Charles only realized how quickly time had slipped by when an owl post arrived at his desk.
"Another week already?" he muttered in disbelief.
"Does time really pass so fast?"
For a moment, he sat stunned, then almost instinctively turned his gaze to the glowing system panel hovering before him.
When his eyes caught the changes displayed there, the corners of his mouth curved into a smile.
"This week wasn't wasted after all."
On the panel, the word Transfiguration was almost entirely wrapped in a shimmering Bronze-level glow. Only a tiny sliver remained before it would fully advance.
This progress was the result of Charles's relentless dedication over the past week: carefully observing the magical fluctuations of the Shadow Thorns, harvesting magical plants, and visiting Professor McGonagall daily for guidance. Under her systematic teaching, both Gamp's and Toleman's theories of Transfiguration had become far clearer to him.
With just a little more practice—or perhaps after harvesting a few more batches of Goldfish Vine to refine his Magic Perception—he was confident that reaching Bronze-level Transfiguration would be inevitable. A rising tide lifts all boats, after all.
Professor McGonagall's words echoed in his mind:
"With this foundation, many advanced Charms can already be attempted."
"Even simple spells will come to you far faster than before."
Charles understood the implication. Once Transfiguration advanced again, his entire system of Charms could expand at an astonishing pace. In the future, new spells might not require building up from Black Iron level proficiency. Instead, he might begin directly at Bronze—or perhaps even Silver.
The thought filled him with anticipation.
He then shifted his gaze across the rest of his Charms.
That excitement dimmed slightly into disappointment.
Although his grasp of Transfiguration had soared, granting him deeper insight into the microscopic structures of magic itself, the Platinum-level Charms on his panel remained stubbornly unchanged. Their glowing brilliance had not advanced in the slightest.
"So that's the bottleneck," Charles murmured.
"It's not comprehension or skill holding them back."
"My Magic Perception is lacking once again."
He sighed in frustration.
"Perhaps harvesting a few more batches of Goldfish Vine will help. But in the worst case… these Charms might only see real progress once Magic Perception Enhancement itself breaks into Platinum, reaching a new qualitative threshold."
Still, he refused to brood over it for long.
With Transfiguration as his growth point, his magical development was steadily climbing. Those stubborn Platinum Charms were laying foundations, waiting patiently for their explosive leap forward.
He then turned to examine his two physical abilities: Legendary Strength and Legendary Life.
At a glance, their glow seemed only slightly richer than before. But Charles knew firsthand not to underestimate the difference.
The change was obvious in his body. His vitality surged more fiercely, and the power flowing through his blood and flesh was stronger than ever. When he clashed head-on with a troll now, he barely budged. The ache in his muscles, once sharp, had become little more than a dull throb.
He couldn't help but feel a swell of awe.
"Just a small increase leads to such a huge transformation."
"This really proves how vast the gulf is between Legendary abilities and Mythical ones."
"To call it a world apart is no exaggeration."
His mind shifted again.
"The dragon egg… it should be hatching soon."
"Once it does, I can start cultivating Blood Emeralds on a large scale."
"The blood production they provide might push my Legendary abilities to undergo even more changes."
Countless possibilities flashed through his thoughts, but he eventually settled into calm focus.
Only then did he finally open the owl-delivered letter.
The sender was none other than Cedric Diggory.
**"Charles,
I know you're always busy, but let me remind you—tomorrow's our match against Slytherin.
We've already beaten Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. One more win, and Hufflepuff secures its spot in the finals. Just one step away from the Quidditch Cup!
Hufflepuff hasn't made the finals in years—we're about to make history!"**
Charles scratched his head awkwardly.
To be honest, if Cedric hadn't reminded him, he, the tactical core of Hufflepuff's Quidditch team, would have completely forgotten tomorrow's match.
But after reading Cedric's passionate handwriting, he drew a deep breath and his expression hardened.
Having come this far, he could not back down—whether for Professor Sprout's expectations, for his loyal teammates, or for the adorable younger students who had always supported him with their whole hearts.
He was determined. They would win the Quidditch Cup.
Not even the so-called Savior could stop them.
Charles made up his mind immediately.
"I won't busy myself with other things today. I'll take this as a day off. Time to head to Quidditch practice."
Back at the castle, he instantly felt the heavy atmosphere surrounding the impending "semifinal."
For the Hufflepuff students, the significance needed no explanation. If they won tomorrow, they would break a decade-long drought and finally reach the finals again. To them, it was no different from their national football team in his past life suddenly qualifying for the World Cup.
Naturally, their excitement was boundless.
Every Hufflepuff wore a badge pinned proudly to their chest. The magical emblem shimmered with motion: a badger clutching a snake in its claws, jaws open as if ready to devour it. Beneath the image, glowing text declared:
"Hufflepuff eats snakes!"
The meaning was crystal clear.
But the Slytherins were equally fired up. For them, tomorrow's match determined everything. They had already lost once to Gryffindor. If they lost to Hufflepuff as well, their chance at the finals would vanish completely—something that hadn't happened in over ten years.
None of them wanted their generation etched into that pillar of shame.
Thus, their hostility toward Hufflepuff now burned hotter than even their traditional rivalry with Gryffindor.
Everywhere in the castle, whenever the two Houses crossed paths, sparks flew.
As the tactical core of Hufflepuff's team, Charles felt the hostility most sharply. Every Slytherin he passed shot him dagger-like glares. If not for the memory of his terrifying strength, Charles suspected some would have already cursed him in the hallways.
When he neared the Quidditch pitch reserved for Hufflepuff practice, three familiar figures blocked his way: Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.
Charles frowned at their sneaky behavior.
"This is Hufflepuff territory," he said coldly.
"What are you doing here? Stealing tactics?"
His mocking tone made Malfoy's face flush with anger.
"Tactics? Who needs to learn anything from you?" Malfoy spat. "Don't think you're invincible. Tomorrow you'll see—Slytherin's victory is certain!"
He spun on his heel, Crabbe and Goyle stomping after him. But after a few steps, memories of being humiliated by Charles in the past flashed across Malfoy's mind. His pride couldn't bear it.
He turned back, sneering viciously.
"Tomorrow, Slytherin won't just take your victory. You won't even keep that Little Greenhouse you cheated to obtain."
Charles froze.
"What did you just say?"
Seeing his words hit the mark, Malfoy's smugness grew.
"Don't think no one noticed the tricks you and your aunt pulled. I heard you didn't qualify for the Greenhouse at all—your aunt fought for it. The School Board is investigating. You can't hide anymore. And it's not just you—other professors will be dragged into it as well."
With his chin raised proudly, he added, "My father is on the School Board. Tomorrow, he's coming with the review committee. Enjoy your last peaceful night, Charles!"
Even as fear flickered in his eyes at the thought of retaliation, Malfoy strutted off quickly, leaving Crabbe and Goyle scrambling after him.
Charles's expression darkened.
He remembered Professor Sprout returning from an early morning meeting recently, her face clouded with exhaustion and frustration. He recalled the thick piles of documents stacked in her office, and the weariness etched onto Professor McGonagall's face as well. The other professors looked equally drained, some yawning through lessons.
"So it was all for this… the so-called review committee."
A dangerous glint lit his eyes.
He didn't care if people targeted him. But dragging Aunt Sprout and the other professors into their schemes? That, he could not tolerate.
But how should he strike back?
As he pondered, he stepped into the Quidditch training ground.
The anger burning inside him was so palpable that Cedric and the rest of the team felt it immediately.
"What's wrong, Charles?" Cedric asked, hopping off his broom. "Did those filthy snakes do something again?"
Charles shook his head and explained Malfoy's threats in brief.
"I'm just thinking," he admitted, "about how best to return the favor."
Cedric's eyes gleamed with inspiration.
"Just like the Ministry of Magic hearing before?" he said eagerly.
"Give them a memory they'll never forget?"
Charles raised an eyebrow, curious.
Cedric leaned closer, patting the broom in his hands, his eyes shining.
"The Malfoys and the School Board are almost all Slytherin supporters. If they're coming tomorrow, they'll definitely attend the match. So let's destroy Slytherin right before their eyes. Not just a victory—a complete slaughter. We'll make our history, and at the same time, we'll nail them to the pillar of shame."
Charles's eyes lit up instantly.
Directly confronting the School Board wasn't possible. But what greater punishment for fans than watching their cherished team utterly humiliated?
"Cedric," Charles asked suddenly, "let me confirm something. In Quidditch, as long as the Golden Snitch isn't caught, the game continues indefinitely, right?"
Cedric blinked, confused by the simple question—until realization struck. His eyes widened in shock.
"Merlin's beard! Charles, you're not planning—"
Charles grinned, his voice low and steady.
"They provoked Hufflepuff. They provoked Hufflepuff's friends. If they want to play this game, they'd better be ready."
"Hufflepuff's revenge will be unforgettable."
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