Over the next few days, Charlie tried out the various classes at Hogwarts.
In Charms Class, Professor Flitwick standing on a stack of books to teach made Charlie chuckle.
The diminutive professor, who had Goblin blood, was knowledgeable and passionate about teaching.
The first time he called Harry's name, he got so excited that he nearly fell off the stack of books.
"Mr. Potter!"
Professor Flitwick cried out in a shrill voice, trembling with excitement.
"What an honor! Such an honor!"
The Herbology teacher was Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff.
She was a short, plump witch who always wore patched clothes, and there was perpetually dirt beneath her fingernails.
But she was exceptionally kind to her students and patient even with those who knew nothing about Herbology.
Because Charlie insisted on exploring the castle with the Weasley Twins every night, he was always drowsy in class during the day.
Professor Flitwick would tap his desk with his Wand and angrily take points from Hufflepuff.
"Mr. White, this is the second time this week you've fallen asleep in my class! Five points from Hufflepuff!"
But when Charlie woke up and demonstrated a perfect charm, Professor Flitwick would excitedly add the points back.
"Excellent! A perfect Levitation Charm! Five points to Hufflepuff!"
Professor Sprout, on the other hand, took a gentler approach.
Whenever Charlie fell asleep in her class, she would quietly come over and rub the top of his head with her rough but warm hand until he woke up.
"Mr. White, I know you're tired, but Mandrakes don't cry any more quietly just because you're asleep."
She always said this gently, without a trace of reproach.
It made Charlie feel too embarrassed to sleep in her class.
Before long, Friday arrived.
There was only one Potions Class that morning, and it was with Gryffindor.
The previous night, Charlie had once again explored the castle with the Weasley brothers until the middle of the night, so as soon as he reached the classroom that morning, he put his head down on the desk and fell asleep.
Ernie and Justin sat on either side of Charlie and had grown used to his behavior.
"How do you think Professor Snape will deal with Charlie?" Justin whispered to Ernie.
"I don't know, but he definitely won't be as gentle as Professor Sprout." Ernie glanced at Charlie, fast asleep, with concern.
The classroom door suddenly flew open, and a greasy-haired man strode in. His black robes billowed behind him like those of a giant bat.
The classroom fell silent at once, and every student held their breath.
As soon as Snape entered, his eyes fixed on Harry.
He walked toward the lectern, speaking in a quiet, flat, cold voice.
"You are here to learn the precise science and strict art of potion-making."
Under his intense gaze and listening to his voice, Harry broke out in goose bumps.
He also had a bad feeling. The professor seemed to be paying him particular attention.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving here. Many of you won't believe this is magic at all. I don't expect you to truly appreciate the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron, its white smoke wafting through the air and its fragrant aroma drifting past. Nor do I expect you to understand the marvelous power of liquids that flow through people's veins, stirring their hearts and clouding their minds..."
Just as Snape was about to call Harry's name, something caught the corner of his eye, and his voice abruptly stopped.
All the students followed his gaze and saw Charlie asleep with his head on his desk.
The temperature in the classroom seemed to drop several degrees at once.
"It seems," Snape said, his voice growing even lower and more menacing,
"that someone among us thinks he's already surpassed the study of Potions and doesn't need to pay attention in class."
No one dared make a sound.
Ernie gently nudged Charlie, but Charlie only mumbled and went on sleeping.
Snape's face turned livid. He grabbed the blackboard eraser from the lectern and hurled it at Charlie.
The eraser struck Charlie squarely on the top of the head.
Charlie jerked awake and blearily lifted his head. The whole class was staring at him, and Professor Snape looked ready to kill.
"Tell me your name!"
"Charlie White."
"Mr. White," Snape said coldly.
"It seems my class is so boring to you that you'd rather use it to catch up on your sleep."
Charlie rubbed his eyes, realizing he was in the wrong.
Falling asleep in class was bad enough, but he'd gone and slept with his head on the desk. It was a bit like he didn't respect his teacher at all.
"I'm sorry, Professor. I was studying late last night and fell asleep by accident."
Snape narrowed his eyes, a cold sneer curling his lips.
"Studying? I'd say you were wandering around the castle."
Charlie's heart skipped a beat.
How did he know? Had he seen me with the Weasley Twins last night?
"If you have enough energy to wander around at night, then surely you're well versed in Potions," Snape drawled, each word carrying a bone-chilling edge.
"Now, Mr. White, tell me: what would you get if you mixed powdered Asphodel Root with an Infusion of Wormwood?"
Charlie froze. Wormwood? Wasn't that for treating colds? But he'd better not guess. If he just admitted he didn't know, he wouldn't make things any worse.
"I don't know, Professor."
Hermione immediately raised her hand, nearly jumping out of her seat.
Snape ignored Hermione completely, the corners of his mouth lifting in scorn.
"Tsk, tsk. It seems your Troll brain doesn't live up to your reputation. I heard you did well in Transfiguration Class, yet you know nothing in my class."
Some of the students in the classroom snickered.
"I'll give you another chance," Snape continued.
"Tell me, what's the difference between monkshood and Wolfsbane?"
Hermione raised her hand even higher, almost touching the ceiling.
Ernie tried to remind Charlie of something in a whisper, but he spoke too softly for Charlie to make it out.
Snape shot Ernie a cold glance, and Ernie immediately fell silent.
Charlie frowned. This was clearly a trick question.
"I don't know, Professor."
"What a pity."
"If your brain is empty, you should pay attention in class, you idiot."
The students laughed even louder.
"One final question, Mr. White." Snape's eyes gleamed with malice.
"Where would you find a Bezoar?"
Charlie understood completely now.
Snape had picked a fight with him. He'd only slept for a while before class and had apologized when he came in, yet Snape still wouldn't let it go.
If that was how he wanted to play it, why should Charlie put up with him?
"Professor," Charlie replied coldly, "in a pile of shit."
Because of how the words could be parsed, the answer sounded extremely ambiguous.
The classroom erupted in laughter.
Snape's face turned livid at once.
"Silence!"
He roared, and the classroom fell completely quiet.
"Utterly ridiculous!" Snape ground out.
"Powdered Asphodel Root and an Infusion of Wormwood can be used to brew the Draught of Living Death, a very powerful sleeping potion. Monkshood and Wolfsbane are the same plant, both known as aconite. As for a Bezoar, it's taken from the stomach of a goat."
"Drop that self-important attitude. This is not your Gryffindor Common Room."
He'd obviously mistaken Charlie for a Gryffindor.
Charlie was furious at being insulted.
He admitted that falling asleep in class was wrong, but even the mildest person had a temper.
If he'd done something wrong, Snape could point it out and punish him as necessary. Charlie would accept that. But what was the point of deliberately making things difficult for him over everything else?
"Professor," Charlie said, looking Snape straight in the eye, his voice clear and firm.
"Powdered Asphodel Root and Wormwood can be combined with different ingredients to make all sorts of potions. How was I supposed to know which one you meant?"
"There are so many kinds of aconite. Do you expect a student on his first day to tell them all apart?"
"And if a goat's stomach isn't full of shit, then what is it full of—your brain?"
The moment those words left his mouth, the entire classroom fell into a deathly silence.
Hermione gaped at him in disbelief.
Harry stared at Charlie, dumbstruck, admiration shining in his eyes. Charlie was a true warrior.
Snape's face went from livid to pale, then to purple.
"Thirty thousand points from Gryffindor!"
Snape finally roared, his voice so loud it nearly shattered the classroom windows.
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