Lottery! Quirrell's Conspiracy Scarf

The miserable morning finally passed.

Charlie sat at the Hufflepuff table, looking at the hearty lunch before him, his mood considerably improved.

Harry and Ron walked over and sat down beside him.

They'd been getting along famously with Justin and Ernie on the way here, launching an all-out attack on Snape from every angle.

The fastest way to close the distance with classmates was to badmouth a teacher together, and now they were all eating side by side.

Charlie didn't join in; their complaints were utterly feeble.

He opened the system interface to check his Tyrant Points.

[Tyrant Points: 678]

After a whole week of sleeping through classes, sneaking around at night, blowing up Filch, and fighting Snape, he'd only scraped together 678 Tyrant Points.

"System, start the draw," Charlie muttered in his mind.

[Congratulations, Your Majesty! Obtained Flaming Bear Spell Proficiency +50!]

[Congratulations, Your Majesty! Obtained Stupefy Spell Proficiency +45!]

[Congratulations, Your Majesty! Obtained Levitation Charm Proficiency +30!]

[Congratulations, Your Majesty! Obtained Perfect Draught of Living Death Recipe.]

[Congratulations, Your Majesty! Obtained Talent Point +1!]

Charlie's eyes lit up—this time his luck was good.

Flaming Bear and Stupefy had both reached the advanced stage of Level 2, and their proficiency was nearly enough for Level 3.

That was basically the level of a Hogwarts graduate.

Once they hit Level 3, he could cast silently; at Level 4, not only could he cast silently and wandlessly, but he could also cast in Animagus form.

Most importantly, he'd drawn a long-missed Talent Point.

As for the Draught of Living Death recipe, he completely ignored it.

Even if he brewed it perfectly, that old bastard Snape would still find fault with him.

Charlie didn't hesitate to add the Talent Point to Transfiguration, maxing out his originally Level 9 Transfiguration talent.

A strange sensation surged through him, and Charlie felt his understanding of Transfiguration deepen dramatically.

"What's going on?" Ron suddenly frowned, staring at his utensils.

"Where's my fork? Why are there two spoons?"

He held up the cutlery, looking baffled.

Charlie glanced over, casually pulled out his wand, and gave a light flick.

One of the spoons in Ron's hand instantly transformed into a standard silver fork, complete with delicate patterns.

"Merlin's toothbrush!" Ron's eyes went wide as he examined the fork closely.

"Charlie, you're amazing. It's only been a week since school started."

"Way better than some know-it-all who just lectures," Ron muttered under his breath.

Harry quickly nudged Ron's arm, signaling him to keep it down.

Even though Hermione wasn't there, it wouldn't be good if that got out.

But inside, Charlie was stunned.

That simple cast just now had added five points to his Transfiguration proficiency!

The proficiency needed to level up Transfiguration wasn't much to begin with, and those five points directly pushed it to Level 2.

This was the terror of maxed-out talent.

Earlier, Charlie had asked the system: Level 1 Transfiguration could only handle object-to-object transformations, like turning a stick into a needle or a spoon into a fork.

Level 2 Transfiguration could turn living things into objects, like a mouse into a snuffbox.

Level 3 Transfiguration, like Level 3 spells, allowed silent casting and could turn objects into living things, just like Professor McGonagall turning a desk into a pig.

Level 4 Transfiguration not only enabled wandless casting but could also turn one living thing into another, which was harder than object-to-living transformation because it involved the structures of two different organisms.

And Level 5 Transfiguration could achieve permanent transformations.

At this point, Charlie's panel got another major update.

[Your Majesty: Charlie White]

[Age: 11]

[Magic Talent Rating: (Max Level 10)]

[Transfiguration: 10]

[Charms: 8]

[Potions: 6]

[Defense Against the Dark Arts: 7]

[Herbology: 4]

[Astronomy: 4]

[History of Magic: 5]

[Tyrant Points: 8]

[Mastered Spells: Transfiguration (Level 2: 0/500), Flaming Bear (Level 2: 450/500), Stupefy (Level 2: 470/500)...]

"By the way, Charlie," Harry suddenly spoke up.

"We've got no classes this afternoon. I'm planning to go chat with Hagrid. Want to come along?"

Charlie thought for a moment, then shook his head. "You go ahead. I have other plans for the afternoon."

He had no desire to go to Hagrid's for tea and small talk—that was way too boring.

Besides, he was busy figuring out how to stir up trouble and earn more Tyrant Points.

"Alright then."

Harry looked a bit disappointed but didn't push it.

After lunch, Harry and Ron headed off eagerly toward Hagrid's hut.

Charlie wandered alone across the lawn outside the castle. Ernie and Justin had gone back to the common room.

In the September Scottish Highlands, sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting a glow on Hogwarts' ancient stone walls.

Charlie was thinking about where he could pull off another big score of Tyrant Points.

Just then, he spotted two familiar figures sneaking around behind a large tree, peering at something suspiciously.

"Fred, George, what are you two up to?"

Charlie crept over and tapped them on the shoulders.

"Shh!" They both made a silencing gesture, then pointed ahead.

Charlie followed their gaze and saw a figure wrapped in a purple turban slowly pacing by the lake.

The way he walked was a bit odd, and he kept stopping to look around.

"Isn't that Professor Quirrell?" Charlie squinted.

Quirrell taught Defense Against the Dark Arts—a class that, in theory, should cover some powerful spells.

But the guy stammered through every lesson, just read from the textbook, and reeked so strongly of garlic that Charlie couldn't even sleep properly.

That smell—it was the kind you'd smell in the morning and be ready to die by evening.

"That's him," Fred whispered.

"We think something's off about him."

"Off how?" Charlie perked up.

George pointed at Quirrell's head.

"Look at that turban. He wears it all day, every day—doesn't even take it off to eat."

"Yeah," Fred chimed in.

"Back when he taught Muggle Studies, he was a pretty normal guy. Sure, his hair was thinning, but at least he was presentable. Now he looks like some Arab sheikh."

Charlie rubbed his chin, an idea forming.

"Don't you want to know what's under that turban?" he baited them.

The three exchanged glances, all wearing mischievous grins.

"Got something in mind?" Fred's eyes lit up.

"Of course I do." Charlie slung an arm around each of their shoulders, and the three huddled together.

"I've got a plan..."

They discussed more details, and before they knew it, evening had crept in.

The sun was setting, and warm lights flickered on in the castle windows.

"Crap!" Charlie suddenly slapped his forehead.

"I almost forgot—Professor McGonagall asked me to come to her office tonight."

"For what?" George asked curiously.

"Because of today's Potions class."

"Then you'd better go. You can't be late for a meeting with McGonagall."

Charlie started jogging toward the castle, calling back over his shoulder:

"I'm counting on you two for the supplies."

"Leave it to us."

Professor McGonagall's office was on the second floor. Charlie trotted all the way there.

At the door, he straightened his robes, took a deep breath, and knocked.