Seeing the reward information on these seeds, Char's eyes lit up. They were worthy of being the seeds specially sent by the Malfoy family. The quality was even higher than the seeds he already had on hand, even those blessed by Demeter's Silver Cup. There were even more types of rewards, including an additional ability to purify Chalati grass.
His eyes fell on this new ability, and he was even more delighted. Chalati grass had always been a favorite of many upper-class wizards, especially the older ones who were particularly keen on smoking it. Nicolas Flamel, it was said, had been very fond of this magical plant. Sometimes, upper-class wizards would even hold special sharing sessions for certain new varieties, with master wizards from different fields appearing at these gatherings. The standards were often higher than some industry academic conferences. For this reason, it was often joked that high-quality Chalati grass was the ticket to entering the upper echelons of society. The most important criterion for judging its quality was whether the pungent smell could be removed and the taste made as smooth as possible. This required various methods of purification, and each top-level Chalati grass estate had its own different method, which was the very foundation of their business.
But now, Char could harvest this purification ability directly from the plant itself. The highest quality seeds, combined with purification capabilities stacked to a certain level… he was afraid it would bring a little shock to the entire market. And it wasn't just about making money; sometimes, it might play an unexpected role. His face filled with satisfaction. He put the box away carefully and hurried back to Sprout Island. The planting of the Chalati grass had been delayed for some time; he had to plant it quickly.
At this time, after Eugene and the trolls had worked for this period, they were already very good at farming. They plowed furrows in the fields as if they had known the routes their whole lives. Then, Char planted the Chalati grass seeds one by one. After a while, the whole field was filled with the special, spicy smell of the seeds. Just smelling it made Eugene feel happy and intoxicated. "When I was at Charlemagne's house, I saw him smoking Chalati with some of the editors-in-chief," he said excitedly, "but the taste was much worse than this." He looked at the field, unable to help but imagine a bright future.
Char was also looking at the field, but compared to the Chalati grass, he was more concerned about the dense patch of light balls that had appeared. These all represented Bronze-level spiritual enhancement rewards. During this period, he had increasingly realized the benefits of controlling his mind through Occlumency. Both his concentration and his learning efficiency were much stronger than before. But it was still a bit of a burden on his spirit. Even a master like Snape always looked tired. But if Char's spiritual power was further strengthened, the duration of his flow state could undoubtedly be increased significantly. Even the depth of the state might increase with his spiritual growth, further improving his concentration and efficiency. The benefits would naturally be even greater. All of this could only be achieved after the Chalati grass was harvested.
"The climate on Sprout Island is perfect for growing Chalati grass," he thought. "Plus fertile soil and high-quality seeds. If you take into account the effects of Demeter's Silver Cup, it might not even take a year. By the midterm of the second academic year, we should be able to harvest all of this."
Now that all the reclaimed land on Sprout Island had been put into use, a large area of the island in Char's sight was completely covered by densely packed bonus light balls. This matter had finally come to an end. Now, they just had to wait for the harvest.
Char left Sprout Island and returned to Hogwarts again. There was only one last thing left to do: to find out why there were so many trolls gathering in the Forbidden Forest, and then find a way to capture more of them for his island. He walked towards the library and started searching again through the pile of documents about trolls.
Time passed by, second by second. Soon, it was approaching the daily time limit he had set for this matter. Just when he thought today would be the same as the previous days, and it was time to start practicing rune magic, his eyes fell on a paper in the pile of books. The title was "A Conjecture on the Origin of Troll Bloodline and Its Social Form." Compared to some of the literature he had read before, the idea of this paper seemed unusual and bold. The signature on the cover caught his attention.
"The name is… Quirinus Quirrell?" he read, surprised. "Two-Face?!" He really didn't expect to find Quirrell's paper on troll research here. He glanced at the date on the cover. "So, this was written before he even graduated?" But then he thought about it. It wasn't that surprising. After all, Quirrell had been a top student in Ravenclaw. Trying to publish in academic journals while still in school was something they often pursued. And even now, whether it was the troll on Halloween or the level he had helped set up for the Philosopher's Stone, it was all about trolls. This showed that he was indeed very good at dealing with them. He must have accumulated the relevant knowledge when he was in school. A look of curiosity appeared on Char's face, and he opened the paper.
The content that came into his sight made his eyes light up. "Trolls are one of the very few magical creatures in the wizarding world that have a humanoid appearance, possess low-level intelligence, and are able to communicate with humans. Besides this, these amazing animals have many similarities in their behavior with humans, for example, living in groups, division of labor, and making tools. Studies have also shown that adult trolls will even tell stories to newborn trolls in their own unique language. There are even unique legends circulating among them. I think there's still a lot to be learned about the bloodline origins and social structure of this amazing animal. I have collected all the legends about trolls in the world's known large settlements and boldly come to the following conclusions."
Char's eyes flashed with curiosity. He turned the page. What he saw next made him let out a low cry.
Quirrell had written: "The ancient legends of the trolls, even those from settlements on different continents, are surprisingly similar. The earliest myths are from the Age of Olympus. And in that myth, the trolls weren't called by our modern terms. They frequently mentioned an ancient word and used it to refer to themselves: the Titans. According to legend, they were the most powerful race in the Age of Olympus, wizards known as gods. From this, I propose a hypothesis that trolls are actually the descendants of the Titans. It's just that after the destruction of the Olympian era, their bloodlines deteriorated rapidly. Over the past thousands of years, they have gone from being the noble Titans to the stinking, low-IQ, despised monsters we see today. But theoretically, just as half-blood wizards may also produce incredible geniuses, among trolls, there may be rare cases where some individuals have an exceptionally strong Titan bloodline. They will possess a higher level of intelligence and may even master some of the ancient, powerful magics of the Titans. In the legends of the trolls, such individuals are called priests. After the birth of a priest, the troll settlement will spontaneously perform sacrifices under their guidance. Though I haven't found a real troll priest yet, I have created a magic that can communicate with trolls mentally, allowing us to bypass their poor, stuttering vocabulary and communicate more efficiently. If we continue to research this topic, perhaps we can uncover the true origin of the troll's bloodline."
Seeing the theory proposed by Quirrell, there was surprise in Char's eyes. This was the second time he had heard about the Titans of the Age of Olympus. The last time had been from the mouth of the Kraken. It seemed credible. He was surprised that Quirrell had discovered this through the legends of troll settlements and even speculated that trolls were their descendants. He had to admit, Quirinus Quirrell was really smart.
But this made Char even more confused. According to Quirrell's description, if he had continued to dig deeper into this topic, he might have really uncovered something about the Titans, perhaps even extracted their blood. According to the Kraken, this was the power that even Salazar Slytherin had sought. Such a path was right before him, so why did he go to the jungle and stubbornly search for Voldemort's remaining soul, only to be killed by the parasite?
And then he saw the rejection stamp on the back of the paper. Char suddenly realized. This paper had not been accepted by any journal. Instead, it was returned and kept in the Hogwarts library as student work. Even below the rejection stamp, there were some sharp comments from several reviewers.
"Nonsense! What Titans? This is a thesis, not a myth!"
"This is not a paper that a good Hogwarts student should write. I am deeply concerned about the current quality of teaching at Hogwarts."
One reviewer, whose surname was among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, had clearly insulted Quirrell. "Trolls can use magic? I'd rather believe a monkey can wave a wand. Did you get assimilated by the trolls because of your research on them? Merlin, what have I done to deserve such a stinking paper? Get lost! I've blocked you. The journal I review will never allow such an idiot to publish an article!"
Below these comments, you could see traces of repeated scratches by fingernails, which had even damaged the tough parchment. Finally, there were the random, venting strokes of a quill pen. Quirrell had only written a few angry curses.
"A bunch of idiots!"
"Mediocrity!"
"You self-righteous rubbish, you don't understand the mind of a genius!"
"Allowing incompetent people like you to manage this world, occupy high positions, and enjoy fame is simply an insult to talented people. Just wait and see. I will make you crawl at my feet!"
Char exhaled softly. It seemed this was what had driven Quirrell to the jungle alone, to search for Voldemort's remaining soul according to his own speculation. He had gone alone, without even telling anyone, believing that the idea of a genius was difficult for mediocre people to understand, so he had intended to be completely alone.
Char shook his head with some regret. He hated the two-faced man, but for Quirrell, before being possessed by Voldemort, he had indeed been an undeniable genius. If this hadn't happened, his future would have been truly bright. What a pity. One wrong step, and there was no turning back. Even now, though Quirrell could easily enter and exit the Forbidden Forest and even control trolls, he had probably completely lost interest in their so-called bloodline origin.
Soon, the regret in Char's mind disappeared. His attention turned back to the inspiration this paper gave him. It mentioned one thing: a settlement with a troll priest will spontaneously carry out sacrificial activities under their guidance. The unusual gathering of trolls in the Forbidden Forest now… could it be related to a so-called priest?
He narrowed his eyes. He didn't completely believe the conclusions in Quirrell's paper. Although it had excellent ideas, it did lack substantive evidence. But he actually had a group of trolls that had lived in the Forbidden Forest in his hands. Before, their comprehension and vocabulary were too poor to communicate complex things. But now, he had a way.
His eyes fell on a spell left by Quirrell in the paper. Quirrell had called it the Troll Communication Charm. Char studied the spell carefully. A moment later, a sudden hint of surprise appeared in his eyes.
"This spell… Quirrell really has something!"