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Mm—
The moment it hit his tongue, it tasted like rust, followed by a faint, lingering sweetness.
The flavor was strange—neither good nor bad.
The next second, Charlie felt his heartbeat thud heavily.
Thump—
He quickly steadied his mind and carefully sensed every shift in his body.
When he opened his eyes again, they were full of confusion.
Damn it.
Nothing had happened.
He clicked his tongue in irritation and slammed the book shut.
Winter snow, blood moon—when the hell were they going to give him something actually useful?
He let out a long sigh, stood up, and walked to the edge of the bed, staring out the window.
He still didn't know enough about magic. Everything was moving way too slowly.
He'd been at Hogwarts for three months and had only just secured a stable channel for harvesting Wish Dust.
There were so many spells he could specialize, but he was broke and had to pinch every single point.
Voldemort was riding around on the back of Quirrell's head. Wormtail was right next to Ron. A three-headed dog guarded the fourth-floor corridor, and who knew how deep underground that basilisk was waiting.
He had always known these things existed like ticking time bombs—each one powerful enough to kill in an instant.
Yet he kept lying to himself, telling himself they were on timers. That they'd only explode at specific moments.
All he had to do was stay far away when the clock struck… right?
Suddenly, in that moment, a deep-seated anxiety that had been buried in Charlie's heart surged up violently.
It turned into worry.
Then it turned into… rage.
He sighed and shook his head, trying to shift his thoughts.
Magic was still fascinating, wasn't it? Chocolate was great too. His chocolates were meant to bring joy—except for one thing he'd refused to admit until now, the real reason he'd been feeling so restless, like he needed to do something.
Potions could cure illnesses. Aside from a few extremely tricky ones involving the soul, most could be fixed easily.
He thought about all the people he'd seen over the years: the beggar dragging a grotesquely deformed broken leg, the one whose left eye had festered so badly he had to gouge it out, and Weston Wonka, writhing in agony on that broken bed.
If… if those people had had magic…
Squeak—
Alice yawned on the bed, then turned her gaze toward Charlie.
At the same time, Charlie turned to look at her.
The next second, Alice jumped back two steps in fright and huddled at the edge of the bed.
Squeak—
In Alice's eyes right now, Charlie's pupils were blood-red, filled with nothing but pure rage.
He slowly lowered his head and stared coldly at her.
Her earlier noise had only made his irritation worse.
"Get out!"
Squeak—
Alice cried out and charged straight at his leg, slamming her head into it.
Charlie's gaze dropped slowly. His last shred of patience had run out.
A twisted smile spread across his face. With a flick of his wrist, his wand appeared between his fingers.
The next instant, his brow twitched sharply.
?!
He took a deep breath, nodded at Alice, and spoke stiffly.
"Good girl."
No… he shouldn't be this angry. The emotion had come out of nowhere.
He spun around and strode to the desk, movements sharp. He yanked open the drawer and rummaged through the clinking jars.
Sunshine?
Thunder overload?
Autumn wind—
His fingers paused. Autumn wind could bring a layer of twilight. Maybe that could counter his current rage.
But he immediately realized the twilight effect only appeared after using it.
He wasn't in the right state right now…
His fingers kept moving. Moonlight… Dream sand…
They finally stopped on a jar of pale blue sand.
Winter snow…
To this day he still didn't fully understand what it could do.
It couldn't make things worse, right? So far it hadn't shown any negative effects.
He barely thought about it—his mind wasn't capable of deep thought right now anyway.
He quickly grabbed the jar and scooped out a full teaspoon, swallowing it.
The winter snow sand melted instantly on his tongue. The crisp coolness didn't fade; it spread rapidly through his body.
In the middle of that burning heat and rage, Charlie had never felt the chill of winter snow so clearly.
When that cold reached his brain, he shivered involuntarily. At the same time, the fiery rage in his chest seemed to freeze solid and get pressed down.
He stood still, as if snow was falling softly around him. A cold wind swept across a vast white world. Everything became pure white and silent.
Calm.
An unprecedented calm settled over Charlie's heart. Every other emotion vanished.
Only the clearest, coldest rational thought remained.
Alice hopped over curiously. She looked up at him again with concern and worry.
Charlie looked back at her.
His face held no emotion whatsoever. After a simple glance, he turned away and sat down at the desk.
From what he could tell, blood moon essence made a person more emotional—easily angered and volatile.
In large enough amounts, it could even push someone into an out-of-control state.
Winter snow was the complete opposite.
He had just eaten a full teaspoon. The moment it touched his tongue, it seemed to purify his emotions.
Snow had always symbolized purity.
But that was only the beginning…
Charlie tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, thinking carefully.
He recalled Weston Wonka writhing in agony on his sickbed. He remembered how that boy had disappeared one winter and was never seen again.
He observed those memories like a detached observer, cold and indifferent.
He thought about Neville. The thought that crossed his mind now was: Would it matter if Neville fell off his broom?
He thought about Harry. He thought about Hermione. He suddenly realized their lives or deaths had absolutely nothing to do with him.
It was true.
But this level of detachment was so cold it felt boring.
If he was this indifferent, then what was the point of chocolate? What was the point of candy?
Heh—
Of course, this state of mind wasn't entirely without benefits.
For example, right now he was calmly analyzing everything.
He opened his notebook.
[Winter Snow: Low doses can purify complex emotions. May have potential as a mental stabilizer—needs further testing.
Certain spells in the wizarding world can attack or damage the mind. If winter snow can neutralize that kind of damage, its potential is enormous.
High doses: Winter snow can block all subjective emotions. Pros and cons apply.]
After finishing the note, he flipped to a new page and started a fresh entry.
[Blood Moon Essence: Increases emotional volatility, making a person irritable and prone to rage—]
He slowly set down his quill and coldly examined the words "emotional volatility."
In other words… could blood moon essence actually help with casting spells?