A moment later, the voodoo doll shook its head in disbelief. How could Char not be afraid of it? A first-year wizard, supposedly timid, should have burst into tears upon seeing such a bizarre entity and hearing its chilling, malicious laughter. Why was there no reaction at all?
A thought crept into its mind. "He must be stunned," it reasoned. "Petrified with fear. That's normal for a timid, slow-witted kid. Yes, that has to be it!" With that, the slight panic in the voodoo doll dissipated. Casting a malevolent gaze at Char once more, it felt a surge of confidence.
In the next second, the voodoo doll materialized on Char's desk, its clumsy face twisted into a vicious smirk, nearly nose-to-nose with him. Their eyes locked. Yet, even at this close range, the doll saw no trace of fear in Char's gaze. Instead, an intense, burning curiosity flared brighter in his eyes. The voodoo doll rubbed its own eyes, doubting what it saw. Surely, it must be mistaken.
Fortunately, after a tense moment, Char finally moved. A wave of relief washed over the doll. At least there was some reaction. This kid was slow, but let's see what he'd do. Was he reaching for a protective charm to ward it off? The doll watched eagerly.
Then, Char pulled out a thick book titled "The Strange Symbiotic Relationship Between Blue Star Flower and Iron Wire Tree and Detailed Cultivation Explanation." The voodoo doll froze. What in the world?! Staring at Char, who began flipping through the pages with a serious expression, the doll's eyes widened in shock. It felt a deep, searing humiliation. Facing a terrifying cursed object like itself, Char remained utterly unfazed, even continuing to study as if it weren't there. The audacity! It had no respect for the doll's menacing presence.
Fury surged within the voodoo doll, its body contorting further, making it appear even more grotesque and horrifying. It vowed to make Char cry, to plunge him into despair. So, it launched into action with renewed vigor. At times, it let out cold, eerie laughs directly into Char's ears. Other moments, it vanished only to reappear suddenly before him, twisting its head with a sickening crack. It even tried covering Char's eyes while he read, then unleashed a shrill cackle right beside him. "Come play!" it screeched.
Throughout this performance, curse magic and Legilimency wove together, seeking any mental chink in Char's armor to drag him into nightmarish hallucinations. Yet, from start to finish, whether it was curse magic or mind-probing spells, everything dissipated around Char like a drop in the vast ocean. Not a flicker of reaction crossed his face. Even the steady rhythm of his page-turning remained unbroken.
The voodoo doll gaped at Char in utter disbelief. "What is going on with this kid?!" it muttered, baffled beyond comprehension.
At that moment, Char's attention remained fixed on the book in his hands, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. Though he had only just begun studying the cultivation of Blue Star Flowers, one point stood out repeatedly in the texts. The Blue Star Flower and the Iron Wire Tree shared a rare symbiotic bond in the world of magical botany. The flower drew vitality from the tree's magic to sustain its blooming, while the tree absorbed a unique magical essence from the flower, hastening its own maturation and seed dispersal.
Ideally, the magical exchange between the two maintained a delicate, dynamic balance. However, that equilibrium had been disrupted long ago, leading to the steady decline of both plants. The exact cause of this imbalance remained a mystery in academic circles, but its consequences were evident. Artificial cultivation of Blue Star Flowers had become increasingly challenging. The intricate balance, crafted by nature and constantly adjusting itself every moment, was nearly impossible to replicate through human intervention. It posed a greater difficulty than cultivating even the most ancient of plants. Even seasoned herbalists quailed at the task.
There was a tale of a master herbalist who, against all odds, led a team of students in a relentless effort to adjust the magical balance between the Blue Star Flower and the Iron Wire Tree. Yet, within three months, they seemed to age a decade from the sheer strain. Unable to sustain such an overwhelming workload, they were forced to abandon the endeavor. Char's brow furrowed slightly at this. The reward tied to the Blue Star Flower was too valuable to forsake, but with only one viable seed left, he had a single shot at success. How could he accomplish what even a master herbalist couldn't?
"Never mind," Char murmured to himself. "No need to rush into it. I'll study the texts thoroughly, devise a solid plan, and ensure I have a feasible approach before starting. For now, something else takes precedence." His gaze shifted to the system panel. While the voodoo doll had been unleashing curses and Legilimency earlier, his progress in Occlumency had climbed steadily, and impressively so. But now, the growth rate had noticeably slowed.
This drew a look of dissatisfaction from Char as he noticed the doll, visibly exhausted, slumped on the table in an attempt to rest. His frown deepened. "Who told you to stop? Did I give you permission to slack off? Keep going! Increase the intensity!" he commanded sharply.
The panting voodoo doll froze, stunned to realize Char was addressing it. Rage flushed its face. Ignoring it earlier was bad enough, but now he demanded an increase in curse intensity? This was outrageous! Gritting its teeth, the doll glared at Char, summoning another surge of cursed magic. But it didn't last long. Soon, it wilted once more, clearly drained.
Char's expression grew even more disapproving. "Is this really your limit? It's only been a short while, and you're already done? It seems I need to motivate you." With a casual flick of his wand, he invoked the Oolong Cave Exit Curse. There was no grand display—just a subtle surge of cursed energy as a thin black snake materialized, coiling around the voodoo doll with lightning speed.
Terror flashed across the doll's face. As a being of pure curse, it had always been immune to typical defenses, even Hufflepuff's protective magic. A mere first-year wizard shouldn't pose a threat, which had fueled its earlier arrogance. But now, ensnared by this black snake brimming with cursed power, it realized Char had always been capable of handling it. As the snake's sharp fangs glinted before its eyes, the doll's fear intensified. It screamed, "What are you going to do?!"
Char's voice was icy. "Work. Keep working. I despise slackers, understand?" The voodoo doll's face twisted with resentment, but with the menacing fangs looming and potent curse magic binding it—magic that could actually affect it—it had no choice. Reluctantly, it mustered its strength, fueled by deeper hatred than before, and unleashed a more powerful curse on Char.
Perhaps due to this renewed venom, the curse's impact was stronger, and Char's Occlumency progress ticked upward slightly faster. His stern expression eased a fraction as he nodded. "Good. That's more like actual work." He then returned to his reading.
The voodoo doll stared at Char, teeth gritted, curse magic still flowing. "Curse you, wretched kid," it muttered under its breath. "I'll keep at it. I don't need food, water, or sleep. I refuse to believe you can hold out forever without giving me an opening. When you do, I'll repay this humiliation tenfold, a hundredfold!" Imagining Char with bloodshot eyes, utterly exhausted yet still forced to endure its terror, brought a twisted satisfaction to the doll, spurring it to persist.
But gradually, it sensed something amiss. How much time had passed? Why did the soft rustle of turning pages persist without pause? There wasn't a hint of fatigue on Char's face. From start to finish, he remained calm, poring over a book packed with dense text that made the doll dizzy just glancing at it. How could Char study for so long without tiring?
"You've got to be joking," the doll grumbled. "How can a human keep learning for this long? I'll endure. I'm a cursed being; there's no way I can't outlast him!" It clenched its jaw and pressed on. Yet, every passing minute felt like an eternity. After an indeterminate stretch of time, the doll felt utterly drained, as if squeezed dry. Collapsing in exhaustion, it couldn't muster even a sliver of curse magic.
Char's gaze shifted from the book to the pitiful doll. Seeing its sorry state, he shook his head slightly. "It seems you truly can't keep up. Fine. Who made me so kind-hearted?" At this, the doll's eyes lit up. The thought of escape and rest momentarily overshadowed its resentment. Hearing Char say "fine" filled it with unexpected delight. "You're letting me go?" it asked hopefully.
Char raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say that. I meant you can recharge your energy and get back to work." The doll's expression froze. "No… I mean, my energy is hard to replenish. It can only be restored in an environment steeped in resentment and curses. How about I go recharge on my own?"
But in the next moment, the black snake coiled tighter, showing no mercy. It dragged the doll into Char's robes. What the doll saw inside filled its eyes with sheer terror. "What… what is this?! Who in the blazes are you?!" it stammered. No wonder it panicked—beneath Char's robes hung an array of jewels, each pulsating with potent curse magic. At a glance, there were at least a dozen, many harboring curses far stronger than its own. Some were so fearsome that even the doll recoiled in dread. And Char wore these lethal artifacts on his person, in such numbers? No wonder its curses had no effect. Surrounded by such dark power, how could a mere voodoo doll's magic faze him? Entering this space felt like a husky stumbling into a wolf pack.
Trembling, it dared not approach the cursed jewels. Yet, in this environment saturated with dark magic, its fatigue seemed to ebb away. But this was the worst possible news for the doll, as Char's faint voice reached its ears. "Is your cursed magic replenishing now? That means you can keep working."
At the word "working," the doll nearly broke down. "You're abusing me!" it wailed. Char blinked, feigning surprise. "What are you talking about? This is Great Britain, and we have our own ways here. Even three-year-olds sweep chimneys. The magical world is no different!"
Despair etched itself visibly on the doll's face as it tried to fight for some semblance of rights. "Then at least… an eight-hour workday?" But the next moment, Char's expression darkened. "Eight-hour workday? No one gets that kind of treatment. You're just a voodoo doll, and you want an eight-hour day? You're not human. You don't eat, sleep, or even have flesh and blood. Limiting you to eight hours would waste your potential."
The doll shrank back. "Then my treatment—" Char cut in firmly. "A 724365 workweek. Open all year round. No meal breaks, no lunch breaks. Don't you like to laugh? Here's your chance—laugh more." But the doll could no longer muster a chuckle. Its gaze toward Char was pure fear. This kid was terrifying, worse than any exploitative capitalist or dark lord enslaving others. Even they might show more mercy!
Just as despair consumed the doll, a ripple of magical energy emanated from the cursed jewels on Char's person. At first, it thought a kindred spirit was offering comfort or that they'd unite to unleash a deadly curse on this wretched boy. But as it deciphered the magical fluctuations, rage flared in its eyes. "What? I work while you lot rest? Why?!" Instantly, the Heart of the Ocean necklace exuded a menacing aura. The doll shuddered, wracked with pain. "You vile thing! Scoundrels, knaves! Fine, stop it! I'll do it, alright?!"
Once the pain subsided, the doll's once-lively, eerie face was shrouded in a heavy air of defeat. It couldn't laugh anymore—only weep. "I'm so miserable. I don't want to work. I want to clock out!" it sobbed. Yet, as the voodoo doll embarked on its grueling labor, Char observed the Occlumency progress on his system panel with a nod of satisfaction. At this rate, reaching platinum level wasn't far off. He eagerly anticipated the transformative leap that would come with it.
For now, he set aside the texts on Blue Star Flower cultivation. The topic was daunting, unlikely to be mastered quickly. It demanded slow, meticulous study. With the semester nearing its end and the Philosopher's Stone affair likely approaching a climax, Char didn't know what Quirrell had planned next. The safest course was to bolster his magical prowess during this lull. His gaze drifted to the other spells on the system panel. Most remained unstable, flickering between bright and dim. This stemmed from a radical shift in his magical perception—from macroscopic to microscopic—which rendered his prior mastery incompatible, causing the erratic display.
To resolve this, he needed to reorganize his magic under this new microscopic lens. Once done, not only would the spells stabilize, but his old foundation would be fully integrated, vastly enhancing his overall magical skill. Of course, this process wouldn't be quick or exciting. But since he wasn't heading to the greenhouse to tend herbs, now was the perfect time to tackle it. As for the tedium? A faint smile curled on Char's lips. When had he ever shied away from boredom? In a way, it was a companion.
Moments later, Char closed his eyes, focusing deeply on the world around him, sensing the subtle magic particles saturating the air. Simultaneously, he waved his wand, noting how casting spells now differed from before under this new perception. Shifting between macro and micro perspectives, he unraveled every nuance, missing nothing. A peculiar sensation gradually filled his mind. Each wave of his wand resulted from intricate interactions among magic particles—a realization he'd first grasped when his Lumos Charm hit platinum level. That faint glow was a collective effect of countless tiny light spells, deeper still, the product of vibrating magic particles.
Adjusting those vibrations could shift the Lumos light toward infrared or ultraviolet spectrums, forming the basis of the Frequency Light Charm. Further tuning to align the particles' frequencies made the once-weak light more focused and piercing. Char had once thought this unique to Lumos, but now, intently observing the particles' dance, he saw differently. To other young wizards at this level, these might be mere dull specks of light. To Char, they unveiled a thrilling new magical realm.
Through studying these seemingly mundane points, a revolutionary system formed in his mind, overturning his prior understanding of magic. He hypothesized that perhaps all spells, not just Lumos, resulted from countless magic particles interacting, their varied properties and behaviors manifesting as distinct spells. Willpower, he mused, was pivotal. In his past life's physics, molecular motion was explained by intermolecular forces. Here, magic particles might be driven by will—a force prompting specific interactions and effects.
Such concepts might baffle a young wizard first encountering this depth. Another in Char's shoes, shifting from macro to micro perception, might find it absurd, their familiar magic suddenly alien. The transition could take ages. But Char, perhaps tempered by past exposure to quantum mechanics, understood that the microscopic often defied macro norms, presenting bizarre, unimaginable phenomena. Now, he could at least sense some particles. Should his perception advance to diamond or epic levels, detecting their interactions, he had no doubt his grasp of magic would reach even stranger heights. By then, his current particle-based explanations might themselves be upended, requiring yet another cognitive overhaul. He was ready for that, a gift perhaps from his past life's education.
As this new framework took shape in Char's mind, the magical luster on the system panel, though still flickering, grew noticeably steadier and brighter than before. Joy sparked in his eyes. He didn't presume his limited insight could capture magic's true essence—merely summarize what he currently observed. To mightier wizards, this might seem laughable or mad. Yet, understanding evolves spirally. For now, this system of will and particles encompassed his past knowledge and some micro-level phenomena. That sufficed.
As for lingering flickers on the panel, Char knew why. His prior mastery stemmed from millions of practice repetitions, embedding muscle memory for reliable casting under any condition. Now, with a fresh perspective, it was akin to learning anew. Could mere comprehension overwrite deep-seated habits? Of course not. To fully update his magical system, practice—more than the millions of times before—was essential to forge deeper muscle memory over old patterns. Another might balk at such a daunting workload, but Char only smiled. Progress through practice? That was a stroke of fortune. What was there to grumble about? No time for complaints—better to swing the wand a few more times.
With a face full of determination, Char started from the basics: wand movements, grip strength, mental focus, and magic flow. Like returning to his first days of spellcraft, he repeated fundamental spells tirelessly. "Terra Laus! Arbor—Siccus! Lumos!" Soil loosening, pruning, glowing—these were charms first-years rarely bothered with. Yet Char immersed himself, never tiring. Each cast felt fresh, a new discovery. On the system panel, the vague, unstable light on each spell entry polished into solemn brilliance. In the blink of an eye, a week passed.