Char's expression was twisted with pain, his face contorted as if he were suffering. Watching this, Snape couldn't hide his surprise and confusion. Char was so young—how could he experience such anguish over something so important?
Then, Snape's thoughts shifted. He remembered that Char's family had been attacked by Anton Dolohov. Char's parents had died instantly, and Snape wondered if Char still had memories of that traumatic event from his childhood. If so, the pain he was feeling would be entirely understandable. A mix of sympathy and shame welled up inside Snape. After all, he and Dolohov had once been colleagues. If it hadn't been for Lily's death, Snape might never have joined Dumbledore's side.
Snape's mind was clouded with these thoughts for a moment before he shook them off, refocusing. He spoke coldly to Char, "It seems you understand the pain of loss. But what are you still standing there for?"
Snape's gaze turned sharp. "If your opponent were an enemy, they would have killed you countless times by now while you were lost in your pain." His voice was filled with venom, "Don't wallow in your sorrow. Use it."
Char blinked, suddenly snapping out of his painful thoughts. He took a deep breath, still feeling the lingering anger and grief in his chest. But with a wave of his wand, he let out a firm shout. "Sectumsempra!"
The pain in his heart fused with the spell, turning his magic into something sharper, more forceful. The magic surged through his wand, but it was still not enough. Char's magic, though powerful, was not yet refined enough to complete the spell. The result was less than what he had hoped for, leaving a faint, unfinished trail of magic in the air.
Snape watched with a grim expression. His internal thoughts were harsh but true. Char's magical strength was simply too weak for a complex spell like Sectumsempra. Such a spell required immense power to work properly, and Char wasn't there yet.
Char, however, did not seem discouraged. Instead, he felt a small flicker of excitement. On the system panel in his mind, the progress of his Sectumsempra spell had begun to change. The black, iron-colored luster that had once been faint and distant was now growing denser. He realized that this was the most progress he had made in ages.
At this rate, Char could improve his Sectumsempra spell to Bronze Level before the Christmas holiday. Once that happened, the rewards he'd been waiting for would finally be his, making the spell one of his powerful trump cards. The thought of this progress sent a surge of excitement through Char.
"Sectumsempra!" he shouted again.
He cast the spell again and again, so caught up in his practice that he forgot about time. He felt the magic grow stronger with each attempt, more solid, though still imperfect. It wasn't until Snape's sharp voice broke through his concentration that Char realized how much time had passed.
"Enough!" Snape barked. "Have you lost your mind?"
Char looked confused. "What's wrong?"
Snape was furious. "I told you, Dark Arts are driven by negative emotions. Sectumsempra is no exception. You cannot let the emotions build up like this. If you keep casting it like this, you'll end up mentally unstable. You can't just use Dark Arts recklessly. You think Pomona won't come after me for making you a madman?"
Char frowned, but Snape had already moved to a shelf and grabbed a potion. "Drink this," Snape ordered coldly. "It'll stop the negative influence."
Reluctantly, Char took the potion, and as soon as it touched his tongue, he shuddered. A freezing chill spread through his body, snuffing out the angry fire that had been consuming him. He felt as if he were encased in ice, his mind utterly numb. The discomfort lasted for what felt like an eternity, but after ten minutes, the feeling began to fade, leaving Char with a dull emptiness.
Snape didn't speak until he was sure Char hadn't been permanently affected. "That's enough for today," he said. "You can practice again tomorrow."
Char nodded gratefully, leaving Snape's Potion lab. He felt slightly better but was also determined. Once he mastered Sectumsempra, he would be ready for whatever came his way. No one would dare challenge him again, not even Quirrell.
He walked toward the Greenhouse, where his day-to-day responsibilities awaited. The plants had become his new focus. He worked tirelessly, tending to the Piranha Algae and the young Guardian Tree that he had recently planted. The Guardian Trees required special care, and Professor Sprout had given him additional materials to nurture them. Char spent hours each day crafting Holy Tree Potions to help the trees grow strong.
This routine kept him busy, but the rewards were worth it. As each day passed, Char could see the fruits of his labor—the Piranha Algae grew more vibrant, and his magical strength was subtly increasing as a result. The more he cared for the plants, the more he saw his magical power evolve.
Between classes, potion-making, and Charms practice, Char's schedule was packed. It wasn't easy, but the gradual improvements on his system panel kept him motivated.
A week passed, and Char's efforts paid off. On the system panel, Sectumsempra had reached a faint bronze hue. That was a sign that the spell's power had grown significantly. And the Piranha Algae, which had been steadily growing, was now just one step away from maturing. Char couldn't wait for it to fully mature, knowing that his magical strength would significantly increase once it did.
"Tomorrow," Char murmured to himself. "Once the algae matures, I'll be able to use Sectumsempra at full power. It's going to be amazing."
After a brief moment of joy, Char quickly left the Greenhouse, heading toward the Quidditch pitch. His practice of Dark Arts had left a lingering mental weight on him, and Snape had suggested Quidditch as a good way to release it. Char had tried it before and found that the game helped him clear his mind.
But when he arrived on the pitch, Cedric Diggory, his team captain, interrupted his thoughts. "That's enough for today," Cedric announced. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is our big match against Gryffindor."
Char blinked, suddenly remembering. Tomorrow was the match he had completely forgotten about. Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor—the first match of the season.
Char had not realized how much time had passed, as he had been so caught up in his practice. He tried to recall the details from the original books. He knew that Gryffindor had played Slytherin in the first year, but Hufflepuff's matches had never been given much attention.
In the original story, the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams were described in greater detail because they had dominated the matches, but Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were at the bottom of the standings. Char had no doubt that Hufflepuff would do their best to turn that narrative around.
Thinking of Professor Sprout's encouragement, Char's expression grew serious. Winning tomorrow's match could be the perfect Christmas gift for her.
"We'll give it our all tomorrow," Char declared to his team. The usual calm demeanor of the Hufflepuff players had shifted to a strong desire to win.
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry Potter and his friends had shifted their focus to the upcoming match as well. Ron, in particular, was eager for the game.
"Harry, tomorrow you'll have the chance to teach that scoundrel Char a lesson!" Ron said eagerly. "Show him what happens when you stand against Gryffindor!"
Hermione shot Ron a reproachful look. "Ron, don't be so harsh."
But Harry, deep in thought, couldn't help but remember Char's composed demeanor during their previous encounters. He clenched his fist and muttered, "As long as I catch the Golden Snitch, we'll win. We'll show them that we're the best."
Ron, hearing this, grinned. "That's the spirit, Harry!" he said eagerly.
Hermione, though, felt a growing unease in her stomach. Was Harry being too confident? Could they really win tomorrow? She wasn't so sure.
Tomorrow's match was shaping up to be an intense battle, and no one knew how it would end.
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