Of course, that was exactly what Charlie had been thinking. For now, his schedule was completely taken over by water guns and fireballs.
He went straight back to the club and threw himself into spell practice without wasting a second.
Whenever he got tired, he took a teaspoon of pure moonlight essence and used the breaks to review what he had learned.
The days slipped by like that. Time was getting tight, and Charlie sometimes had to leave early and come back late.
He didn't even notice how much he was starting to look like those sleep-deprived, overworked older Ravenclaws.
The last class in January was Herbology. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor first-years gathered in the greenhouse around a shrub that stood as tall as a person.
The plant was thick with leaves and branches. It had clearly been well protected inside the greenhouse and hadn't felt winter at all.
Professor Sprout stood in the middle of the group and clapped her hands. "Does anyone know what kind of shrub this is?"
A small hand shot up immediately.
Professor Sprout looked around, waited to make sure no one else was raising their hand, then pointed at the eager witch. "Miss Granger."
"It's an Alihoty shrub. The leaves cause uncontrollable laughter, which makes them one of the main ingredients in Cheerfulness Potions."
"Excellent answer. Gryffindor gets a point," Professor Sprout said with a nod.
"I heard years ago that someone ate a ton of Alihoty leaves and laughed himself to death," Anthony muttered.
Hector looked skeptical. "That can't be right."
Charlie nodded. "Laughed to death? That sounds awful. Isn't the antidote just Sadworm secretions? How could they not find it in time?"
Sadworms fed on Alihoty shrubs the same way silkworms fed on mulberry trees. They were always found together.
As he spoke, Charlie reached out and flipped one of the leaves. A wriggling purple Sadworm clung to the underside.
Sadworms weren't considered pests, so Professor Sprout hadn't removed them. She just kept their numbers under control.
"Secretions," Anthony corrected, looking pained. "Not shit. Don't make it sound disgusting."
Charlie smiled. "You know, in the Muggle world, cockroaches can be used as medicine?"
Anthony froze, clearly trying to process that. A second later his face twisted in horror.
After class, the group pushed open the greenhouse doors. A girl appeared out of nowhere and bumped straight into Charlie's shoulder.
"Ah! Wonka, I'm so sorry!" she blurted.
Charlie looked down. It was a Hufflepuff first-year. He was surprised she knew his name. He ran through his memory quickly. Damn. He still couldn't place her.
"No problem," he said, rubbing his shoulder and stepping aside to let her through.
"Wasn't the next class supposed to be Hufflepuff's?" Anthony asked, watching her go.
"Who knows? Was she carrying a flowerpot?"
"Hey, Ron, you up for chess later?" Hector had wandered over to Ron.
"Sure," Ron said.
"Harry, you look wiped," Anthony called.
"Don't even start," Harry groaned. "Wood's completely lost it. Did you hear Snape's refereeing the next Quidditch match?"
"Of course. What does that have to do with Wood?"
"Wood says Snape's going to do everything he can to hand Slytherin points. So we have to play even better if we want to beat them."
Anthony and Charlie exchanged a look, then both nodded. "He's not wrong. That's exactly what Snape would do."
Harry let out a long breath, shoulders slumping. "Yeah, I know. It's just exhausting. They're even squeezing in extra practice tonight."
"So when are we playing? Should I grab the board?"
"I've got one right here," Hector said, patting his side. "Let's go to the Great Hall."
"You just carry it around?" Ron's eyes widened.
"Always," Hector nodded.
Hector's pouch held books, quills, parchment, and a full Wizard's Chess set. He liked being able to play anytime, anywhere.
Ron grinned. "Great Hall it is. Harry's got Quidditch soon anyway. What else is he gonna do? Study with Hermione? Has he lost his mind?"
The group kept moving upstairs. Charlie and Hermione fell into conversation about their recent studies.
More accurately, Hermione did most of the talking while Charlie listened, occasionally adding a thought.
A lot of what Charlie had learned came from practice. His balancing-ball theory, spell sense, all of it was direct and practical. When he explained those ideas, they stayed simple, so he mostly listened to Hermione.
He didn't have nearly as much to say as she did. Her knowledge came from books and her own thinking, and she always managed to spark something new.
Charlie genuinely enjoyed listening. It was the best kind of mental boost he could get.
"Hey, Sally Ann, what were you talking to Professor Sprout about just now?"
At Anthony's question, Charlie glanced back. It was the girl who had bumped into him.
He finally remembered her name. Sally Ann Pokes.
She had her hair in a ponytail and was carrying a flowerpot with a brownish plant inside.
She looked miserable. She took a couple steps up the slope before answering quietly. "I asked if she could save my plant."
Charlie looked at the pot again. That wasn't a brown plant. That was a dying one.
"What did she say?"
Sally Ann shook her head.
So it was beyond saving.
"I feel awful," she said, voice cracking. "I left it in the dorm over Christmas. No one was there. It was stuffy and hot with no sunlight. By the time I got back, it was already wilting. Then I tried to fix it with dragon dung fertilizer and made it worse. I'm so stupid. I should've just left it in the greenhouse. But I had to be clever and keep it in the common room without enough sun."
"Come on, don't beat yourself up," Anthony said gently.
"How can I not? I killed it," she said, getting more upset.
"Alright, alright. How about you give it to me? I'll keep it in the Ravenclaw common room. It gets plenty of sunlight there."
"But—" She looked down at the sad little plant, then nodded and handed the pot over. "Thank you."
Anthony took it and waved. "No problem."
As Sally Ann walked away, Charlie raised an eyebrow at Anthony. "Smooth."
"Why does that sound weird?"
"It's a compliment," Charlie said, shaking his head.
Someone who was genuinely good with people had to actually care how others felt. It wasn't just about being outgoing.
An outgoing but self-centered person usually just annoyed everyone and came off loud and fake.
Anthony was different.
"I'll take that as a compliment then," Anthony said, hefting the flowerpot.
"So what are you actually gonna do with it? Throw it out for her?"
Yeah, he had offered to "take care of it," but if even Professor Sprout had given up, the only real option was to get rid of it for her. She clearly couldn't bring herself to do it.
"I'll just leave it in the dorm," Anthony shrugged.
Charlie nodded.
Back inside the castle, Hector and Ron headed for the Great Hall to play chess, and Anthony went with them. Charlie said goodbye to Hermione and headed upstairs. He still had spells to practice.
He made his way up to the fifth floor.
"Locomotor Wibbly!"
The next second there was a thud.
Charlie glanced down the side corridor and raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Neville was on the floor, grimacing. Standing over him were Draco Malfoy and his two goons.
Malfoy looked pleased with himself. He twirled his wand and turned to Crabbe and Goyle with a smug grin. "See? I told you that spell was easy." He started walking past Neville, who was still writhing.
"Oh? My friend, what are you doing here?" Charlie called, raising a hand as he and Malfoy crossed paths.
Malfoy immediately frowned. "We're not friends."
"You're still as charming as ever, Malfoy," Charlie said with an easy smile.
Malfoy shoved past him, deliberately bumping his shoulder. "You'd better remember your place—"
"Malfoy, I think you're forgetting something," Charlie interrupted calmly.
Malfoy turned back. Charlie stood there relaxed, still smiling. Behind him, Neville was struggling to get up. "I didn't say you could leave."
"What are you—"
Before Malfoy could finish, Charlie didn't even listen. He turned to Neville instead. With a casual flick, his wand appeared and he smoothly canceled the Leg-Locker Curse. "Neville, don't you have something to say?"
"Th—thank you," Neville said, eyes red.
Charlie gave him a small, tired smile. "I'm not always going to be around. You can't just thank me every time something happens.
What if I hadn't been here? Were you planning to hop all the way back to the common room after they left?"
Neville's face crumpled. "You don't have to tell me I'm too cowardly for Gryffindor. Malfoy already said that—"
"Because he's a coward himself. That's all he can see in you — fear and running away."
Malfoy finally snapped. "Hey, who do you think you're—"
"Petrificus Totalus—"
Charlie's wand came up without warning. In one smooth motion, three Body-Bind Curses hit Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.
"I didn't say you could talk," Charlie said, and with another flick his wand disappeared back up his sleeve.
"Neville, look at this." Charlie rested a hand on Neville's shoulder and gently turned him toward a painting on the wall.
It showed a shepherdess with a staff, herding sheep on a hillside.
"What do you see?"
Neville looked confused, but Charlie's voice was calm and steady, almost hypnotic.
Looking at the painting, Neville thought for a moment. "Um… a pretty shepherdess? The sun… and the rocks on the hill?"
"Exactly," Charlie said with a nod.
Neville was surprised. He'd expected to be corrected or scolded.
"But you know what I see?" Charlie continued, tone light but guiding. "I see the light and shadow. I see all the structural problems in the composition. Clearly, the artist painted this from imagination — otherwise there wouldn't be so many issues with perspective and space."
??
Neville was even more lost.
"Do you know why I can see those things and you can't?"
Neville obviously didn't.
"Because I understand painting techniques. I know how important light, shadow, and composition are. So I notice the flaws. You don't paint, so you only see what's on the surface. You miss the details underneath.
It's the same with people.
Draco Malfoy is a coward. Of course he only sees cowardice in you."
Neville dropped his head.
"What you see in other people isn't really them.
It's you."
Just like how when I talk to—
Neville's head snapped up. Dumbledore?
Charlie caught himself and quickly corrected.
"Just like something an old man once told me — let the flower be a flower, let the tree be a tree.
Neville, we're friends. I'll always help you when you need it. That's what friends do.
But that doesn't mean I'm going to be there every single second."
As he spoke, Charlie pulled out a small round chocolate.
"If you can see courage in someone else, that means you have it too.
You have it. You recognize it. That's why you can see it."
Neville stared at the little chocolate in Charlie's hand. "What is it?"
"I don't think that little scuffle with Malfoy counted as a real duel. If you agree, eat this."
Charlie flicked his wand again and released the three Slytherins from the Body-Bind Curse.
Since Charlie had been facing away from them, they hadn't seen him give Neville the chocolate.
But they'd heard every word.
Malfoy immediately started shouting.
Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw Neville pop the chocolate into his mouth.
"I stopped you for a reason," Charlie said, looping an arm around Neville's shoulders. "Neville says that last round didn't count. He wants a rematch."
The corner of Charlie's mouth curved up.
"With you."