Perhaps That Isn't the Real Restricted Section

Seamus bragged throughout dinner, until he returned to the common room and joined everyone else in writing homework with furrowed brows. A spell that could take down a dragon couldn't take down homework, which showed that homework was much more powerful than a dragon.

At this time, Charles was in Professor McGonagall's office, receiving a continuous half-hour lecture about not casually casting spells.

"Gryffindor will lose 5 points for this," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "This is a very serious mistake, and I hope you won't do it again."

Charles immediately nodded in agreement.

Professor McGonagall continued, "You will also be confined for a month. Quirrell knows about it and wants you to go to his office every evening from 7:30 to 8:30. I've agreed."

Charles was instantly dumbfounded. What was going on? Was Voldemort going to target him?

However, he quickly realized he didn't need to worry too much. The current Voldemort still needed to drink unicorn blood to replenish his magical power and couldn't do anything to him for now.

Still, he would have to adjust his schedule for the next month. He couldn't tend to his plants in the evenings, so he'd have to sacrifice some of his lunch break.

After lecturing Charles, Professor McGonagall placed a long, large wooden chest on the desk and said to him with a slight smile, "Madam Hooch believes you can use a broomstick very well. You can use your own broom now."

Charles's face broke into a brilliant smile. He immediately opened the chest, and a beautiful broomstick appeared before his eyes.

The broomstick was made of a purplish-black wood, inlaid with dark red patterns. These patterns were not only on the broomstick shaft but also on the bristles.

"I find it incredible every time I see it!" Professor McGonagall sighed from the side. "The seamless inlay of two types of wood is an unprecedented technique. I don't know where it was made."

Charles said, "My grandfather liked to go to Diagon Alley after he found a way there, and he enjoyed chatting with Ollivander. I suspect he found out from him."

After speaking, he cast a cleaning charm on his hands three times before carefully picking up the broomstick. It vibrated slightly when he first held it.

"A wild broomstick," Professor McGonagall sighed. "If you can't control it and make it obedient, it won't perform any better than the school's broomsticks."

Charles thought to himself, So, Vice Principal, you know the school's broomsticks are rubbish.

He carefully examined the broomstick. The shaft was smooth and much longer than the school's. The bristles were neat, and it felt heavy in his hands. After a moment, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly because the name of the broomstick was inlaid in red wood at the top of the shaft: EYJAFJALLA.

There was a manual in the box, which Charles read diligently. The more he read, the darker his expression became.

This broomstick... had a running light effect, and its tail could spray "flames." The faster it flew, the more it sprayed. When it reached maximum speed, it would be like a volcanic eruption, with top-notch special effects.

As he read, Charles discovered that the broomstick had other functions.

He lifted the upper layer of the box. The lower layer, besides maintenance tools, had a long storage rack that could be fixed to the top of the broomstick shaft to hang luggage.

"Hmm..." Charles thought for a moment. "It's very suitable for traveling."

Professor McGonagall just smiled. Such a design was uncommon.

Charles was eager to try out his new broomstick, but he couldn't right now. Professor McGonagall gave him a booklist from Madam Hooch about DIY broomsticks and then sent him off to Quirrell's office.

The hustle and bustle of the day had subsided at Hogwarts. Most students had returned to their respective common rooms. Many couples were still strolling outside, and Charles had to endure a lot of public displays of affection along the way.

There were still some students walking in the corridors with books borrowed from the library. First-years would greet Charles and ask him if dragons had bad breath. He barely recognized any older students from other houses, except for Cho Chang, whose distinctive appearance made her instantly recognizable.

Finally, he arrived at the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office. Charles took a few deep breaths, ready to use the Rainbow Curse at any moment.

He knocked on the door, and it opened by itself.

"Oh, Smith, you're here." Quirrell seemed to have been pacing in his office.

He pointed to a desk in the corner of the office and said, "Go sit there. Professor McGonagall told me about what happened. You're quite reckless, casting spells haphazardly. Fortunately, it wasn't a dark curse, and it didn't cause any serious consequences."

"I happen to have a job here that can show you how serious such behavior is."

Charles cautiously asked, "Professor, this isn't a difficult job, is it?"

He was a little worried that Quirrell would "pew" some evil spells at him, under the guise of using them as teaching materials for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He was underestimating Voldemort. Although the Dark Lord was physically brainless at the moment, with only a remnant of his former self, he didn't just resort to Avada Kedavra for every problem.

"It's not difficult," Quirrell replied, pointing to the books on the desk. "You just need to help me find some information about spells in these books."

Charles breathed a sigh of relief. It was just copying books.

Quirrell gave him a form listing several dark curses that could land someone in Azkaban. He was to find the effects, casting methods, and defensive measures for these spells in the books.

The reference books nearby were stacked high, making Charles worry they might collapse and crush someone. They included Potent Potions, Deadly Curses, Advanced Dark Magic Revealed, and others – all content from the library's Restricted Section.

Charles was being punished for randomly casting a spell. Having him copy the details of these dark curses would make him understand the danger of spells, combining education with punishment. Even Dumbledore couldn't fault it.

However, Quirrell had only told Dumbledore at the time that Charles would copy the effects and defensive measures of the dark curses, which were precisely the content that Defense Against the Dark Arts should teach.

As Charles began his work, he asked knowingly, "Professor, are these books your personal collection?"

Quirrell continued to pace back and forth. One might think he was participating in some Hogwarts activity that required him to rack up steps.

He casually replied, "These are all books from the library's Restricted Section. I haven't read them before, but I can use them now. Students aren't allowed to read books from there freely; they need a professor's permission."

He then added, "I suggest you don't rush to find the spells. First, read through the table of contents of these books and perhaps copy them down. That will make finding things much easier."

Charles was a little surprised. He hadn't expected Quirrell to offer such a reasonable suggestion.

But then again, he was a Ravenclaw student, so his fundamentals shouldn't be lacking.

Charles began copying the table of contents. After a while, he casually asked, "Professor, why is the Restricted Section of the library only blocked by a single rope? Aren't you afraid someone will sneak in to read?"

He had wanted to complain about this for a long time. Such a measure only deterred gentlemen, not scoundrels, and few people who wanted to peek at forbidden books were gentlemen.

Quirrell casually replied, "The Restricted Section has always been like this."

Charles said casually, "Could it be that this isn't the real Restricted Section? Perhaps the real Restricted Section is elsewhere, housing the legendary 103,000 volumes of magical books, such as The Grand Teachings of Saint George, The Book of Laments, The Key of Solomon, The Book of Cannibal Sacrifices, The Book of the Dead... uh..."

He noticed Quirrell had walked to the other side of the desk and was staring at him with somewhat vacant eyes, asking in a cold, snake-like tone, "Where did you hear about these?"

Charles shrank back, his neck retracting. Damn, I've poked the hornet's nest.