Over the past weekend, including today, he had been constantly busy with magic portraits and alchemy, causing him to fall slightly behind on his coursework.
Of course, the progress he fell behind on wasn't the professors', but rather the vague timeline he had set for himself.
So he needed to make up for lost time.
After finishing his homework, he began prepping for upcoming lessons. He also wrote an essay exploring the complex chemical relationships between the ingredients in the Cure for Boils potion.
These insights were completely drawn from the botanical encyclopedia he had read that afternoon.
He planned to hand this essay in alongside his standard homework during their next Potions class.
It had become a habit of his. Burying your head and studying all alone sounded cool in theory, but ultimately, you had to take the initiative to seek out a teacher for actual guidance.
He had no idea if Snape would actually entertain him, but he had to at least try.
After finishing his coursework, he opened his alchemy books once again, heading down to the common room and reading deep into the night.
Moonlight Chocolate was truly brilliant stuff.
In the common room, the two familiar seventh-year upperclassmen spotted Charlie and simultaneously smiled.
"Makes sense," one of them noted.
"It does. Though a first-year doing it is definitely unexpected," the other replied.
At 3:00 AM, Charlie finally packed up his books, washed up, collapsed into bed, and instantly fell asleep.
...
The next day.
As soon as his afternoon classes ended, Charlie immediately hurried down to Hagrid's hut.
After two straight days of heavy reading, his hands were practically itching. He was desperate to finally try his hand at actual alchemy.
But when he rounded the back of Hagrid's hut, he was completely dumbfounded.
Hagrid was casually holding a massive log—one that was just as tall and thick as Charlie himself—with a single hand.
"Is this one big enough fer yeh, Charlie?" Hagrid asked, genuinely concerned it might be too small.
"It's enough. More than enough," Charlie nodded blankly.
He turned his head. Sitting nearby was a massive wooden stump with a terrifyingly large axe buried deep into it.
"Hagrid, could you possibly help me chop it down into slightly smaller pieces?"
"Just Hagrid is fine, lad. What exactly do yeh need it fer? How small?"
"Maybe about the size of a building block. Just slightly larger than a Golden Snitch. But don't worry about the details—if you could just chop this massive log down into manageable chunks, that would be perfect."
"Right, I see," Hagrid nodded. He then suggested, "Why don't yeh head inside and take a seat for a bit?"
"It's fine, I can just wait out here—"
"No, no, no. In yeh go," Hagrid insisted firmly.
"Alright," Charlie nodded, stepping inside the hut.
About five minutes later, Hagrid's voice boomed from outside. "All done, Charlie! Come on out!"
Stepping out around the back, Charlie saw a massive pile of perfectly square, identically sized wooden blocks stacked neatly on the ground.
Hagrid was thumping his right hand against his lower back, wiping non-existent sweat from his forehead with his left.
"That was a proper workout, that was," he boomed cheerfully. "How's that? Will those do the trick?"
Charlie glanced left and right. The massive axe was still buried in the exact same spot on the stump. Over by the wall, however, a distinctive pink umbrella was resting innocently against the stone.
"Uh..."
It was definitely best if he kept his mouth shut. If he remembered correctly, Hagrid was strictly forbidden from using magic.
"Hagrid, you're absolutely brilliant!" Charlie praised.
He stepped forward and picked up a handful of the wooden blocks.
"Yeh can just leave the rest stacked right here. Come grab 'em whenever yeh need more," Hagrid offered.
"Thank you so much." Charlie nodded. With a flick of his wand, he levitated the massive pile of blocks and stacked them neatly against the wall. There were easily over a hundred pieces—more than enough to last him a very long time.
Carrying roughly ten blocks in his arms, Charlie bid Hagrid farewell and made his way straight toward the Room of Requirement.
Twenty minutes later, he stood before the hidden stretch of wall.
This time, while visualizing the alchemy studio, Charlie explicitly added a request for a clock or a watch.
When the door materialized and he pushed it open, he spotted a dusty, dark grey grandfather clock standing against the wall. Its pendulum was completely still.
"Bloody hell, that's a bit too vintage," Charlie muttered.
He scanned the walls and the workbench, but didn't spot a pocket watch or a wristwatch anywhere.
It seemed getting free specialized gear was going to be slightly difficult. The Room of Requirement's search engine wasn't quite as intelligent as he'd hoped.
He was certain there were watches buried somewhere inside the massive 'Room of Hidden Things.' After all, Harry Potter had managed to find a flying broomstick in there.
But Harry had used the Summoning Charm. Charlie didn't know how to cast that yet.
He turned his attention back to the grandfather clock. Opening the front panel, he saw that the internal gears were mostly intact, though they had slipped out of alignment. Two small brass cogs were even lying loose at the bottom of the case.
The curriculum for his next Charms lesson was the Mending Charm. Charlie was already intimately familiar with it.
"Reparo," he said, giving his wand a sharp flick.
A loud, metallic clicking echoed from inside the clock. The loose cogs flew up from the base, slotted themselves perfectly back into place, and the gears began to smoothly grind together.
It was roughly 5:00 PM. Charlie manually adjusted the hands to an approximate time and finally got down to business.
Sitting at the workbench, he examined the wooden blocks. The surfaces were flawlessly smooth, the edges perfectly straight, and the corners sharp.
Hagrid had clearly used a Severing Charm.
He picked up the heavy metal carving knife. The handle was etched with incredibly fine, intricate patterns, and deeply archaic, bizarre runes were woven through the design.
According to the textbook, an alchemical carving knife functioned identically to a wand.
If magical energy was the ink, then wands and carving knives were the fountain pens. They controlled the flow rate and direction of the magic, allowing the user to precisely anchor shapes and runes onto a physical medium.
Therefore, his very first lesson had to be mastering how to properly hold and channel magic through the knife.
Alchemy for Beginners recommended several simple, foundational runes perfectly suited for beginners and oak mediums:
[Light], [Heavy], [Soft], [Hard].
He decided to start with [Light].
The carving knife was freezing cold to the touch. He focused on the deep, mysterious hum of runic energy, and very slowly pressed the tip of the blade against the wood.
Hiss—
A plume of acrid, black smoke instantly erupted from the point of contact.
A failure.
He was currently exactly like a toddler holding a pen for the first time—the second he pressed down, he tore a massive hole straight through the paper.
Still, at the very least, he had triggered a tangible magical reaction.
In Charlie's eyes, that was a massive success.
He calmed his breathing, refusing to let himself get frustrated. Slowly and steadily, he lowered the blade and tried again.
Time slowly slipped away. The practice was anything but smooth. Half an hour had passed before he managed to successfully make contact without immediately scorching the wood.
It took another full hour before he finally managed to carve his very first, incredibly ugly, continuous line.
He completely lost track of time. A complete rune required a single, unbroken stream of channeled magic. Time and time again, his control over the knife would slip halfway through, instantly ruining all of his previous effort.
Whenever that happened, he would set the knife down and stretch his back.
He had no idea how much time had passed. With trembling fingers, he finally carved the very last sweeping arc. The magical circuit connected flawlessly.
He let go. The wooden block hovered in mid-air for a second before slowly, gently drifting down to the desk, exactly like a helium balloon.
"Phew..."
Charlie let out a long, heavy exhale. The carving knife clattered loudly onto the workbench.
He stared at his right hand. His fingers were locked in a rigid, cramping grip, trembling uncontrollably.
He tried to open his hand, but his muscles violently refused. Wincing slightly, he used his left hand to gently pry his fingers apart, slowly massaging life back into his stiff knuckles.
"Heh..."
"I'm an absolute genius," Charlie grinned.
He had no idea how quickly other beginners progressed, but he was incredibly satisfied with his results for the day.
You only ever had to compete against yourself. And as far as he was concerned, his performance today had been stellar.
He stood up and stretched his stiff muscles. He glanced over at the grandfather clock. It was 1:00 AM.
The exact second he registered the time, his stomach let out a violent, echoing growl.
"Bloody hell."
"Whatever. I'll eat a piece of chocolate and just wait for breakfast."
He grabbed the wooden block inscribed with the [Light] rune and walked out of the Room of Requirement.
If he had time tomorrow, he wanted to go see Professor Chambers.
Back in Ravenclaw Tower, Charlie quietly pushed the door to his dormitory open, trying not to make a sound.
A sudden burst of light hit his eyes.
Inside the room, Anthony and Hector were wide awake, deeply engrossed in a conversation about the OLM tournament.
"You two are still up?" Charlie asked, genuinely surprised.
Anthony looked at Charlie, exchanged a quick glance with Hector, and silently pointed at a metal lunchbox sitting on Charlie's desk.
"Where on earth have you been?" Anthony laughed helplessly.
"I was locked in the Room of Requirement. You saved me dinner? Thanks, mate."
"We're friends. You don't need to thank us," Anthony said.
"Regardless—"
Before Charlie could finish, Anthony cut him off.
"Exactly. We're friends, Charlie. Which means, whenever possible, you need to tell us where you're going and when you'll be back. You've got people worrying about you now."
"We're your mates. We're looking out for you."
Charlie froze. Standing in the quiet dormitory, a long moment passed before the corners of his mouth slowly curled upwards.
"That's the first time I've ever been properly scolded," Charlie said softly.
"Ah—no, we aren't trying to—" Anthony started, quickly trying to backpedal.
"It feels pretty good," Charlie interrupted.
He looked at the two boys. "Honestly, I've been so used to doing everything entirely on my own for so many years."
He looked down, letting out a long, quiet breath, before speaking again.
"Mates... this really does feel pretty good."
"Thanks for the dinner."
Charlie sat down at his desk and popped the lid off the lunchbox.
The food was completely cold.
But honestly? It was the best dinner he'd had in a long time.