He picked up a bookmark, slipped it between the pages, and flipped open the copy of Alchemy for Beginners sitting beside him.
Scanning the table of contents, Volume One was broken down into three distinct chapters:
Chapter One: Foundational Concepts of Alchemy.
Chapter Two: First Attempts at Inscription.
Chapter Three: Material Vials.
He skipped straight to chapter three. Twenty minutes later, he had a solid grasp on how material vials functioned.
Just as My Alchemy Era had mentioned, they were highly specialized containers designed to preserve magical ingredients.
Naturally, they weren't strictly limited to glass phials. Depending on the specific material being stored, wooden boxes, metal cases, and other receptacles all fell under the umbrella term of "material vials."
Charlie's mind immediately went to the dungeons. To the endless rows of jars lining the shelves of the Potions classroom.
Thick dust coated the glass, obscuring the murky, suspended fluids and unidentified, floating eyeballs trapped inside.
It meant that despite looking ancient and thoroughly rotten, the magical integrity of those ingredients was likely perfectly intact.
If they had actually expired, Snape would have binned them ages ago.
The realization sent a thrill of excitement through him. Though, keeping Professor Chambers' strict warning in mind, he knew he had to approach this knowledge with the utmost respect and caution.
Reining in his curiosity about the vials, he flipped the book back to the very first page: Foundational Concepts of Alchemy.
It was sometime around nine or ten o'clock when Anthony and Hector finally returned to the dorm.
"Charlie, have you been holed up in here this entire time?" Anthony asked.
"I have," Charlie nodded.
"Mate," Anthony shook his head. "I honestly thought you'd gotten yourself locked out of the common room."
"Not a chance," Charlie chuckled, his eyes never leaving the page.
"Right, moving on. Charlie, have you finished the History of Magic essay?"
Charlie nodded and pointed blindly at his desk. "Help yourselves."
"Brilliant. You're a lifesaver, mate. I swear you're the only person in the castle who actually understands that class."
"We literally spend the entire lecture reading other books together. How on earth do you breeze through the homework?" Hector muttered.
"It's not that deep. Just map out the chronological timeline," Charlie said easily. "Once you have that, you just plug in the character relationships and the broader societal shifts."
"Yeah, we definitely can't do that. But copying your structure works a treat."
"It's a completely different way of processing information," Anthony noted. "All we can do is try to mimic it."
Anthony ruffled through the neat stacks of parchment until he found the essay. "We'll leave you to it, then. I see you're already on to a new book. Are you genuinely trying to read the entire library?"
Charlie laughed and shook his head. "I wouldn't finish it if I had a lifetime."
The other two boys chuckled and carried the borrowed homework back to their own desks, leaving him in peace.
Deep into the night, just past midnight, Charlie pulled open his desk drawer. Inside sat a few gold Galleons and a neat stack of Muggle pound notes.
Looks like it's time to spend some money, Charlie thought.
According to the textbook, a beginner's first foray into Alchemy should ideally be performed on solid silver.
Silver conducted magic in the exact same way gold and copper conducted electricity.
However, just as no one in their right mind would wire a house with solid gold, silver was absolutely not recommended as a practice material for destitute beginners.
Which was why the book provided a far more practical alternative: English Oak.
It was a premier wand wood.
Inherently, oak possessed an incredibly sharp sensitivity to magic. It also boasted a profound, natural resonance with nature-based magic, magical creatures, and biological organisms.
Simply put, it was highly conductive to organic, natural spells.
The textbook explicitly stressed this because, in reality, not just any material could be used for Alchemy.
You could blast certain metals with the most complex, specialized runes imaginable, and they wouldn't react at all. They were the inanimate equivalents of Squibs.
The foundational theories of Alchemy introduced a concept that entirely transcended standard material properties: All things possess a soul.
The "souls" of certain materials naturally repelled magic. Furthermore, the degree to which a specific material synchronized with a specific type of magic varied wildly.
So where exactly am I supposed to buy English Oak? Charlie counted his meager funds. Four Galleons and a handful of loose change.
He mentally ran through the storefronts he'd seen in Diagon Alley: the Magical Menagerie, Eeylops Owl Emporium, Florean Fortescue's, the apothecary, Potage's Cauldron Shop...
The only one remotely close to selling raw wood was the apothecary.
Though, I don't exactly need to buy plants while I'm at Hogwarts, Charlie noted.
The school provided all necessary Herbology materials. A large portion was grown directly in the school's greenhouses, and the rest was purchased in bulk by the administration.
Essentially, basic consumable ingredients were entirely free for students.
Reusable hardware like cauldrons, robes, and brass scales, however, had to be purchased out of pocket.
Naturally, the constant influx of new students fueled a massive, thriving second-hand market—a market Charlie had heavily relied on.
Damn it. If I was actually enrolled in the N.E.W.T. Alchemy class, I wouldn't have to pay for this. Hogwarts would provide it—
Charlie's train of thought slammed to a violent halt.
Wait. Hogwarts does provide it.
He slammed the drawer shut, instantly losing interest in his Galleons.
Just look at the Forbidden Forest. It's an endless treasure trove of raw magical materials. And all I need is a tiny piece of oak.
Hagrid, mate. You have no idea how much I've been dying to become your friend.
As for the physical tools required for Alchemy—carving knives, calipers, specialized phials and beakers...
While plenty of graduated students sold their gear to the second-hand shops, plenty more simply threw them away as rubbish.
And where did centuries of lost, discarded Hogwarts rubbish end up?
The Room of Requirement.
He shook his head with a grin. His to-do list for tomorrow was officially set.
Right now, the best move was to get some sleep and recharge.
The next day.
"Today marks our final lesson on the Unlocking Charm and the Anti-Alohomora Charm. I would like each of you to write a free-form essay detailing your thoughts, struggles, and ultimate takeaways from this unit. Additionally, please review the material for our next topic: the Mending Charm.
"If possible, please include any questions or theories that arise during your pre-reading in your essay.
"Furthermore, since we are officially wrapping up this unit... there is no minimum length requirement for this assignment!
"Class dismissed, everyone!"
"Thank you, Professor Flitwick!" Anthony cheered loudly.
He leaned in closely to Charlie and Hector, whispering, "I swear, I want to blow that man a massive kiss right now."
"Key word being 'blow,' not 'plant,'" Charlie smirked.
"A wise distinction, Mr. Wonka! I assure you, anything beyond a blown kiss is strictly prohibited!" Professor Flitwick called out, pointing a finger at their desk.
Right. So Flitwick had definitely heard that.
Naturally, Anthony was entirely too thick-skinned to care. "See you next week, Professor!"
"Goodbye, Head of House," Charlie added with a polite nod.
"Until next time, boys," Flitwick smiled, watching them file out of the classroom.
"Brilliant. Same question as always: what's the plan for the afternoon?" Anthony asked as they hit the corridor.
"I'm playing chess," Hector replied. "A few older lads set up a match for me against a Gryffindor hotshot yesterday. Said I needed to test my mettle. Actually, to be precise, the Gryffindor issued a formal challenge."
"What? Since when?" Anthony looked shocked. Hector had entirely failed to mention this.
Hector nodded, pulling a folded slip of parchment from his robes. "He folded it into a paper airplane. It flew straight down the corridor and hit me in the chest."
Charlie and Anthony leaned in to read the letter.
A Formal Challenge
Word on the grapevine is that Ravenclaw has birthed a formidable Wizard's Chess prodigy. Color me intrigued.
Since the tender age of three, when I first learned the noble game from my two devastatingly handsome, impossibly charming, and unparalleled genius older brothers, I have rarely met my match. It has been years, and I have yet to taste defeat.
Hearing of your sudden rise has filled me with immense joy.
Today, I officially challenge you.
Time: Monday Noon
Location: The Great Hall
"He's incredibly arrogant," Hector noted dryly.
Anthony nodded, his expression turning deadly serious. "No idea who this bloke is, but we'll find out soon enough.
"Hector, absolutely destroy him."
Hector didn't reply, but his eyes narrowed sharply, practically burning with competitive fire.
Charlie stared at the bizarrely specific phrasing in the middle of the letter, his mouth twitching slightly.
He had a fairly good idea who had written the challenge. And more importantly, he was fairly certain the person who wrote it wasn't the person Hector was actually going to play.
Come to think of it, if he went to the Great Hall, he was bound to run into Harry Potter.
If he dragged Harry along to visit Hagrid, things would go significantly smoother. After all, Harry and Hagrid were extremely close, and Charlie and Harry were on decently friendly terms.
"I'll tag along," Charlie said, handing the letter back to Hector.
"Brilliant. Let's go bear witness to a massacre," Anthony grinned excitedly.
The trio quickly made their way down to the Great Hall. Almost immediately, they spotted Harry Potter and his usual crowd.
"So what exactly are you two playing at?" Ron Weasley grumbled. His red hair was sticking up in every direction, and his eyes were heavy with sleep. He had clearly just rolled out of bed.
"We simply wanted to show a little affection for our dear, sweet baby brother," said one of the red-headed boys standing directly behind Ron.
There were two of them. Both sported bright red hair and freckled faces. Crucially, they were completely identical.
"Here they come," one of the twins said, looking toward the entrance of the Hall.
"Oi! Over here!" the other twin bellowed at the top of his lungs, successfully grabbing the attention of nearly every student present. "Our little brother is the one who issued the challenge! Hurry up, we've already got the board set!"
Hector's eyes darted toward the sleepy, deeply confused Ron.
"It's him? Then why didn't he just sign his own name?" Anthony asked, bewildered. "It's not like we don't know who he is."
Hector's intense, battle-ready expression visibly relaxed. "Right. So it isn't some arrogant older student looking to humiliate me. It's likely just a prank."
"Don't you dare think this is a joke! Our brother explicitly swore he was going to wipe the floor with you!" one of the twins shouted.
"What the bloody hell are you two on about?" Ron frowned deeply.
A split second later, a massive chessboard was slammed down onto the table directly in front of him, followed closely by a heavy wooden box of Wizard's Chess pieces.
"Where on earth did you pull those from?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"Don't worry about the minor details, Harry," the twin waved him off dismissively.
By now, Charlie, Anthony, and Hector had arrived at the Gryffindor table. Hector didn't hesitate; he pulled out a chair and sat down directly across from Ron.
A large crowd of curious onlookers quickly swarmed around them. The Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables were positioned right next to each other, and by this point, practically the entirety of Ravenclaw House knew about Hector's undefeated streak.
"A new challenger approaches!" Anthony announced loudly. He was a natural showman. Throughout Hector's ruthless conquest of the Ravenclaw common room, Anthony had happily served as his personal hype man and commentator.
"Ladies and gentlemen, a battle for the ages is about to commence!" the twins bellowed in unison from behind Ron.
Ron sat there, looking absolutely horrified and completely lost. His older brothers placed a heavy hand on each of his shoulders.
"Ready to make history, brother?"
"What is happening?! I literally have no idea what's going on!"
"Honestly, your reading comprehension is deeply concerning," one of them sighed.
"Allow me to translate," the other offered. "We forged a highly aggressive letter of challenge on your behalf, and formally invited Ravenclaw's currently undisputed chess champion to thoroughly dismantle you in public."
"Oh, you absolute gits!" Ron cursed, his face flushing bright red. "You could have at least warned me!"
"Where's the fun in that? We wanted it to be a surprise!"
Harry burst out laughing. "Don't stress about it, Ron," he offered gently. "Just give it a go."
Ron looked incredibly awkward. He hunched his shoulders, staring down at his lap and nervously wringing his hands together. The crowd pressing in around the table was growing rapidly. He had no idea how to handle the pressure.
In truth, Ron had always harbored a tiny, secret sliver of jealousy toward Harry. He envied the way Harry effortlessly drew the awe and attention of an entire room the second he walked in.
But now that he was suddenly thrust into the spotlight, hoisted onto a pedestal in front of half the school, he felt utterly paralyzed.
"Ready to begin, Ron?" Hector asked, looking slightly concerned. "Honestly, if you don't want to play, we don't have to. I genuinely thought you were the one who issued the challenge. Turns out it was just your..."
"My idiot brothers," Ron sighed heavily. He took a deep breath, and a sudden, reckless determination washed over his face. He nodded firmly. "Right. Let's do this."
The highly anticipated match officially began. Ron took the opening move. He commanded a pawn, and the tiny stone soldier marched aggressively forward across the board.
Hector matched his intensity, commanding his own pieces to counter.
Truth be told, Ron was genuinely brilliant at chess. Charlie mentally mapped out the board and realized that if he were sitting in Hector's seat, he wouldn't stand a chance of winning.
The match dragged on. They were playing a slow, highly calculated game. As the board grew increasingly deadlocked, the raucous crowd slowly fell completely silent. It was a fascinating, incredibly tense tactical battle.
Roughly twenty minutes later, the board was nearly empty. With a final, decisive move, Hector's pieces violently smashed Ron's king to rubble, bringing the grueling match to an end.
"Bloody hell. I knew I shouldn't have sacrificed that knight," Ron groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"An absolutely brilliant match!" Anthony cheered.
"Quite impressive indeed, gentlemen. However, lunch is about to be served. I highly suggest you clear your battlefield away before a platter of roast beef crushes your remaining troops."
It was Professor McGonagall.
Ron jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard her approach at all. Standing right beside her was Professor Flitwick.
"The professors have been watching the match for ages," Charlie offered quietly.
Ron's face burned even brighter. Without realizing it, he had somehow ended up serving as Gryffindor's official champion in front of his Head of House.
"You played exceptionally well, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, offering him a rare, approving smile.
"If this were a school-sanctioned tournament, I daresay I would award you both House points. Sadly, an impromptu match does not qualify," Flitwick added warmly.
"If Snape were here, he absolutely would have found an excuse to award Slytherin points for it," Charlie quipped.
Both professors instantly froze, caught somewhere between professional outrage and a desperate need to laugh.
Ultimately, they opted to pretend they simply hadn't heard him. The surrounding crowd of students, however, did not hold back their laughter.
With the feast rapidly approaching, the crowd quickly dispersed back to their own tables. Charlie, however, remained seated at the Gryffindor table. He leaned across and looked at Harry.
"Harry, do you have any plans after classes today? I'm heading down to see Hagrid," he said, getting straight to the point.
"Hagrid? Do you need something from him?" Harry asked, surprised.
"I do. Which is exactly why I figured things would go much smoother if you tagged along."
"Alright, sounds good to me. Do you want to meet outside the Charms classroom after the bell?"
"Perfect."