With their afternoon Charms class concluded, the rest of the day stretched out before them like a blank expanse of fresh parchment.
For the first and second-year witches and wizards, the timetable was delightfully sparse. Charlie, leaning on the analytical habits of his past life, had already mentally divided the standard seven-year Hogwarts curriculum into three distinct tiers: junior, intermediate, and senior.
The junior phase encompassed the first two years, acting as a gentle introduction to the arcane. The intermediate phase spanned the third, fourth, and fifth years. The senior phase arrived only after the grueling OWL examinations, allowing students to plunge into the profound depths of their chosen, specialized disciplines.
"Honestly, first year is mostly just giving you time to play around," Roger Davies remarked.
He was the very same upperclassman from last night's welcoming feast who had proudly announced his great-grandfather's obsession with Quidditch. Thanks to Anthony's tireless social networking, Charlie had also learned that Roger was currently a Chaser for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Clearly, a blatant disregard for gravity ran deep in the family bloodline.
It was midday, and the common room was filled with the cozy hum of newly sorted students digesting their lunch. Naturally, Roger had taken center stage, dispensing upperclassman wisdom to the wide-eyed first years.
"If you find yourselves bored, you can always poke around the edges of the Great Lake. Just do not go swimming. It is strictly against the rules, and getting caught by the giant squid or a professor is a massive headache," Roger advised. "My personal recommendation is to use this free time to explore the castle. Wander down to the dungeons, climb the other towers, peek into the greenhouses. You need to memorize the routes as quickly as possible. The staircases here have a mind of their own, and it takes a good while before you stop ending up on the wrong floor."
"Brilliant idea!" Anthony nodded enthusiastically, turning to Hector and Charlie. "Shall we go for a wander? Get a lay of the land?"
Hector looked toward Charlie, silently awaiting his verdict.
Charlie was currently melting into a plush, powder-blue armchair. His left arm cradled Alice, his right hand gently stroking her soft fur. His attention, however, was entirely focused on the translucent interface hovering in his vision.
[Wonder Dust: 12.3]
[Eligible for Specialization: Levitation Charm, Mending Charm]
[Current Trait: Natural Harvest (You may gather free-floating energy from the natural world.)]
Ever since he had spent five points to specialize his Wand-Lighting Charm, his Wonder Dust reserves had plummeted. The current meager total was the result of painstakingly slow accumulation over the past several days.
Magic was proving to be an incredibly expensive endeavor.
I know far too few spells, Charlie thought with a mental sigh. And ten thousand points of Wonder Dust still would not be enough.
Aside from the Levitation and Mending charms listed on his interface, Charlie had spent his holidays mastering basic Transfiguration. As for his actual skill level... well, he could steadily and relatively easily turn a matchstick into a needle. That was the absolute limit of his prowess.
He suspected that basic Transfiguration could also be specialized, but his Wonder Dust balance was laughably insufficient. A fundamental branch of magic like Transfiguration possessed near-infinite versatility and an incredibly high ceiling for mastery. Altering its very nature through specialization would likely cost an astronomical sum.
He pondered the Levitation and Mending charms for a moment before shaking his head.
"Charlie? Earth to Charlie!" Anthony's voice finally broke through his reverie.
Charlie blinked, turning his head a little sluggishly. "Sorry, what was that?"
"I asked if we should go wander the castle and figure out where everything is," Anthony repeated patiently.
Charlie shook his head. "You two go ahead. I am feeling a bit drained."
"Right, you were practically dozing off just now." Anthony chuckled, and Charlie simply smiled, choosing not to correct him.
"Once you two map out the routes, I will just follow your lead from now on," Charlie added.
"Fair enough." Anthony shrugged, rising from his seat alongside Hector. "Let us go see if the blokes in the next dormitory are around."
Charlie walked upstairs with them, retreating into the quiet sanctuary of their dormitory. He pulled out The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 and began flipping through the crisp pages.
The most complex spell in the book appeared to be the Tarantallegra curse, a dancing incantation. If his memory served him right, this was a staple of the end-of-year practical exams. However, Charlie could not fathom a practical, everyday use for making someone uncontrollably tap dance, even if the spell were specialized.
After a thorough process of elimination, he settled on two candidates: the Softening Charm and the Fire-Making Spell. Both were introductory first-year spells with a decent amount of practical utility. Charlie distinctly remembered wanting to test the Fire-Making Spell back in Granny Martha's attic. Common sense had prevailed back then, as practicing rudimentary pyromancy in a dusty wooden room was a spectacular way to end a life prematurely.
Book in hand, Charlie gently deposited Alice onto his four-poster bed and headed back down to the common room.
Roger Davies was meticulously polishing his broomstick by a sunlit window. He looked up, a puzzled expression crossing his face as Charlie approached.
"Did you not go up to sleep?"
"The moment my head hit the pillow, I suddenly stopped feeling tired," Charlie offered a wry smile. "Roger, do you happen to know a good spot for practicing spells?"
Roger set down his velvet polishing cloth and his tin of premium broomstick wax, giving the question some serious thought.
"We usually just sneak out to the empty corridors to practice," Roger replied.
"Sneak out?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, absolutely. You cannot even begin to imagine the bizarre rubbish Ravenclaws try to invent. Flatulence curses, vomiting hexes, spontaneous localized explosions. If we were allowed to practice in the common room, this tower would have been reduced to rubble centuries ago."
Roger gestured vaguely around the circular room. "So, there is an unwritten rule in Ravenclaw: absolutely no spell practice in the common room. We usually wander off to the higher floors where the corridors are deserted. Oh, and a word of warning. Professor Flitwick's office is on the seventh floor. If you are just practicing standard textbook charms, he will not mind. But if you are dabbling in weird, experimental hexes, steer clear of his corridor. The consequences of getting caught doing unauthorized experimental magic are dire."
Charlie nodded in understanding, taking a quick glance around. The common room was a hive of quiet, eccentric activity. Some students had their noses buried in ancient tomes, others were huddled in corners furiously sketching out Merlin-knew-what, and several small groups were locked in intense debate.
"What do you reckon would happen if I spliced the Dancing Feet Spell with the Tickling Charm?" one student whispered conspicuously to his friend.
The friend stroked his chin in deep thought. "Brilliant, but what if we hit someone with the Dancing Spell and the Leg-Locker Curse simultaneously? That sounds vastly more entertaining."
"Genius! Shall we test it right now?"
The two looked around shiftily before the first boy sighed. "Better not. Let us take it out to the hall."
Roger smirked, nodding toward the retreating duo. "See? That is Ravenclaw for you. You never truly know what chaotic nonsense is brewing in our heads."
"Is it dangerous?" Charlie asked.
"Well," Roger leaned in, lowering his voice for dramatic effect. "Last year, some utter fool used Transfiguration to turn his right arm into a snake. Then, he had a mate turn his left arm into a snake as well."
Charlie blinked. "Why?"
"He wanted to test the subtle magical differences between self-transfiguration and spells cast by others. A real pioneer of magical theory, that one. The result was that he had zero control over the snake his friend created, even though it was attached to his own shoulder. His two snake-arms immediately took a severe disliking to one another and engaged in a vicious duel to the death. By the time Madam Pomfrey reversed the magic, his arms were braided together like a giant, fleshy pretzel."
The corners of Charlie's mouth twitched, and a chuckle escaped his lips despite his best efforts.
"Go on, have a laugh. Everyone else did," Roger grinned. "Anyway, back to business. What spell are you planning to practice?"
"I was thinking about the Fire-Making Spell."
Hearing this, Roger's jovial demeanor instantly evaporated. He stared at Charlie for a long moment before shaking his head firmly.
"I highly recommend you do not practice that on your own, even if you find an empty room. Incendio is arguably the most dangerous first-year spell. The probability of it backfiring and exploding in your face is remarkably high. I do not know if you have ever experienced a spell explosion before. If you have not, attribute it to sheer luck, not raw talent. Every single year, someone ends up in the Hospital Wing with singed eyebrows and minor burns because they underestimated that charm. It is not a joke."
Seeing Roger's utter seriousness, Charlie's enthusiasm deflated.
"Alright then. How about the Softening Charm? Spongify? That should be safer, right?"
"Oh, yes, that is perfectly fine," Roger nodded, his relaxed posture returning. "Even if you botch the Softening Charm completely, the worst that happens is absolutely nothing. Unless, of course, you are an undisputed prodigy of magical demolition."
"If everything I cast somehow explodes, I suppose I would be a rather terrifying duelist," Charlie mused.
"True enough. Off you go, then," Roger laughed, turning his affectionate gaze back to his broomstick.
"Thanks, Roger."
Charlie turned and exited the Ravenclaw common room. It seemed he had no choice but to seek out the fabled Room of Requirement.
He hadn't intended to hunt down Hogwarts' most legendary hidden room on his second day of school. He only wanted to practice some harmless textbook magic; it was not exactly a dark secret. Furthermore, trekking from the Ravenclaw Tower all the way down and across the castle, just to climb back up to the seventh floor, felt incredibly inefficient.
But he needed a truly safe, isolated space, and standard empty classrooms were too unpredictable.
Hopefully, I can actually find it, Charlie thought. It is near a tapestry... Barnabas the Barmy, if memory serves. Some bloke getting walloped by trolls.
Sifting through his slightly hazy memories of the original story, Charlie began his ascent.
By the time he reached the sixth floor, the ambient light streaming through the arched windows had dimmed significantly. There were plenty of empty classrooms here. While the Hogwarts house-elves kept them perfectly free of dust and cobwebs, the haphazardly stacked desks and chairs made it obvious they hadn't seen a proper lecture in decades.
On the same floor, he stumbled upon two large, well-lit rooms. Pushing the heavy oak door open, Charlie immediately locked eyes with an older boy wearing robes trimmed in Hufflepuff yellow.
"Who are you?" the older student asked, raising an eyebrow.
"First-year student, just exploring the castle. What is this place?" Charlie asked politely.
"Ah, you have found the Charms Club," the Hufflepuff smiled welcomingly.
"A club?"
"Exactly. The school has dozens of them. Some are student-run, but this one is officially overseen by Professor Flitwick."
Charlie's eyes lit up with interest. He took a step forward, about to ask for details, but the older boy held up a hand apologetically.
"Unfortunately, the Charms Club is only open to fifth years and above. Furthermore, you need to have achieved at least an 'Exceeds Expectations' in your Charms, Transfiguration, or Defense Against the Dark Arts practicals to join."
Charlie nodded understandingly. This was clearly an advanced, academic study group, not a casual social gathering. Besides, joining a club now would be entirely pointless. He had enough trouble wrestling with the first-year textbook; he certainly didn't need high-level magical theory debates just yet.
"Understood. Thank you," Charlie said, stepping back out into the corridor.
He finally made his way up to the seventh floor.
The seventh-floor corridor was noticeably quieter and far more expansive than the ones below it. It possessed a profound stillness, carrying the faint, ancient scent of polished stone and old tapestries.
Charlie walked slowly, examining the artwork lining the walls. After nearly twenty minutes of wandering, he finally stopped in his tracks.
Hanging before him was a massive, vibrant tapestry depicting a beautifully serene, grassy meadow. In the center of this idyllic scene, eight phenomenally ugly, warty mountain trolls were dressed in fluffy pink ballet tutus, sporting disturbingly affectionate smiles. They were posed mid-pirouette, though their hands firmly gripped massive wooden clubs.
In the center of this terrifying dance troupe was a single, very foolish-looking wizard.
Barnabas the Barmy.
Charlie's fingers twitched around his wand. If he actually knew the Fire-Making Spell, he might have been tempted to burn the grotesque masterpiece to ash right then and there. Who in their right mind wove something so delightfully horrific?
Maybe I should just practice Incendio on the tapestry, Charlie joked to himself.
Pushing the horrific ballet out of his mind, Charlie focused on the blank stretch of stone wall directly opposite the tapestry. There were no doors here, no hidden levers.
Pace back and forth three times, focusing entirely on what is needed.
Taking a deep breath, Charlie began to pace.
I need an empty classroom. He kept his request deliberately simple. The first goal was merely to confirm the room's existence and mechanics. He could refine his request later.
As he completed his third turn, a miraculous transformation occurred. The solid, grey stone wall began to shift in color, taking on a warm, woody brown hue. Vertical lines carved themselves into the stone, forming the intricate grain of ancient timber. Seconds later, a sturdy wooden door complete with a brass handle materialized before his very eyes.
If I step inside, does the door vanish? Or does it remain visible to anyone walking by as long as the room is occupied?
Charlie grasped the brass handle and pushed. The room inside was a chaotic jumble. Desks were piled high, a dusty chalkboard leaned against a wall, and cabinets were crammed with strange brass scales, empty potion vials, and tarnished cauldrons.
Ah. Because I just asked for a generic 'empty classroom,' it gave me a massive storage closet of forgotten classroom supplies, he realized.
He didn't bother stepping inside. Instead, he pulled the door shut and took several steps back. About a minute later, the brass handle dissolved into the wood, and the door itself melted back into solid stone.
Charlie took his position opposite Barnabas the Barmy once more and began his pacing.
I need a secure, spacious room with plenty of safe props where I can practice spells.
He paced three times.
When he turned to look at the wall, a set of grand, beautifully polished double doors had materialized from the stone, silently inviting him in.