When Theodore saw the words Samadhi True Fire and Three Lights Divine Water, his heart skipped a beat.
Silently, he swallowed back every sarcastic thought he'd just had.
All right. Nine-Dragon Divine Fire Barrier, Purifying Glazed Bottle—fine. You win.
You're monsters. Satisfied?
It wasn't really his fault he'd reacted like that. These two, one water and one fire, were legendary even by the standards of the Great Desolation.
Samadhi True Fire needed no introduction: one of the most famous flames in all myth and legend, formed by refining essence, qi, and spirit into a triple-pure fire.
Let it touch you, and it didn't just burn flesh. It incinerated your essence, your qi, your very spirit—until there was nothing left but ash.
In the Investiture of the Gods and Journey to the West catastrophes alike, its battle record was stellar. Plenty of immortals and gods gave that fire a very wide berth.
It also had a unique role in alchemy: burning away impurities.
The Grand Supreme Elder Lord's cauldron in Journey to the West, which churned out batch after batch of golden pills, owed a great deal to this flame.
If Theodore really managed to produce genuine Samadhi True Fire and used it for alchemy, he had no doubt—every furnace would produce nothing but top-grade pills.
And if he used it in battle?
Grindelwald, Dumbledore, Voldemort… all three together would probably still end up lying facedown.
As for the Three Lights Divine Water—its name was quieter than Samadhi True Fire's, but its wonder was in no way inferior.
The "three lights" meant sunlight, moonlight, and starlight—combining yin and yang, holding the power of the three primal essences.
As an attack, Three Lights Divine Water could erode even an immortal's form, melting them down into a puddle of pus and blood.
But using it just to kill people was a waste bordering on criminal.
Its true brilliance lay in healing and nurturing life.
In Journey to the West, when Sun Wukong overturned the ginseng fruit tree in the Five Village Temple, not a single immortal could save it.
Only the visit to Guanyin in the South Sea, and the divine water from the Glazed Bottle, brought that heavenly spiritual root back from the brink.
And Guanyin's former identity in the Investiture era was none other than Perfected Cihang.
The Glazed Bottle was this very Purifying Glazed Bottle.
With the method for Three Lights Divine Water in hand, if Theodore could refine even a drop or two—not to mention something on the level of the ginseng fruit tree—he could absolutely cultivate spiritual herbs that would make immortals drool.
At that point, his cultivation speed would skyrocket.
Just thinking about it made his eyes burn with a feverish light. He dove into the sections of the refining methods that described how to obtain Samadhi True Fire and the Three Lights Divine Water.
And then he went silent.
"By merging immortal-level mana into essence, qi, and spirit to refine fire, one may, after a hundred years, obtain a single wisp of Samadhi True Fire."
"By travelling beyond the Nine Heavens and gathering the three lights of sun, moon, and stars, then condensing them with spiritual qi, one may, after a hundred years, obtain a single drop of Three Lights Divine Water."
"…"
"Where, exactly, am I supposed to get immortal-level mana?" Theodore muttered.
"And where am I meant to find that much spiritual qi, plus a hundred years of time?"
He let out a very long sigh.
Reality had returned with a vengeance.
It made sense, of course. These were terrifying treasures even in the Great Desolation, not something every random immortal could refine. What business did a first-year Hogwarts student have thinking he could?
Without some special and outrageous opportunity, Samadhi True Fire and Three Lights Divine Water were still far beyond his reach.
That didn't mean he had to give up completely.
If he couldn't get the real thing, he could aim for a step down.
Not true Samadhi True Fire—just an enhanced spiritual flame, refined to carry a trace of Samadhi's nature.
Not true Three Lights Divine Water—just a spiritual water that imitated a sliver of its properties.
Even that, though, came with two unavoidable conditions.
First, he needed a foundation of actual mana. Only with mana could he work the refinement methods for spiritual fire and water.
Second, he needed staggering amounts of spiritual qi to feed into those processes.
Where Dragons Dwell, Spirit Wakes had greatly boosted his intake.
But compared to what he'd need for spiritual fire and water, it still wasn't even a drop in the ocean.
"Spiritual qi really is the good stuff," Theodore muttered. "But it's never enough."
For the first time, he truly understood why cultivation was considered so hard.
The better the treasure or technique, the more obscene the price in resources.
No wonder the old monsters of the Great Desolation thought nothing of spending a thousand years, ten thousand years, just to refine a single treasure or complete a single law.
The demand was simply that insane.
He shook his head.
"All right. One step at a time. No rushing the heavens."
"Top priority, part one: get Sun & Moon's Essence from Roberts the owl. That'll complete the last missing piece, then fuse all my qi-gathering talents into a single, higher-tier ability—something on the level of Adamantine Body. Then I can finally stop worrying about basic qi intake."
"Top priority, part two: get the Eight-Nine Arcane Art from Hagrid as soon as possible."
"Those both need to move up the schedule."
He checked the time.
Just receiving the foundational parts of the Nine-Dragon Divine Fire Barrier and Purifying Glazed Bottle methods had eaten a good chunk of the evening.
It was already late. He should head back to the dorm.
"The Black Lake incident stirred up enough trouble for now," he decided. "I'll lie low for a bit, then move again."
With that, he left the Room of Requirement and made his way back to the tower.
The moment he stepped into the dormitory, he realised Harry hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut.
Everyone already knew that he and Theodore had been fast-tracked into the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
To celebrate, Seamus was proudly showing off his newest explosive spell.
Brilliant chains of bangs and flashes burst like firecrackers in midair—dangerous, but admittedly quite pretty.
"Harry, when you and Theodore make it to the World Cup and become Quidditch superstars, you've got to invite me to do the fireworks at the opening ceremony!"
With the crack and hiss of sparks, the room was full of laughter.
When Theodore walked in, the cheers only got louder.
Neville hurried over, thrusting a bundle of small pumpkins and fruit into his hands.
"Theodore, I got these from Professor Sprout's greenhouse," he said earnestly. "Try them—they're really sweet. Good for calming your nerves."
Theodore chuckled, took an apple, and bit into it.
Juice exploded across his tongue—sweet, crisp, better than anything he'd tasted in two lifetimes.
He was just about to sit down when he noticed Ron's bed was empty.
His brows drew together.
At this hour, Ron—who was definitely not another Hermione—should have been in the dorm getting ready for bed.
"Where's Ron?" Theodore asked.
Harry and the others blinked.
They'd been talking so excitedly they hadn't noticed anything odd.
"Ron, he…"
"He went out a while ago."
"He said… er, actually, I forgot what he said he was doing."
Theodore glanced at Ron's desk. The little pumpkins and snacks Neville had set aside for him were untouched, still sitting there in a neat pile.
That wasn't like Ron at all. He loved the tiny pumpkins from Professor Sprout's greenhouse.
"Never mind. I need to hit the loo anyway. I'll go look for him."
He slipped back out of the dorm.
In one shadowed corner of the common room, something red caught his eye.
Theodore walked closer.
Ron was sitting hunched over a chessboard, one elbow propped under his chin, the other hand rolling a battered wizard chess piece back and forth, tapping it lightly against the board over and over.
"Ron?" Theodore called softly.
Ron jolted, nearly knocking the entire board to the floor.
"Theodore? You're back?"
"Are they still talking?"
He caught himself, then forced a laugh.
"I mean—haha—welcome back. You were brilliant today, mate."
Theodore frowned slightly, studying his face.
"You're acting weird," he said. "Really not yourself."
"What happened?"
Ron's strained smile froze. Slowly, he lowered his head.
"I'm fine," he mumbled.
Theodore lifted a shoulder.
"All right. I won't pry."
"But if something's bothering you, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone else."
"When you want to come back up, just come back."
He turned away.
Ron hesitated—struggling with himself for several long seconds. Then, haltingly, he spoke.
"Theodore… if I tell you, will you promise you won't hate me?"
Theodore glanced over his shoulder.
"What on earth could be that serious?"
"Fine. I promise."
Ron's fingers clenched around the chess piece. His face flushed, a muddled mix of shame and resentment.
"I just… didn't feel right being up there."
"I mean, I really am happy for you and Harry," he said quickly. "You two are brilliant—you fly so well. You should be picked for the team."
"And Neville—he works so hard. He's always in the greenhouse after class."
"Seamus, he's… well, everyone knows he's a walking explosion. And now he's learned proper fireworks spells. No one does them like he does."
"But me…" His voice dropped.
"I don't have anything."
"No family name that matters. No special talent. No 'thing' that's just mine. I'm just… average. Plain. Nothing to brag about."
"When I watched everyone laughing and joking up there, something felt… wrong. At first I didn't know what it was."
"But now I do."
"Theodore," Ron whispered, eyes fixed on the chessboard, "I'm jealous."
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