Looking at the freshly promoted Silver-level [Magic Perception Enhancement], Robert could hardly hide his joy.
He had originally estimated it might take another three to five days—or even a few harvests from the Goldfish Vine—before [Magic Perception Enhancement] could break through. But surprisingly, he had unintentionally entered a flow state, and that seamless experience led to a natural, almost effortless promotion.
The silver gleam now radiating from the skill wasn't something you'd expect from a newly promoted ability. It already seemed further refined within its new tier. By his calculation, this breakthrough had saved him at least one to two weeks of effort!
At that moment, Robert began noticing subtle but remarkable changes in [Magic Perception Enhancement] after reaching silver rank. Magic had never felt so close—almost tangible. It felt as if, with a mere thought, he could direct magic as naturally as moving his own limbs.
His breath quickened slightly. A bold thought crossed his mind.
"Let there be light."
However, in the next instant, though the magic within him stirred in response, it fell far short of the result he had envisioned—he couldn't yet cast Lumos using thought alone. No wand. No incantation. Just intent.
Realizing this, Robert gave a slight, self-aware shake of his head.
"I knew it.
A silver-level skill wouldn't grant me wandless, non-verbal casting just like that."
His magic perception had improved to such an extent that it gave him the illusion of such capability. Still, even if the excitement briefly clouded his judgment, he had indeed come far.
That slight sense of disappointment quickly faded, replaced by renewed determination. If [Magic Perception Enhancement] continued to grow—if he nurtured it and mastered it—then the dream of wandless, silent casting might one day become reality.
Next, his attention turned toward another glow—a golden one—shining brightly on the system panel. This glow came from Lumos, the spell that had been stuck on the verge of gold-level for quite a while. After harvesting a batch of Luminous Mushrooms last time, Robert's proficiency had already approached the threshold.
What had held it back wasn't the spell itself—but rather, his insufficient magic perception. And now, with the recent breakthrough, Lumos—along with its derivative, the Frequency Light Spell—had leapt forward, finally surpassing even the Soil Loosening Spell and Pruning Charm, which he had mastered earlier.
They had successfully advanced to gold level.
Excitement flashed in Robert's eyes. With both Magic Perception and Lumos experiencing qualitative improvements, he now stood a real chance of meeting the magical light requirements for Piranha Algae cultivation.
Still, this wasn't the place to test it.
Taking a deep breath, Robert steadied himself, calming the thrill that surged inside him. Then he looked at the girl standing across from him—Hermione.
She looked at him too, her face full of silent questions. Finally, she broke the silence.
"Robert," she asked hesitantly, "are you sure you don't need to go to the Medical Wing?"
"You didn't sleep all night, and you've been walking around smiling and looking overly energetic."
"That's not normal behavior—not for you, anyway. Are you maybe… stressed? Or anxious?"
She paused, then added quietly, "Actually… are you absolutely sure you're not imagining things? Can you still distinguish between reality and illusion?"
Robert was briefly taken aback. Then he chuckled and waved his hands in protest.
"I'm fine, really. I can still tell what's real."
"I was just thinking about something that made me happy, that's all. No mental issues, I promise."
Hermione sighed in relief, though she still seemed unconvinced.
"Alright… if you say so."
But then Robert noticed something about her. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen—had she been crying?
It was only 6:30 in the morning, and most students weren't even awake yet. Even if Hermione was a studious overachiever, coming to the classroom at this hour when no exams were near seemed… suspicious.
She didn't look like someone eager to study. More like someone hiding.
"Hermione," Robert asked softly, "you seem a little… off. Did something happen?"
At those words, Hermione's eyes shimmered again, a flicker of emotion breaking through. Having opened up to Robert once before, she now poured out her thoughts quickly and without hesitation.
It turned out that after the final Lumos assessment, her standing in Gryffindor had worsened dramatically.
"After all that," Hermione began, her voice trembling, "Gryffindor scored lowest among all four Houses. I tried so hard to help them prepare. I told them to review, to work together—to take it seriously."
"But none of them cared. Except Neville. The rest ignored me… again."
"They only come to me when they want to copy homework. And when I refused this time, they made me out to be the villain."
Her voice cracked.
"Ron… he even said I was a traitor to Gryffindor for helping Hufflepuff prepare for the Lumos assessment."
She wiped her eyes, trying to hold back more tears.
"But that's not all. Yesterday, I overheard Ron and Harry talking about the fourth-floor corridor. I haven't told you yet, but last time during the midnight duel, we discovered a three-headed dog guarding something beneath a trapdoor there."
"They were talking like they wanted to sneak out again. If they get caught, Gryffindor will lose any remaining chance at winning the House Cup."
"So I told them they should focus on their studies instead of that dog."
Her hands clenched.
"And Ron glared at me—accused me of eavesdropping!"
She finally broke down.
"I just… I don't think I belong in Gryffindor anymore."
Hearing her say that, Robert felt a wave of sympathy. A gifted student with a strong sense of team spirit trapped in a group of unruly, lazy peers—of course she felt out of place.
He understood why she preferred to come early to the empty classroom, rather than stay around her housemates.
So, he said gently:
"No, Hermione. You are the true Gryffindor."
"Running off at night and causing chaos—that's not bravery, that's recklessness."
"Real courage is standing up against peer pressure, staying true to your beliefs, and doing what's right even when no one else does."
"You're not wrong. They are."
Hermione blinked, visibly moved. A faint smile tugged at her lips.
"Thanks, Robert. I feel… a little better."
"You're right. I shouldn't let their immaturity define me."
Robert smiled in return.
"And of course, if you ever want a break…"
"Hufflepuff will always welcome you. We'd be honored to receive guidance from Miss Know-It-All."
"Tea and pastries will be ready in advance."
Hermione laughed, genuinely this time.
Seeing that her mood had lightened, Robert eventually excused himself.
After placing the prepared potion ingredients beneath the podium, he turned to leave.
But Hermione's words lingered in his mind.
"Just like in the original story… Harry and Ron still went to the fourth-floor corridor…"
Robert narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
So, the Philosopher's Stone arc was now quietly beginning.
That meant the three-headed dog—Cerberus—was already playing its role as the gatekeeper. If Robert planned carefully, perhaps he could extract some of the beast's blood.
Given its enormous size, even a small sample could produce several buckets. That would be enough to cultivate a batch of blood emeralds.
Two preparations were always better than one.
Still, he pushed those long-term goals aside for now. Compared to Dragon Blood, Cerberus Blood, and blood emeralds, those remained distant prospects.
His immediate concern—the thing that lay right before him—was the Piranha Algae.
Would it respond to the upgraded Lumos?
Would his theory work?
With no morning classes to interrupt him, Robert had plenty of time for testing.
Brimming with anticipation, he set off toward the Greenhouse.
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