Charlie said goodbye to everyone and returned to his dormitory.
Ernie and Justin were already sleeping like the dead. Charlie tiptoed through his wash-up routine and climbed into bed.
Two days flew by in the blink of an eye. By Friday, Charlie was groggily climbing out of bed.
After washing up, he found a hearty breakfast Billy had prepared waiting beside his bed.
The aroma of sizzling eggs and bacon, along with freshly baked toast, filled the air.
"How thoughtful."
Charlie ate his breakfast and praised Billy's excellent service.
[His Majesty indulges in pleasure. Tyrant Points +1]
Hey, couldn't I enjoy myself for once?
With his stomach full, Charlie ambled toward the Potions Classroom.
In class, Snape was up to his usual tricks, making trouble for Harry and Charlie.
He was always sneaking up behind them and, in his distinctive drawl, pouncing on their smallest mistakes to dock them points.
Today's lesson was on a new potion: Confusing Concoction.
As it happened, Charlie had drawn the perfect recipe for Confusing Concoction in a lottery these past few days. It was even more ingenious than the one in the textbook.
Twenty minutes later, standard silvery-white steam was rising from Charlie's Cauldron, and the potion's surface gleamed with a subtle pearly sheen.
Snape came to Charlie's desk and peered down into his Cauldron.
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, but his face remained expressionless.
Oh, if anyone ever told me Professor Snape had shown a flicker of emotion, I'd kick him hard in the ass and tell him to stop spinning science-fiction stories.
"Hmph. Barely acceptable."
"But you brewed it too quickly. Clearly, you were rushing for quick results. Hufflepuff, one point off."
Charlie was already numb to this sort of thing.
He just wanted to see what Snape would come up with each time, and what excuse he'd find to take off points.
The bell rang, and the students gathered their things with a sense of relief, ready to leave.
Just as Charlie was about to leave the classroom, Fred and George appeared mysteriously in the doorway.
The two raised their eyebrows at Charlie, excitement shining in their eyes.
Charlie immediately understood. The prank gadget was ready.
"How'd it go?" Charlie asked in a low voice.
"All set," Fred said with a mysterious smile.
An empty corridor.
Charlie had noticed that Quirrell passed through this corridor every day, so he'd had the Twins make an Automatic Hook.
They installed it in the corridor. When Quirrell passed by, it would snag his headscarf.
Fred pulled a cleverly crafted mechanical hook from inside his robes.
A thin cord was attached to the tip of the hook, and the whole device gave off a faint magical glow.
"Have you tested it? How well does it work?"
Charlie examined the little contraption with curiosity.
George patted him on the shoulder, looking pleased with himself.
"Don't worry, mate. Just stand back and watch me hook him."
"The principle is simple," Fred explained as he installed the device on the ceiling.
"The sensing spell detects when the target approaches, then releases the hook automatically."
"It locks onto the headscarf with pinpoint accuracy. He won't even have time to react."
Charlie nodded. The brothers really did know their craft.
They cleverly concealed the device behind the ceiling's decorative molding. It was impossible to spot anything unusual.
The three of them hid around the corner of the corridor.
Before long, familiar footsteps sounded in the distance.
Charlie peeked out. It was Professor Quirrell.
He still looked as timid as ever, wrapped tightly in his purple turban and trembling as he walked.
"Here he comes," George said, rubbing his hands excitedly.
"Get ready for a good show," Fred said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
Quirrell walked toward the trap, completely unaware of the danger above his head.
Charlie held his breath, unexpectedly eager to see how many Tyrant Points this would earn.
As Quirrell stepped directly beneath the device, the hook shot down from the ceiling and caught the corner of his purple turban.
"Click!"
The hook jerked upward.
But something unexpected happened.
The turban clung to the back of Quirrell's head as if it had been glued there.
The hook tugged hard, stretching the back of Quirrell's head out of shape like putty.
"AAAAAH!"
A piercing scream rang through the corridor.
It sounded nothing like Quirrell's usual timid voice. Instead, it had a chilling, hoarse quality, like the hiss of a snake.
Charlie almost felt sorry for him.
That thing was pulling so hard it was deforming the man's head.
[His Majesty torments his teacher, ruling with merciless cruelty. Tyrant Points +50]
That many? Surely just pulling off a turban wasn't worth that much.
Now Charlie didn't feel sorry for him anymore. In fact, he was enjoying this a little.
Quirrell quickly reacted, grabbed the hook, and yanked his turban free.
After putting it back on, Quirrell looked around, suddenly far more wary.
His timid expression had vanished, replaced by a cold, guarded one.
He hurried away.
Once they were sure Quirrell was gone, the three emerged from their hiding place.
"Shame," Fred said, looking disappointed.
"We still didn't get to see the back of Professor Quirrell's head."
"That turban was stuck on way too tight," George said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Think he got possessed by a female ghost in Egypt and is hiding her at the back of his head?"
Charlie snorted. "Then that ghost must stink. She'd smell like garlic."
The three retrieved the device, and Fred looked utterly defeated.
George drooped too. "Looks like we'll have to come up with another plan."
Charlie, on the other hand, was in a great mood. The fifty Tyrant Points from the system notification had him grinning from ear to ear.
It felt much better than the little pranks he usually pulled.
"Don't worry. We'll take our time." Charlie patted them both on the shoulders.
The Twins exchanged a look, and he could see their reluctance in each other's eyes.
How could their grand prank scheme be thwarted by a turban?
No way. They'd have to turn things up a notch.
"Come on, I have to go report to Professor McGonagall."
Charlie waved and cheerfully headed toward Professor McGonagall's office.
It was Friday, the day of his detention with Professor McGonagall.
Meanwhile, Quirrell dashed back to his office in a panic and slammed the door shut.
He leaned against it, gasping for breath. His purple turban had slipped slightly out of place.
"My Lord, someone attacked me just now..." Quirrell's voice trembled.
A cold voice came from the back of his head, edged with fury.
"You useless fool! You let students ambush you!"
"It was my failure, my Lord!" Quirrell dropped to his knees with a thump.
"I really didn't expect anyone to..."
"Silence." Voldemort's voice was chillingly cold.
"You're an adult Wizard, yet you let a few students toy with you. I'm so disappointed in you."
A stabbing pain shot through the back of Quirrell's head, as though countless needles were pricking him.
"Ahhh! My Lord, spare me!"
He writhed on the floor in agony, clutching his head with both hands.
"I've already given you a chance, Quirrell." Voldemort's voice was filled with disgust.
"If I didn't still need your body, you'd have died countless times over."
"I was wrong! I was wrong! Please spare your loyal servant, my Lord!" Quirrell sobbed uncontrollably.
"Pray that nothing like this happens again," Voldemort said with a cold snort.
"Otherwise, next time I'll make you wish you were dead."
The pain finally stopped. Quirrell collapsed on the floor, his face smeared with tears and snot.
At that moment, Charlie was organizing books in Professor McGonagall's office.
[His Majesty acts recklessly, causing his teacher to weep bitterly. Tyrant Points +2]
Charlie froze.
What was that?
Who was crying bitterly?
He turned to look at Professor McGonagall.
No, she was grading papers.
[Ding! System notification: His Majesty acts recklessly, causing his teacher to weep bitterly. Tyrant Points +2]
There it was again?
Who was this teacher?
Could it be Quirrell?
Was Professor Quirrell really that sensitive? Had he gone back to his office to cry?
Before you continue