Charlie flipped forward a page and studied the notes on the winter snow sand.
Would this extreme calm I'm feeling right now actually weaken my spellcasting?
He drew his wand and aimed it at a textbook on the desk. The pages curled and flowed like liquid, then sprouted sharp beaks and feathers. A white dove appeared on the wood.
That was pretty much the limit of his current general Transfiguration.
He canceled the spell, then cast again—this time softening the book into sludge. The volume collapsed instantly, turning into something that looked like pudding on the verge of melting.
No real drop in power. The casting felt solid.
Makes sense. Even though I'm emotionally detached from everything around me, my actual intent to cast hasn't been affected much.
Next step: wait for the winter snow to wear off, then take a smaller dose of blood moon essence and test whether it actually boosted spellcasting.
In the meantime, he should head to the Room of Requirement.
He grabbed the blood moon vial and his notebook, then left the dorm.
It was still before five in the morning—technically curfew—but Charlie didn't care. He slipped out of the common room, headed down the tower, then doubled back up toward the eighth floor.
Eight minutes later he was standing in the Moonlight Club.
He let out a long sigh and glanced around the empty space.
Damn it. Forgot Alice again.
The thought hit him, and he realized the winter snow effect must have finally faded.
Earlier, when the sand was at full strength, he'd looked at Alice like she was just some random stray on the street. He owed her some serious pets when he got back.
Charlie rolled up his sleeves and focused on the blood moon essence. This dose was even smaller than the last one.
The moment it hit his tongue, a hot wave of indignation surged through him.
He pointed his wand at the training dummy.
"Incendio!"
A bolt of magic shot out like lightning, twisting mid-air into a hissing fire serpent that slammed into the dummy. Flames swallowed it whole in a single heartbeat.
Charlie stared, stunned, as the fire died away and thin wisps of scorched smoke rose from the dummy's charred surface.
Compared to his normal casting, this was on another level.
He ran the numbers in his head. The speed of the spell, the size of the flames, the raw impact—everything had jumped.
The boost looked like a clean twenty to thirty percent across the board.
And that was just his rough estimate. He hadn't even dialed in the perfect dose yet. If he took a little more blood moon essence, the improvement might climb higher.
Of course, there had to be a ceiling. Rage could make you fearless, but it could also make you reckless and stupid.
Still, while the winter snow was active he'd already coldly weighed the pros and cons.
He spent the next hour cycling through every spell he knew. Blood moon essence gave every single one a noticeable lift.
Perfect. This was exactly the combat aid he'd been dreaming about since he first set foot in Hogwarts—the chocolate that could actually make him stronger in a fight.
If he layered on a thunder overload… he'd be operating at a whole different level.
Excitement buzzed through him. He sat down and started scribbling notes like a man possessed.
By the time he finally left the Room of Requirement, it was already noon.
Back in the dorm, Lely's painted face was turned toward Alice on the desk.
"Where's Mr. Wonka?" she asked.
Alice hopped onto the desk, looked at the painting, and gave two quick squeaks.
"He's been gone a long time?" Lely sounded worried.
Right then the door swung open. Charlie stepped in and saw the rabbit and the painting apparently deep in conversation.
"…You two chatting?"
"Mr. Wonka!" Lely brightened. "I've been looking for you."
"What's up?" Charlie opened his system panel while he talked. Wish Dust sat at 19.8—another full point in just two days. He even spotted a couple of repeat customers.
Lely didn't know he could check sales that way. She launched straight into the story: their first sale, the return customer, and the new buyer the guy had brought along.
Charlie listened, nodding, then scooped Alice into his lap and scratched her belly.
"You did great. So why'd you come find me?"
He remembered leaving her plenty of chocolates and spare change. She usually didn't need to track him down.
"We're running low on stock," Lely said quickly. "One of the young wizards said our chocolates are expensive, but he's planning to ask his parents for money at Christmas and buy a bunch more."
Charlie got it immediately. Christmas meant big spending. Every holiday did.
"Looks like we need to restock early," he muttered, setting Alice down and pulling open his drawer. Two boxes of dark chocolate bars sat inside—his Muggle supply.
Problem.
He was completely out of pounds. He'd have to figure out how to trade Galleons for cash if he wanted decent ingredients. The wizarding stuff was garbage; he refused to use it.
"This should last through Christmas," he said under his breath, already calculating. He still needed to set some bars aside for the new blood moon and winter snow chocolates.
"Way too many things to do," he groaned, rubbing his temples.
"Got it, Lely. Go ahead and head back. Or take a break if you want—you've been working nonstop."
"Paintings don't need rest," she said cheerfully. "I love this job. I'll head out now, Mr. Wonka."
"See you."
Once she disappeared, Charlie took a deep breath. This afternoon he had spell practice with Professor Flitwick. If he had any time left, he should swing by and wish Chambers, McGonagall, and Sprout a Merry Christmas.
And somewhere in there he still had to make more chocolate for the holiday rush in three days.
He dropped his head into his hands. "This is going to be a long week."