Ch: 71-80
Chapter 71 – So We're in the Same Line of Work!
Several days after the Forbidden Forest incident, the Professors' meetings became noticeably more frequent.
The second class Thursday morning was Defense Against the Dark Arts.
When Signas walked in, the first thing he saw was Professor Quirrell standing behind the lectern.
His complexion had improved; a faint, unnatural flush now showed beneath his sallow skin, and he no longer looked as though a breeze could blow him over.
Unfortunately, the improvement didn't extend to his teaching.
He still hugged the textbook, droning the lesson in his trademark stammer, the whole period perfunctory and limp.
Quirrell was clearly preoccupied, stopping mid-sentence more than once to stare blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought.
The moment the bell rang he snapped the book shut, ready to bolt like a startled rabbit.
'Professor.' Signas's voice was soft but clear enough to stop him.
Quirrell's body gave an almost imperceptible twitch.
He turned slowly; seeing Signas, a flicker of wariness crossed his eyes. 'M-Mr Shalk, w-what can I do for you?'
'A few questions about Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'd like to ask them privately.' Signas gave the standard, harmless student smile. 'Too many ears here. Shall we talk in your office?'
Quirrell hesitated—his office?
After a moment, studying Signas's sincere face, he managed a reluctant nod.
Signas flicked a hand at Draco, signalling him to leave first, then followed Quirrell down the corridor.
The moment the door opened, a faint smell of garlic mixed with some peculiar spice greeted them.
The office was unremarkable: a desk, an old sofa, a full-length coat mirror, and a wall of bookshelves.
The only personal touch was several garishly coloured hats and cloth pouches hanging randomly on the wall, thick with African tribal flair—simultaneously comical and eerie.
Rumour said Quirrell had travelled the world researching Defense Against the Dark Arts; it seemed to be true.
'Mr Shalk, what exactly is your question?'
Once on his own turf Quirrell relaxed; his infamous stammer vanished and his speech became brisk.
But Signas hadn't come for small talk.
Today he was here to apply a little blackmail.
Since he knew Quirrell's identity that night and held the man's secret, failing to squeeze a tidy profit would be a waste of the risks and Potions he'd burned.
Safety was the least of his worries.
Felix Felicis, Calming Draught, an Appearance Wand, plus several newly drawn trinkets—everything was ready.
Dealing with the outwardly strong but inwardly brittle Quirrell would be easy; the only concern was the feeble remnant soul attached to the back of the man's head.
But would Lord Voldemort dare go all-out here? Not even if you gave him ten times the nerve.
Even if desperation drove him to act, a Calming Draught would keep Signas alive long enough for Albus Dumbledore to arrive.
Besides, he and Draco had agreed: if Signas didn't emerge in half an hour, Draco would run to Snapewith the story that 'Mr Shalk was kept for private tutoring by Professor Quirrell and hasn't returned'.
Snape would arrive even faster than Dumbledore.
That was the confidence with which Signas walked in alone to extort Quirrell.
'Professor.' Signas pulled up a chair and sat opposite the desk as if he owned the place. 'You're looking well lately—feeling all right?'
Quirrell's heart lurched, though his expression stayed level. 'Th-thank you for asking, e-everything's fine.'
'Glad to hear it.' Signas grinned, flashing white teeth. 'Since you're in good health, we can discuss several matters openly.'
'Wh-whatever do you mean, M-Mr Shalk?'
'Well…' Signas leaned forward, fingers interlaced, the picture of leisure. 'A few nights ago, moonless and windy, you paid a visit to the Forbidden Forest. Coincidentally, a poor Unicorn was killed that same night…'
'I-I haven't the f-faintest idea what you're t-talking about,' Quirrell spluttered, staring hard at the boy, hunting for any crack in that young face.
How could a mere student know of such a clandestine act?
His face had been hidden by a hood, his disguise flawless—how had he been recognised?
Quirrell kept his countenance, even forced a smile, and deliberately retrieved his stammer. 'Wh-what Forbidden Forest? Wh-what Unicorn? Mr Shalk, you m-must be mistaken. I-I research D-Defense Against the D-Dark Arts and M-Muggle Studies; I-I have no i-interest in U-Unicorns…'
He added solemnly, 'Th-though U-Unicorns are v-valuable magical creatures; th-their blood and horns c-can be used in p-Potions. Y-you should ask P-Professor Snape—he's the e-expert!'
What Signas said next sent Quirrell's urge to kill skyrocketing.
Still smiling, Signas ignored the performance and continued, '…after you drank the Unicorn's blood and prepared to flee, you even stripped off your clothes and escaped on a giant crow you'd conjured from a dead branch…'
Quirrell: '???'
The smile froze on his face; his mind went blank.
How could the brat know every last detail?
Even Hagrid, present that night, couldn't possibly have recognised him, let alone seen so much.
Could the boy have been there?
Quirrell recalled the child's voice he'd heard and suddenly understood.
Yet another mysterious Dark Wizard had been hiding in the bushes that night.
Realising that, Quirrell calmed instantly.
No wonder Signas acted so arrogantly in Slytherin, fearless even of Snape.
The boy had a powerful backer—just like himself.
Well, not quite like himself…
Even with the Dark Lord's support, he didn't feel that secure inside Hogwarts. Signas, apparently oblivious to Quirrell's shifting expression, kept leisurely piling on the pressure. 'Oh, and on Halloweennight I seem to remember you quietly releasing the Troll into the Castle, then sneaking off to a certain room on the Fourth Floor…'
He paused, then delivered the verdict in a tone of sudden enlightenment: 'Professor, first a Troll, then a Unicorn—clearly you're up to something big at Hogwarts!'
Quirrell's mouth twitched.
The boy dared confront him openly; he must have backup, perhaps that mysterious Wizard lurking nearby.
He forced a smile uglier than a grimace and sighed lengthily. 'Shalk, th-things aren't what you th-think!'
'Oh? Then let me guess: all this effort—is it to steal the Philosopher's Stone?'
Quirrell was utterly dumbfounded.
He even knew about that?
Had he been completely exposed?
No…
If Albus Dumbledore knew, he'd already be in Azkaban, not sitting here intact.
Quirrell instantly concluded that this secret Dark Wizard was not on Dumbledore's side.
That was why they hadn't reported anything to the Headmaster.
Perhaps… that person wanted the Stone too!
So we're in the same line of work after all!
Chapter 72 – I Need Benefits I Can Cash in Right Now
One glance at Quirrell's face told Sig he'd struck a nerve. "Looks like I hit the mark?"
He drew the words out. "Then I'd better go have a chat with the Principal. Imagine that—Professor, you're actually a thief!"
"Wait! Hear me out…" Quirrell jerked his hand up, suddenly free of his usual stammer. "Let me finish; if you still want to report me, I won't stop you. The truth is… I understand you perfectly, because… I'm more or less an orphan myself…"
His tone turned warm and intimate; he waved Signas to a seat while he slumped back in his chair and began his tale.
He was a half-blood Wizard whose parents had divorced early. His pure-blood father saw him as a blot on the family escutcheon; his Muggle mother feared the magic in his veins.
Loveless from childhood, he might as well have been an orphan, and the result was a nature at once timid and brittle.
At Hogwarts he'd earned top marks, yet his cowardice and oversensitivity made him a favourite target of ridicule and bullying.
"You're in Slytherin; you must have seen how those scions of Pure-blood families behave…" Quirrell's eyes darkened, as though he'd slipped into memories he couldn't bear.
"They're arrogant beyond belief, strutting about as if the world were theirs by birthright…"
At this point Quirrell's face twisted slightly.
He leaned forward and dropped his voice. "Do you know why?"
Signas obligingly raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because they monopolise knowledge, resources and power in the Wizarding World!" Quirrell's voice throbbed with suppressed bitterness.
Plenty of Wizards are pure-blood, but only a handful qualify as Pure-blood families.
To be listed in the pure-blood directory a house needs only one thing: control of knowledge, resources and power.
Take the Potters: from their founding ancestor they've handed down profound Alchemy and Potion lore.
And the Burdens, Macmillans, Longbottoms, Crouches, Weasleys, Malfoys, Blacks, Slughorns, Borks, Ollivanders… these names either sit generation after generation in the Ministry, monopolise an entire trade, or guard secret arts no outsider can learn.
That is the truth behind the slogan 'Pure-blood is supreme.'
What does that battle-cry have to do with ordinary pure-blood Wizards?
To the Quirrell of today—almost nothing.
He had seen through it only after years of bruising experience.
Lacking the courage or the means to smash the system, he had chosen to roam the world in search of another path.
When, in the forests of Albania, he met the legendary Dark Lord, he cast his lot with him, gambling on a chance to rewrite his fate.
Of course he would never breathe a word of that last part to Signas.
"So, to stand firm in the Wizarding World, you must seize resources and power!"
A fanatical flame leapt in Quirrell's eyes. "And right now Hogwarts holds such a treasure—the very Philosopher's Stone you just mentioned!"
"Sig, you're gifted and precocious, but so what?"
"The moment you leave these walls you'll find classmates who can't hold a candle to you strolling straight into the Ministry, and in a few years they're heads of departments!"
"Or they go home to take over the family business, counting Galleons in Diagon Alley every day, or do whatever they please thanks to generations of accumulated capital!"
Quirrell's face grew uglier, the words forced through clenched teeth: "While you'll still be begging for a living and watching other people's moods!"
"Work with me!"
He shot out his hand, earnest and urgent: "Once we have the Stone we can turn lead to gold, brew the Elixir of Life, craft the most priceless alchemical items!"
"All of it shared! Rootless Wizards like us could overturn our fate overnight!"
"Picture it: Galleons beyond counting—buy whatever you want! Silk robes, rare magical beasts, palatial manors! Even immortality! A once-in-a-lifetime chance…"
"And what do you get for turning me in to Dumbledore? A handful of house-points and a few empty compliments?"
Quirrell's voice brimmed with seduction: "Measured against wealth, power and eternal life, what are they worth?"
He was proud of his own eloquence; even if the boy wasn't swayed, surely the mysterious Dark Wizardbehind him would be.
Why else sneak into Hogwarts but for the Stone? If plans hadn't stalled, why send this lad to sound him out?
"Professor… is everything you said true?"
Seeing the hunger in Sig's eyes, Quirrell knew he had gambled rightly: "Absolutely true!"
Signas looked at Quirrell's flushed, excited face and almost laughed aloud.
The speech sounded reasonable, even laudable, neatly explaining his motive for stealing the Stone and casting him as a tragic hero battling pure-blood tyranny for the sake of downtrodden Wizards.
For a muggle-born youngster who knew little of the world and nursed resentment toward the pure-blood elite, the bait ought to work.
Unfortunately, he had run into Signas.
Quirrell had talked up every splendid future the Stone could buy—pure pie in the sky.
Still, Sig's pulse quickened: the Philosopher's Stone, the apex magical artefact of the Wizarding World.
In system terms it was at minimum a legendary-grade item.
Every tome described it as holding near-limitless power: transmutation, endless gold, and the Elixir of Life.
Gold was secondary; what mattered was the elixir—if he could lay hands on it, he could convert it into resentment points indefinitely.
"Professor, cooperate?" Signas feigned deliberation, drumming his fingers on the desk; each tap rang through the silent office like a blow on Quirrell's taut nerves.
Quirrell watched, tense with expectation.
He believed no Wizard of humble birth could resist such temptation.
Money, immortality, power—desires etched into human bone.
"Your offer is… enticing," Signas said slowly, a ghost of a smile curving his mouth. "Galleons, the Elixir of Life—fine things indeed."
Then his tone slid into casual mockery: "But, Professor, you seem to have misunderstood one small matter."
"What?" Quirrell's heart lurched; a bad premonition seized him.
"I need benefits I can cash in right now." Signas leaned forward, Black eyes fixed on Quirrell. "The future you paint is lovely, but it's still the future. I'm a man who prefers the present."
He spread his hands. "In other words, before the Stone is in our hands, where is your good faith? You can't expect me to sign on with nothing but words."
Quirrell's face turned the colour of old parchment.
Who was begging whom here?
Hadn't they come to threaten him in the first place?
"Wh-what do you want?" Quirrell croaked, feeling the ground shift from beneath his feet.
Signas rubbed thumb and forefinger together, playing the penniless orphan to perfection: "Money, of course!"
"Though I'd also accept Felix Felicis, dragon blood, Devil's Snare essence, moon-turtle shell, advanced spellcraft—whatever you've got handy…"
Quirrell's mouth twitched violently.
[resentment points from Quirinus Quirrell +75!]
Chapter 73 – Does This Kid Have No Idea About Prices in the Wizarding World?
To be honest, Quirinus's request wasn't excessive.
Quirrell himself had clawed his way up from hard times; he completely understood a true orphan's hunger for money.
Although this child might have some mysterious Dark Wizard behind him, in Quirrell's experience such lofty figures usually cared little for their underlings' lives—just as the thought formed, a dangerous surge of mental pressure pulsed beneath the turban at the back of his head.
He hastily wiped every stray thought from his mind, not daring to speculate further.
'Understood.' Quirrell nodded with a calm expression, drew a heavy pouch from an inner robe pocket and set it on the table. 'This is my month's salary; take it for now. As for rare alchemical items or Potioningredients, I truly have none.'
One hundred and fifty Galleons, exactly.
He was certain that Signas—raised in a Muggle orphanage—would be stunned speechless by such a fortune.
'Thank you, Professor.'
Yet Signas simply accepted the pouch, hefted it in his hand, and showed not a flicker of excitement.
He even asked with interest, 'Professor, which day of the month is payday?'
Quirrell blinked. The faculty pay-date at Hogwarts was hardly secret, but he couldn't fathom why the boy wanted to know.
'The first of each month.' He answered with forced patience, trying to regain the upper hand and adopt a senior's tone. 'What, already planning to stay on and teach after graduation? I could even write you a reference letter…'
That last part wasn't entirely empty.
In magical Britain, a weighty letter of recommendation was indeed worth a great deal.
But Signas was years from graduating; Quirrell's sudden warmth was merely to show goodwill and keep this headache of a student placated.
Signas tapped the desktop once, cutting him off.
'Very well. I'll come to you again on the first of next month.'
'???'
The smile on Quirrell's face froze instantly.
'Sig, what… do you mean by that?'
Signas gave him a puzzled look, as if the question itself were absurd: 'To collect the money every month. Did I misunderstand something?'
Quirrell's cheek twitched; through clenched teeth he squeezed out, 'Ah, no…'
[resentment points from Quirinus Quirrell +88!]
He now seriously wondered whether this child had any idea at all of prices in the Wizarding World.
Or had he simply transplanted the Muggle notion of a five-figure monthly salary straight into magical life?
One hundred and fifty Galleons could keep an ordinary wizarding family comfortable for half a year!
Yet the boy took it as nothing more than a monthly allowance, as though it were only natural.
Signas still seemed unsatisfied. He stood, gaze sweeping the office.
Clearly Quirrell was far from wealthy—no shelves of rare ingredients like Snape's, only commonplace books.
When his eyes landed on an inconspicuous cloth bag in the corner they lit up.
It was the spatial pouch that had held the Troll last time.
'Professor, this pouch is too small; next time it won't hold enough.' Speaking, he walked over and unceremoniously unhooked the spatial bag. 'This one's just right; I'll borrow it for now.'
Quirrell watched his magical prop being taken away, trembling with rage, unable to utter a word.
The door clicked shut.
Dead silence filled the office.
'Aaargh!'
At last Quirrell could hold back no longer; with a low roar he flicked his wand, sending the ink-pot soaring to smash against the door in a burst of black stains.
'Damn it! How dare he… a filthy mudblood!'
His face twisted with fury, hideously contorted.
[resentment points from Quirinus Quirrell +55!]
[resentment points from Quirinus Quirrell +77!]
At that moment a cold, rasping voice echoed directly in the depths of his mind.
'Shut up, fool.'
Quirrell's body jerked rigid; terror replaced the anger on his face.
He dropped to his knees, stammering toward the back of his own head, 'Master… I…'
'Keep Shalk and whoever backs him steady. This loss is nothing! When I return we shall settle accounts—ten-thousandfold.'
The voice, devoid of emotion, made the soul shudder. 'You will be repaid a thousand times over…'
'Right now, find out what new protections Dumbledore has placed on the Fourth Floor corridor!'
'Hurry. If we delay much longer the strength I've regained will be exhausted; then either you hunt another Unicorn for me or I devour you…'
Frustrated by repeated failures, Lord Voldemort was weaker than ever, kept alive only by unicorn blood; he had no energy to waste words with Quirrell.
Quirrell answered with trepidation. He had no power to resist Voldemort now.
Besides, for the Dark Lord's resurrection he had already emptied his coffers; he couldn't even afford expensive Potions and had to risk the Forbidden Forest to slay Unicorns.
In mid-December the Scottish Highlands lay under a thick quilt of wind-blown snow, and every young Wizard ached for the holidays.
Yet inside the Slytherin Common Room the anticipation felt oddly strained.
The hearth blazed, yet apart from a handful of students most sat listless, as though their souls had been siphoned away.
These self-proclaimed scions of noble Pure-blood lines looked, before Signas, like country bumpkins who'd never seen the world.
While he was already researching new Potions and advanced charms—and rumored to be contacting merchants to sell finished brews—they couldn't even keep up with basic coursework.
They couldn't out-study him, out-compete him, or simply lie flat—Signas would humiliate them for trying.
For the first time these Pure-blood children wondered whether Slytherin's obsession with strength might be… unhealthy.
Some secretly thought that winding up in Hufflepuff or even Gryffindor might not have been so bad—if only Signas alone were crushing them.
But under his 'guidance' Draco, Daphne, Crabbe and Goyle—once bottom-feeders—had soared ahead, leaving everyone else in the dust.
With Signas's pointers Draco now improved rapidly in Potions, one of the few students Snape praised as having 'not left their brains in the dormitory.'
Daphne excelled in Charms, already earning house points, while Crabbe and Goyle, after some coaching, showed startling dueling talent.
Nearby Pansy rolled her eyes at the sight of Draco poring over his texts, and muttered sourly to Blaise beside her, 'Look at that smug face—thinks he's going to be a Potions Master? All he does is stir cauldrons for someone else…'
Before she could finish, Draco's icy voice cut across.
'Shut it, Parkinson.' He didn't even lift his gaze from the page. 'Instead of sniping, figure out how to stop your boils Potion from blowing up the cauldron.'
'You—!' Pansy's face flushed green with anger.
Draco finally glanced up, giving her a cool once-over. 'My father says if money can solve it, it isn't a problem. I pay to gain knowledge—what's wrong with that?'
He had received no little guidance from Signas lately, even securing the recipe for the Soothing Potion—much to Crabbe and Goyle's envy.
Signas's intent had been for Draco to foot the bill and the labor to perfect the incomplete formula, while tutoring him through Potions class.
Draco embraced the task with relish.
Such a Potion recipe, among Pure-blood families, was a secret heirloom passed through generations.
A single complete formula could keep a Wizard comfortable for life.
Only by mastering several such formulas—or unique knowledges—could a family truly be called Pure-blood.
The Malfoys, wealthy in land, gold and Ministry connections, would never spurn a chance to add to their legacy.
So these days Draco was fired up, reporting to his family while pouring in both money and materials to complete the recipe as soon as possible.
Meanwhile, Sig was in the Headmaster's office, reporting the results of his work…
Chapter 74 – I Saw a Face on the Back of His Head
In the Headmaster's office, the firelight painted Albus Dumbledore's silver beard a soft orange.
Signas Shalk sat opposite him, feeling like unpaid labor.
"…So, Headmaster, according to Paozhang's feedback, Professor Quirrell's been acting strangely lately!"
Signas reported, deadly serious, for the fifth time with almost identical content.
Dumbledore merely nodded with a smile and, as usual, offered a dish of lemon drops.
"Once, while he was teaching, his hat slipped and I saw a face on the back of his head!" Signas said, face grave. "Headmaster, could it be possible that some Dark Wizard is controlling Professor Quirrell!?"
Dumbledore produced another plate of chocolate frogs and munched away happily.
"Thank you for your trouble, Sig."
That's the reaction?
This is about the back of Quirrell's head!
Did he even hear me?
They say the old man's a hundred—could he be hard of hearing?
Signas drew breath to repeat it louder, but Dumbledore said, "I've magically examined Quirrell; he's perfectly healthy—healthier than most, in fact."
"In any case, thank you very much; your information is valuable. Please keep it coming."
Valuable?
Where's the value?
Quirrell at least pays for silence!
The headmaster of this huge school offers nothing!
Signas's plan to collect from both sides collapsed; he pocketed the plate of chocolate frogs and resolved that next time he'd report Professor Quirrell is researching how to turn garlic durian-flavored… Then he tugged Paozhang over and played back the eavesdropped incantation.
The spell was so complex it took minutes to recite.
After studying it forever Signas still had no idea what it did—clearly some extremely advanced magic—so he committed it to memory for now.
After hearing it, Dumbledore's expression turned a shade graver, though he quickly recovered.
In its cage Paozhang was bursting with energy, staring at Fawkes like a proud rooster.
The oversexed, hyperactive bird now rattled the cage door and, head cocked, perfectly imitated Dumbledore's gentle voice: "Thank you for your trouble, Signas…"
Before the last syllable faded it seamlessly launched into a majestic symphony.
"Gurgle… pfft… BOOM—!!!"
Fawkes was intrigued, merely baffled.
Dumbledore's beard-stroking fingers froze; Fawkes and every portrait in the office swiveled to gape at the bird as if seeing a ghost.
Leaving the Headmaster's office, Signas felt that if he stayed any longer Dumbledore's resentment points would be harvested clean by that wretched bird.
The pre-holiday library was so quiet you could hear pages turn.
Signas, hugging several rare tomes on ancient Potions, tiptoed toward Slytherin's usual corner—only to spot three familiar figures.
Harry, Ron, Hermione.
They surrounded a long table buried under a tower of books that nearly grazed the ceiling and almost swallowed tiny Hermione.
Signas stepped over, rose on tiptoe, and from the summit pulled out a brick-thick "Study of Modern Witchcraft Development," blew off the dust, and asked offhandedly, "Research? At this rate you'll empty the library by Christmas."
"Shh!" Harry, rabbit-startled, frantically signed for silence, glanced around, and whispered, "Quiet, or Madam Pince will hear."
Hermione popped up behind the book-pile, a scrap of parchment caught in her bushy brown hair.
Exhaustion lined her small face, yet her bright eyes blazed: "Signas? You're here too?"
To her, the genius who never took notes yet always scored top marks—whom Professors showered with bonus points—had no need of this place.
Yet that very genius had been haunting the library lately.
A genius who still works hard—utterly dispiriting!
"I'm hunting material to refine a Potion formula," Signas answered casually, sitting opposite and eyeing the mountain. "Holiday soon—aren't you lot going home?"
"My parents are off to Romania to see my brother Charlie, so I asked to stay," Ron muttered.
"Same here," Harry shrugged; to him Hogwarts felt more like home than the Dursleys'.
"Fancy that—I'm staying too," Signas said.
The orphanage can't compete with school.
Learning Signas would remain, Harry looked relieved and considerably warmer.
"What are you looking for? Need help?" Signas indicated the stack. "At your speed you won't finish by Christmas."
The trio exchanged glances in silent conference.
Harry and Ron looked to Hermione; after a moment she nodded.
Harry leaned in, hush-voiced as if sharing cosmic secrets: "We're searching for someone… Nicolas Flamel."
"Why on earth—one of your distant French cousins, Ron?" Signas raised an eyebrow.
Ron's face flushed liver-red: "Rubbish! The Weasleys have no French relatives!"
"You know—" Harry cast a wary look around and breathed, "you know that room on the Fourth Floorcorridor?"
Signas nodded.
"Know what's inside?" Harry narrowed his eyes. "We reckon Snape's after whatever it is!"
Though Signas and Professor Snape were at odds, Hermione still disliked Harry blurting everything.
Too late to stop him, she stamped in frustration.
Signas was stunned.
No wonder last time Quirrell had barely stepped in before Snape showed up.
So Snape had his own little scheme.
"What? Professor Snape wants to steal it too?"
Now it was the trio's turn to goggle.
"You… you know what it is?" Hermione squeaked, clapping a hand over her mouth in horror.
"Shh." Signas lifted a finger. "Quiet in the library, Miss Granger. Madam Pince will throw us out."
He leaned back, delighted by the three lion cubs gaping as if they'd seen a ghost.
So they'd only reached the Nicolas Flamel stage; they didn't even know what the man did.
"You turned the library upside-down just for that name?" He gestured at the book-mountain.
"Of course!" Hermione bristled like a cat whose tail had been trod on and rattled off her sources: "I checked Rise and Fall of Dark magic, Twentieth-Century Notable Wizards, Modern Magical History… practically every book that mentions famous Wizards, and none record Nicolas Flamel!"
"It's bizarre—someone who could create a treasure guarded by Cerberus should appear somewhere in history!"
Confusion and defiance filled her small face; she'd spent night after night here for that name.
"Hey!" Harry tugged her sleeve, exasperated she'd missed the point.
He gazed imploringly at Signas: "So what exactly is it?"
Chapter 75 – Who Is Nicolas Flamel?
Signas looked at the three pairs of eyes screaming "Tell us!" and almost laughed aloud.
He cleared his throat, putting on an expression that mixed deep thought and bewilderment, as though the question had him stumped as well.
Leisurely, he leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and studied them in comfortable silence, saying nothing.
Harry's skin crawled under that gaze; he couldn't help prompting, "You… you do know something, don't you?"
"Mmm…" Signas drew the sound out, fingers drumming a lazy rhythm on his arm—slow, unhurried, yet enough to send the three opposite him into palpitations.
"I do know a little. However…"
He flashed a grin, white teeth on full display. "My Gryffindor friends, this touches my beloved Dean; I can't bear to spill…"
Harry's cheek twitched.
Sig might be the darling of many Professors, but Severus Snape was definitely not among them.
Rumor even had it that Professor Quirrell—who had allegedly snatched Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts post—had awarded Sig more points this term than Snape had given since term began.
So the idea that Sig and Snape could be on good terms was pure fantasy!
"Sig!" Hermione burst out, rising from behind her stack of books and leaning forward. "This is important! It concerns the whole school's safety! Snape, he—"
"Stop." Signas raised a finger, cutting her off.
He fished something from his pocket and waved it in front of the trio: a beautifully wrapped chocolate frog.
"Want the intel?" He tore the wrapper, pinned the struggling chocolate frog with one hand, and stuffed it into his mouth, speaking thickly. "Answer a question first."
He picked up the accompanying Wizard Card, and without even glancing at it, flicked it toward Harry. "Tell me who I got this time."
Harry automatically caught the card and looked down. It was another Dumbledore; he already had several.
"It's Dumbledore," he answered, disappointed, unable to see why this mattered right now.
"Oh, him again." Signas chewed, shrugging indifferently. "Thought I might get someone new—say, Nicolas Flamel or the like."
The moment the words left his mouth the corner fell deathly silent.
Because Harry, struck by sudden memory, began frantically patting his robe pockets.
A moment later he pulled out a trading card depicting an old man with half-moon spectacles and flowing silver beard and hair.
Harry stared at the tiny print on the back, mouth opening wider and wider.
"Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts. Well-known achievements: defeated Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945; discovered twelve uses of dragon blood; partner of Nicolas Flamel in Alchemy…"
Harry passed the card to Ron and Hermione; three heads snapped together, their heavy breathing the only sound in the silent library.
They exchanged glances—shock, dawning comprehension, and finally an indescribable absurdity.
"Nicolas Flamel… Dumbledore's partner…" Hermione whispered, feeling the world's biggest fool.
They had slaved away for a whole month, poring through tomes day and night, only to find the answer… inside a snack they ate practically every day?
Ron's face turned from red to green as he remembered the countless cards he'd tossed aside, feeling as though someone had seized his heart in a fist.
"Oh, right," Sig added as if remembering something, and dropped another bombshell. "I once read in an ancient Potions text that Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone."
Philosopher's Stone!
The words struck like lightning.
Turning any metal to gold, brewing the Elixir of Life.
Legends of the Stone flooded their minds.
Everything made sense now!
No wonder Snape would stop at nothing to get it!
"How… how could you possibly know all this?" Harry finally stammered, staring at Signas in bewilderment.
"By reading," Signas replied, spreading his hands as though it were obvious. "Read enough books and you'll stumble onto secrets others miss…"
Hermione's face flamed crimson.
[resentment points from Hermione Granger +19!]
Sig had roamed the library for barely half a month, while they had buried themselves there for a full month and found nothing… "So…" Hermione muttered, "what exactly have we been doing these past weeks?"
Signas surveyed their life-shattered expressions, rose contentedly, and brushed the dust from his robes.
"Looks like you've found your answer. Remember to return the books." He waved and strolled off, leaving the stunned trio amid a towering mountain of volumes.
[resentment points from Hermione Granger +33!]
[resentment points from Ron Weasley +22!]
…Christmas scent grew stronger; holly and mistletoe lined the Castle corridors, and the suits of armor sang off-key carols under enchantment.
In the Slytherin Common Room most students had packed to go home for the holidays.
Draco, however, had stayed—highly unusual for him.
He hovered over a cauldron, brewing attentively, while Crabbe and Goyle flanked him like loyal door-gods, preparing Potion ingredients.
Ever since witnessing Signas's "heroics" in the Forbidden Forest, Draco regarded him with near-fanatic admiration.
All he wanted now was to grow stronger, to master real power, rather than trail behind his father flaunting family name.
So when Signas asked him to help refine the recipe for the Soothing Potion, Draco agreed without hesitation, even covering all ingredient costs himself.
Signas enjoyed the leisure: he lay on his dorm bed, leafing through the advanced spellbook "borrowed" from Quirrell while calculating the growth cycle of the Honesty Bean in the Forbidden Forest.
By his reckoning it should have sprouted by now.
Looks like he'd need another trip into the Forest over Christmas break.
Just then the dorm door opened and Draco bustled in, beaming, clutching an exquisite gift box.
"Boss! See what I brought you!"
He proudly presented the box. "My mum's candies—and this." He pulled a small velvet-wrapped item from his robe. "My father told me to give it to you, a… thank-you for 'mentoring' me."
Signas raised an eyebrow and accepted the velvet bundle.
Inside lay a silver ring engraved with exquisite serpentine patterns.
A small obsidian set in it glinted darkly in the candlelight.
"Metamorph Ring?" the system informed Signas at once.
A fairly advanced alchemical object; the wearer could alter his appearance to a certain degree. Not as good as Polyjuice Potion, but more than enough for disguise.
Lucius Malfoy really was willing to spend.
Evidently he had noticed the changes in Draco these past weeks.
Signas toyed with the cool ring, the magic in his fingertips resonating subtly with it.
He lifted his gaze, half-smiling at Draco. "Thank your father for me. His eye is as sharp as a Goblin from Gringotts."
"That… that's only a small gift." Seeing Signas accept the ring, Draco relaxed, his old Malfoy pride returning. "When you visit Malfoy Manor, my father will show you what a real collection looks like."
"Enough boasting." Sig waved him off, picked up the candy box and tore it open. "Let's see if your mum's cooking passes—if they're all licorice I'm returning them."
Draco burst into laughter, and the dorm filled with cheerful air.
Chapter 76: This Is Mine
On Christmas morning, Hogwarts woke up to a world wrapped in silver and white.
When Signas opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the pile of presents at the foot of his bed.
He stepped out of bed barefoot; the carpet was soft and warm.
He reached out and picked up the topmost package. The wrapping paper was a gaudy gold, with 'From Malfoy Manor' written on it in cursive script.
He didn't need to guess to know who sent it.
Opening it, he found a peacock quill inlaid with emeralds. The nib shimmered with magical light, and it was obviously very expensive.
Beside it was a large box of handmade chocolates in various shapes, each piece as exquisite as a work of art.
The second package was small and delicate, tied with a light blue ribbon.
Signas recognized Daphne's handwriting.
He carefully untied the ribbon. Inside was a thick notebook with a dragon-hide cover that felt wonderful to the touch. Opening the first page, Daphne's elegant handwriting read: 'To the most amazing Potions Master I know. —D.G.'
Signas couldn't help but smile; this little girl certainly knew how to talk.
Besides these, there were two crookedly wrapped packages, clearly the handiwork of Crabbe and Goyle.
One contained a full dozen cauldron cakes, a few of which had already been flattened.
The other was a pair of dragon-hide gloves; although the craftsmanship was crude, it was clear they had put effort into it.
Sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at these gifts, a strange surge of warmth welled up in his heart.
Sig suddenly understood Harry's decision to stay at Hogwarts.
Although he hadn't received many gifts, he felt quite warm in the middle of winter!
Sig put on his Transformation Ring and checked the Spatial Bag he had 'borrowed' from Quirrell; the Potion ingredients and several bottles of finished Potions inside were all safe and sound.
He had learned many Potion recipes during this time, selected a few, and consumed resentment pointsto upgrade their levels.
Therefore, the gifts he sent out were various Potions.
For Daphne, he sent a Beauty Water he had optimized, which also had a slight refreshing effect. For the Draco trio, he sent Strengthening Solutions.
Sig also sent gifts to several Professors and the gamekeeper.
For Snape and Hagrid, he sent Glamour Potions, which make a person look more radiant.
Sig didn't know if they would be useful, but after making two portions, he sent them to both.
To McGonagall, who looked after him quite a bit, Sig sent a bottle of the original Beauty Water.
As for Dumbledore's gift, he sent a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that never ran out of booger-flavored ones. However, he didn't mention the booger flavor in the Christmas card, only emphasizing that they would never run out... According to Paozhang, he was very happy when he received it!
Not many young Wizards attended the Christmas feast, but it was outrageously lavish: roast turkey, honey-glazed ham, mountains of pudding... the long tables were covered with all sorts of delicacies.
Dumbledore, wearing a Wizard's hat covered in flowers, was enthusiastically watching a young Wizardnearby play Wizards Chess.
From his expression, the Principal was clearly also very good at chess.
Signas observed the other Professors while cutting his turkey.
Snape had his usual gloomy face, looking as if everyone owed him several hundred Galleons, not radiant at all.
Quirrell, on the other hand, seemed somewhat restless. He kept wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, his eyes darting around as if he were avoiding something.
After the feast ended, the students staying at school returned to their respective Common Rooms.
The fireplace in Slytherin was burning brightly. Draco was pulling Crabbe and Goyle aside, boastfully describing the Christmas parties he had attended in the past.
Sig had no interest in listening to his chatter; he wanted to go check on the Honesty Bean. It should have sprouted by now!
So, he made an excuse to slip back to his dormitory and changed into dark clothes suitable for movement.
He put on the Transformation Ring and, with a thought, felt his facial features and aura become much more ordinary—the kind that wouldn't stand out in a crowd.
He quietly slipped out of the Common Room, skillfully avoiding Filch and his cat patrolling the corridors.
The Castle seemed exceptionally quiet in the middle of the night, with only the sound of the wind and snow whistling outside the windows.
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the snow reached his ankles.
Signas exhaled a puff of white air and recited an incantation. A soft ball of light lit up at the tip of his wand, illuminating the forest path ahead.
With his previous experience, he knew the way well. Ahead was the ancient oak tree he used as a marker.
However, when he pushed aside the last of the bushes, his footsteps suddenly halted.
In front of the oak tree not far away, right where he had planted the 'Honesty Bean,' a soft, holy silvery-white halo appeared.
That light did not come from a spell, but was a radiance emitted by life itself.
Five or six figures stood silently. They were pure white, as if carved from the purest moonlight and fresh snow. In the darkness, they were so beautiful they didn't seem like creatures of the mortal world.
Their manes were like flowing silver silk, and their spiral horns reflected a dreamlike luster.
They were Unicorns.
Signas's heart sank abruptly.
His first reaction wasn't amazement at these legendary creatures, but intense vigilance.
Why were they here?
And why were they gathered around the spot where the Honesty Bean was planted?
He carefully peeked out, his gaze passing over the Unicorns. He saw a seedling about three inches tall breaking through the snow.
The seedling was a translucent gold, its two small leaves unfurled as if made of pure gold foil, emitting a peculiar, mind-calming fragrance.
The 'Honesty Bean' had sprouted.
And it seemed these Unicorns were attracted by this scent representing 'honesty' and 'purity.'
A slightly smaller young beast even tried to lick the golden seedling.
"Stop!"
Signas couldn't sit still anymore; he dashed out from behind the bushes.
The Unicorns were startled by the sudden sound and all turned their heads at once.
Their eyes, as pure as obsidian, were instantly filled with vigilance.
The leading Unicorn was clearly the leader of the herd. It was more robust, and the horn on its head was longer, shimmering with a cold, stern light.
It took a step forward, shielding the young beast behind it, and sized up this uninvited guest with a scrutinizing gaze.
The air seemed to freeze.
Signas could feel an invisible pressure; it was the deterrent force from this magical creature.
But he did not back down. Instead, he met the Unicorn's gaze and walked forward step by step.
Sig didn't show any hostility, merely spreading his hands: "Ladies, or gentlemen. I planted this plant; it is my private property."
The Unicorns tilted their heads, seemingly trying to understand the meaning of his words.
The small Unicorn that had tried to lick the seedling even curiously leaned toward him, only to be gently nudged back by the leader.
Unicorns are of noble character, loyal and pure. They gravitate toward creatures that are equally noble and pure, and they can naturally detect lies.
This is also why their bodies have various magical properties.
They could sense that the human cub before them wasn't that noble, but he didn't have an evil aura either, and he wasn't lying!
So they didn't feel much affinity for Sig, but they didn't have any obvious ill will either.
The Unicorn leader gazed at him for a moment, seemingly confirming he meant no harm.
A voice rang out directly in Signas's mind. It wasn't a language heard through the ears, but a pure exchange of thoughts.
[Friend of the forest, we can feel the purity of this plant. Its fruit is very important to us.]
Sig understood. For a pure creature like a Unicorn, the pure magic and 'noble' aura of a legendary magical plant like the Honesty Bean were probably as irresistibly attractive as catnip is to a cat.
"I understand." Sig nodded, his attitude sincere. "But it's also very important to me. So, I'm afraid I can't give it to you."
Chapter 77: The Unicorn Donating Blood
[We can exchange.]
The telepathic message from the leader Unicorn came again.
It stepped back gracefully and gestured behind it with its head.
A Unicorn stepped forward, carrying a plant in its mouth and placing it on the snow.
It was a mushroom that was crystal clear throughout, looking like an ice sculpture. It emitted a blue light and was still full of vitality even on a cold winter night.
Sig recognized this thing; it was the "moonlight mushroom" mentioned in books, a rather rare Potioningredient that could sell for over a hundred Galleons a piece on the black market.
If it were any other Wizard, they would probably have been ecstatic to see such a rare item.
But Signas only glanced at it and shook his head.
"Not enough."
His answer was crisp and direct.
Are you kidding me? This is a legendary "Honesty Bean." You want to trade for it with a mere moonlight mushroom?
In your dreams!
The Unicorns seemed not to have expected him to refuse so bluntly and were all stunned for a moment.
[What do you want?] A hint of confusion entered the leader Unicorn's thoughts.
Signas calculated quickly in his mind.
What could a Unicorn offer?
Nothing more than some natural treasures from the Forbidden Forest, such as certain rare herbs or ores containing magic.
These things were certainly precious, but they were all one-time deals. Planting Honesty Beans, however, allowed for continuous harvesting. Whether for trade or personal use, it was a long-term business.
The Unicorns brought out several more items in succession.
A Moonstone emitting a soft glow, a "Starflower" covered in morning dew that could enhance Potionactivity, and even a small handful of glittering "Fairydust" said to amplify spells.
Every single one was enough to make any Potioneer or Alchemist's heart race.
But while Signas shook his head, he complained inwardly: Is this Unicorn part Dragon? How does it have so many treasures!?
A Unicorn's whole body is a treasure. If you add these collected treasures, don't bother slaying Dragons; slaying Unicorns would be the most cost-effective... The rejected Unicorns grew a bit anxious.
The little Unicorn even let out an anxious neigh, circling around its mother.
Their desire for the Honesty Bean had already exceeded Signas's imagination.
[Human cub, state your conditions.]
The leader Unicorn's thoughts became serious. [As long as it is within our power, we can give it to you.]
Sig looked up, his gaze sweeping across the snow-white bodies of the several Unicorns.
A Unicorn's entire body is a treasure.
Hair can be used to make wand cores and is incredibly tough; horns are powerful antidotes and Potioningredients; skin, tendons, bones, and hearts are all top-tier Alchemy materials.
But these things all implied harming or even killing them.
Signas wasn't that insane yet.
Because after killing a Unicorn, one's soul would be cursed by them.
That would be more loss than gain!
But just then, a thought flashed through his mind like lightning.
He remembered that moonlit night, the image of Quirrell kneeling by a Unicorn's corpse, greedily sucking.
Unicorn... blood. It possessed the magical power to prolong life and was a top-grade material for many advanced Potions.
It was only because killing a Unicorn cursed the soul that unicorn blood was extremely rare.
Most of the unicorn blood currently on the market was obtained after a Unicorn died of natural causes.
There were also some extreme Dark Wizards who would hunt Unicorns for blood regardless of the curse.
Regardless, the supply of unicorn blood was still far from enough compared to its life-extending effects and demand.
But Muggles can donate blood, so naturally, Unicorns can too!
A Muggle can donate 200-400 ml at a time, with at least six months between donations.
But Unicorns are different; they are top-tier magical creatures with an incredibly vast amount of magic.
So Sig felt that drawing a tube from a Unicorn every month should be no problem.
A bold idea suddenly popped up, making his heart thud wildly.
Sig realized he might have found a treasure more precious than a Galleon mine.
He took a deep breath, trying to make his voice sound calmer, but in those black eyes, a light never seen before was burning.
"What I want... you indeed can give." He looked at the leader Unicorn and said word by word, "I need your... blood."
The moment the words fell, the temperature in the entire forest clearing seemed to drop several degrees.
The friendliness and curiosity in the eyes of those Unicorns vanished instantly, replaced by shock, anger, and a coldness of being deeply offended.
Since Unicorns were full of treasures, many Wizards coveted them. Incidents of hunting Unicorns and extracting blood were persistent despite bans. This resulted in Unicorns being forced to retreat into just a few sanctuaries, their numbers becoming extremely scarce.
The surrounding Unicorns backed away one after another, assuming an attacking posture, their snow-white hooves pawing the ground uneasily, kicking up snow everywhere.
They looked at Signas as if they were looking at a monster in human skin.
The leader Unicorn suddenly reared its front hooves and let out a long, piercing neigh. Its spiral horn shimmered with a dangerous light in the moonlight, pointing directly at Signas.
The air was filled with the smell of gunpowder, a confrontation on the verge of breaking out.
"Calm down! Sirs, ladies, calm down!" Signas immediately raised his hands, palms forward in a friendly gesture. "I think you've misunderstood my meaning. I can explain..."
His voice echoed in the silent forest, full of sincerity.
The Unicorns' attacking posture didn't relax in the slightest, but the leader Unicorn's neighing stopped. Its cold thoughts entered Signas's mind again: [Explain? What is the difference between you and those dark creatures hiding in the shadows, coveting us?]
"Of course there's a difference!" Signas met its gaze without backing down. "I ask you, what does killing a Unicorn bring?"
The Unicorns were stunned, not understanding why he would ask such a question.
Signas didn't wait for them to answer and went on on his own: "A curse. The killer will live under a curse forever, their life energy will drain away, and they will be in a half-dead state. Am I right?"
This was recorded in "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" and was also common knowledge in the Wizarding World.
The leader Unicorn was silent for a moment, which was a tacit admission of his statement.
"Since I know about this curse, how could I be so foolish as to want to harm you?" Signas spread his hands, his tone becoming more relaxed.
Sig explained rapidly, "So, what I mean is we can cooperate. It's a... a sustainable, mutually beneficial cooperation!"
Sig indeed didn't want to hunt them. After all, that was a one-time deal, and there was the curse—it was quite a bad bargain.
The long-term path had to be voluntary on both sides and mutually beneficial!
But the Unicorns didn't understand this string of trendy vocabulary.
Sig cleared his throat and explained further: "You see, the fruit of this plant is definitely good for your growth, which is why you want its fruit..."
The Unicorns didn't respond, but their hostility weakened slightly.
Signas said persuasively: "As you can see, in two months, I'll be able to harvest many beans! They can all be used for trade..."
"And I, I need your blood..."
[So what do you want?]
"Blood donation, have you heard of it?" Signas asked tentatively.
Seeing their blank faces, he had to change his phrasing: "I mean, you periodically and voluntarily provide me with a small portion of blood, just a small bottle."
"With your powerful vitality, this small loss will be recovered quickly. It has almost no effect on your bodies."
"I, in turn, will issue you a Blood Donation Certificate!"
He pointed to the golden seedling: "In two months, you can bring the Blood Donation Certificate to me to exchange for beans. And you can keep guarding this seedling; you'll even know how many beans it can produce..."
"How about it? It's very fair, right?"
The Unicorns looked at each other.
[This human cub... his ideas are so strange...]
[Voluntarily... give blood?]
[But... what he says seems to make sense.]
The leader Unicorn was silent for a long time, its deep eyes seemingly trying to see through Sig.
It could feel that this human wasn't lying. Although his proposal was unheard of, it indeed contained no malice... Most importantly, this was voluntary blood donation!
Chapter 78: unicorn blood Donation Also Has a Donation Certificate
The clearing in the forest fell silent once more, with only the "whooshing" sound of the cold wind blowing through the treetops.
The Unicorns gathered together, communicating in a way Signas couldn't understand; their horns flickered with a soft shimmer from time to time, as if they were holding a silent meeting.
Sig's heart was in his throat; if this deal went through, he would truly strike it rich.
That was unicorn blood, a legendary Potion material, and it was "genuine goods"—a continuous supply without any curse side effects.
Whether this stuff was used to perfect a Potion, taken directly to the black market to exchange for Galleons, or simply converted into resentment points, it was a guaranteed profit... He could almost see countless golden coins piled into small mountains, sparkling before him.
After a long while, the Unicorn leader finally turned back to him, its obsidian eyes gleaming with wise light.
[We agree to your terms.]
Its thoughts echoed calmly in Signas's mind, [But we have conditions.]
"Please, speak." Signas was ecstatic in his heart, but his face remained as calm as still water.
[The exchange must be voluntary; you cannot force any of our kin.]
"Of course, being voluntary is the foundation of cooperation." Signas nodded.
[In exchange, after this plant matures, we are to receive half of its fruit.]
"No problem." Signas agreed without a moment's hesitation.
Half is fine; he could always plant more anyway.
Using half of a consumable to exchange for a sustainable source of legendary materials—this deal was a massive steal!
Seeing him agree so readily, the leader Unicorn's gaze softened.
It turned aside and sent a gentle thought to another strong Unicorn.
The strong Unicorn hesitated for a moment before finally walking up to Signas.
It lowered its noble head, presenting its smooth, jade-like flank to Signas.
Signas quickly took out an empty crystal bottle from his spatial bag.
A drop of silver liquid slowly seeped out from the surface of the young Unicorn's skin, like a plump bead of mercury.
It didn't fall, but hovered miraculously over the skin, emitting a life aura so thick it almost felt physical.
Signas held his breath and carefully caught it with the crystal bottle.
The moment the blood fell into the bottle, the system notification rang frantically in his mind.
[Ding! Detected legendary rare material: unicorn blood (voluntary sacrifice)!]
[Material Analysis: Contains pure life energy and purification power. Can be used to create the highest level of life-type and purification-type Potions, or as a core material for top-tier alchemical items.]
[Note: Since this blood was obtained through voluntary sacrifice, all curse effects have been removed. Friendly tip: not only can it prolong life, but it also has beauty and skin-care benefits! It is recommended to use it as a Potion material to maximize its magical effects!]
Sig looked at the note, and the corners of his eyes couldn't help but twitch violently.
Good stuff!
No wonder so many people flocked to these Unicorns.
This thing was practically a budget version of the Elixir of Life.
According to the basic theory of Potions, the magical effect of a Potion can be greater than the sum of its ingredients' effects.
This meant that, assuming sufficient raw materials, it wouldn't be impossible from the perspective of Potions to create a Potion comparable to the Elixir of Life.
He quietly put away the crystal bottle and nodded to the strong Unicorn in front of him: "Thank you."
The Unicorn seemed to sense his goodwill and let out a light, cheerful neigh.
Signas had not only kept his "Honesty Bean," but had also unexpectedly reached a long-term, mutually beneficial cooperation agreement with one of the most mysterious creatures in the Forbidden Forest.
He looked at the group of beautiful and noble creatures before him, then at the shimmering bottle of silver blood in his hand, remembering that there were many other magical animals in the Forbidden Forest.
For example, the eight-legged spiders; their venom was also a high-grade Potion material.
This is a treasure trove!!
"Alright, the deal is done." Signas clapped his hands and cleared his throat. "Now, could I trouble you to help me with a small favor?"
The leader Unicorn tilted its head, a hint of confusion in its thoughts: [What favor?]
Signas pointed at the golden seedling, a very kind smile appearing on his face: "Help me keep an eye on it. Don't let any wild boars, Acromantulas, or anything like that nibble on it. When it bears fruit, I promise I'll come and split the profits with you right away."
This was free, 24-hour non-stop, top-tier security in the entire Forbidden Forest.
Might as well use it.
The Unicorn leader felt this was an expression of an honest transaction; after all, if they were watching the plant themselves, it certainly couldn't run away.
Even if Sig hadn't made the request, they would have come to watch over the seedling.
So it readily agreed.
Watching the Unicorns surround the "Honesty Bean" seedling again like the most loyal guards, Signodded with satisfaction.
After taking a few steps, he seemed to remember something and turned back to add: "Then I'll come back to collect blood on this day next month!"
Unicorn: [???]
The elegant postures of several Unicorns froze instantly, their heads tilting in unison; they were clearly bewildered.
[What do you... mean by that?] The Unicorn leader's thoughts were filled with astonishment.
Signas gave it a strange look, as if the other party had asked a very stupid question: "I'll come every month to get your blood donations. Don't tell me you don't want to donate voluntarily anymore? Don't worry, next time I'll issue you blood donation certificates, and I'll make up for this time's certificates too. If you collect ten, you'll even get some extra beans."
The Unicorn leader's elegance almost crumbled on the spot, and it felt its thoughts heating up with anger: [But you never said it would be every month! In our agreement, you cannot use force!]
[resentment points from Liuguang +68!]
"But the agreement didn't say it would only be once!" Signas spread his hands righteously. "Blood donation must be done regularly; only then can I regularly supply you with beans. Don't tell me you won't want to eat them again after this one time?"
Sig planned to harvest the Honesty Beans and then clear a bean field in the Forbidden Forest to plant them in batches, ensuring a long-term supply.
The Unicorns were originally a bit angry, but after hearing Sig's words, they actually felt... like it made sense.
As magical animals with high magic power, only magical plants with high magic power could support their growth.
In nature, such plants were rare, so their growth cycles were slow and they reproduced infrequently.
Of course, they wanted to eat them long-term.
But only this human cub had the beans, and only he knew how to plant them.
If they wanted to eat the beans again, they naturally had to donate blood to him again!
So what he said seemed perfectly fine!
Thinking of this, the noble Unicorns looked at each other and finally let their anger dissipate in silence.
Thinking that they could eat that fruit long-term in the future, they were even quite happy to escort Sigout of the Forbidden Forest.
Signas hummed a little tune as he walked toward the Castle, calculating in his mind.
Hasn't Draco always bragged about the treasures of Malfoy Manor?
Next time he brags, I'll just casually tell him that I'm raising a herd of Unicorns. I wonder what kind of expression that kid will have.
Would he be so shocked that he contributes a wave of maxed-out resentment points on the spot?
Signas paused for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh out loud in the silent snow.
Chapter 79: To Sell It, You Need Proper Packaging!
By the time Signas slipped back into the dormitory, carrying the chill of the night and a dusting of snowflakes, the horizon was already turning the color of a fish's belly.
Draco was sprawled out on his bed, sleeping soundly, muttering nonsense in his sleep like "Damn Potter" and "Don't touch my hair gel."
Signas changed his clothes quietly and carefully locked the precious vial of unicorn blood into the enchanted chest at his bedside.
He lay back into his warm bed but found himself completely without sleep.
In his mind, he replayed the system notification from when the silver blood hit the crystal vial, the strange sensation of reaching an agreement with the Unicorn, and even more so, the infinite possibilities of the future.
unicorn blood was a rare resource highly valued by many powerful beings. Now, he actually possessed a sustainable source of supply.
He thought of Professor Quirrell's sallow face and the desperation he must have felt, risking everything to hunt Unicorns just to sustain Lord Voldemort's life.
If he were to place a small vial of unicorn blood in front of him, he wondered how many good things he could squeeze out of the man.
And then there was Snape, that perpetually stony-faced Potions Master.
If he knew Signas had top-tier materials of this quality, he would probably be willing to exchange his entire private collection for it, wouldn't he?
The more Signas thought about it, the more excited he became.
resentment points were useful, but ultimately passive; it was better to hold the initiative himself.
Over the next few days of the holidays, Hogwarts Castle appeared empty and tranquil.
Not many students remained at school, so Sig spent most of his time in the library researching Potions, looking for ways to complete the recipe for the Soothing Potion.
Draco, on the other hand, had become a total Potions shut-in.
He spent almost all his time brewing the completed version of the "Soothing Potion." The liquid in the cauldron went from initially turbid and messy to gradually becoming clear. Although he was still a long way from success, his level of dedication was something even Signas admired.
That afternoon, Signas was sitting by the fireplace in the Common Room, leafing through a rare, ancient tome on Potions.
Draco walked over carrying two steaming cups of butterbeer and sat down on the sofa next to him.
"Here, Boss," he handed over a cup. "The Christmas holidays are almost over, why are you still reading books all day?"
"Knowledge is power," Signas replied casually without looking up, using Draco's own words against him.
Draco was momentarily choked up and took a sheepish sip of beer. "By the way, you mentioned last time that you were going to deal with a very powerful enemy... who is it exactly? Someone even you find troublesome?"
Since that night in the Forbidden Forest, Draco had developed a blind worship of Signas's strength.
In his eyes, an enemy that even Signas called "troublesome" must be a truly terrifying existence.
Signas looked away from the book, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather. "Someone... that your House of Malfoy once groveled to, and now wishes would just hurry up and stay dead."
Clang!
Draco's hand holding the cup jerked violently, spilling more than half of the butterbeer. It landed near the fireplace, sending up a puff of white smoke and a sizzling sound.
His face turned deathly pale in an instant, his lips trembling, yet he couldn't squeeze out a single word.
That name was the nightmare of the entire Malfoy Family, a stain they could never wash away.
"He... isn't he already..." Draco's voice was as dry as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper.
"Do you think a Dark Lord who could make the entire Wizarding World tremble would die so easily?" Signas closed the book and finally looked up, his black eyes showing no emotion. "He is only temporarily weakened, like a venomous snake hiding in a gutter, waiting for his chance to make a comeback."
Draco felt a layer of cold sweat break out on his back.
He remembered the occasional glimpses of anxiety and fear his father showed at home.
"Then... then what should we do?" Draco's voice carried a hint of a tremor.
For the first time, he realized how fragile his surname and wealth were in the face of that level of terror.
"What should we do?" Signas gave a light chuckle and took a sip of butterbeer. "Take his life while he's down, of course."
His tone was as relaxed as if he were discussing what to eat for dinner, but the cold light flashing in his eyes made Draco shiver for no reason.
"We need to become stronger," Signas set down the cup and leaned forward slightly. "Strong enough that even after he recovers, we can crush him completely. So, Draco, when will your cauldron of Soothing Potion be finished?"
Draco was stunned for a moment, then immediately understood Signas's intention.
Although the Soothing Potion wasn't flashy, this kind of mind-calming Potion had a huge market in a Wizarding World full of perverts and lunatics.
With Galleons, they could buy more materials and research stronger Potions and spells, creating a virtuous cycle.
"Soon! The side effects are almost eliminated..." Fighting spirit reignited in Draco's eyes. "I promise I'll have a finished product before the term starts!"
"Very good." Signas nodded with satisfaction; this drive was exactly what he wanted from Draco.
As for that precious vial of unicorn blood, he hadn't decided how to use it yet.
It would be a pity to sell it directly, and exchanging it with the system for resentment points wasn't very cost-effective, as the price offered was quite low.
So his initial thought was to use it to brew higher-level Potions, but that would require careful research.
The holidays came to an end in a mix of tranquility and busyness.
The returning students brought new vitality and various stories about their holidays.
On the very last day of the holidays, Draco excitedly burst through the dormitory door holding a crystal vial.
"Boss!!" He practically charged in, holding the vial high.
The light blue liquid in the bottle glowed softly under the candlelight.
"Look! A perfect Soothing Potion!" Draco placed the bottle in front of Signas. "I guarantee on the name of Malfoy that the side effects have been suppressed to a very weak level!"
Even though he had only suppressed the side effects to a weak degree, Draco's face was full of pride.
After all, he was only in his first year. To achieve this under Signas's guidance was already beyond many upper-year students.
In his view, maintaining the original soothing effect while significantly weakening the side effects made it a very practical Potion that could definitely be sold for profit.
"Oh? Really?" Signas raised an eyebrow, not rushing to take it. "So confident? Why don't we find someone to test it?"
"Of course we'll test it!" Draco puffed out his chest, eager to see Signas's shocked expression. "Goyle, Crabbe! Get over here!"
Crabbe and Goyle, who were in the corner arguing until they were red in the face over the last piece of cake, immediately moved over like two small mountains upon hearing the summons.
"Boss, what are your orders?" Goyle asked in a thick voice, cake crumbs still sticking to his mouth.
Draco cleared his throat. "You two are in luck; you'll be the first lucky ones to taste the completed Soothing Potion."
He poured out two small cups from the crystal vial.
Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, knowing this was the improved Soothing Potion, and downed the cups without hesitation.
"How is it? Do you feel peaceful? Like you're lying on a cloud?" Draco looked at them expectantly, asking in rapid-fire. "Do you feel your spirit has been strengthened?"
Crabbe smacked his lips and answered honestly, "Not much feeling... it's just a bit sweet, like slug slime with sugar added."
"A little bit..." Goyle shook his head as well. "But not much..."
Draco's face twitched.
This reaction seemed a bit different from the "enlightenment and sudden clarity" he had imagined.
The soothing effect seemed... a bit weak?
Signas looked thoughtful.
He tapped the table with his wand and said to Crabbe and Goyle, "That piece of cake goes to Goyle."
"On what grounds!" Crabbe instantly flared up, his neck stiffening as he prepared to jump up.
"See? He's agitated," Signas said, gesturing to Draco.
Draco's expression turned ugly.
The soothing effect wasn't just a bit weak; it was practically non-existent!
"I... I want another sip..." After a while, Crabbe looked longingly at the Potion in Draco's hand. But before he could finish his sentence, he clutched his stomach and rushed out of the dormitory.
Goyle next to him was much the same, following close behind.
Soon, the two returned looking refreshed; it seemed their spirits were indeed better after their trip to the toilet.
But they immediately pestered for more. After drinking, their spirits lifted, and they ran back to the bathroom again.
After repeating this three times, only a small portion of the Potion remained in Draco's hand.
Crabbe and Goyle, clutching their backsides after their multiple trips, couldn't drink another drop.
Signas already had a good idea of the Potion's effects!
He took the nearly empty crystal vial from Draco. Just as his fingertips touched the cool glass, the system's notification rang in his mind.
[Ding! Potion detected: Soothing Potion (Incomplete Completed Version)]
[Effects: Refreshing, detoxifying and laxative, with a minor addictive side effect.]
[Note: This is a Potion that makes one feel energetic after taking a dump, and makes them want to take another one!]
Looking at the system's mercilessly sharp roast, Signas almost couldn't hold back his laughter.
Clearly, the original diarrhea side effect—which was comparable to magical croton seeds—had indeed been weakened, but the core soothing effect had also become negligible.
At most, it was slightly stronger than the effect of a Muggle cigarette!
The most critical part was that this thing actually added a certain level of addictiveness... in a way, it really did share similarities with cigarettes!
But to sell it, he would need to package it properly!
Chapter 80 – Inciting Fans to Attack Others
Draco stared at Sig with wide, anxious eyes the colour of winter smoke, as eager for approval as a schoolboy awaiting his teacher's verdict.
"Well? Boss, did I…?"
When Signas stayed silent, Draco's pride ebbed away, replaced by a flicker of unease.
"This…" Sig swirled the vial, deliberately drawing out the moment while he wondered how to market the stuff to the wizarding public.
"As a Soothing Potion its effect is… well, hard to describe—frankly, sub-par." Signas delivered the first verdict.
Draco's shoulders sagged; he wilted like a frost-bitten sprig of dittany.
[resentment points from Draco Malfoy +39!]
He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, then at the Potion he had brewed, and sank into self-doubt.
"How could this happen…?" he muttered, defeated. "I adjusted the Aconite ratio, extended the simmering time; the calming effect shouldn't be this weak!"
Yet Sig's tone suddenly shifted, a grin spreading across his face.
"But—" He clapped Draco's shoulder, eyes blazing like Columbus sighting new land. "Draco, you magnificent bastard, you're a genius!"
"Huh?" Draco lifted his head, utterly bewildered.
A genius?
Is he mocking me?
"You don't even realise what you've created!" Signas said calmly. "This thing is worth a hundred times more than any Soothing Potion."
"Really?"
Draco couldn't grasp the value Sig was talking about.
Sig seized his shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Listen: this isn't a Soothing Potion at all. It's a brand-new, era-defining Potion that will drive every Witch in Britain wild."
"Think about it," Sig said, holding up the crystal flask. "Crabbe and Goyle got diarrhoea, but didn't they feel clear-headed and bursting with energy afterwards? Isn't that just flushing all the impurities from the body?"
Draco nodded blankly. Come to think of it… they had practically floated back into the room.
"Purges the body, renews vitality!" Sig summarised. "So, Draco, what you've invented is the perfect—figure-sculpting diet Potion!"
"F-figure-sculpting diet Potion?" Draco's mouth formed a perfect O; his brain felt short-circuited.
Laxatives can slim you down?
"Exactly!" Signas snapped his fingers. "Imagine all those Witches terrified of gaining weight. If they learn there's a Potion that leaves them light as swans and radiant, what will they do?"
"But… but can diarrhoea really make you lose weight?" Draco frowned.
"Isn't it obvious?" Sig shot back. "Keep you on the loo for a few days straight and tell me you won't be thinner!"
"Of course, our version gives one good purge per swig; we'll prescribe a course of treatment…"
"And the more they purge, the better they feel—we can claim it's detoxifying…"
"Flush out stored fat, flush out hidden toxins, flush out a beautiful silhouette!"
Signas declared, "Once the first users feel lighter, the rest will swallow it hook, line, and sinker."
The three boys stared, eyes as wide and innocent as a Unicorn's.
Draco suddenly thought, "What if someone drinks it and nothing happens?"
"Then we insist they haven't finished the required course!" Sig said calmly. "Treatment length is 'individualised'; interpretation belongs to us. Keep purging and they'll slim down eventually—if they don't, they simply haven't purged enough…"
Draco still felt uneasy; this was the Magical World, after all.
Most assumed magic made shedding weight easy, but altering a body long steeped in spell-work was tricky.
Potions, however, could manage it, which was why they dominated the market.
Past attempts at slimming draughts had usually followed Transfiguration theory—essentially applying transformation spells in liquid form.
The difficulty spoke for itself.
Safe, effective weight-loss Potions were almost non-existent.
Yet plenty of witches knew their Potions; many could test whether a brew truly worked.
When Draco voiced this worry, Sig shrugged. "Then we'll set our successful slimmers—our fans—on anyone who questions us."
"Fans?"
"Our supporting customers," Sig explained. "Get them to attack sceptics, sling mud, keep the doubters too busy to doubt."
The boys' eyes widened; they'd never seen hearts manipulated so brazenly.
Ever the Pure-blood heir, Draco spotted the catch: "Why would these… fans… fight other people for us?"
A fair point; fan-circle marketing can't be explained in a sentence.
But in the Magical World Sig reckoned two things were enough.
First, the Potion needed a dazzling hook to seize everyone's attention.
Draco was lost: "H-how do we do that?"
"Turn it into a true top-tier Potion!"
Draco gaped; that was even harder!
If they could do that, they'd have fixed the Soothing Potion long ago—and that wasn't even top-tier.
He now knew enough to realise top-tier meant Felix Felicis or Elixir-of-Life calibre.
The cost alone barred first-years from the trade.
Ignoring him, Sig pulled a crystal vial from his trunk. "We need a rarer ingredient."
He unwrapped it and set the flask on the table.
Inside, silver fluid shimmered with its own life, flowing slowly, haloed by candlelight.
A surge of pure life-force filled the dormitory; the air itself felt cleaner.
Draco and the others inhaled instinctively, every inch of their skin tingling with well-being.
"This…" Draco stared, stunned.
Signas smiled, lifting the vial. "This is what will catapult your Potion into the top tier. Care to guess what happens once we add it?"
"I—I don't know." Draco swallowed, certain the silver liquid was priceless. "But I can feel… it's incredibly precious!"
"More than precious." Signas swirled the flask and chuckled. "It's the legendary… unicorn blood."