The stones shattered under the assault of the shadows, splintering into fragments as if torn apart by invisible claws. Sharl's heart gave a slight jolt.
The magic of the Shadow Thorns—so this is what it's capable of?
Its power was far greater than he had initially imagined. What made it even more astonishing was the way it attacked: the only trace left behind was the trajectory of shifting shadows upon the ground. Moreover, those dark traces weren't fixed. They could change direction, weaving silently, even moving behind a target before striking.
An enemy faced with such an attack would almost certainly struggle to react in time. Just that alone was enough to make Shadow Thorns a plant of enormous combat value. These weren't just curiosities of the greenhouse—they were practical weapons.
Sharl's eyes lit with excitement. He quickly gave another command:
"Use everything you have. Don't hold back. Keep attacking."
The Shadow Thorns quivered at his order, then sank silently into its own shadow. The darkness spread across the ground like a spider's web, silent and menacing. When the shadow's reach had widened to a circle nearly six meters across, a thorn suddenly emerged from its depths, lancing upward without warning. The spike pierced a nearby stone slab, riddling it with jagged holes as easily as stabbing through parchment.
Sharl crouched to inspect the marks. At each puncture wound, faint traces of lingering magic still clung stubbornly, slowly corroding the stone from within. His excitement only grew.
Compared with ordinary Shadow Thorns, this mutated specimen possessed an entirely new quality: the ability to manipulate shadows themselves. It could use the darkness as both cover and pathway, striking from unexpected angles. The danger it posed was leagues beyond the common variant. And this—this was only its early stage of cultivation.
What would it be capable of when fully grown?
Even seasoned Aurors or ruthless Death Eaters would likely suffer heavy losses when caught unaware by such a plant.
And what if he had not one but ten? A hundred?
Sharl couldn't help but smile at the thought, anticipation glinting in his expression.
At that moment, the shadow of the plant trembled, as if expecting praise.
Sharl chuckled softly. "Well done. Grow strong. In a year or so, when you've matured, Father will rely on you for protection."
At his words, the shadow writhed joyfully, flickering across the ground as if dancing. Then, to Sharl's astonishment, faint numbers appeared within the wavering darkness:
"In another… one, two, three, four, five years—I can protect Father."
Sharl froze.
"What? How many years did you just say?!"
His brows knit tightly. According to every reference book he had read, Shadow Thorns were considered fast-growing magical plants. From seedling to full maturity usually took just over a year—two at most. Under optimal conditions, there were even documented cases of plants reaching maturity in as little as half a year.
The greenhouse at Hogwarts offered the best cultivation conditions in the entire wizarding world. Furthermore, the method Sharl had employed wasn't merely a simple Disillusionment Charm; he had used none other than the Deathly Hallows' Invisibility Cloak. By all logic, the process should have accelerated growth, not slowed it.
So why had the maturation period suddenly lengthened instead?
The shadow shivered, its strokes forming hesitant words across the floor, almost as though trying to defend itself:
"Shadow needs to eat. There's none here. Underground, only a little. Must eat sparingly."
The darkness stretched toward the soil beneath the small greenhouse, pointing accusingly.
Sharl's expression grew uncertain. The mutation had apparently altered not only its abilities but also its nutritional requirements. What it needed wasn't ordinary fertilizer or magical residue—it was something buried deep within the earth of the greenhouse itself.
A memory surfaced. Professor Sprout had once told him a story: long ago, the soil of this greenhouse had been watered with an elixir brewed from Helga Hufflepuff's golden cup. Its miraculous properties had transformed the soil, granting it cultivation effects bordering on the divine.
Could it be that this mutated Shadow Thorns, having awakened powers tied to ancient shadow magic, now required the lingering essence of that legendary elixir to thrive? Without it, its growth slowed dramatically. Even the speed it had managed so far was likely due to the residual traces still buried deep in the soil.
If this was true, then cultivating an army of such plants was practically impossible. The greenhouse held only so much of that miraculous nourishment. It would never be enough for mass production.
Obtaining the Golden Cup itself was out of the question. Sharl had considered it before, but the difficulty was astronomical, far beyond what he could manage in the short term.
After a long silence, he sighed.
"Then for now, I'll have to use the Invisibility Cloak simply to raise ordinary Shadow Thorns. This kind of mutated variant, though fascinating, doesn't have the conditions to thrive."
He tried to comfort himself. "It's fine. Being able to mass-produce ordinary Shadow Thorns is already great news. Even without ancient shadow magic, their water enhancement and corrosive wounds are powerful in their own right. I can't ask for everything."
Yet despite those words, a flicker of regret lingered. To brush so close to ancient magic, only to let it slip away, was difficult to bear.
Sensing his mood, the shadow crept forward hesitantly, curling around his leg like a frightened kitten begging not to be abandoned.
Sharl paused. For the first time, he truly realized something—this plant wasn't just a tool. It had feelings. Until now, he had never truly considered the possibility of a magical plant possessing emotions. But the pleading way it clung to him made it undeniable.
He reached out, gently patting the Shadow Thorns.
"It's alright. I'll try to find you something better. Until then, endure a little longer. Make do with what's here."
The shadow immediately swayed with renewed joy.
Sharl smiled, then suddenly smacked his own forehead.
Why hadn't he thought of this earlier?
Until now, he had viewed Shadow Thorns as a shortcut—cultivate enough of them, harvest fragments of insight, and piece together an understanding of ancient shadow magic over time. But that wasn't the only way. The creature before him was already a living vessel of ancient shadow magic, complete with thought and even literacy.
Couldn't he simply… ask it to teach him?
"Shadow Thorns," Sharl asked quickly, excitement in his voice, "can you teach me your ancient shadow magic? This ability of yours to control shadows—is it something you can show me?"
The shadow quivered uncertainly. For it, such power was innate, not something learned or studied. How could it possibly explain what it had never had to think about?
But Sharl wasn't discouraged. "Alright then. Just demonstrate it. Move a bit of shadow in front of me—don't make it complicated. Go slowly, as slowly as you can. Let me watch carefully."
Obediently, the Shadow Thorns shifted a tiny blot of darkness across the ground, inching it forward at a snail's pace.
Sharl focused intently, engaging his Platinum-grade magic perception. Within his vision, the mass of shadow shimmered with strange black light points—a form of magic he had never encountered before.
Tracing carefully, he noticed ordinary magical particles drifting into the plant's body, colliding, exchanging properties, and then expelling part of their essence. What remained behind were transformed particles—darker, altered in nature.
"It's as if their very substance has changed," he whispered. "Almost like… a chemical reaction."
A spark of recognition lit in his mind. He recalled Severus Snape demonstrating a strange combination of potions and transfiguration—where ingredients interacted until their magical nature itself shifted.
Could this, too, be a microscopic form of transfiguration? Altering the very essence of magic rather than merely reshaping its outward form?
The thought made his pulse quicken. Perhaps this was the true pinnacle of the discipline. McGonagall herself specialized in shaping transfiguration into living forms—armors that fought, statues that breathed. But Dumbledore and Voldemort… their battles had shown spells of unimaginable power. Fire, lightning, water—all transformed beyond recognition.
"Could it be that they mastered not only form but also nature itself?" Sharl murmured, his eyes blazing with understanding.
Form change. Nature change.
His heart pounded as the realization crystallized. This—this could be the true framework of transfiguration mastery.
As if to confirm it, he glanced at his system panel. His newly acquired [Transfiguration (Bronze-Grade)] skill, which had taken him an entire semester to reach, now glowed brighter than ever.
The clarity he had gained from this single observation surpassed months of study. Truly, a single glimpse of mastery was worth ten years of toil.
Joy welled up within him. At a time when his charms were stalled at Platinum-grade, when his magic perception refused to advance further, when his magical strength awaited another harvest—progress in transfiguration was a breakthrough he desperately needed.
If he could continue learning from the Shadow Thorns, even better.
Suppressing his excitement, he returned to his observation, his wand tracing movements as he tried to mimic the plant's subtle manipulations. The process strained his mind terribly. Even with Platinum-grade perception, perceiving such minute magical changes was like squinting at blurred letters on a distant board. Veins bulged at his temples, sweat dripped down his brow, and pain throbbed behind his eyes.
But Sharl ignored it. True learning was never without fatigue. He had known regret in his past life—the pain of not working harder when he could have. He would not repeat that mistake.
And so he persisted, even as exhaustion weighed heavily on him. The glow of his [Transfiguration] skill grew brighter, stronger, until the Bronze shimmer reached its peak.
Finally, as dawn's light spilled into the greenhouse, Sharl executed one final, precise wand movement. Within the glow, a faint new luster shimmered—the first trace of Copper.
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