Me? Beat Charlie?

"Grip my arm," Professor Flitwick reminded.

Charlie had just grabbed hold when that sickening sensation of being squeezed through a pipe hit him again.

This time was a bit better—probably because he was mentally prepared.

Back at The Leaky Cauldron, Professor Flitwick didn't rush off to Hogwarts. Instead, he ordered two drinks at the bar.

Underage wizards weren't allowed alcohol, so Professor Flitwick joined Charlie with a soft drink.

"Charlie, about Griphook... he's not a bad person, really..." Professor Flitwick trailed off.

Charlie waved a hand.

"Professor, you don't need to explain anything."

"Everyone has their own troubles. I understand." Charlie took a sip of his drink—warm and comforting.

"But that doesn't mean I'll tolerate him insulting you."

Professor Flitwick's eyes reddened slightly.

"Thank you, Charlie."

"He really is my friend." Professor Flitwick sighed.

"But after I became a professor at Hogwarts, he grew very displeased with me."

"Actually, there are many goblins like Griphook." Professor Flitwick's voice grew heavy.

"They're oppressed by wizards, but they lack the strength to fight back, so they just keep their distance."

"And a small number of goblins choose to retaliate, hunting wizards as their goal."

Professor Flitwick suddenly turned, looking at Charlie seriously.

"Remember, Mr. White, if you ever encounter a goblin like that, run as far and as fast as you can."

Charlie nodded, not arguing.

"Professor, you're really popular among the students," Charlie said earnestly. "Everyone respects you."

Professor Flitwick's eyes grew moist, and he dabbed at the corner of his eye with his sleeve.

"Well then, Charlie, can you stop sleeping in Charms Class?"

Charlie's smile froze instantly.

"Goodbye, Professor!"

He bolted, leaving Professor Flitwick standing there, torn between laughter and tears.

Time flew by, and before they knew it, it was November.

That morning, Charlie gazed out the window at the drifting snowflakes and sighed.

"Thus time passes, never ceasing day or night."

Ernie beside him looked utterly baffled.

"What the hell? Someone died like your husband? Looks the same day and night?" Ernie's eyes went wide.

"Where's a dead guy? You have a husband?"

Charlie couldn't be bothered with him.

Ignorance was terrifying.

Ernie wanted to ask more, but was cut off by the commotion at the neighboring Gryffindor table.

Malfoy was up to his tricks again.

Neville had a poor memory, and whenever he forgot something, his Memory Charm would glow red to remind him.

Malfoy, of course, wouldn't miss a chance to mock someone, so he snatched the Memory Charm while Crabbe and Goyle blocked Neville.

"Longbottom, I think you should just ditch this thing," Malfoy said, holding the Memory Charm high, his face twisted with malice.

"After all, you'll just forget what it was reminding you about anyway."

Neville wanted to get angry, but realized Malfoy wasn't exactly wrong.

So he flushed red and stammered:

"I'm already dumb, can you guys just stop messing with me?"

The surrounding Slytherin students burst into laughter.

Crabbe and Goyle pounded the table, howling with laughter.

Neville's eyes reddened, but he didn't dare fight back, just hung his head and endured the mockery.

That's when Harry stood up.

"Malfoy, aren't you bored? Always snatching Neville's Memory Charm."

"Give the ball back to Neville."

Harry's voice was calm, but his eyes blazed with fury.

He couldn't stand anyone bullying his friend.

Malfoy sneered, holding the Memory Charm even higher.

"The Savior wants to show off again?"

Malice gleamed in his silver-gray eyes.

"Let's see what you do without a broom this time, Potter."

He'd snatched Neville's Memory Charm before, during flying class.

Harry had stood up for Neville then, riding a broom to get it back.

Back then, Harry was on a broom, and his skill had genuinely rattled Malfoy.

Word had it that Harry even made the Quidditch team because of it—he'd be playing in the match in a few days.

That drove Malfoy mad with envy.

Harry's eyes burned with anger.

Ron couldn't stand it either and spoke up for Neville.

"Malfoy, is it fun for you to keep picking on Neville like this every time?"

"Give it back to him."

Malfoy let out a scornful laugh.

"What if I don't? What are you gonna do about it?"

"With how pathetic he is, he dares call himself a Wizard? I'm worried he won't learn a single spell all term."

"Hahaha..."

Those words hit Neville hard, making him hang his head in shame. Sometimes he even wondered if he really was a Wizard.

The two sides were at each other's throats, with Gryffindor and Slytherin students crowding around.

Just then, Charlie walked over.

He had half a slice of bread in his hand, chewing as he asked.

"Malfoy, your skin itching again?"

Malfoy's face changed the moment he saw Charlie.

He was genuinely a bit scared of Charlie—he'd been chewed out on the Hogwarts Express before, and they couldn't beat him either.

Plus, this guy even dared to curse out their head of house, Snape.

But his cronies were watching; he couldn't back down.

"What business is it of you Hufflepuffs?"

Malfoy forced himself to say.

Charlie smiled. Malfoy reminded him of the bullies from his past life.

Bullies were always like that—they never thought their actions were wrong, but when the bullying landed on them, they couldn't take it.

Charlie had been bullied too, but he chose to fight back. After that, no one ever messed with him again.

That made Charlie despise bullies with a passion.

He pointed his bread at Malfoy.

"You bully Neville because you feel like it. I want to bully you because I feel like it."

"Got a problem? Step out and fight me one-on-one."

Malfoy's face was a mess of colors, cycling through green and white.

He wanted to go off on Charlie but didn't dare—this guy had even taken down a troll.

Then Goyle spoke up.

"Boss, he wants to fight you one-on-one. Who does he think he is?"

"Take him on, show him what's what."

Malfoy: "???"

Bro, are you serious? You want me to go at it with my Wand against him?

Can I even beat him? He's taken down a troll. You're a real hothead, man.

That left Malfoy completely stuck.

But Goyle didn't care, raising his Wand to cast a spell.

Malfoy's heart sank.

"Expelliarmus!"

Charlie reacted with astonishing speed; a red beam of light sent Goyle flying in an instant.

The Wand arced through the air and landed steadily in Charlie's hand.

Goyle let out a scream as his whole body was blasted backward, crashing into and overturning several chairs.

Malfoy flinched, his pride forgotten.

"You can't touch me—my father is—"

Before he could finish, Charlie shoved Goyle's Wand down Malfoy's throat.

"Ugh!"

Malfoy instantly gagged, his face turning purple.

[Your Majesty bullies a study companion, arrogant and overbearing, Tyrant Points +2]

Charlie pulled his hand back with a look of disgust.

"Get lost. Seeing you two kills my appetite."

Malfoy clutched his throat, tears streaming.

"Just you wait, Harry—I'll curse you off your broom at the Quidditch match!"

The coward didn't even dare to throw threats at Charlie, so he took it out on Harry instead.

Charlie swept his gaze over him, the icy look making Malfoy shudder.

"Run, run!"

Malfoy grabbed Crabbe and bolted, not even bothering with Goyle.

Goyle scrambled up from the floor, bruised and battered, and scurried after them.