As for naming this particular chocolate, Charlie found himself completely stumped.
Given his track record with previous names, it wasn't hard to see he was absolutely dreadful at it.
After ten agonizing seconds of deep thought, he settled on calling it "Overload Chocolate."
Evening fell. Having finished testing the Overload Chocolate in the Room of Requirement, he made his way down to the Great Hall.
On one side of the entrance hall hung a large notice board.
When he first arrived at Hogwarts, Charlie had read the list of banned magical items explicitly forbidden in the corridors, which included Fanged Frisbees, Dr. Filibuster's Fireworks, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs.
It also displayed Dumbledore's start-of-term warnings regarding the Forbidden Forest and the third-floor corridor.
Right now, however, the notice board was swarmed. A massive crowd of young wizards was desperately shoving their way to the front.
A voice rang out, and Charlie spotted Anthony frantically waving at him over the sea of heads.
He squeezed his way through the throng and asked curiously, "What's posted up there?"
"Flying class! It's flying class!" Anthony shouted twice at the top of his lungs, trying to be heard over the deafening chatter.
"We've got it this Friday afternoon, sharing with Hufflepuff!" Anthony hollered.
"I hear you, I hear you. Relax, no need to shout," Charlie smiled, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder.
The two of them quickly pushed their way back out of the crowd. Over at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall, Hector was already seated.
The long table was piled high with a feast, but Hector hadn't touched his plate yet; he had been waiting for Anthony.
"Hey, Charlie, you're here too. Anthony, what did the notice say?"
Anthony quickly repeated the news.
With their trio finally assembled, they dug into their dinner.
Michael Corner and a few other boys from their dorm walked over, waving at the three of them before sitting down directly across the table.
"I wonder if there's an exam for flying class," Michael mused thoughtfully. "If there is, it might be a crucial factor for getting onto the Quidditch team next year."
"What's Quidditch?" Hector asked, genuinely curious.
"You're joking, right?" Anthony stared at him in utter disbelief.
"Why would I know? If you said football or basketball, I might have a clue. Obviously, I've heard Roger mention Quidditch before, but I don't actually know anything about it."
"What on earth is football? Actually, never mind. Let me tell you, Quidditch is undeniably the greatest sport in the world," Anthony said, his eyes lighting up as he launched into an explanation.
Between Anthony and Michael across the table excitedly chiming in, Hector quickly grasped the basic rules of the game.
"So, do the balls actually fly on their own?" Hector asked, intrigued.
"What? Of course not. Well, except for the Golden Snitch."
"So if the Bludgers and the Quaffle aren't being carried or hit by a player, do they just fall to the ground?" Hector asked, looking confused.
Then, he nodded approvingly. "That actually makes it incredibly entertaining to watch. There are so many unpredictable variables at play."
"What?" Michael looked taken aback, then stammered, "I mean... they sort of fly, but not really."
Hearing that deeply unhelpful answer, Hector looked even more baffled.
Suddenly, a crisp, clear voice piped up from right behind Charlie.
"The book says both the Quaffle and the Bludgers are enchanted with a mild Hover Charm. When the kinetic force from a strike dissipates, they simply hang suspended in mid-air, completely motionless."
Charlie turned his head to see Hermione standing right behind him, clutching a thick book to her chest.
The Gryffindor table was situated directly behind Ravenclaw's.
As for the book clutched tightly in Hermione's arms, the golden letters on the cover boldly read: Quidditch Through the Ages.
"Evening, Hermione. Since when were you interested in Quidditch?"
"Interested? Absolutely not. I have zero interest in such a barbaric, bloody sport. The moment I saw the notice this afternoon, I went straight to the library and checked this out.
"I figured if I have to learn how to fly, there's no better reference material than this.
"Chapters one, five, and fourteen specifically detail beginner, intermediate, and advanced flying techniques."
"Classic Hermione," Charlie marveled slightly. Her immediate instinct to hit the library the second a problem arose was a level of proactivity he genuinely had to respect.
Come to think of it, Charlie hadn't even set foot inside the Hogwarts library yet.
"Mate, even if Quidditch involves some rough contact over the Quaffle, it's hardly what I'd call 'bloody,' is it?" Anthony shrugged casually.
"If you don't think a Norwegian Seeker named Christo Howard getting half his skull caved in by a Bludger in 1742 is 'bloody,' then suit yourself."
"That's obviously an extreme, isolated incident," Anthony scoffed, having absolutely no idea who she was talking about.
"Oh? Is it? Then how do you explain the history of the Golden Snitch?" Hermione snapped the book shut, lifting her chin to glare at Anthony.
"What history?" Anthony glared right back, clearly annoyed.
"The predecessor to the Golden Snitch was actually a small, round bird with tiny wings called a Golden Snidget. Every time a player caught it to end the game, it effectively meant the bird was crushed to death in their hands."
Hearing that, the Ravenclaw boys couldn't help but raise their eyebrows.
"It wasn't until the fifteenth century that a man named Bowman Wright finally invented the modern, magically enchanted metal Golden Snitch to replace the birds.
"But for centuries prior, that poor species was hunted to the brink of extinction purely for sport.
"And even after the metal Snitch was invented, many traditionalist games still insisted on using live Snidgets for another two hundred years.
"If the Wizards' Council hadn't officially outlawed the use of birds in the seventeenth century, the Golden Snidget would be completely extinct today.
"By the way, Bowman Wright, the inventor of the Golden Snitch, has his own Chocolate Frog card."
"I had no idea there was so much history behind it," the young Ravenclaw eagles nodded in unison, their expressions turning slightly grave.
Hermione held her head high like a triumphant rooster, looking immensely smug and pleased that she had successfully educated this flock of Ravenclaws.
"And?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow. "What does any of that have to do with us?"
The corners of Charlie's mouth twitched upward before he quickly suppressed the smile. Since his back was to Hermione, neither she nor anyone else caught the subtle amusement on his face.
Just as Charlie had suspected, the boys' solemn expressions and collective nodding weren't a sign of agreement—it was purely an academic appreciation and awe for a fascinating piece of historical trivia.
It didn't mean Hermione had actually convinced them of anything.
Hermione looked utterly bewildered. She threw her hands up. "Does that not definitively prove that Quidditch is a barbaric, bloody sport?"
"In the sixteenth century, the Church sold indulgences, and during the Great Famines, people resorted to cannibalism. What does any of that have to do with us today? Are you suggesting that because of the horrors of the past, you and I are currently just a bunch of amoral, uncivilized savages?"
The counter-argument came from Terry Boot, who was sitting right next to Michael Corner.
Charlie looked at him in genuine surprise, not expecting the boy to casually drop historical atrocities into a casual dinner debate.
Hermione quickly defended herself. "The bloody events in human history were driven by incredibly complex socioeconomic factors! But the Golden Snidget? That was slaughtered purely to satisfy a base human desire for cruel entertainment."
"Oh, how incredibly noble. You bleed for a little bird, but entirely gloss over the darkest, most agonizing eras of human history." Terry Boot clearly had zero interest in continuing the debate.
Beside Charlie, Anthony waved his hand dismissively in a shooing motion.
"Hey, buzz off, you absolute killjoy. Go back to your Gryffindor table. You aren't welcome here. Did anyone actually invite you into this conversation? Because I don't remember asking the air for its opinion."
Sensing a collective shunning about to happen, Charlie raised a hand to intervene. "Alright, lads, pack it in. We've still got Astronomy class later."
But his attempt to de-escalate came a second too late. Hermione's eyes welled up, her face flushed red, and she clutched her book tightly to her chest as she turned and ran off.
"Hmph. What an obnoxious know-it-all," Anthony muttered, resting his elbows on his knees and turning his attention back to his dinner plate.