The unlucky morning finally came to an end.
Charlie sat at the Hufflepuff table, and his mood improved considerably as he looked at the sumptuous lunch in front of him.
Harry and Ron came over and sat beside him.
They'd hit it off with Justin and Ernie on the way over, launching an all-out attack on Snape.
The quickest way to get closer to your classmates was to gripe about a teacher together. Now they were all sitting together having lunch.
Charlie didn't join in. Their insults were far too weak.
He opened the system interface to check his Tyrant Points.
[Tyrant Points: 678]
After a week of sleeping through class and sneaking out at night, plus blowing up Filch and clashing with Snape, he'd managed to save up 678 Tyrant Points.
System, let's draw. Charlie thought to himself.
[Congratulations, Your Majesty! You have received +50 Spell Proficiency for Flaming Bear!] [Congratulations, Your Majesty! You have received +45 Spell Proficiency for Stupefy!] [Congratulations, Your Majesty! You have received +30 Spell Proficiency for the Levitation Charm!] [Congratulations, Your Majesty! You have received the Perfect Draught of Living Death Recipe.] [Congratulations, Your Majesty! You have received +1 Talent Point!]
Charlie's eyes lit up. He'd had pretty good luck this time.
Flaming Bear and Stupefy had both reached the advanced stage of level two, and they were nearly at the proficiency needed for level three.
That was basically the level of a Hogwarts graduate.
At level three, he'd be able to cast spells nonverbally. At level four, he'd be able to cast them nonverbally and without a wand, and even cast spells while in Animagus form.
Most importantly, he'd drawn a Talent Point for the first time in ages.
As for the Draught of Living Death recipe, he ignored it outright.
Even if he brewed it perfectly, that old bastard Snape would still find fault with it.
Without hesitation, Charlie used his Talent Point on Transfiguration, taking his already level-nine talent in the subject straight to the maximum.
A strange feeling welled up in him. Charlie felt that his understanding of Transfiguration had suddenly deepened considerably.
"What's going on?" Ron suddenly frowned as he looked at his cutlery.
"Where's my fork? Why have I got two spoons?"
He raised his cutlery, looking puzzled.
Charlie glanced over, casually pulled out his Wand, and flicked it with ease.
One of the spoons in Ron's hand instantly turned into a proper silver fork, complete with intricate patterns.
"Merlin's toothbrush!" Ron's eyes widened as he examined the fork.
"Charlie, you're amazing. And it's only been a week since term started."
"Better than some know-it-all who does nothing but lecture people," Ron muttered under his breath.
Harry hurriedly nudged Ron's arm, signaling him to stop.
Hermione wasn't there, but it still wouldn't be good if those words got back to her.
Charlie, however, was astonished.
That one simple spell had just earned him five points of Transfiguration proficiency!
He hadn't needed much proficiency to reach the next level, and those five points had taken his Transfiguration to level two.
That was how terrifying a maxed-out talent could be.
Charlie had asked the system about it before. At level one, Transfiguration could only change one object into another, like turning a stick into a silver needle or a spoon into a fork.
At level two, Transfiguration could turn living creatures into objects, like turning a rat into a snuffbox.
Level-three Transfiguration was like a level-three spell: it could be cast nonverbally, and it could also turn objects into living creatures, like when Professor McGonagall turned a desk into a pig.
Level-four Transfiguration could be cast without a Wand, and could also turn one living creature into another. That was harder than turning an object into a living creature because it involved the anatomy of two different creatures.
And level-five Transfiguration could even make a transformation permanent.
Charlie's status panel received another major update.
[Your Majesty: Charlie White] [Age: 11] [Magic Talent Rating: (Maximum 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] [Magic Learned: Transfiguration (Level 2: 0/500), Flaming Bear (Level 2: 450/500), Stupefy (Level 2: 470/500)...]
"Oh, right, Charlie." Harry suddenly spoke up.
"We don't have any classes this afternoon. I'm going to visit Hagrid and have a chat. Want to come along?"
Charlie thought for a moment, then shook his head. "You go ahead. I have other plans this afternoon."
He didn't want to go over to Hagrid's for tea and a chat. That would be too boring.
Besides, he was trying to figure out how to cause more trouble and earn some more Tyrant Points.
"All right, then."
Harry looked a little disappointed, but didn't press him.
After lunch, Harry and Ron headed excitedly toward Hagrid's Hut.
Charlie wandered alone across the lawn outside the castle. Ernie and Justin had gone back to the common room.
In September, the sunlight streamed through the clouds onto the ancient walls of Hogwarts in the Scottish Highlands.
Charlie was wondering where he could stir up some more trouble for a big haul of Tyrant Points.
Just then, he spotted two familiar figures skulking behind a large tree, secretly watching something.
"Fred, George, what are you two doing?"
Charlie crept over and tapped them on the shoulders.
"Shh!" They both gestured for him to be quiet, then pointed ahead.
Charlie followed their gaze. A figure wearing a purple turban was strolling slowly by the lake.
The man walked strangely, stopping every so often to look around.
"Isn't that Professor Quirrell?" Charlie narrowed his eyes.
Quirrell was the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. In theory, he should have been teaching some powerful spells.
But the man stammered when he spoke, did nothing in class but read from the textbook, and reeked of garlic. The stench made it hard for Charlie to sleep.
That smell was so bad, it could kill you by nightfall after catching a whiff in the morning.
"That's him," Fred said in a low voice.
"We think something's wrong with him."
"What's wrong?" Charlie was intrigued.
George pointed at Quirrell's head.
"Look at that turban. He wears it all day, every day. He doesn't even take it off to eat."
"Exactly," Fred picked up the thread.
"He used to be a pretty normal bloke when he taught Muggle Studies. He didn't have much hair, but at least he looked presentable. Now he looks like some Arab sheikh."
Charlie rubbed his chin, an idea forming.
"Don't you want to know what's under his turban?" Charlie asked, deliberately egging them on.
The three of them exchanged glances, all breaking into mischievous grins.
"You've got an idea?" Fred's eyes lit up.
"Of course." Charlie put an arm around each of them, and the three heads huddled together.
"I've got a plan..."
The three of them discussed a few more details, and before they knew it, evening had arrived.
The sun set, and warm lights glowed in the castle windows.
"Damn!" Charlie suddenly smacked his forehead.
"I almost forgot. Professor McGonagall wants me to go to her office tonight."
"What for?" George asked curiously.
"Because of what happened in Potions Class today."
"Then you'd better go. You can't be late for a meeting with Professor McGonagall."
As Charlie ran toward the castle, he called back to the two of them:
"I'll leave the props we need to you."
"Don't worry."
Professor McGonagall's office was on the second floor. Charlie jogged all the way there.
At the office door, he straightened his clothes, took a deep breath, and knocked.
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