It actually existed!
Charlie stared at the wide double doors made of polished wood, his face lighting up with pleasant surprise.
He couldn't help but wonder if this was a pre-designed template of a room, or if it had been woven into existence tailored precisely to his immediate desires.
Resting both hands against the heavy wood, he gave a gentle push. With a soft, echoing creak, a remarkably spacious room revealed itself.
Directly across from the entrance stood a neat row of wooden training dummies. Along the left and right walls, comfortable tables and chairs were tucked away for resting. Sconces holding magical torches encircled the room. Fascinatingly, even though they appeared to be simple flaming torches, the collective light they bathed the room in rivaled the brightest of modern electric bulbs.
Charlie leaned in closely to inspect one. He couldn't feel a hint of heat radiating from the flames, yet the light was dazzlingly pure.
Was this magical fire? What on earth fueled it?
Then again, since this was the legendary Room of Requirement, the mundane logistics of fuel and ventilation were hardly his problem to worry about.
He crouched down to inspect the floor. Instead of cold, unforgiving stone, he found perfectly laid wooden floorboards. He pressed his hand against them, then stood up and gave a few experimental hops. The familiar, creaky groan of an ancient castle was completely absent. In fact, the floor had a delightful, resilient bounce to it, as if it had been freshly installed that very morning.
This was simply marvelous.
Charlie's eyes sparkled with excitement. However, he didn't rush to draw his wand and start hurling spells just yet. Instead, he turned around and marched right back out into the corridor.
"Keep the layout of the room exactly as it was. I still need to use it to practice charms," he muttered to the empty wall, "but this time, I also need a brass cauldron and a set of brass scales."
He had no actual desire to brew potions. This was merely a little scientific test of the room's limits.
However, after pacing past the blank stretch of wall three times, the Room of Requirement offered absolutely no response. The wall remained a stubbornly solid wall, and the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy still featured him getting clubbed by trolls.
Did it not work? Could it be...
Refusing to be discouraged, Charlie began his pacing once more.
This time, he changed his phrasing. He didn't ask the room to "keep the previous layout."
"I need a spacious, highly secure room filled with enough props to safely practice my spells," he requested clearly. "But also, throw a brass cauldron in there for me."
He felt rather like a diner in a restaurant ordering a classic, hearty beef stew, but abruptly demanding the chef toss a handful of peppermint humbugs on top.
The reason for this bizarre request was simple: he wanted to test if the "chef" of the Room of Requirement was cooking from scratch, or simply serving up pre-packaged, microwave meals from a fixed menu.
After his third pass, Charlie turned his gaze to the wall and let out a long breath of relief. It had worked.
The identical wooden double doors materialized once again. He pushed them open eagerly and stepped inside, greeted by the exact same charming training room he had seen moments ago.
Well, it was the exact same, except for the gleaming brass cauldron now sitting innocently on a desk to the left.
The room truly did cook from scratch. It wasn't just a set of pre-made templates!
He was so thrilled by this discovery that he almost stepped out to test it again, but quickly tapped the side of his own head. He had almost forgotten what he actually came here to do.
Shaking off the distraction, Charlie pulled his textbook from his bag. He flipped past the Fire-Making Spell and settled his gaze entirely on the Softening Charm.
The incantation was Spongify. He carefully studied the text and the accompanying diagram of the required wand movement.
For some reason, Charlie recalled that the Weasley twins eventually invented something called a Portable Swamp, a chaotic device that could turn any solid floor into a muck-filled bog. He wondered if their marvelous invention shared any theoretical roots with this humble charm.
"Similar to the Levitation Charm, the Softening Charm must not be used on living creatures," the textbook warned. "When cast upon 'false life' animated by Transfiguration, the charm may violently conflict with the existing transfiguration magic, leading to highly unpredictable and dangerous consequences. During the practice phase, it is strictly advised to only cast this spell on inanimate objects."
Not for living creatures? Charlie immediately scrapped his fleeting, humorous fantasy of turning an opponent into a puddle of mush.
He looked across the room at his wooden training dummy. Surely, this wouldn't be classified as a living creature. It was a magical training dummy, though he wondered if Hogwarts had installed any peculiar enchantments on it.
Standing up straight, he balanced the open book in his left hand and raised his wand with his right. He began to mentally break down the spell exactly as described on the page.
First the incantation, then the wand motion, and finally, the desire.
According to Professor Flitwick's brilliant lecture, casting the Wand-Lighting Charm required the wizard to place their mind in a space of absolute darkness, drawing out a desperate, primal craving for light.
So, to practice the Softening Charm, what kind of desire was most appropriate to draw upon?
Charlie never considered himself a natural-born magical prodigy. When he practiced Lumos alone, it had taken him quite a bit of time and several wrong turns to finally get it right. Because of this, he respected Professor Flitwick's insights far too much to casually toss them aside.
He knew that drawing out the right emotion, the right memory, and the right desire was a proven method championed by the greatest magical educators.
After a moment of quiet reflection, Charlie cast his mind back.
He must have been six years old, maybe younger. He and his older brother were huddled in a dilapidated, freezing little shack, staring like absolute fools at a half-loaf of bread that had frozen solid as a rock.
Desperate and starving, the two boys had no choice but to throw the rock-hard bread directly onto their meager fire. The tragic result was a loaf that was charred black and smoking on the outside, yet remained stubbornly frozen and hard on the inside.
If there was ever a moment in his life where he truly, desperately wanted something to just soften up, that cold night was it.
Even though there was no ruined bread in front of him now, the complex, melancholic emotions of that memory flooded his chest.
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Following the diagram in the book, he gave his wand a precise, gentle swish and tap.
"Spongify!"
At the tip of his wand, a flicker of magical energy trembled weakly. A moment later, a thin wisp of smoke smelling suspiciously like burning plastic drifted into the air.
A failure.
It was undeniable, but he wasn't upset in the slightest. He paused for ten seconds to review his form, then adjusted his grip and tried again.
"Spongify!"
Time flowed on. Mastering this charm was taking considerably longer than he had anticipated.
Half an hour later, he leveled his wand at the stoic wooden dummy once more. "Spongify!"
Before his eyes, the wooden dummy's stiff shoulders seemed to slump just a fraction of an inch.
Charlie walked over and pressed his index finger firmly against the dummy's chest. Under his pressure, the wood yielded, indenting slightly. The texture had transformed; it now felt remarkably like a thick block of rubber.
While it wasn't exactly a squishy puddle, he counted this as a resounding success.
Instead of rushing to cast it again, he closed his eyes and rapidly reviewed every microscopic detail of that successful attempt: the exact twitch of his wrist, the precise rise and fall of his syllables.
A full minute passed before he raised his arm again. "Spongify!"
A subtle, barely visible flash of light struck the dummy. Under Charlie's watchful gaze, both of the dummy's wooden arms drooped downward by nearly two inches.
Reaching out, Charlie lifted one of the wooden hands. The arm flopped limply over his palm. Though it weighed the same as solid wood, it handled like a giant piece of licorice.
This tangible progress made him beam with pride. Capitalizing on the momentum, he began to cast the spell over and over in rapid succession.
He reached his fifth consecutive cast, just preparing to swish his wand again, when...
BANG!
An explosive noise shattered the quiet of the room, startled his hand into a violent jerk, and sent a fresh puff of foul smoke sputtering from his wand.
He whipped his head toward the source of the noise: the wooden dummy.
Just seconds ago, under Charlie's relentless spellcasting, the dummy's arms had become so soft and stretched they were nearly brushing the floorboards. But now, the dummy had snapped instantly back to its original, rigid posture.
The loud noise had been the sound of its magically elastic body violently snapping back into place, breaking the sound barrier in miniature.
"Well, look at that," Charlie murmured, thoroughly impressed.
He had to marvel once again at the wonders of the Room of Requirement and the sheer, deep-pocketed wealth of Hogwarts. It truly was a thousand-year-old fortress of magic. He had no idea how much a self-repairing training dummy like this cost, but he was certain it wasn't a cheap bargain-bin item.
Now that he thought about it, there were similar dummies tucked in the corners of Professor Flitwick's classroom. They were probably enchanted the exact same way.
Taking a well-deserved break, Charlie pulled a piece of Moonlight Chocolate from his pocket and popped it into his mouth.
As the sweet, enchanting flavor melted on his tongue, he thought back to Professor Flitwick's morning explanation of magical energy. If magic was essentially the physical stamina required for magical activities, then this Moonlight Chocolate was basically a magical energy drink.
He briefly entertained a cheeky thought: should he offer a piece to Dumbledore for a taste test? And perhaps subtly ask for a Galleon in return?
Generous billionaires were hard to come by, after all.
During his break, Charlie didn't just sit idle. He left his textbook on the desk inside the room and stepped back out into the corridor.
"I need a room equipped for brewing potions and manufacturing magical sweets," he thought, pacing the wall.
Three passes later, the Room of Requirement remained entirely dormant.
Just as he suspected.
Much like nobody walked into an authentic Italian pizzeria and demanded a towering wedding cake, asking a magical room in a wizarding school for an industrial candy-manufacturing facility was pushing the limits of reality.
However...
A new, brilliant idea was slowly taking root in Charlie's mind. Of course, he would need to conduct far more research on the Room of Requirement to pull it off.
Fully rested, he requested the charms practice room once more and stepped back inside. His textbook was still sitting exactly where he had left it on the desk.
That was a very good sign.
Refocusing his attention on his spellwork, he faced the dummy and began the rhythmic dance of wand movements once again.
Time slipped away quietly. By the time he had consumed his third piece of Moonlight Chocolate, Charlie sat back down in his chair.
[Specializable Target: Softening Charm]
Finally.
Without a second of hesitation, Charlie selected the specialization.
Instantly, his reserve of Wish Dust began to deplete rapidly. In the blink of an eye, five points of dust vanished.
Simultaneously, a brand new skill illuminated the next row of his system interface.
[Trait: Natural Harvest, Softening Charm]
The benefits of Natural Foraging needed no explanation; it was the very foundation of his survival. As for the Softening Charm...
[Softening Charm: You may cast the Softening Charm upon your own body.]
Wait, what?
For some inexplicable reason, a vivid image of a blue cartoon cat with a white belly, getting flattened by various anvils and popping back into shape, flashed through Charlie's mind.
It seemed that, much like his Natural Harvest ability, he could now execute a basic version of this spell without relying on a wand or an incantation.
Soften! he commanded in his mind, directing the magic toward his right hand.
He looked down. His right hand hadn't changed appearance in the slightest.
Curious, he picked up his heavy textbook and slowly pressed the thick spine down onto his palm. Very quickly, as he applied more and more pressure, a deep, comical dent formed right in the center of his hand, yielding perfectly to the weight without a single spark of pain.
"I really have turned into a cartoon character," Charlie chuckled helplessly.
Looking at it this way, he now possessed an innate defense against a massive variety of common physical injuries. It was a rather fantastic defensive skill to have in his back pocket. In a place as delightfully dangerous as Hogwarts, having an ability like this was deeply reassuring.
Having thoroughly tested his new limits, he finally exited the Room of Requirement for the day.
Strolling down the corridor, he paused by a window to look out at the darkening sky and sighed.
A proper gentleman ought to carry a pocket watch. It was a terrible shame he was just a penniless boy.
He quickened his pace toward the Great Hall, pleased to find that the dinner hour hadn't completely passed him by.
The Gryffindor table was near the entrance. The moment Charlie walked over, he ran right into a few familiar faces.
"Charlie, how was your first day of classes?" Hermione called out, waving him over. "Neville and I were trying to find you earlier, but you completely vanished."
As she spoke, a sandy-haired boy sitting a short distance away was violently jabbing his wand at a helpless toothpick on the table. He was putting a terrifying amount of force into it, practically whipping the air.
"Lumos!" he shouted.
"Lumos!" he yelled even louder.
The very next second, a sharp CRACK echoed through the hall.
It sounded exactly like a firecracker going off. A blinding flash of light and a sudden, miniature explosion erupted from the toothpick, startling nearly everyone sitting within a ten-foot radius.
"Um, who is our enthusiastic friend here?" Charlie asked, glancing at Hermione.
"That's Seamus," Neville offered in a quiet, slightly shaken voice. "Seamus Finnigan. He's one of my roommates."
"Ah, I see," Charlie nodded sagely. "Perhaps you might want to gently remind him to prioritize his eyebrows."
Hearing this, Hermione took a deep, self-righteous breath.
"Honestly, the school rules have stressed time and time again that we are not to wave our wands about recklessly outside of class. Do you care at all about the safety of the people around you?" she lectured loudly.
Charlie listened to Hermione's tirade, opened his mouth, closed it, and simply exchanged a weary look with Neville.
Zero tact, starting straight out of the gate with the school rulebook. Classic Hermione.
"And who are you exactly?" Seamus asked, glaring at Hermione before noticing Neville sitting beside her. "Neville, who is this?"
I'm just going to leave now, please lose my owl address, Charlie thought to himself.
"That's Granger," a grumpy voice answered Seamus before Neville could.
It was Ron Weasley. Charlie subconsciously rubbed his nose, recalling how this very girl had barged into their train compartment just the day before. Frankly, Ron had absolutely no positive feelings toward Hermione; he clearly viewed her as an insufferable know-it-all.
"Never heard of her," Seamus snapped back irritably. "And what business is it of yours, anyway?"
"You violated a school rule, and you could have seriously injured someone!" Hermione retorted, planting both hands firmly on her hips.
At exactly the same moment, the two bickering Gryffindors turned their heated glares directly onto poor Neville, as if expecting him to pick a side.
Watching this unfold, Charlie found the entire situation both exasperating and highly amusing.
"I must say, Hermione," Charlie sighed, stepping smoothly into the line of fire. "You truly are a master of the delicate art of conversation."
"Whatever do you mean by that?" she asked, blinking in confusion.
"I'll let you figure that one out for yourself," Charlie laughed, shrugging his shoulders. He had no intention of playing the role of life coach today.
He turned his attention to the sandy-haired boy. "Apologies, mate. I'm the one who suggested they remind you to play it safe."
Seamus looked wary, but Charlie kept his tone light and friendly. "Just be careful not to blow off your own fingers. As for the spellwork, it's only our first day. It's completely normal for things not to work right away. Don't stress over it. I was waving my wand around exactly like that this afternoon, and I made an absolute mess of things."
Seeing Charlie's relaxed smile and hearing his gentle, empathetic tone, the irritation bubbling in Seamus's chest mostly evaporated.
He let out a long puff of air. "Yeah, alright. I suppose you're right. Thanks for the heads up."
"Anytime," Charlie replied, tapping two fingers to his forehead in a cheeky, mock salute.
Seamus grinned and returned a wildly exaggerated military salute of his own.
"By the way, you're a lot easier to listen to than some people," Seamus added, throwing a pointed look over Charlie's shoulder.
"You still shouldn't have been—" Hermione started up again.
"Okay, let's hit pause right there," Charlie said, smiling brightly as he smoothly cut off whatever lecture was about to follow.
He turned to Neville, expertly derailing the conversation. "So, did you lot have Charms today as well?"
"Yeah, we didn't have any morning classes, so we got to sleep in," Neville nodded, looking incredibly grateful for the change in subject. "We had Charms in the afternoon."
"What about you?"
"Charms as well, but we had ours first thing this morning," Charlie confirmed.
He cast his mind back to Professor Flitwick's introductory lesson. The three fundamental pillars of casting magic, and the absolute, foundational basics of the Wand-Lighting Charm.
It seemed scheduling Charms for everyone on Monday was the school's way of giving the first-years their grand 'magical awakening'.
It made perfect sense, really. After all, Professor Flitwick's lectures were wonderfully accessible, and the study of Charms inherently overlapped with the fundamental theories of Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts.