"Until one day, he told me things were starting to look slower.
That's when I realized—he was the one getting faster."
For some reason, that quote echoed in Charlie's mind.
The cheering quickly died down. The excitement faded, and the crowd dispersed. Everyone had their own things to do.
Hector walked over. "Fancy another game, Charlie?"
"I'll pass," Charlie shook his head. "I barely managed a draw by stealing your sacrificed pawn trap. If we play again, I won't stand a chance."
Besides, he had something much more important to test right now.
"Fair enough," Hector nodded helplessly. "You really don't play like a beginner. You're brilliant, and your speed—moving pieces and hitting the clock—is insane."
"It genuinely was my first time playing chess," Charlie smiled, turning to head upstairs. "I'm going to get a start on my homework."
Professor McGonagall had assigned a seven-inch essay. So far, she was easily the professor handing out the most coursework.
"Homework it is," the other two nodded.
"Get it done early so we can figure out what to do this weekend." Anthony threw an arm around Hector, and the three of them followed Charlie up to their dorm.
Back in the room, Charlie cleared his desk, then borrowed Anthony's watch and set it flat on the table.
The time: 9:47 PM.
Hogwarts curfew was eleven o'clock. After that, wandering outside the common room was strictly forbidden. Eleven was also the bedtime recommended by the prefects.
When reading the original books, Charlie had always equated prefects to something like class monitors or student council members. But after two days of observation—and the gossip Anthony provided—he realized prefects functioned more like parent figures. Their primary role was helping the younger wizards quickly acclimate to life at Hogwarts.
Over the past couple of days, he'd constantly seen younger students running to the prefects whenever they had an issue. Not just the first-years, but the second-years too.
Of course, the second-years usually sought out the sixth-year prefects—the 'familiar faces' who had guided them the year before.
Fifth, sixth, and seventh years each had one male and one female prefect per House, making twenty-four prefects in total. Above them were the Head Boy and Head Girl. Together, they made up the Hogwarts student management system.
By the time his brief mind-wandering ended, the time had ticked over to 9:48.
He shook his head and tried counting the seconds again. He silently counted to ten in his head, then looked down at the watch.
The second hand had moved twelve to thirteen seconds.
A normal margin of human error. Which meant the effects of the moon-lightning chocolate had completely worn off.
With that in mind, he looked at the maximum-dose moon-lightning chocolate. He pulled out his homework, readied his parchment and quill, popped the chocolate out of the mold, and tossed it into his mouth.
Because the infused chocolate didn't have a highly concentrated liquid center, the reaction felt significantly milder. Still, tiny sparks of lightning crackled and popped across his tongue, stinging his mouth.
As popping candy went, this was a bit too extreme.
Looks like this dosage, no matter how it's mixed, isn't going to work as a commercial product.
Though, maybe I could blend in some other ingredients to slow down the melting process, letting the user absorb the moon-lightning essence in a much gentler way?
The idea for modifying the chocolate flashed through his mind. Then, he turned his focus to his Transfiguration homework.
A faint blue spark flickered in his eyes. It took him barely thirty seconds to map out exactly what he was going to write.
The sound of pages flipping rapidly filled the air as his quill scratched heavily and swiftly across the parchment.
Thirty minutes later, Anthony lifted his head with a bitter expression and looked back at Charlie.
"Merlin's beard..."
This bloke has been writing at that insane speed for half an hour now, hasn't he? Without his watch, Anthony could only guess the time.
Curiosity winning out, Anthony quietly walked up behind Charlie and peered over his shoulder.
"The ever-changing nature of Transfiguration, and the ever-shifting desire required to cast it, all rely on this single foundational spell. Since the starting point remains fixed, one must possess a powerful cornerstone: purifying one's own casting desire. Regarding how to strengthen this desire without relying on external needs, my current insights are—"
What on earth is this...? Anthony was absolutely gobsmacked, muttering internally.
Isn't homework just supposed to be rewording the textbook? Why are you outlining your own personal philosophies?
"?"
Charlie quickly glanced back, then turned his attention to his work again.
"What are you looking at? My layout? I wrote the stuff from the lecture over here, and this section is about my post-class discussion with Professor McGonagall."
As he spoke, Charlie pulled out a pre-cut piece of parchment, roughly seven or eight inches long.
The left and right margins were about two fingers wide, the top and bottom margins were one finger wide, and his individual letters were slightly smaller than a pinky nail.
Mixed into the text were hand-drawn diagrams detailing wand movements and trajectories. Charlie had drawn lines connecting different nodes along the trajectories, adding annotations for pitch—where his voice needed to dip, rise, drag out, or shift tone during the incantation.
"This... looks like a newspaper layout..."
Honestly, it was the first time Anthony had ever seen a homework assignment formatted like this.
Weren't these things just supposed to be massive blocks of text that eventually turned the whole parchment into a black, illegible mess?
"Does it?" Charlie glanced down at his essay.
It actually kind of did. Or maybe it looked more like a PowerPoint presentation or a corporate report from his past life?
...
I'll just leave it like this for now. Who knows if Professor McGonagall will mind. She shouldn't. The actual content was perfectly fine.
He didn't want to waste time worrying about it. Though, he had to admit, his English handwriting was far too rigid. It completely lacked the elegant flow of proper cursive. Looked like he needed to practice his penmanship.
Since arriving in this world, he hadn't actually needed to write much by hand. He certainly couldn't be expected to instantly possess flawless, flowing British calligraphy.
Brushing those trivial thoughts aside, he handed his assignment over to Anthony to look at, then immediately refocused on the parchment in front of him. This was the important part.
Anthony didn't bother him any further, simply taking Charlie's essay and walking away.
Ten minutes later, Charlie penned the final sentence.
Tomorrow, he would review what he had written today to double-check it. It was a very old habit. Even though he hadn't done it in a long time, he still remembered the process.
Anything you write today will always look perfect to you today. But if you wait for the immediate emotions to fade and the memory to distance itself, reviewing it fresh gives you a much better chance of spotting issues.
Stretching lazily, he looked over at Anthony and Hector, who were both scribbling furiously. As for Charlie's essay, it had already been placed neatly back on his desk.
He glanced at the time again: 10:32 PM.