"Quidditch Through the Ages, Professor," Harry said, holding the book up to display the cover.
Snape stood on the grounds, his expression dark and severe. Leaning casually against the castle wall a short distance away, Charlie couldn't help but stifle a laugh.
Look at him. Snape is definitely brewing up some sort of excuse to cause trouble.
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school building, Potter. Five points from Gryffindor. Hand it over."
Without waiting for a reply, Snape snatched the book from Harry's hand and turned on his heel, limping heavily back toward the castle.
As he passed Charlie, Snape abruptly stopped and looked down his nose at him.
"Do you find something amusing, Wonka?"
"A little bit, yes," Charlie replied with an easy smile.
"It seems you feel Ravenclaw hasn't lost enough points on your account?"
Charlie raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise, then let out a soft chuckle. "Why would you say that, Professor? Are you assuming I was laughing at you?"
Snape's scowl deepened. This boy was exactly as insufferably slippery and argumentative as always!
"Because you show a flagrant lack of concern for your fellow students. When a classmate is reprimanded by a professor, you should take it as a warning and offer them sympathy. Instead, you choose to stand there and mock them."
It was a brilliantly phrased reprimand that essentially meant: I never said you were laughing at me, did I?!
Having delivered his thinly veiled warning, Snape turned and continued his limping march toward the entrance doors.
"Tsk..." Charlie clicked his tongue, watching Snape's retreating back with helpless amusement.
Well, at least he didn't actually dock any points. And I have to admit, his ability to aggressively spin a conversation is absolutely top-tier.
Of course, the only reason Charlie was letting it go was because Snape hadn't docked points. If he had, Charlie would have absolutely had more to say about it.
Over on the grass, Harry, Hermione, and Ron hurried over.
"I have absolutely no idea what school rule says you can't take a library book outside," Harry grumbled, looking incredibly frustrated.
Hermione's face instantly flushed with awkwardness. She lowered her voice and mumbled, "Harry, there actually is a rule about that."
"Right, fine. But... but still..." Harry stammered, feeling like he was missing something crucial.
"But you only took it outside the castle, mate. You didn't take it outside the school," Charlie pointed out smoothly, highlighting the exact flaw in Snape's logic.
He shook his head, looking at them with a mixture of pity and exasperation. "Honestly, no wonder Snape manages to constantly bully you lot. You make it entirely too easy."
Ron's eyes went wide with sudden realization. He slapped a hand heavily onto Harry's shoulder. "Bloody hell! Why didn't we think of saying that?!"
Harry rubbed his shoulder, forced to admit that Charlie was entirely right.
But then, he shot Ron a deeply weirded-out look.
Even if Ron had realized the technicality in the moment, Harry seriously doubted he would have actually had the nerve to say it to Snape's face.
As far as Harry knew, there was exactly one student in the entire school who actively dared to talk back to Snape, and he was currently leaning against the wall right in front of them.
Not even Ron's twin brothers had the sheer audacity to pull that off.
Charlie, meanwhile, had noticed a thick glass jar clutched in Hermione's hands. Inside was a flickering blue flame. For a split second, he had actually thought it was one of his own Material Vials.
"Brilliant Bluebell Flames you've got there."
It was the Bluebell Flames charm, a spell covered early on in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, serving as a precursor to the standard Fire-Making Spell. The flames only burned at about thirty or forty degrees Celsius, making them incredibly safe.
If Charlie were forced to categorize it, he'd file it under 'harmless trick spells kids use when messing around in the corridors'.
He didn't even need to ask; Hermione had obviously conjured it to act as a hand warmer.
"It seems our resident stickler for the rules is finally starting to openly break them."
Hermione didn't say a word. She simply pouted and rolled her eyes at him, looking remarkably cute in her annoyance.
The four of them headed back into the castle and walked toward the Great Hall. On the way, Harry formally invited Charlie to come watch his first Quidditch match against Slytherin tomorrow.
Hearing the invitation, Charlie suddenly realized the Quidditch season had officially started.
Of course, his surprise lasted exactly one second.
He genuinely did not care about Quidditch in the slightest. The entire concept of a game where the Seekers catching a tiny golden ball instantly awarded one hundred and fifty points, entirely rendering the exhausting, grueling efforts of the Chasers and Beaters—who only scored ten points per goal—completely meaningless, utterly baffled him.
Who on earth invented the Golden Snitch rule? They should be violently nailed to the pillar of historical shame.
Still, since Harry had proactively invited him, he supposed showing up to watch wouldn't hurt.
Besides, it was a massive, iconic moment in the original timeline.
"Of course. I'll definitely be there."
"You just go right ahead and play your little game, Potter," a loud, drawling voice echoed from the side.
Charlie turned his head. It was a thin, pale boy with slicked-back, pale blonde hair.
His hair was meticulously styled, and one corner of his mouth was permanently hitched up in an incredibly arrogant smirk.
"You just focus on flying. Crabbe, Goyle, and I will be waiting down on the pitch with a few mattresses to catch you when you inevitably fall."
"Are you actively looking for a fight, Malfoy?" Ron snapped, immediately stepping forward angrily.
"You're remarkably concerned about his well-being, Draco," Charlie laughed.
Malfoy let out a cold sneer. "Don't act like we're mates, Wonka. I don't know you."
He shifted his gaze back to Harry. "Look at you, Potter. I explicitly warned you on the train, but you still insist on slumming it with the absolute wrong sort. And who have we added to the collection now? Miss Know-It-All, and a nobody who looks even poorer than a Weasley."
'Miss Know-It-All' was a highly derogatory nickname Hermione had earned early on, a harsh critique of her perceived bossiness and her desperate need to prove she knew absolutely everything.
Of course, no one had actually ever dared to call her that directly to her face before.
And honestly, no one really called her that behind her back anymore either; Hermione had changed significantly over the last two months.
As for calling Charlie poor... well... even though it was the first time someone had actively insulted him for it, Charlie wasn't particularly surprised Malfoy had noticed.
Given that he was still wearing slightly oversized, clearly second-hand clothes, it was fairly obvious.
Having delivered his insult, Malfoy shook his head in mock pity.
Watching the kid's incredibly theatrical performance, Charlie couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"You're genuinely upset the famous celebrity didn't want to be your friend, aren't you?"
Before Draco could even open his mouth to formulate a response, Charlie smoothly cut him off. "Honestly, it's perfectly understandable, Draco. Because if you strip away the Malfoy name, you'd quickly realize exactly how deeply repulsive your personality actually is.
"Like you just said, we don't know each other. Yet you immediately default to aggressively insulting me and my friends."
Draco's face instantly darkened with fury, but he desperately tried to maintain his arrogant facade, adopting a falsely calm tone.
"Do you honestly think I need to respect you?"
Charlie simply shook his head in exasperation and didn't bother replying.
Exactly as expected. Anyone who thinks it's perfectly acceptable to openly mock the Weasley family right to Ron's face clearly lacks even the most fundamental concept of basic manners.
"What exactly is going on here?" A boy walked up from the opposite direction, a girl trailing slightly behind him.
"Hey, Charlie."
"Afternoon, Rex," Charlie nodded, greeting the older student.
"Just call me Claire," Rex corrected smoothly, stepping closer. He then turned his attention to Malfoy. "So, what exactly are you doing here, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I hardly think that's any of your business," Malfoy sneered, lazily looking the older boy up and down.
Claire fired right back. "If you're trying to start a fight with my friends, then I think it is very much my business."
"Oh? Trying to play the hero for people outside our House, are you? Just a friendly reminder: my father is on the school's Board of Governors."
"Is he really?!" Claire took a dramatic step back, his face a mask of profound shock and gravity.
The performance lasted exactly three seconds before he seamlessly transitioned into an exaggerated look of sudden realization. "Oh, blast! I nearly forgot—my father is on the Board of Governors too!
"How on earth could I have forgotten that?
"Oh, right~ Probably because I don't constantly use it as a pathetic crutch in every single conversation."
He let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Honestly, with the way you strut around here with your nose in the air, you'd think your family literally owned the entire magical world."
"You—"
"Walk away," Claire cut him off completely.
His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, his expression turning terrifyingly cold as he stared Malfoy down. "Unless, of course, you'd like me to personally remind you exactly how things work within Slytherin House."
Malfoy's eye twitched violently. He quickly glanced sideways to ensure Crabbe and Goyle had already moved to flank him. Realizing he was outmatched, he let out a furious, indignant scoff, spun on his heel, and stormed off.
"Thanks for that," Charlie said to Claire.
Claire turned back to Charlie and chuckled. "No need to thank me. It wasn't exactly a massive effort. Besides, I'm fairly certain you didn't actually need the help; you looked like you couldn't have cared less."
Hearing that, Charlie stretched his arms lazily over his head. "It's genuinely hard to care. Getting violently angry over something that pathetic is just a massive waste of energy."
Charlie had admittedly been slightly hoping for some classic schoolyard conflict, but getting into a petty screaming match with an eleven-year-old child like Draco was definitely not what he had in mind.
Look at the absolute state of this argument. Is this really what constitutes a rivalry?
Claire laughed and easily dropped the subject. He gave Charlie a quick wave. "Right then. See you on Monday."
"See you Monday."
Before leaving, Claire also nodded politely to Harry. "Pleasure to meet you, Potter."
Harry, completely caught off guard by the sudden, polite greeting from an older Slytherin, could only manage an awkward wave and a nod.
And honestly, even that reaction was only possible because he had spent the last two months constantly being ambushed by strangers.
Once Claire was gone, Harry and Ron immediately turned to Charlie.
"Is that bloke really a Slytherin? He doesn't act like one at all."
"I agree. It's incredibly weird," Charlie nodded thoughtfully.
...
Dinner time rolled around, and Hector and Anthony practically sprinted into the Great Hall. Anthony had a rogue strand of cobweb tangled in his hair, and Hector's wrists and knuckles were visibly dusted with dirt and grime.
"Are you two still busy with that?" Charlie asked quietly as they sat down.
"We finished! It's finally done! We just spent the last hour scrubbing the place down," Anthony declared, buzzing with pure excitement.
Hector looked exactly the same. He was practically vibrating with anticipation, completely abandoning his usual calm, composed demeanor. Even though they had arrived much later than Charlie, they immediately started aggressively pressuring him to finish his meal.
"Eat faster! Hurry up! The second you're done, we're taking you up to see it."
Charlie instantly dropped his knife and fork. "Right. I'm done."
"What? Already?" Anthony mumbled around a massive mouthful of mashed potatoes. "You can keep eating if you want. It's fine."
As he spoke, he violently stabbed a large pork chop with his fork.
In reality, they had completely exhausted themselves, and both of them were currently absolutely starving.