# Christmas at Hogwarts
The Christmas holiday was fast approaching, bringing with it a sense of both anticipation and reflection. For Char, this milestone meant something more significant—Char's first year at Hogwarts was already halfway through, a realization that stirred unexpected emotions in his heart.
In his previous life, Char had spent countless nights staying up late, watching over experimental fields and reading novels to pass the endless hours. Among those stories, he had devoured numerous Harry Potter fan fiction tales. He remembered how many protagonists could defeat Voldemort and Dumbledore before even entering school, yet so few could manage to overcome the Two-Face Man by the end of their first semester.
As he assessed his current strength honestly, Char acknowledged that despite being someone who had traveled through time, he still had a long way to go. But after a moment of contemplation, he shook his head gently, watching his breath form white clouds in the cold air.
*I haven't wasted a single day,* he reminded himself. *I have a clear conscience. Just keep moving forward step by step. One day, I'll be able to go far.*
With time feeling so fleeting, Char's attention returned to the present reality, his expression growing more serious as he considered the immediate challenges ahead.
"Quirrell's injury was delayed for a whole week by the failed Holy Tree Potion," he mused aloud. "Defense Against the Dark Arts classes have been suspended for an extra week because of it. But tomorrow, those classes will resume, which means today, Quirrell will finally be discharged from the hospital."
He paused, processing the implications. "It seems that even with the Weasley brothers' help, delaying for another week was already pushing the limit. But—" A determined look crossed his face. "That's enough time."
A gleam appeared in Char's eyes as he glanced at his system panel. Thanks to preparing the Holy Tree Potion over the past week—an exercise that was extremely effective for training magical perception—the golden light above the words **[Magic Perception Enhanced]** had grown increasingly intense, now occupying nearly four-fifths of the available area.
However, Char had discovered something troubling in the last two days. The effectiveness of improving magical perception through exercise seemed to be diminishing. The gold level still seemed some distance away, and he understood why.
The upper limit of magic perception training was determined by one's inherent magical talent, and he was afraid he was approaching that ceiling. It was similar to physical fitness—some people were naturally gifted and could build muscle quickly with minimal training, while others couldn't develop much muscle mass even after a year of intense exercise.
Such was the extent of Char's talent in magic. But there was no trace of despair on his face. *Not talented enough? The system makes up for it.*
"The new batch of goldfish spider plants that I planted earlier should have matured under the troll's catalysis," he reasoned. "Once this batch is harvested, gold-level **[Magic Perception Enhancement]** will be a natural outcome."
His thoughts turned to Hagrid, who had been helping him search for troll settlements. "Although there's no news yet, food becomes scarce on snowy days, and trolls will leave more traces while searching for sustenance. It should be soon. If I could tame even a small troll settlement—just a few trolls—my magical perception could improve at an accelerated rate."
With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Char began walking toward Hagrid's hut outside the castle. But before he could leave the building, he encountered three familiar figures in the corridor near the library floor.
It was the trio of Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They had obviously just emerged from the library, all looking exhausted as if they had been searching for information for hours. As they walked, the three were still discussing their discoveries, but when they spotted Char, Harry immediately let out a sharp cough, and their discussion abruptly stopped.
The three froze in place. Hermione looked at Char with an apologetic expression, while Ron appeared indignant—clearly still holding a grudge against Char for using the Hanging Bell Curse on him earlier. However, remembering the miserable way Malfoy had been taught a lesson by Char, Ron didn't dare voice his anger.
Char observed it all with quiet amusement. He knew exactly what the trio had been searching for in the library—information about Nicolas Flamel. What a coincidence that there was no alchemy course at Hogwarts. Otherwise, given Hermione's mastery of textbooks, it would be impossible for her not to know about Nicolas Flamel, a living fossil of alchemy whose name was unavoidable when discussing the subject.
The alchemy course had been deleted from the curriculum many years ago due to its extremely high failure rate—something Char had learned from Snape during this period. In addition to configuring the Holy Tree Potion, he had also studied advanced magical knowledge under Snape's guidance, including alchemical texts like "The Emerald Record" and "The Collection of Secrets" recorded in the Half-Blood Prince's textbook.
These studies had opened his eyes to the ancient magic of the wizarding world. Out of curiosity, Char had once asked Snape, "Professor, since alchemy is so important in magical theory, and considering your talent back then, why did you choose to study Potions instead of Alchemy? I see you're very familiar with the Jade Record and other texts."
Snape had immediately changed the subject, muttering some words. "It's not that I don't want to learn. I really don't have time. Actually, alchemy isn't difficult. It's really not difficult." His voice had grown bitter. "When I was drawing alchemy diagrams, either the quill ran out of ink or the parchment was too rough. Do you understand?"
Char had understood perfectly. Snape must have experimented with alchemy as well, but even he had failed. No wonder true alchemical items were so scarce, and even the four head teachers envied the Deluminator that Dumbledore had created.
*Don't even think about it with my own talent,* Char had concluded. *Unless I can access some magical plants that enhance alchemy in the future, I should focus on the present. Herbology and Potions alone will take me a long time to master.*
Restraining these distracting thoughts, Char continued walking forward, quickly disappearing from the trio's sight.
Once he was gone, Ron finally began to mutter, "Did you hear? He's been getting closer to Snape lately. I bet he's been bribed by Snape. Look at the direction he's heading—toward Hagrid's hut. Maybe he's trying to get close to Hagrid and make a breakthrough through him!"
Harry sighed, his face full of worry. "But Hagrid trusts him completely. I mentioned this to Hagrid before, and Hagrid actually got angry. I'm really worried that Snape will use Char to break through Hagrid's defenses."
Hermione argued back, "Don't think so badly of him. Char is definitely not what you're making him out to be."
Ron sneered and said nothing in response. After a long while, he snorted coldly. "I wanted to come out to get some fresh air and rest. It seems we have to go back now. We need to work overtime to find out who Nicolas Flamel is. We have to figure this out before Snape and Char do."
Meanwhile, in the hospital wing, Quirrell looked pale as he gazed longingly at Madam Pomfrey. She frowned as she examined him.
"The wound from the biting cabbage and the effects from the giant konjac flower have basically healed," she announced. "Professor Quirrell, you can be discharged now. But you seem much weaker than before. Are you sure you don't need to stay in the infirmary for a few more days to recuperate?"
As soon as these words left her mouth, Quirrell seemed to be under tremendous stress. His expression became distorted as he shook his head wildly. "No way!"
This past week had been torture. He had to endure the effects of potions brought by the Weasley brothers every day. The Holy Tree Potion, although a failed product, still contained significant holy magic. For the average wizard, there were some benefits—it could even protect against dark magic. But for Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, this was like rubbing salt into a wound.
Every time he used the potion, it was heart-wrenching agony. But to avoid arousing suspicion from Dumbledore, who had arranged this "test," he had to pretend to be comfortable. Just thinking about it made Quirrell feel flames of hatred spreading wildly in his heart.
"I don't want to live another day like this!" he snarled through gritted teeth.
But soon, noticing Madam Pomfrey's slightly frightened expression, Quirrell hurriedly explained, "It's been more than a week. I haven't taught my students for such a long time. Merlin, I'm going to delay their studies! And I'm still receiving a Hogwarts salary? I'm a total wage thief! Ma'am, I have to get back to work right now. I can't stand it for even a moment!"
Madam Pomfrey's eyes grew misty at his words. "Professor Quirrell, you are such a good and conscientious professor. Okay, then I won't keep you."
The moment he walked out of the ward, Quirrell opened his arms as if embracing a new life. But the next moment, a gust of cold wind blew past, causing him to shiver violently. The potion he had been taking during this period had significantly affected him, causing weakness in both his physical and magical strength.
Even Voldemort, who was parasitizing him, had been affected and had fallen into a deep sleep to reduce power consumption. This made Quirrell feel anxious—there wasn't much time left for him.
"I have to get that boy under control," he muttered. "Use him to get the Philosopher's Stone past the three-headed dog."
For this reason, Quirrell decided to take a risk. "I know he goes to the greenhouse every night. Tonight, I will take action!"
At that same time, Char had already arrived at Hagrid's hut and was walking toward the site where a troll had been tamed. Although he didn't know exactly what Quirrell was planning, he could guess that time was not on Quirrell's side. As time passed, Quirrell's actions would become increasingly desperate and exaggerated.
*I have to improve myself as soon as possible.*
Just then, the troll's mumbling sounds reached Char's ears. "A, Abandon... Aba Aba—"
In his field of vision, orange-red lines that looked like goldfish appeared. The new batch of more than forty pots of goldfish spider plants had all matured! Looking at the heavy reward orbs of light hanging above them, Char reached out his hand.
*Touch. Harvest!*
After the orb of light poured into his body, a strange feeling that he hadn't experienced in a long time began spreading through his blood again. Char closed his eyes, list
ening to the echo of the snowstorm around him.
And beyond that—the surge of magic itself!