If Hermione's sudden interest in a book about magical creatures hadn't been so incredibly out of character, Charlie likely wouldn't have given the three-headed dog a second thought.
It seemed Malfoy was somehow tied to their accidental trespassing.
Naturally, that had absolutely nothing to do with Charlie. He had zero intention of showing any curiosity regarding the incident; he refused to accidentally or intentionally drag himself into that particular vortex.
He was already busy enough.
"You read books about painting? Is that a hobby of yours?" Hermione asked, looking surprised at the massive tome in Charlie's arms.
"You could say that," Charlie nodded.
Reaching the library entrance, Madam Pince registered their borrowed books. Charlie drew his wand and pointed it at the heavy encyclopedia on the counter.
"Wingardium Leviosa—"
"Your spellwork is genuinely impressive," Hermione noted, though her expression quickly twisted into one of conflict.
"But... um..."
"The school rules?" Charlie shot her a look. "Even Madam Pince didn't say anything".
With his wand raised in his right hand and his left hand lightly guiding the floating book, he began walking toward the door.
Hermione clutched Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and hurried after him.
She hesitated for a moment before asking quietly, "Um... was I being obnoxious again? Am I really obsessing too much over..."
"Over what?" Charlie asked, his tone light and easy as he walked ahead.
"House points? Or the so-called school rules?"
"Exactly," Hermione nodded.
"Of course there's nothing wrong with that. Is it wrong to insist on doing the right thing?" Charlie shrugged.
"But..."
"But you only need to insist on it for yourself. Hermione, always doing the right thing is exhausting. You can't constantly use a commanding tone to demand that everyone else do the same".
Charlie turned his head, a lazy smile on his face.
"For a lazy bloke like me, constantly adhering to the 'right thing' is impossible. I much prefer bending the rules".
"Though, you don't need to walk on eggshells around me. We're friends. I'm not going to throw a fit just because you nag me a bit".
Charlie felt like they had already covered this topic, but Hermione seemed a bit stubborn.
This time, she was more concerned about whether her actual perspective on the rules and House points was fundamentally flawed.
Looking confused and slightly defensive, she argued, "But I only care about them! I only care about our House as a collective!
"I did exactly what you said. I tried not to be rude or blunt; I was merely offering advice.
"But it didn't seem to make any difference".
"Sounds like you're referring to something specific. Are you talking about the utter chaos during your flying lesson yesterday?"
Charlie hadn't seen Hermione in the Great Hall yesterday evening, either.
Looks like the little witch ran off to sulk somewhere, he thought.
"Yes, but not just that," Hermione huffed, puffing her cheeks out.
"Why are you so fixated on House points?" Charlie asked.
"Because it represents our collective honor, doesn't it?" Hermione threw her hands up.
Charlie gave her a strange look before his tone shifted to genuine confusion.
"To be perfectly honest, Hermione, you might be the odd one out here. Aside from you and Snape, absolutely no one cares about House points".
"House points, the House Cup... sure, it's technically an honor, but in the minds of the actual students, it really isn't that important".
Beyond the simple fact that children were naturally mischievous and hated following rules just to earn points for a nebulous collective, Charlie believed there was another, far more significant reason: Snape.
Snape had entirely destroyed the integrity of the House Cup. The trophy simply didn't hold the weight or prestige it once did.
Everyone still wanted to win it, of course, but no one was willing to bend over backwards and sacrifice their happiness to chase it.
Naturally, Charlie couldn't be bothered to explain all of that; there was no need to dive into the politics of it.
Besides, the concept of "collective honor" was entirely hollow if a genuine sense of belonging hadn't been established first.
For first-years, defending the honor of their entire House was a pipe dream. Just managing to keep the peace and maintain a functional four-person dormitory was considered a massive success.
"I still don't understand," Hermione admitted.
"You will once you encounter things that are genuinely more important than House points".
"For you, those things might be rare. But for the average person, things more important than House points are absolutely everywhere".
Hermione still looked miserable.
Charlie let out a helpless sigh.
"It's perfectly normal not to understand. But you cannot constantly force your own worldview onto everyone else".
"I don't understand your perspective either, Hermione. I literally couldn't care less about House points. What even are they? Are they more important than me eating well and being comfortable?!"
"But I can understand why you act the way you do. And that's enough".
"Or do you think that isn't enough?!
"Do you want me to scold you? To yell at you that House points are garbage, and demand you join me in ignoring the school rules like a delinquent?
"Would you like that?
"No, you wouldn't.
"So, apply that exact same logic to how you treat other people, and you'll understand".
Hermione nodded slowly, looking as though she only half-understood. "Alright. You actually managed to do that. Perhaps I should learn from you".
"Don't forget to pay your tuition fees".
"Of course. What are the fees?"
She agreed that easily? Charlie mentally facepalmed. He had absolutely no idea what "tuition fees" he was supposed to charge.
Tossing out cheeky lines to hustle for spare change was a deeply ingrained habit from his past life as a street magician.
If you threw out enough of those lines, occasionally a kind-hearted mark would actually pay up, bringing in a decent bit of extra income.
"I haven't decided on the fees yet. Let's put it on your tab for now; we'll discuss it later".
"Alright," Hermione beamed, her eyes crinkling happily.
"I understand what you're saying. Thank you, Charlie. That was really important to me".
By now, they had reached a fork in the corridor. Hermione needed to take the left staircase up toward Gryffindor Tower.
"See you later!" The young girl waved at him and skipped off happily.
"See ya," Charlie nodded, turning down the opposite corridor.
The trek back to the Ravenclaw common room was utterly exhausting. Upon arriving, he quickly washed up, grabbed his borrowed book, and sat down at his desk in the dormitory to read.
It wasn't quite bedtime yet.
He popped a piece of moonlight chocolate into his mouth and dove back into the text.
The book was absolutely fascinating, filled to the brim with bizarre and peculiar magical artifacts.
For instance, Charlie read about a painting of a gramophone. Built directly into the right side of the wooden frame was a narrow, physical slot.
If you inserted a real vinyl record into the slot, the record would pass into the canvas. The painted gramophone could then read the physical record and actually play the music.
Through his reading, Charlie also gained a solid understanding of the different classifications of magical portraits.
The lowest tier of magical portraiture was functionally identical to printed photographs. The subjects maintained a fixed posture, could not speak, and offered zero interactive feedback with the outside world.
Their "movement" was limited to minor shifts in stance or blinking.
These types of portraits were generally created by spraying standard artwork with developing potion, which imbued them with a base level of magic.
The most common examples were the moving pictures in the Daily Prophet.
Mid-tier portraits were significantly more lifelike. The artist actively imbued them with a specific degree of life.
Though, Charlie felt "purpose" was a more accurate term.
For example, if an artist painted a farmer harvesting wheat, as the figure was drawn, the artist would actively instill the concept of "I am a farmer" into the paint. The portrait would consciously understand that its sole purpose was to harvest the wheat in front of it.
If the artist explicitly gave the subject a name and a family during the painting process, the portrait would possess those memories and traits.
If the artist didn't, the portrait wouldn't have them.
It didn't possess true, independent life; it only possessed the singular mission of harvesting wheat.
Portraits of this caliber were capable of basic "visiting"—meaning they could travel into adjacent frames to chat and socialize.
It was highly likely that the painted farmer's favorite pastime was abandoning his field to visit a painting of a tavern for a pint of wheat juice.
It was worth noting that there were strict limitations on portrait travel. The most common restriction was physical proximity; the canvases needed to be physically close to one another.
For instance, Villie—the Girl with a Pearl Earring sitting on Charlie's desk—couldn't visit anyone.
Because there were no other magical portraits in their dormitory.
Was there a way for a portrait to entirely bypass the physical limitations of its frame?
Yes, absolutely.
These were the highest tier of magical portraits, and they were almost exclusively traditional, formal portraits of specific individuals.
Unlike mid-tier paintings, these subjects weren't bound to a single, fixed mission or action.
Instead, they were provided with a "template"—the original human subject—and the portrait was compelled to fiercely study and imitate that template.
When painting a high-tier portrait, the artist meticulously captured the subject's voice, smile, physical mannerisms, and very essence, weaving them into the canvas.
Once these external traits were established, the portrait would actively learn from its living counterpart.
It would study the subject's exact tone of voice, their verbal tics, and their memories. The living subject would often spend hours recounting their life story to the painting, desperately trying to shape the painted figure into a perfect, complete copy of themselves.
Crucially, in the realm of high-tier portraits, the consciousness of a specific individual possessed a strict singularity.
Furthermore, these specific portraits could entirely bypass the geographical limitations of their physical frames, allowing for seamless travel between them.
If Charlie commissioned two high-tier portraits of himself, when the two canvases met, the portrait with the higher degree of "completeness" would forcefully assimilate the lesser one.
If the first portrait was an 80% accurate imitation of Charlie, and the second was only 60% accurate...
The consciousness of the second portrait would be entirely devoured by the first.
At that point, the second portrait functionally became an empty "avatar" or "terminal".
When the primary consciousness wasn't actively controlling it, the avatar would revert to the behavior of a low-tier portrait—merely shifting its weight and blinking, entirely stripped of its ability to travel or speak.
If Charlie hung the primary portrait at Hogwarts and the empty avatar at the Ministry of Magic...
The primary consciousness could entirely ignore the geographical distance and instantly project itself into the Ministry portrait.
It was essentially the magical equivalent of a consciousness possessing a remote terminal.
Roughly speaking.
That was what Charlie had managed to decipher through arduous reading. Damn it all, a massive vocabulary was absolutely vital for reading complex English texts.
In his lengthy dissertation on high-tier portraits, the author had utilized an infuriating amount of bizarre, invented jargon and highly specialized terminology.
It made comprehending the text incredibly difficult.
Sometimes, Charlie had to rely entirely on context clues, or cross-reference the text with his memories of the Headmasters' portraits in Dumbledore's office from the original books just to piece the theory together.
The author also detailed a particularly bizarre case study.
There was a primary portrait belonging to a wealthy French merchant from the previous century.
The merchant had commissioned an endless stream of high-tier portraits of himself, proudly declaring that he intended to hang one in every single branch, office, and storefront he owned.
His goal was to use his primary portrait at home to remotely monitor the daily operations of his entire corporate empire.
But when he commissioned the fifth avatar portrait, his entire personal portrait network suffered a catastrophic system failure.
The primary portrait and all five avatars instantly devolved into drooling idiots. They lost the ability to speak coherently, their heads wobbling in eerie synchronization as they babbled absolute nonsense.
They basically turned into mindless, babbling fools.
Looks like creating a massive, interconnected portrait network is off the table, Charlie noted, closing the book with a hint of regret.
It was already 3:00 AM. Regardless of his findings, he desperately needed to sleep.
...
Over the next two days, Charlie poured every ounce of his energy into studying the encyclopedia.
Finally, on Sunday afternoon, he found exactly what he was looking for.
It was a piece famously known as The York Coin Thief, depicting a scruffy burglar caught in the middle of a heist.
According to the author, the painting specifically depicted the thief successfully stealing a massive gold brick from a Mountain Troll.
The painted thief always wore a small pouch slung around his waist. The pouch was enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, making it the perfect accomplice for his crimes.
But the author's subsequent explanation was where things got truly fascinating.
The creator of the painting was actually a notorious, highly successful thief operating in 17th-century Ireland.
He frequently disguised himself as a destitute, wandering artist. Using this cover, he would gain entry into the sprawling manors of wealthy merchants and nobles under the guise of painting their portraits, only to rob them blind.
Whenever he was apprehended and searched, the authorities never found a single piece of stolen property on him.
He carried absolutely nothing but his paintbrushes and the painting of the thief.
However, if one were to physically reach into the painted pouch on the canvas, they would discover the secret to the thief's incredible success.
Yes, the thief's real-world pockets were completely empty.
But the painted pouch on the canvas was overflowing with stolen loot!
The specific section of the canvas depicting the pouch had been painted using a mixture of pigments infused with a silver-gold alloy powder.
Silver powder possessed exceptional magical conductivity and retention, allowing that specific section of the painting to be enchanted with foundational Alchemy.
Specifically, the process of [inscribing magic onto a physical object].
An Undetectable Extension Charm had been cast directly onto that patch of canvas, and the unique magical properties of the gold drastically amplified the charm's power.
The painted pouch was barely the size of a fist, but reaching inside revealed a physical storage space the size of a large steamer trunk!
But the most incredible aspect of the enchantment was this—the storage space could be relocated.
Yes, the physical, dimensional space anchored to the canvas moved alongside the painted thief. He could even actively hide it!
That was exactly why the Irish thief had never been caught red-handed.
According to the text, a powerful magical aristocrat finally apprehended him. As the Aurors searched the thief and pulled out the painting...
The painted thief, displaying incredible cunning, immediately grabbed his pouch and hid it behind his back within the canvas.
How could they possibly catch him?! The Aurors standing in the real world couldn't exactly jump into the painting to strip-search him!
Ultimately, the victimized aristocrat grew furious—and so did his own magical portrait.
The book recounted how the aristocrat's portrait, absolutely livid, sprinted through the interconnected frames of his ancestors lining the manor halls, burst directly into the thief's canvas, and ruthlessly beat the painted burglar to a pulp.
During the violent scuffle, the secret of the magically extended pouch was finally exposed.
Silver-gold alloy powder... inscribed with an Undetectable Extension Charm...
A dimensional storage bag that can be hidden and directly controlled by the subject of the painting.
"Hiss..."
"My brain is itching!"
Charlie fiercely scratched his head. He could feel a brilliant, explosive flash of inspiration hovering right on the edge of his consciousness, desperately trying to break through!