Chapter 22: Failure and the Lumos Shroom

Ciel's eyes widened, his heart beginning to pound with a sudden, sharp rhythm. The rewards for planting the Guardian Tree were far richer, far more potent than he had ever anticipated. A Bronze-level reward just for successful germination? A Silver-level reward upon reaching maturity?

It put everything into a new perspective. His existing Legendary-level abilities had been accumulated through years of back-breaking, repetitive labor since the day he arrived in this world. His Legendary Heat Resistance, for example, was the result of planting countless acres of cotton, stacking one minuscule Black Iron reward on top of another until, finally, it reached its peak. The sheer amount of sweat and effort that had gone into that achievement was a truth only he could fully appreciate.

But the Guardian Tree… a single mature plant could yield a Silver-level reward. To stack that up to the Legendary tier would require a fraction of the time and effort. It was the difference between becoming a billionaire by selling street food one pancake at a time, versus inheriting a fortune and using it to build an empire. The disparity in difficulty was almost comical.

And the rewards themselves—Defense Against the Dark Arts comprehension and inherent resistance to dark magic. If he could raise both of those to the Legendary tier… he would become a living bane to dark wizards. Antonin Dolohov wouldn't stand a chance. At that point, Voldemort himself would have to watch his back.

After a rare moment of unbridled excitement, Ciel forced himself to calm down. The potential benefits were immense, but so was the challenge. Professor Sprout didn't expect him to succeed until his third year. Even with the aid of his Planting System, he knew this was not a short-term goal.

But the sooner he started, the sooner he would learn. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Aunt, I want to try," he said, his voice firm with resolve. "I will continue down the path of a Herbologist. Inheriting the glory of the Sprout family is my duty."

A look of profound relief and pride washed over his aunt's face.

She led him through the winding paths of the Hogwarts greenhouses, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and exotic blossoms, and stopped before a small, empty plot of rich, dark soil. "Ciel," she said, her voice full of warmth, "this is your experimental plot. From now on, you can try out any of your ideas here, any time you wish."

He gazed at the empty plot, a surge of emotion rising in his chest. His aunt had already told him: this was the oldest and most prestigious greenhouse in all of Britain, perhaps in the entire wizarding world. The Sprout family manor, with its centuries of history, couldn't compare. This was a foundation laid by Helga Hufflepuff herself, and it was said that every inch of soil still retained a spark of her magic. Countless resources had been poured into its upkeep over the millennia. To an outside Herbologist, a single handful of this soil was a priceless treasure. Planting here didn't just accelerate growth; it increased the chances of beneficial mutations.

And he had just been given his own private section. He took a breath, about to express his gratitude, but his aunt looked at him, her eyes gentle.

"Child," she said softly, "we are the last of the Sprout line. You are my closest kin in this world. All my resources are yours to use. An empty plot in this greenhouse is a small thing. Now, let me teach you how to cultivate the Guardian Tree."

He pushed aside his gratitude and listened with his full, undivided attention.

"The Guardian Tree is a magical plant with a powerful, innate magic that can influence the wizard who plants it," she began. "From the very beginning, from the moment you sow the seed, you must carefully regulate your own magic, your emotions, your intent. I once read of a wizard who cast a dark curse the day before planting a Guardian Tree. The seed grew not into a protective tree, but into a twisted, malevolent plant with cursing properties. The poor wizard perished as a result. While such extreme cases are rare, it shows how sensitive this plant is. So, Ciel, relax. You have plenty of time to try."

He understood her unspoken meaning. She didn't expect him to succeed, not yet. And he didn't expect it of himself, either. In his past life as a researcher, he had learned that failure was not an endpoint; it was an integral part of the process, a necessary step on the path to true understanding.

With a steady hand, he took one of the precious seeds. He gently tapped it with his wand, focusing his mind on happy, positive thoughts, hoping to imbue his magic with the right quality. It was a crude method, a shot in the dark without the fine-tuned perception to truly regulate his magic, but it was all he could do.

He immersed the seed in a potion prepared by his aunt, tapped the mouth of the bottle three times, and drew three concentric circles in the air above it.

"Protego Arboris!"

The seed trembled. The clear potion around it began to turn a vibrant, healthy green. But a moment later, the color shifted, curdling into a murky, grayish-brown. The seed lost its luster, becoming dull and inert.

He had failed.

"It's alright, Ciel," Professor Sprout said immediately, her voice full of comfort. "Except for a handful of legendary figures, no one has ever successfully cultivated a Guardian Tree on their first try. Even I am but a firefly to the bright moon compared to those masters. Take your time. There's no rush."

Ciel just smiled, showing no sign of discouragement. "I know, Aunt. I'm prepared for a long-term effort."

"There are two more sets of seeds and reagents," she offered. "You can continue to try."

He shook his head. He knew his limitations. His magical perception was still too weak. He estimated he would need to reach at least the Silver tier before he could hope to succeed at even this initial stage. Any more attempts now would just be a waste of precious materials.

He shared his thoughts with his aunt, who seemed to have anticipated his decision. She smiled and produced several other bags of seeds.

"These are Leaping Toadstools," she said, "and these are Puffapod seeds. They are slightly more difficult than Goldfish Vines, but much simpler than the Guardian Tree."

As she introduced them, the system prompts appeared in his mind. The Leaping Toadstool offered an enhancement to jumping ability—utterly useless. The Puffapod offered insight into the Bubble-Head Charm. While an insight reward was rare and valuable, the spell itself was highly situational. He was about to settle for the Puffapod, seeing no better option, when his gaze drifted upward, landing on a cluster of mushrooms growing on the greenhouse ceiling, emitting a soft, steady light.

His eyes lit up. "Aunt, what kind of mushroom is that?"

She followed his gaze. "Oh, that? That's just a Lumos Shroom. Besides emitting light, it has no real value. Purely ornamental, though some of the newer, brighter mutations are used as a light source for the greenhouse."

But Ciel was no longer listening. A new line of text had appeared in his mind, and his heart began to beat faster.

[Mutated Lumos Shroom]

[Successfully planting it can grant: Slightly Enhanced Night Vision (Black Iron)]

[Maturity Bonus: Slightly Enhanced Night Vision (Black Iron), Lumos Charm Insight (Very Slight) (Black Iron)]

(End of Chapter)

***

(End of Chapter)

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