The pleasant echo from Demeter's chalice resonated through the small greenhouse. Ciel's eyes brightened. This time, Demeter's chalice seemed to draw even more faith power from him than last time. Calculating this way, it should have reduced the time by nearly another half month.

The time until he could use ritual magic again to create that ancient magical power was very close now.

"Before Quirrell returns to Hogwarts. I should be able to perform Demeter's ritual magic once more. This way, my chances will be even greater."

Then he exhaled softly, his expression relaxing considerably. He hadn't expected the Quidditch Cup final to bring such an unexpected bonus. The little badgers' reverence could also generate faith power for Demeter's chalice to absorb.

This made him somewhat tempted. Should he act more high-profile? Deliberately deepening his reverence in the little badgers' hearts. This way, the faith power obtained would definitely be much more than now.

But soon, he shook his head repeatedly. Doing these things inside Hogwarts was still too risky. Dumbledore's vigilance against such matters was truly too strict. It was only because he came from Hufflepuff that Dumbledore wasn't too wary in this regard.

If he were currently in Gryffindor or Slytherin, showing this kind of cohesive power, Dumbledore's probes would come immediately. But if he continued deepening his influence, it would be hard for that old man Dumbledore to remain at ease.

Taking such risks, the benefits gained weren't as high as he imagined. Under the Quidditch finals atmosphere, so many Hufflepuff students only provided slightly more faith power than those five trolls. Averaging it out, one troll might provide over ten times more faith power than one little badger!

"Perhaps this is because trolls have very low intelligence and don't think about many things. Once they revere and have faith, they hold nothing back. The faith power generated is quite considerable. Looking at humans, even if the little badgers admire or even worship me, it's hard to rise to the level of faith. Only occasions like the Quidditch finals allow me to collect some faith power. Other occasions might not yield anything."

He narrowed his eyes. "From this perspective, if I want to collect faith, it's more suitable to collect from trolls."

Unknowingly, trolls had become an important "resource" for him. Not only could they accelerate Devil's Snare maturation, but now they could also reduce Demeter's ritual magic intervals. If there were more trolls, he would benefit greatly.

He still had Whomping Willow branches, unknown ancient seeds obtained from Bogey Lockman, and even a section of World Tree root he'd hidden away! Cultivating these ancient plants was a subject even Herbology masters couldn't solve.

But the former Lady Hufflepuff had completed Whomping Willow cultivation with the help of her cup. The cup was an imitation of Demeter's chalice. Perhaps Demeter's chalice could also reduce the difficulty of cultivating these plants!

"But all of this. First requires understanding what's causing the abnormal troll gathering in the Forbidden Forest."

He took a deep breath and continued toward the library. The library was now empty. After all, all of Hogwarts was still caught up in the excitement from the Quidditch finals. Everywhere people were discussing the flying skills he had displayed.

The magical photographs Susan Bones had taken had simply become treasures all the girls eagerly shared. This would perhaps remain a day that left deep impressions in this class of students' hearts for many years.

But for him, the excitement of making history had already subsided. Just another ordinary day. Honour, being pursued by people... these were just fleeting things.

Rustle. Rustle.

The sound of turning pages resumed. He immersed himself in it, still executing according to his established plan. After reading troll literature for a while, he would practise copying runic script. Spare time was used for maintaining the small greenhouse and Sprout Island.

Every minute and second, he could be said to have fully utilised. In this rhythm, unknowingly, seven days passed in the blink of an eye.

This day, in the library, he sat quietly in a corner. Since the aftermath of the Quidditch event hadn't subsided, people often came asking for his autograph, convinced he would definitely become a historically recorded Quidditch star.

So to avoid being disturbed, he still wore his Invisibility Cloak in the library. At this moment, in the seemingly calm corner, he had a grave expression with fine beads of sweat on his forehead. He held his holly wand, tracing marks on parchment.

He was copying the three runic scripts from Ancient Weather Magic. After seven days of practice, relying on the enhancement brought by flow state, he had skilfully mastered the construction methods for three basic nodes of the three runic scripts.

On the system panel, though Ancient Weather Magic still hadn't reached entry level and didn't shine with Black Iron lustre, it finally no longer looked ethereal and vague. The traces had finally solidified considerably.

But the deeper he delved into runic script, the more he felt the vastness and mystery of this magical knowledge. Each runic script contained supposedly endless magical nodes internally. At least seven magical nodes were needed to form a basic runic configuration.

His current magical perception could only support constructing three nodes. He couldn't even write the most basic runic configuration, which was completely insufficient to unleash runic power.

Single runic scripts were already vast and profound. Different runic scripts could also produce mysterious connections. Like word usage and sentence construction in language, different runic configurations arranged and combined could possibly produce mysterious effects.

Many powerful magics in history were derived from runic combinations. He took a deep breath.

"To truly master Ancient Weather Magic. I must at least master the combination of these three runic scripts I memorised. This difficulty is far higher than copying single runic scripts. It seems impossible to master in the short term, at least until magical perception improves to the Platinum tier. However, practising in this area isn't without benefits."

He laboriously waved his wand, slowly displaying the basic nodes of the three runic scripts he mastered consecutively on parchment. Gradually, he seemed to see some magical power being stirred by the runic scripts, producing strange changes.

But moments later, all three runic traces collapsed, obviously exceeding his current limits to write three basic runic configurations consecutively. But during this process, the Transfiguration lustre on the system panel solidified somewhat more.

Especially compared to seven days ago, the solidification degree was much higher. Proving he had accumulated much more foundation in Transfiguration than before.

"The combination of these three runic scripts has similarities to Tolman Transfiguration. Researching it has given me a deeper understanding of magical power's nature changes. Transfiguration benefits aren't small, and other magical foundations have also improved. Compared to before, though my various magical abilities haven't broken through, my accumulation has definitely risen a level."

This made him quite pleased. But then, thinking of other matters still made him frown. The abnormal troll gathering still had no leads. In another week, if he still couldn't find the cause of this phenomenon, he could only take risks and personally investigate in the Forbidden Forest.

Besides this, there was another originally easy matter that remained unresolved. That was purchasing Chizpurfle grass seeds. Sprout Island originally had two acres of remaining land. During this time, Eugene and the trolls had cleared another five acres. Together that was seven acres of empty land available for planting Chizpurfle grass.

There were also many scattered non-contiguous lands that could be gradually cleared later. He didn't have that many Chizpurfle grass seeds and needed to purchase them from the market. This wasn't very difficult. Chizpurfle grass prices were indeed high, but seeds weren't that expensive either.

With Professor Sprout's resources, handling this matter was completely no problem. But this matter had been delayed without resolution.

At this time, he stood up, deciding to ask Professor Sprout about the detailed situation with Chizpurfle grass seeds. After arriving at Professor Sprout's office, he saw Professor Sprout's ugly expression.

Seeing him, Professor Sprout barely suppressed her anger. "Ciel. You're here about the Chizpurfle grass seeds, right?"

He nodded, his expression somewhat confused. "Aunt. What happened?"

Professor Sprout took a deep breath and clenched her hands. "By rights, the Chizpurfle grass seeds I ordered should have been delivered to Hogwarts long ago. But today, I received letters from those Chizpurfle grass plantations. Without exception, all said they couldn't sell. But now isn't the time when Chizpurfle grass seeds are in high demand and out of stock. Some plantation owners even hinted indirectly, asking if I'd offended someone."

Professor Sprout's eyes flashed with cold light, seemingly also pondering who would oppose her in such matters. His expression was also somewhat grave. Could it be some enemies of Professor Sprout in the Herbology world?

He shook his head. "Aunt. In that case, don't worry about the Chizpurfle grass matter. Wait until we figure out who's behind this, then see what to do. I wasn't urgent about this anyway. Don't let yourself be schemed against because of this."

Professor Sprout's face showed relief. At the same time, cold fury churned in her eyes' depths. She swore, once she found out who was interfering with buying Chizpurfle grass seeds for him, even if Dumbledore came to mediate, she'd definitely put Biting Cabbages on that person's head!

Then he left Professor Sprout's office. Not long after leaving, while walking in the corridor and pondering who could be behind the Chizpurfle grass seed interference and what they wanted to accomplish with such petty sabotage, he really couldn't understand the intent behind this.

At this time, the sound of owl wing-flapping arose. A letter fell toward him. He caught the envelope. Seeing the signature, he suddenly raised an eyebrow.

"Bacon Flint?"

He was the Flint family patriarch. Previously, for Sprout Island development matters, he'd come to the island looking for him, and the scene had been extremely unpleasant. When being expelled from the island by him, Bacon Flint had angrily vowed to teach him a lesson.

Later at Hogwarts, in Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Marcus Flint had wanted to attack him. The result was being beaten up by him instead, requiring at least half a year bedridden... utterly miserable.

Now Bacon Flint was actually writing to him? His eyes showed some uncertainty. "Could it be..."

Carefully opening the envelope, what met his eyes was crude language completely unrelated to "nobility".

"Now you should know the price of provoking our Flint family? Without my say-so, no one dares sell anything to you. Let me tell you, our Flint family has plenty of methods to deal with you. If you don't want things to escalate further, hurry up and apologise to me and my poor child in person. Otherwise you'll definitely regret it..."

He didn't even finish reading the several pages of threats and profanity Bacon Flint had attached. Instead, he shook his head. He'd initially thought someone was scheming against Professor Sprout. Daring to scheme against a Herbology master and Hogwarts head of house, one could imagine how complex the undercurrents were.

But now he realised it was the Flint family... those idiots who did demolition and real estate. This immediately relieved him, and a cold smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Then he wrote a reply, giving coordinates at sea. "I've learnt about your Flint family's power as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Don't make things bigger. I admit defeat. I'll apologise to you in person, alright? But I represent the Sprout family, so I can't be seen by others. Let me apologise to you at sea. Here, we'll settle things."

Then the owl carried his reply and disappeared into the horizon.

Soon, in a luxuriously decorated mansion reeking of nouveau riche atmosphere, Marcus Flint lay in a sickbed, making malicious, pained groans. He already knew what had happened at Hogwarts. After being beaten by him so badly he had to be bedridden for half a year, that little badger hadn't received any punishment.

He'd even made such a big splash in Quidditch. The Daily Prophet had reported this match, saying he would be the most watched new star on professional Quidditch fields. Even several professional teams had expressed they'd pay attention to his professional development.

This truly infuriated Marcus Flint. Joining a professional Quidditch team had been his life goal. Before this, his resume was good enough. From joining the team in second year until fourth year before he enrolled, he'd led Slytherin to Academy Cup championships for three consecutive years.

No matter how much trickery was involved in those matches, winning was winning. With this resume, plus the Flint family's wealth and dark wizard background, he'd originally had good hopes of joining a professional team.

But now, everything was ruined. He'd not only been massacred by him leading Hufflepuff in Quidditch, directly nailed to the pillar of shame, but more fatally had to be bedridden for half a year. Recovering to Quidditch-playing condition would take at least another year.

Much less joining professional teams. Except for those third-rate teams, all others were absolutely impossible. But he had instead become some widely reported new star? How could Marcus Flint endure this?

"Father! Father! Is this matter just ending like this? What about those wizards the family supports? Aren't they impressive when demolishing houses? Can't they handle him? We're one of the pureblood Twenty-Eight... even Malfoy has to respect me at school!"

While Marcus Flint was raging, Bacon Flint came in hurriedly holding a letter. "Stop shouting. Stop shouting. Look what this is? That little bastard has given in."

Marcus took the letter and immediately threw it aside. "You're going to accept his apology? He made me like this."

Bacon Flint smiled smugly. "Of course not. How could I spare someone who insulted our Flint family? Since that little bastard wants to apologise at sea, I'll definitely teach him a lesson too. Bring our family's men... I'll make him lie in bed for a year. As for Professor Sprout, what Herbology master, what Hogwarts head of house... so what. Usually we respect her somewhat, but if she really provokes our Flint family, what can she do? Hmph, we've demolished several pureblood noble houses too!"

Hearing his father's words, Marcus Flint finally breathed a sigh of relief. "Then I'm going too. I want to personally watch that little bastard get severely punished."

His face showed a vicious expression. "Isn't he some future Quidditch star? I'll definitely break his hands, then burn his eyes with cigars, making him afraid whenever he sees me or gets on a broomstick!"

At this time, he, who had sent the reply, had a deep gaze. The Flint family's methods were simply the magical world's mafia. Wearing the names of pureblood nobles and the Sacred Twenty-Eight, they actually did forced demolition work.

With their style, if he really went, he'd probably face a car full of "muscle". But he had never planned to go. The North Sea Kraken had helped him considerably and had several tentacles severed by the two-faced spy last time. It should have a good meal.

Just as cold light flashed in his eyes, a figure with platinum hair, as if having searched for him for a long time, stopped before him. Seeing him, Malfoy exhaled in relief.

"Ciel. I finally found you."

He continued, "Is the Flint family giving you trouble? These disgraces to purebloods, garbage that ruins the Sacred Twenty-Eight's reputation... they only do such despicable things. Threats, extortion... there's nothing they won't do, so many ordinary wizards fear the Flint family. But this doesn't include our Malfoy family."

Malfoy's eyes blazed. "You need Chizpurfle grass seeds, right? This is quite coincidental... our Malfoy family happens to own the magical world's top Chizpurfle grass plantation. Every Chizpurfle grass here is a sought-after luxury item, with seeds cultivated for many generations. In a day or two, however many seeds you want, I can get them for you."

When saying this, Malfoy's eyes finally had some pride. Before this, he'd almost lost confidence facing him. After all, this peer was too excellent in both magic and Quidditch, leaving him without even the confidence to pursue.

But now, the Malfoy family's background finally let him regain some superiority. Even someone as excellent as he was still needed his help.

At this time, after hearing Draco Malfoy's words, his eyes also brightened. Top-quality Chizpurfle grass seeds? This was truly an unexpected bonus. Even if they couldn't match the seeds blessed by Demeter's chalice in his possession, they'd at least be much stronger than ordinary seeds.

The Chizpurfle grass grown from these could bring him more rewards. Draco Malfoy really brought some sincerity. It seemed the Malfoy family truly wanted to invest in him.

After pondering briefly, he looked at Malfoy and said, "High-quality Chizpurfle grass seeds are indeed what I need. I've received your sincerity. In that case, I can also give you some information."

Malfoy was stunned, obvious pride on his face. Information? Few could match the Malfoy family's information network in the entire magical world. The Sprout family was powerful in Herbology, but in family influence, they couldn't compare to the Malfoys.

He didn't think he could obtain information he didn't know. His father had also given him guidance this time. He must make him understand how beneficial cooperating with the Malfoy family was for him. He had to demonstrate the Malfoy family's power and value!

But the next moment, Malfoy heard him casually say, "Perhaps your Malfoy family can prepare to acquire Flint family assets."

Malfoy first instinctively replied, "Okay, I understand, very valuable information..."

Then he suddenly realised what he had said. Malfoy's eyes suddenly widened. Looking at him, he showed disbelief mixed with some terror.

"Ciel... You?!"