"Do you suppose we were a bit too chatty?" Hector asked, looking doubtfully at his two companions.
"Nonsense," Anthony declared, already turning to march back up the grassy slope toward the castle. "We hardly said a word."
Inside the warm, humid sanctuary of the greenhouse, Professor Sprout firmly pushed the heavy glass door shut. She reached up to wipe a bead of imaginary sweat from her brow, let out a very long, very deep sigh, and muttered to a nearby fern, "Ravenclaws."
They certainly knew how to ask a staggering number of questions.
After a brief rest in their common room, the three boys gathered their textbooks and navigated their way back down to the greenhouses.
For the first half of the lesson, Professor Sprout did not utter a single word about magical flora. Instead, she spent a solid ten minutes weaving a cautionary tale of greenhouse rules. She strictly forbade wand-waving, throwing dragon dung fertilizer at classmates, and plucking leaves without explicit permission. Most importantly, she commanded them never to put anything in their mouths.
"And that includes the fertilizer, you hear me?" Professor Sprout emphasized, her eyes sweeping over the first-years.
Who in their right mind would taste the fertilizer? Charlie wondered, finding the rules remarkably basic. Yet, when he considered that every absurd rule usually existed because someone had once attempted the very thing being forbidden, her warnings suddenly felt terrifyingly necessary. The magical world was certainly never short on eccentrics.
Furthermore, the upbringing of these children was wildly inconsistent. Muggle-borns might possess standard common sense, but the wizarding children were a different story entirely. Based on his observations over the past two days, the general worldly knowledge of children raised in magical households was lacking. It seemed the vast majority of wizarding families abhorred the idea of formal primary education, preferring to let their children run wild like gnomes in a garden until they turned eleven.
Once the dire warnings concluded, Professor Sprout moved on to basic horticulture. She taught them how to properly turn the soil, apply nutrients, and execute simple planting techniques. Starting from the absolute basics consumed a fair bit of time, but it ensured every student was properly equipped to handle the magical plants in future lessons.
Only in the latter half of the period did the true Herbology lesson begin.
The professor distributed small, fleshy fragments of Leaping Toadstool caps to each student. She instructed them to bury the pieces exactly two inches deep in the rich soil.
Anthony paused, giving Charlie a deeply disturbed look. "I cannot fathom how your brain conjured the phrase 'dismembered fungal corpses' to describe chopped mushrooms."
Charlie merely offered a serene smile. "Please, there is no need to praise my descriptive brilliance." He happily returned to patting the dirt down with his little iron trowel.
Once the planting was done, they watered their pots. Each young wizard then filled out a small parchment label with their name, stuck it into the soil, and carefully placed their pot on the high wooden shelves lining the greenhouse walls. With that, the lesson concluded.
"What a delightfully relaxing class," Anthony said, stretching his arms above his head as they stepped back out into the crisp autumn air. "I feel like retreating to my bed for a grand afternoon nap."
"I am a bit tired myself," Hector agreed. "But if we sleep now, we will never fall asleep tonight. How about a game of chess instead?"
"I have never actually played Wizard's Chess," Charlie admitted.
"Oh, it is brilliant," Anthony nodded enthusiastically. "I will teach you. But be warned, I will not show any mercy. I happen to be a bit of a wizarding chess master."
"That sounds wonderful," Hector said mildly. "My mundane chess skills are rather decent. I was meant to play in the English Primary Schools Chess Association tournament this year."
"The what now?" Anthony blinked, utterly lost.
"It is a Muggle chess league," Charlie supplied smoothly. "They host annual tournaments for different age groups. I read about it in an old newspaper."
Newspapers were, after all, his primary source of worldly knowledge before Hogwarts. They were free and readily available if one knew where to look.
"You really played in tournaments?" Anthony asked, staring at Hector with newfound respect.
"Yes," Hector nodded. "I was scheduled to compete in the under-eleven category this summer. Then my Hogwarts letter arrived, and I decided this place sounded far more interesting than moving wooden knights around a board."
"Then let us hurry!" Anthony beamed. "Chess combined with actual magic is double the fun. You will absolutely love it. Just, perhaps, take it easy on me."
The two chess enthusiasts turned their attention to Charlie. "What about you, Charlie? Are you heading back?"
Before Charlie could answer, a voice called out from behind them. "Charlie!"
He turned to see Hermione Granger hurrying up the grassy slope from the greenhouses.
"Did you need something, Hermione?" Charlie asked politely.
"Oh, I was just terribly curious about your conversation with Professor McGonagall earlier," she said, catching her breath. "I wanted to ask you during class, but I was entirely focused on trying to turn that matchstick into a needle. Which, by the way, is incredibly impressive that you managed it before term even started. I tried for weeks at home and could not quite grasp it. I only managed a tiny bit of silver today after the professor's lecture."
"It was mostly luck," Charlie waved off the compliment with a modest smile. "Professor McGonagall and I were merely discussing different methodologies of spellcasting. I would be happy to share what I learned if you are interested."
"Truly? That would be wonderful!" Hermione's face lit up with radiant joy. "I have been puzzling over it all afternoon."
"It is no trouble at all. Let us head up to the Great Hall," Charlie suggested. The breezy lawn was hardly the place for an academic lecture.
Hermione's thirst for knowledge was a force of nature, easily rivaling any Ravenclaw. By the time Charlie finished detailing his conversation with the Transfiguration professor and his own subsequent theories, dinner was already being served. The little witch hastily gobbled down a small plate of food before practically sprinting out of the Hall. She was absolutely desperate to reach the library on the fifth floor to hunt down Issue 108 of Transfiguration Today.
Watching Hermione vanish through the oak doors, Charlie finally turned his attention to his own meal. He had just smoothed out a perfect, snowy mountain of mashed potatoes when Anthony and Hector arrived at the Ravenclaw table.
Anthony practically collapsed onto the bench, his face alight with the sheer need to share gossip. "It is entirely unbelievable!"
Charlie paused with his spoon in the air.
"He is terrifying," Anthony announced, pointing a trembling finger at Hector. "I played him three times, and he completely obliterated my pieces in minutes. Then Roger Davies wandered over for a match. Hector sent him packing just as fast. Right before we came down for dinner, Roger declared he was going to hunt down the best chess player in Ravenclaw tower for a proper duel tonight."
"It was merely a string of good luck," Hector murmured. He looked down at his empty plate, clearly unaccustomed to such glowing praise.
"Oh, drop the modesty, mate. You are a certified genius," Anthony clapped him on the shoulder, and the two boys eagerly began filling their plates.
Throughout the meal, Anthony could talk of nothing but the impending nighttime tournament. Hector's eyes sparkled with a quiet, competitive thrill.
The three boys finished their dinner quickly. After letting their food settle for a moment, they began the arduous trek up to the Ravenclaw common room.
It truly was a climb. The magical architecture did not follow sensible building codes, meaning every floor boasted ceilings high enough to comfortably accommodate a resting dragon.
"Why could we not have traded common rooms with the Hufflepuffs?" Anthony wheezed as they tackled the final spiral staircase.
"If magic can create moving staircases, someone really ought to invent a magical elevator for this wretched tower," Charlie agreed, panting softly.
Charlie was not physically exhausted in the traditional sense. Years of surviving by his wits had given him a lean, resilient frame. But all his past physical exertion had been strictly for survival. Now that he had a warm bed and guaranteed meals, he would much rather spend his time resting comfortably.
Upon reaching the safety of their dormitory, Charlie immediately unlatched his small, worn leather trunk. He had plenty of time tonight to work on his true passion.
"What is all this?" Anthony and Hector clustered around, peering curiously into the trunk.
Inside rested an assortment of peculiar glass jars, silver stirring spoons, and neat iron molds.
Charlie pondered his explanation for a moment. "These are the tools of my trade," he said smoothly.
He reached into a hidden compartment, retrieved two pieces of golden-wrapped chocolate, and handed them to his friends. "Try these. I call them Sunshine Chocolates."
The moment the chocolate touched their tongues, it melted into a pool of warm sweetness. The infused sunlight rushed down their throats, radiating through their limbs like a cozy summer afternoon. In an instant, the burning ache in their legs from climbing the tower vanished. They felt completely refreshed, brimming with boundless energy.
"Charlie, what on earth did you put in this?" Anthony asked, his eyes wide. "I feel incredibly warm."
Charlie chuckled. "It is the sensation of basking in pure sunlight. I am quite proud of it."
"Do you sell these?" Hector asked, examining the empty golden wrapper. "How much do they cost?"
"It depends on the customer," Charlie replied, organizing his glass jars on his desk. "If a kid has empty pockets, I might just give them one for the joy of it. But for a proper sale, they are naturally a bit pricier than your standard Honeydukes fare."
"It is brilliant," Anthony nodded in deep satisfaction. "Do you have any other flavors?"
"A master confectioner never stops at just one creation," Charlie grinned. He produced two silver-wrapped sweets. "You just had the Sunshine. Now try the Moonlight Chocolate. While the sun restores the body, the moon soothes and elevates the mind."
"Does it restore magical energy?" Hector asked, looking sharply at Charlie.
"According to Professor Flitwick's explanation of magical cores, yes, it should," Charlie confirmed.
"No wonder you were grilling him with questions yesterday," Anthony realized, reaching out eagerly. "May I?"
Charlie handed over the silver sweets.
As his friends savored the Moonlight Chocolate, the expressions of pure bliss on their faces deepened. More importantly, Charlie felt a quiet surge of magical energy flow into his own reserves. Their genuine delight was fueling his unique magical system. The second tasting provided a much purer, stronger reaction than the first.
Hector looked at the strange collection of bottles in the trunk. He hesitated before asking, "Charlie, how exactly do you make these?"
"It is a natural knack," Charlie explained simply.
"A knack?" Hector repeated, the term unfamiliar in this context.
"Truly?" Anthony asked, looking genuinely startled.
Charlie nodded confidently.
"What does that mean?" Hector looked between the two of them.
"It is a type of natural, wandless magic," Anthony explained to his friend. "You know about accidental magic, right? Like when you get angry or scared and things just happen."
"Of course," Hector nodded. "Once, when I was losing a chess match, I accidentally shattered the entire board into splinters."
"Exactly," Charlie chimed in. "Most of us experience chaotic, unpredictable magic when we are young. But I read that a very small number of wizards never really grow out of it. Instead, they learn to control that innate magic."
"Like my distant uncle," Anthony added. "He could make himself float around the living room without a wand when he was little. And I heard about a witch who could speak perfectly with woodland creatures. Those specific, highly controlled talents are called knacks."
Hector looked amazed. "I thought everyone just exploded things until they got a wand."
"For most of us, that is the sad truth," Anthony sighed.
"My particular knack," Charlie said, gesturing to his ingredients, "is confectionary magic. I can infuse very abstract, peculiar concepts straight into sugar."
It was a vague explanation, but it fit perfectly within the boundaries of magical theory. Hector and Anthony nodded in perfect acceptance, completely satisfied with the answer.
"So, what is in the other jars?" Anthony asked, pointing into the trunk. "You said the gold is sun and the silver is moon. What is that deep, sparking purple one?"
Charlie lifted the small, thick glass vial. Faint flashes of light flickered within the dark liquid. "This is tonight's experiment. This, my friends, is pure lightning."
"Lightning?" Anthony grimaced. "That sounds incredibly sharp. Have you ever eaten it?"
"Only once," Charlie admitted, shaking his head at the memory. "I tried it back home, and it made every single hair on my head curl up like a sheep's fleece. I have been too terrified to mess with it since. But after two days of learning proper magic here at Hogwarts, I feel brave enough to try again."
"Sounds dreadfully dangerous," Anthony noted.
"I am hoping to dilute it," Charlie explained. "If I can balance the mixture, I want it to feel like ordinary popping candy, just with a bit more... spark."
"I cannot wait to try it," Hector said softly. "I assume lightning will have a completely different magical effect than the sun or moon?"
Charlie just smiled mysteriously. During his first disastrous experiment, the shock had been so overwhelming he had not possessed the presence of mind to notice any magical benefits.
"Well, we will leave you to your brilliant work," Anthony said, clapping his hands together. "Hector and I need to go find Roger for that chess match. Come down to the common room if you want to watch the massacre."
"I will join you in a bit," Charlie promised. "And boys? Please keep this little enterprise a secret. If every student in the castle comes begging for free samples, I will be out of business by Friday."
They both nodded solemnly and slipped out the door.
The moment the room was empty, a small, furry shape hopped onto the wooden desk. Alice, his peculiar little shapeshifting companion, trotted over to the purple vial. She sniffed the glass curiously.
A tiny, bright spark arced from the glass and snapped right against her pink nose.
With a tiny, indignant squeak, Alice leaped backward, nearly tumbling off the edge of the desk. She glared at the offending bottle, her fur puffing up in fearful annoyance.
Charlie laughed out loud. The little creature never learned. She had been zapped by that specific jar multiple times, yet she always had to investigate it all over again.
"Alright, off you go," Charlie murmured, gently scooping her up. "I have serious work to do."
Alice chittered unhappily. She scrambled out of his hands, scurried up his arm, and perched right on top of his head. With a soft shimmering sound, she transformed herself into a comfortable hat.
"Have it your way, then," Charlie chuckled, adjusting the brim. He rolled up his sleeves and reached for the bottle of lightning.