Seamus bragged throughout dinner, until he returned to the Common Room and joined everyone in gloomily doing their homework. A spell that could take down a dragon couldn't deal with homework, which showed that homework was far more powerful than a dragon.
Meanwhile, Charles was in Professor McGonagall's office, enduring half an hour of uninterrupted lecturing about not throwing magic around carelessly.
"Gryffindor will lose five points for this," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "This is a serious mistake. I hope you won't make it again."
Charles immediately nodded in agreement.
Professor McGonagall continued, "You'll also serve a month's detention. After Quirrell found out, he asked you to go to him every evening from half past seven to half past eight. I agreed."
Charles was instantly dumbfounded. What was going on? Was Voldemort planning to make a move against him?
But then he thought he didn't need to worry too much. Voldemort still needed to drink unicorn blood to replenish his magic, so he couldn't do anything to Charles for the time being.
However, he would have to adjust his schedule for the next month. He couldn't spend so much time tending to the flowers and plants in the evenings. He would have to sacrifice some of his lunch break.
After finishing her reprimand, Professor McGonagall placed a long wooden chest on the desk and said to him with a faint smile, "Madam Hooch believes you can use a flying broomstick very well. You can use your own broomstick now."
A brilliant smile spread across Charles's face. He immediately opened the chest, revealing a beautiful flying broomstick.
The broom was made of purplish-black wood, with dark-red decorative lines inlaid across it. They weren't only on the broomstick's handle—even the bristles bore them.
"Every time I see it, I find it unbelievable!" Professor McGonagall sighed from the side. "The seamless inlay of two kinds of wood, a technique I've never seen before. I wonder where it was made."
Charles said, "After Grandpa found a way to get to Diagon Alley, he loved going there. He also liked chatting with Ollivander. I imagine he found out about it from him."
After saying that, he cast the Cleaning Charm on both his hands three times before carefully picking up the broom. It even vibrated once when he first took hold of it.
"An unruly broomstick," Professor McGonagall sighed. "If you can't master it and tame it, its performance won't be any better than the school's brooms."
Charles thought, So the deputy headmistress knows the school's brooms are junk too.
He carefully examined the broom. Its handle was smooth and considerably longer than the school's brooms, while its bristles were neat and its grip satisfyingly heavy. A moment later, the corner of his mouth twitched, because the broom's name had been written at the top of the handle in inlaid red wood: EYJAFJALLA.
There was an instruction manual inside the chest. Charles read it carefully, and the darker his expression became.
This broom... had running lights, and its tail could even spray "flames." The faster it flew, the more it sprayed. At maximum speed, it would look like a volcanic eruption. The special effects were top-notch.
As he read, Charles discovered that the broom had other functions too.
He removed the upper layer of the chest. Aside from maintenance tools, the lower layer contained a long luggage rack. Once fixed to the top of the broomstick's handle, it could hold quite a bit of baggage.
"Hmm..." Charles thought for a moment. "It's perfect for traveling."
Professor McGonagall merely smiled. Designs like this were quite uncommon.
Charles was eager to try his flying broom, but now wasn't the time. After Professor McGonagall gave him a reading list from Madam Hooch on DIY flying brooms, she sent him off to Quirrell's office.
Hogwarts had lost its daytime bustle. Most of the students had already returned to their respective houses' Common Rooms. Quite a few couples were still wandering around outside, and Charles was force-fed plenty of romantic sweetness along the way.
There were also some students in the corridors returning books to the library. The first-years greeted Charles and asked whether the dragon's breath smelled bad. He barely knew the older students from the other houses, recognizing only Cho Chang at a glance because of her distinctive appearance.
At last, he reached the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office. Charles took several deep breaths, prepared to use Rainbow Curse at any moment.
He knocked once, and the door opened by itself.
"Oh, Smith, you've arrived." Quirrell seemed to have been pacing around the office just now.
He pointed to a desk in the corner and said, "Go sit there. Professor McGonagall told me about your situation. What a careless little boy, casting spells recklessly. Fortunately, it wasn't a vicious curse, and it didn't cause any serious consequences."
"I happen to have a job here that can help you understand how serious such behavior is."
Charles asked cautiously, "Professor, this isn't a very difficult job, is it?"
He was a little worried that Quirrell would fire a few "pew" evil curses at him later, claiming that he was using him as teaching material for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
That was underestimating Voldemort too much. Although the Dark Lord was physically brainless now, reduced to nothing but a scrap of skin, he wasn't the sort who could only cast the Rainbow Curse whenever he encountered a problem.
"It isn't difficult." Quirrell pointed at the books on the desk. "You just need to help me find information about some curses in them."
Charles breathed a sigh of relief. He only had to copy from books.
Quirrell gave him a form listing various vicious curses that could get someone sent to Azkaban if used on a person. He asked Charles to find each curse's effects, casting method, and means of defense.
The reference books beside him were stacked frighteningly high, and Charles worried they might collapse and hit someone. They included Potent Potions, Deadly Curses, Advanced Dark Magic Revealed, and more—all books from the library's Restricted Section.
Charles was being punished for throwing magic around carelessly. Making him copy the contents of these vicious curses would help him understand the danger of spells: education through punishment. Even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to find fault with it.
However, when Quirrell had spoken to Dumbledore, he had said that Charles would only copy the effects and defensive methods of the vicious curses. Those were precisely the things that truly ought to be taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts Class.
When Charles began working, he asked knowingly, "Professor, are all these books part of your personal collection?"
Quirrell continued pacing back and forth. Anyone who didn't know better might have thought the Hogwarts professors were holding some sort of event that required them to rack up their step counts.
He answered casually, "These are all books from the library's Restricted Section. I hadn't read them before, but they're useful now. Students aren't allowed to read those books freely. They need a professor's permission."
He then told Charles, "I suggest that you don't rush to look for the curses. Read through all the tables of contents first. It would be best if you copied them down too. That will make searching much easier."
Charles was somewhat surprised. He hadn't expected Quirrell to offer such a reasonable suggestion.
But then again, Quirrell had at least been a Ravenclaw student. His fundamentals couldn't be poor.
Charles began copying the tables of contents. Before long, he casually asked, "Professor, why is the library's Restricted Section blocked off with only a single rope? Aren't you afraid someone will sneak in to read the books?"
He had wanted to complain about this for a long time. Such a measure only guarded against gentlemen, not villains—and very few people who wanted to sneak a look at restricted books were gentlemen.
Quirrell answered casually, "The Restricted Section has always been like that."
Charles said nonchalantly, "Could it be that this isn't the real Restricted Section? Perhaps the real Restricted Section is somewhere else, storing the legendary 103,000 Magic Books, such as The Grand Teachings of Saint George, The Book of Laments, The Key of Solomon, The Book of Cannibalistic Rituals, The Book of the Dead, and so on... Uh..."
He noticed that Quirrell had walked to the other side of the desk. His eyes were somewhat vacant as he stared at Charles, then he asked in a snake-like, icy tone, "Where did you hear about these?"
Charles shrank his neck. Damn it, he'd provoked Double Socket.
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