Harry was riding a wave of confidence, certain Charles would agree without hesitation. But then… Charles abruptly refused.
"I refuse." Charles looked at Harry in confusion, caught off guard.
Harry had approached with all the enthusiasm of a hero. Hogwarts, after all, was full of powerful allies—surely it didn't need rescue from a first-year like him. But Charles wasn't rejecting him out of malice. Instead, Charles admired Harry's courage. Even after facing so much hardship, this boy still volunteered to save others. That, in itself, was commendable.
But the timing was off.
Charles was not interested in joining Harry's rescue mission—not now. Even if he desired the three-headed dog's blood to cultivate his blood emerald, he'd wait. The Two-Faced Man was still probing the beast, and Charles wasn't ready to risk everything yet. He knew that once Harry and his friends had subdued the creature, the dog's blood would be within reach—and by then, Ciel would likely have a new greenhouse to work in. Only then could he begin his experiments earnestly.
Right now, Charles needed to focus on the magical herbs he already possessed. Why risk a dangerous mission when he could cultivate what he already had?
Harry shook himself from his shock and pressed Charles eagerly.
"Why not?"
"Charles, I'm not lying."
"Something important is hidden in the castle—someone is trying to take it…"
Charles interrupted calmly.
"I believe you, Harry."
"But this… this is something the professors need to handle."
"Your enthusiasm is admirable, but you chose the wrong academy to act like a little hero."
With that, Charles turned and walked away, heading toward the Potions classroom. Harry, unwilling to give up, sprinted after him.
"Char, don't you want to know what's behind the fourth-floor trapdoor? I promise you'd never guess."
Charles paused mid-step. He smelled garlic on the air, and heard a stammered voice:
"Shhh… Shut down… Ha, Harry—Potter, you mustn't tell anyone about this."
A figure wrapped in a large turban stepped into view from the corridor's shadows. Both Harry and Charles froze. It was Professor Quirrell.
Harry's face went pale. Charles clenched his fists in anger. Harry Potter… Horrible Whale! Quirrell brought trouble wherever he went. And more than anyone, Voldemort would recognize Harry.
Charles realized he was in danger. Voldemort, even in his weakened, dual-bodied state, was capable of reading minds. He could tell when Harry lied or held something hidden, like the Philosopher's Stone in the original story. If Voldemort sensed the existence of their system, or the trapdoor, his secrets could be exposed.
Fortunately, Voldemort was focused on Harry right now—Charles was just a distraction. He hurried forward.
"Professor Quirrell, Harry…" Charles said hurriedly. "I still have work with Professor Snape."
"Goodbye," he added, not looking back. Quirrell barely registered Charles's presence—this was about Harry, not him.
Once out of earshot, Charles took a deep breath and sighed in relief. He noted that Quirrell had focused fully on Harry. Otherwise… it would have been worse.
We should keep our distance from Harry Potter, Charles decided. He's a magnet for trouble—with You-Know-Who lurking in Quirrell's head, and Dumbledore always watching… This might be worse than facing the Two-Faced Man.
He steeled himself with a thought: I need to improve my magic. Even if I don't go looking for trouble… I need enough power to protect my work and deter aggression.
A plan formed in his mind: he'd study Advanced Defensive Arts, combining the Divine Sword Shadowless Spell with the Piranha Algae blessing. That would be the fastest route to gaining strength. He also needed to push the progress on the guardian tree, which provided defense boosts against dark magic—essential at Hogwarts now, with trolls, basilisks, dementors, werewolves…and the Lord Voldemort threat.
To cultivate the guardian tree and brew the necessary potions, he had to work with Snape. So Charles picked up his pace and entered the Potions classroom.
Inside, he found Malfoy and his cronies struggling to handle a Flobberworm. Draco spotted him, sneered, and sneered louder—but something seemed to shift.
Malfoy started, his eyes flicking away from Charles. A strange aura of authority and disdain emanated from Charles, making Draco swallow nervously.
"What's wrong? Did I intimidate you?" Charles asked quietly. The others looked equally unsettled.
Charles let out a rare confident chuckle. "Do you think that sneer will help? This is how the workplace works," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You're here playing at wellness—while I'm climbing."
Malfoy's expression faltered. He realized Charles wasn't just another student—he was someone serious, determined.
Charles took his seat at Snape's table, calm and poised. Inside, he felt the thrill of progression. He still had ways to go—ancient spells to master, guardian tree to nurture—but for now, he asserted himself. A new phase began.
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