Looking at the platinum glow appearing in the reward information, Robert's eyes widened in disbelief. A fervent glint erupted within them, and his breathing quickened. The blood emerald, which had originally offered a Silver Level reward, had actually risen to the Platinum Level.
This leap was nothing short of miraculous—a breakthrough! It instantly became the highest-grade plant Robert could mass-produce. He drew a deep breath, trying to calm the surge of excitement.
"Even if this is similar to what Lord Voldemort said about using the blood of various magical creatures to purify bloodlines," Robert muttered to himself, "it's still profound Black Magic Transformation. But the magnitude… this is too much—"
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Could it be that the North Sea Kraken's blood is far stronger than the other two 5X-level creatures? Is that why it had such a miraculous effect?"
After considering it carefully, Robert leaned toward this explanation. With his current strength, he could now solo an Acromantula without difficulty. Even a Dragon wouldn't overwhelm him—he could resist its flames with his extreme heat resistance, and though he might not match its flight speed, he could still put up a fight.
But the North Sea Kraken? Without preparing the Giant Killer Poison, he wouldn't stand a chance in a direct confrontation. Most other 5X-level magical creatures would likely be swallowed whole if they encountered one.
"That's right," Robert murmured. "This is only according to the Ministry of Magic's rating. They weigh factors like whether a creature has killed multiple wizards. The North Sea Kraken stays in the sea and hasn't killed wizards, so its rating doesn't reflect its true power. Anyone who encounters it knows the reality."
He shook his head, then looked again at the third blood emerald. Its reward information hadn't fully materialized yet—meaning the transformation was still in progress. The reward orb flickered on and off, though its vitality was far greater than before.
Robert's brow furrowed. "It seems unstable. Pouring North Sea Kraken blood on it isn't a guarantee. Black Magic Transformation isn't as simple as taking three magical creatures' blood and expecting instant results. If it were that easy, magical creatures would already be hunted to extinction. What really matters is the technique—how to modulate the blood magic and harmonize it."
Unfortunately, Robert didn't know how to do that. Lord Voldemort's parchment only detailed absorbing the first type of blood. The instructions for using three types to improve the bloodline were vague, and for seven types, there was no practical theory—only promises. Clearly, it was bait to make Robert work for him.
Robert pondered deeply. Of course, he wanted the bait—a Platinum Level herb that could be mass-produced was too valuable. Blood emeralds were crucial for advancing Legendary Power and Legendary Life toward Mythical Level. He had felt their benefits firsthand; without harvesting a wave of them, he might not have withstood the North Sea Kraken's first strike today, nor gained so much from the encounter. Even a small increase in Legendary Level meant a huge difference in benefits.
But working for Voldemort? Never. Simply taking the bait without working for him was impossible—even in a normal workplace, you'd need connections. In front of Voldemort, it was unimaginable.
"Unless…" Robert's eyes brightened with a sudden idea. He could use Voldemort's greatest desire—the Philosopher's Stone—to his advantage. If he could provide significant news about it, Voldemort might willingly hand over the bait. Whether the news was true or not didn't matter.
At the same time, Robert also devised a method to bypass the Ministry of Magic's protective spells, reach Dereria Island teeming with five-legged beasts, and acquire enough pute fruit. After careful thought, he took out the parchment and wrote a line.
Meanwhile, Quirrell reported to Voldemort.
"Master," he said, "that boy hasn't bled in two days. He hasn't spoken either. We tried asking subtly about the Devil's Snare, but he still hasn't responded. Could he be playing games?"
Voldemort frowned. "Impossible. I sensed the traces of Black Magic Transformation in his blood—his craving for power is too strong to resist me. Unless… Headmaster Dumbledore has become wary."
At that moment, Robert's handwriting appeared on the parchment:
"Senior sister, I want to know how to use the blood of three magical creatures for transformation."
Voldemort's eyes widened. "He's already asking about this so soon? Could it be that during these two days, he completed the first step of Black Magic Transformation using a 5X-level creature's blood? He's four years ahead of where I was when I started!"
Though Voldemort had guided him, he realized Robert's Dark Arts talent was extraordinary. But his expression then turned cold—knowledge always came at a price. Obtaining the next step wouldn't be easy. A sinister smile formed on his lips as he wrote:
"Junior brother, Senior Sister Dai Er Fei, of course, I would guide you. But Black Magic Transformation is rare. The knowledge I provided was stolen from my family, and they would disown me if I stole again. If you can bring valuable information that helps me negotiate with them, I will gladly beg."
Quirrell whispered nervously, "Master, will he actually provide anything useful?"
Voldemort sneered. "It doesn't matter. As long as his desire for this knowledge remains, he will steal, gather information, and do whatever it takes for the Philosopher's Stone. His identity may even yield surprises."
Robert's eyes gleamed with understanding—Voldemort was baiting him. But Robert would take the bait without swallowing the hook. He could make Voldemort actively deliver the bait.
He wrote as if hesitating, crossing out words, then rewriting. Voldemort noticed the struggle and became even more intrigued. Another enticing message followed from Voldemort:
"Junior brother, no one wishes for your success more than I do. From the first day you enrolled, the professors spread doubts about your talent. Don't you want to prove them wrong?"
Robert's resolve strengthened. His handwriting became clear:
"Alright, Senior Sister. This is a secret, overheard by chance. You must not tell anyone. I heard that Dumbledore and the others are moving something. An island not far from Hogwarts, surrounded by protective magic, holds something very valuable."
Voldemort froze. Countless thoughts raced through his mind. Quirrell stammered, "Master, the Philosopher's Stone is in Hogwarts. It can't be on an island—it's the safest place in the Magical World."
Voldemort shook his head. "Dumbledore is cunning. He would never leave something so important in plain sight. This could be a trap, or a fake. The real Philosopher's Stone must be hidden in a remote, unexpected place. I almost fell into Dumbledore's snare."
Quirrell had to admit that Voldemort's reasoning made sense—but it rendered his own intelligence gathering meaningless. Robert had made the crucial contribution.
Robert's handwriting reappeared:
"Senior Sister, you have helped me too much. Exchanging a piece of information for such precious magic is taking advantage. How about this: we set a time and go to the island together. You take what you can use, and I'll handle the rest. Don't worry—I'm the heir of the Sprout Family; my aunt will protect me."
Voldemort was momentarily stunned, then filled with admiration. "See, Quirrell? Robert is a man of principle."
He proceeded to answer Robert's questions in detail. Quirrell, however, felt bitter—how much he had suffered to learn magic from Voldemort, while Robert received it effortlessly. A fleeting, strange thought passed through Quirrell: Voldemort had said Robert "smelled good." Could the Dark Lord really have a fetish? Quirrell hesitated, then pinched his own orchid finger, tracing the back of Voldemort's Adam's apple.
"Master, actually, I—"
Voldemort paused, "??? Cr—"
Meanwhile, Robert remained unaware of the drama behind him, absorbed in the magic knowledge Voldemort had provided. The Bronze Level Black Magic Transformation knowledge, though complex, was understandable to him. Countless inspirations surged through his mind.
"The balance and fusion of the three blood magics—so that's how it is," Robert murmured.
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