Olympian period seemed to see wizards achieve such glory again.

This indicated that after the Olympian era, wizards' power began declining dramatically. So what was the key factor?

"Could it be faith? Before then, wizards were revered by Muggles as deities. After that, this situation deteriorated sharply. By medieval times, wizards had become targets everyone wanted to hunt and kill, facing execution by fire from Muggles. Now, even wizards themselves are nearly forgotten by the Muggle world. Wizards no longer receive faith from Muggles... faith only exists within wizard communities. For instance, many people's fanaticism toward Dumbledore could be considered vague faith. Fear of Voldemort, to the point of not daring to speak his name, could also be considered faith. When Grindelwald's power peaked, it was similar. Even the Boy-Who-Lived, savior Harry Potter, represents faith in many people's hearts."

Suddenly, lightning flashed through his mind, as if understanding something. "Following this interpretation... When Voldemort first returned in the original story, at his peak, the magical world's fear of him reached its zenith. Then he was stronger than ever. By the final battle, Harry could reflect Voldemort's spells not only because he was the Elder Wand's true master, but perhaps because Harry represented the entire magical world's hope. Worship and expectations of him reached unprecedented peaks. Meanwhile, Voldemort's side suffered successive setbacks, becoming precarious with wavering loyalty. The fear he inspired was repeatedly challenged. Might this also be a factor?"

Though no relevant theory yet supported this, he looked at the Chalice of Demeter before him, feeling this was roughly correct. Faith itself should possess mysterious power. This sparked an idea in his mind.

"Should I try to gather more faith? With my current popularity in Hufflepuff, after some more groundwork, if I raised my arms and called out... Dumbledore would probably arrive with the Elder Wand, right?"

He smiled bitterly, decisively shaking his head. Attempting this at Hogwarts was pure fantasy. As for the magical world? Don't be ridiculous. He didn't think he had capital to rival Harry. Who would believe in him?

And in the Muggle world beyond the magical one... forget it. The International Statute of Secrecy wasn't toothless. "Besides, human hearts are unpredictable."

He never speculated about others with maximum malice. Human nature was so complex. Even Olympian-era wizards faced follower betrayal situations. What about him? He lacked Dumbledore's or Voldemort's ability to inspire absolute loyalty. Risking danger for uncertain benefits would be a huge loss.

But the trolls seemed to offer possibilities for gaining faith. "Though trolls are stupid, they don't know what betrayal means. Treat trolls well, give them a homeland for survival, and they'll reciprocate with gratitude and worship. How does that saying go... Well, the more people I meet, the more I like trolls. Later, moving the Forbidden Forest troll tribe to the island might gain some faith from them, further testing faith's effects. House-elves could also be pursued. But now..."

He cleared his mind of these thoughts. "The foundation of everything is still land development. These things can only be done gradually after protective magic is established and land development completed. Focusing energy on pursuing these things before completing main tasks would be putting the cart before the horse. Might end up losing the watermelon while failing to pick up sesame seeds."

He took a deep breath. Then his gaze fell on the Cinder Fern spore. Before going to develop land, this dying spore needed rescue attempts. He coveted its rewards greatly. Moreover, the Cinder Fern's inherent value was already extremely high. Any rescue possibility couldn't be missed. But its condition exceeded his capabilities. He needed Aunt Sprout's intervention.

So he hurried to Professor Sprout's office with the Cinder Fern spore. Upon entering, he heard Professor Sprout's somewhat reproachful voice.

"Ciel. I heard from Madam Pomfrey that you and Tonks encountered trouble at sea? Tonks was even sent to the hospital wing. What trouble could make a trainee Auror faint?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but Professor Sprout snorted softly. "Don't tell me Tonks really hit a reef. I taught her for seven years... I know her character too well. This child appears unconventional but is actually very reliable. She wouldn't make such basic mistakes."

He scratched his head. "It was Bogey Lockman."

The moment she heard this, Professor Sprout shot to her feet, cold light blazing in her eyes. "That shameless wretch dared follow you? I'll kill him!"

Seeing the murderous Professor Sprout, he shivered, quickly saying, "Tonks already dealt with him. He's gone where he should go."

Hearing this, Professor Sprout's killing intent finally subsided somewhat. "Azkaban? Hmph. Too good for him!"

He thought silently. Azkaban was on an island anyway. Bogey Lockman also died on an island. Rounding up, close enough. Better not mention it and worry, Aunt.

Then he quickly produced the Cinder Fern spore. "Let's not discuss scum like Bogey Lockman. Aunt, I found this during the sea trip."

When Professor Sprout saw the spore, her eyes instantly blazed with intense light, her voice even trembling. "This is... Merlin above, this is a Cinder Fern spore?!"

Professor Sprout looked at it like a priceless treasure. But seeing the spore's condition, she felt heartbroken. "Pity, such a pity. This Cinder Fern was just short of maturing. But ultimately fell short, leaving only one spore."

Professor Sprout immediately identified the Cinder Fern's state when he found it, earning his admiration. This was a Herbology master's foundation.

"Aunt. Is there any possibility of re-cultivating this spore?"

Professor Sprout found a thick book, flipping through it repeatedly. After a long time, she reached a conclusion. "There should still be hope. As long as it experiences a post-volcanic eruption environment again. Combined with some potion treatment, it might regain vitality. I heard prophecies predict a volcano will erupt during this summer vacation. Many people, especially herbologists who've searched for Cinder Fern their whole lives, want to seize this opportunity. We could go too... if the volcano truly erupts, perhaps this spore could regain life."

Then Professor Sprout eagerly asked him to leave the spore with her. She would begin the most careful treatment to preserve its remaining vitality.

Seeing this, he wisely left the spore and departed. But leaving Professor Sprout's office, he still felt puzzled. Why was Professor Sprout so excited about seeing the Cinder Fern spore today?

"Am I imagining things? Aunt's excitement seemed not just from seeing a rare plant. There was something else."

But soon, he shook his head slightly. Just a Cinder Fern spore... even if Aunt truly wanted it, so what? Besides, regardless, he always believed Aunt wouldn't do anything harmful to him.

At this time, in Professor Sprout's office, she clenched her fists, desire showing in her eyes. "Cinder Fern. This is also a talent enhancement potion ingredient. Perfect Mandrake, Cinder Fern, plus phoenix tears Dumbledore promised me... Three talent enhancement potion ingredients are now gathered."

Professor Sprout's emotions were hard to calm. "Soon, soon. At this rate. Give me two or three more years maximum, and I'll definitely collect all the ingredients. Talent will never become a cage trapping my nephew. I'll shatter it at any cost!"

He returned to the greenhouse. With the Cinder Fern spore entrusted to Professor Sprout, he needn't worry. Next, he could focus entirely on land development.

Just as he mentally planned various land development matters, text appeared again on the parchment. Voldemort's writing. Since hearing from him about a heavily protected island outside Hogwarts, Voldemort increasingly believed the Philosopher's Stone was likely there. The obstacles at Hogwarts were merely bait to attract his attention... even traps to lure him out.

That cunning Dumbledore was always so despicably shameless! But this time, he was ultimately superior. Dumbledore could never imagine he'd secretly recruited him, already seeing through his schemes!

The more this was so, the more urgent Voldemort's desire for the Philosopher's Stone became. He was truly sick of parasitic life in Quirrell's body. He desperately wanted the Philosopher's Stone to reshape his flesh.

Therefore, after just a few days, Voldemort couldn't restrain his urging of him. "Junior. When do we depart for the island?"

His eyes flashed strangely at this. He certainly couldn't rush to Drear Island with Voldemort. After all, Drear Island's Quintapeds were extremely sinister. The ancient Dark Magic Transfiguration shrouding them was practically the ancestor of much current Dark Magic Transfiguration. Imaginably evil.

And island dangers weren't limited to Quintapeds... there was also the two-faced spy. Without complete preparation, he would never act rashly. Of course, stalling Voldemort required reasons. But he had already thought of reasons.

He wrote repeatedly on the parchment. "Senior. I know you're anxious. But don't be hasty. That island's protection is very tight... I don't know what guardian measures exist within the protective magic. Only one chance to enter... must investigate thoroughly first. I plan to find an island during this period, ostensibly for land development, but actually for gradual investigation of that island's protection. When I've investigated enough, I'll draw fire for you, and you can use that opportunity to see what's actually hidden inside."

Seeing his explanation, even Voldemort found no fault. This was indeed very thorough planning. In comparison, Quirrell's previous obstacle-breaking operations seemed rather crude. If he'd investigated how to pass those obstacles beforehand, would he have wasted so much power on the three-headed dog?

Voldemort sincerely sighed. "Having him is like adding wings to a tiger. If all Death Eaters worked with his thoroughness, why worry about the great cause failing? Unfortunately, Death Eaters have many madmen but truly rare intelligent people."

Thinking this, Voldemort valued him even more. A young wizard with extreme dark magic talent who was so thorough... truly promising material. So Voldemort readily agreed to his arrangement, also agreeing not to contact each other during this period. When he was ready, he'd contact Voldemort.

Seeing the gradually dimming text on the parchment, he exhaled softly, his heart relaxing slightly. But soon, his nerves tensed again. "The upcoming period is rare uninterrupted time. But there's no leisure for waste. Voldemort can't be delayed indefinitely. I must not only complete land development work and prepare for planting Puking Pastilles and Chizpurfle grass but also fully prepare for landing on Drear Island. If possible, ideally trick Voldemort again, making him too busy to trouble me. But how?"

His current magical strength was severely limited by magical perception. Short-term improvement was difficult. Currently, only two paths exist for strength enhancement. One was continuing to improve Legendary Strength and Legendary Vitality. But without new Blood Jade maturation, improvement required external tempering. The troll's tempering effects had diminished. Using the Kraken for tempering would have significant effects, but it had fled last time... who knew which corner of the vast sea it was hiding in.

The second path was gaining allied external force. But looking across the magical world, who would ally with him, a young wizard, to face notorious monsters like Quintapeds and possibly oppose Voldemort? Who had such capability?

He shook his head. Both paths seemed unlikely to make significant short-term progress. This made his mood somewhat gloomy. But after a moment, he collected himself and returned to the volcanic island he'd previously named Sprout Island.

Since other aspects currently lacked direction, time shouldn't be wasted. Time to farm. Perhaps changing perspective and clearing his mind would lead to other solutions.

Then he waved his wand. Soil-loosening spells fell one after another, loosening Sprout Island's earth. Though his current magical mastery and power were incomparable to before, greatly expanding the spells' range, it was still quite small compared to Sprout Island's area. Just loosening soil would keep him busy for a while.

He had no complaints about this... quite the opposite, he enjoyed it. After all, land developed now would provide rich returns in the future!

Unknowingly, a night passed. The sky gradually brightened. Just as he continued tirelessly working, an Apparition explosion sounded on Sprout Island. Then a house-elf figure appeared before him... Eugene from the Lockman family.

Seeing him personally engaged in cultivation, having already developed a large field area, Eugene's eyes showed strangeness. It certainly knew the Sprout family's status. Frankly speaking, its former master Bogey Lockman's family was incomparable to the Sprout family. He, as the Sprout family's sole heir, held noble status that would be exceptional even in Slytherin.

But Eugene hadn't expected such a noble person to actually engage in labor. Combined with previously witnessing his dimensionally superior magical abilities among peers, Eugene looked at him with increasing awe.

"Noble young Master Sprout. He will definitely become a remarkable wizard in the future."

Eugene's bulging eyes also showed desire. It didn't want to fall back into situations like being tortured by villains like Bogey Lockman. But as a house-elf, it had no choice. However, if it could shelter under his protection, perhaps it could live differently.

Then Eugene, having already decided, showed no hesitation. It approached him, producing a package. "Noble young Master Sprout. This is a collection I stole from the Lockman house. I think there might be things you could use inside. Also..."

It produced the whistle Bogey Lockman had used to summon the Kraken. "Last time, I hastily sent my former master to that island. His whistle wasn't sent in but fell into the sea. I retrieved it."

He looked at Eugene before him, his heart stirring with some fortune. Good thing he'd spared this house-elf. Otherwise, even knowing Bogey Lockman was dead, he wouldn't know where those collections were stored. Only Eugene, who had served Bogey Lockman, knew where those treasures were hidden.

Though Bogey Lockman was a scoundrel, his reputation and years of accumulation were likely considerable. The package's contents were definitely valuable. But most important to him was this whistle whose effects he'd witnessed. Seeing it, his eyes brightened.

The issue that had been troubling him... how to enhance strength short-term... suddenly had an answer!