When Robert resolutely rejected him just now, Harry's eyes had been full of disappointment.
But now, the information Robert revealed made Harry's eyes light up.
"The Succubus Queen and the Dragon Maid?"
Just hearing that title sounded thrilling.
Robert, my good brother!
Harry quickly said,
"If you're planning to visit Hagrid, contact me first."
"Hagrid really values you. He said he wants to clean up his hut properly before you arrive."
Robert thought for a moment.
Today's commotion had gotten out of hand again.
Even if he planned to go to Hagrid's, it would be best to wait a few days for things to calm down.
He'd wait until Professor Sprout's anger had subsided.
Immediately, Robert told Harry,
"Let's make it this weekend."
"I can't leave the castle right now. Otherwise, my aunt might get upset."
Harry nodded in understanding, then quickly rushed off.
He was already eager to find that Advanced Potion Making textbook and see the explosive content inside.
Robert also left the Quidditch Pitch.
With a hint of hope, he made his way to the Greenhouse.
He wondered if he could catch Professor Sprout off guard with his timing—maybe even sneak in and get some work done before being rejected.
But Professor Sprout seemed to have already anticipated Robert's thoughts.
Just as he reached the door of the Greenhouse, it closed with a snap.
Professor Sprout's voice came from inside:
"Robert, you've really made me angry this time."
"Go back. Don't even think about coming to work overtime until you've thoroughly reflected on your mistakes!"
Robert gave a wry smile.
Alright.
It looked like there really was nothing he could do now.
He probably didn't even need to bother trying Snape's classroom.
His aunt was serious this time.
But now, he couldn't enter the Greenhouse.
There was no work in the Potions classroom either.
Even the abandoned broom warehouse might lock its doors to him.
So… where could he go?
For a moment, Robert, who was used to being busy, felt genuinely lost.
After a while, Robert took a deep breath.
His eyes fell on the system panel—it had grown much more impressive since his first days at Hogwarts.
Now, he had several Gold- and Silver-level Charms.
However, the knowledge he'd gained from the Half-Blood Prince's textbook and Professor Flitwick's answers—he understood them in theory, but he hadn't fully grasped them.
The glow from those skills on his panel still felt somewhat ethereal, illusory.
It meant he knew them, but he didn't own them.
They hadn't yet become instinctual.
In his previous life, Robert had experienced something similar with academics—he could understand complex formulas and use them, but there was always a hint of hesitation.
A lack of confidence when it truly mattered.
That stemmed from one root cause: insufficient practice.
Thinking of this, Robert made up his mind.
"Since I have free time…"
"Then I'll polish my Charms."
"I'll make sure the insights from the Half-Blood Prince's textbook and Professor Flitwick's guidance become something I thoroughly own."
He found an empty classroom, took a deep breath, and held his ash wand tightly.
Gradually, his mind sharpened and detached from the chaos of recent days.
He focused entirely on the present.
His thoughts were as calm as still water.
Robert gently waved his wand, beginning with the first Charm he ever learned—the Soil Loosening Spell.
"Terra—Laus!"
No fancy tricks.
Just pure, basic practice: incantation, gesture, and intention—all perfectly aligned.
After each casting, he reflected on the details, tweaking and improving.
Then came the next spell.
Was it boring?
Of course.
Learning new magic always feels exciting.
Repetition, however—revisiting the spells one already knows—can be painfully dull.
But Robert didn't waver.
He maintained focus, noticing even the smallest improvements.
When his mind started feeling numb, he simply switched to the next Charm.
He understood one simple truth:
"Brilliance is born from long, silent endurance."
Time passed.
Minute by minute.
The corridor lights dimmed.
On Robert's system panel, the previously faint, dreamlike glow of his Charms began to solidify—like sandpaper polishing glass.
Meanwhile, deep within Hogwarts that night…
Someone else was wandering.
A figure wrapped in a large scarf hurried down from the fourth floor, looking ragged.
Quirrell's face was grim.
That Cerberus was a nightmare.
Thick-skinned, tireless, nearly immune to spells.
Today, he had tried again—only to flee in disgrace once more.
He was worried.
How long would it take to reach the Philosopher's Stone?
Even with the Dark Lord possessing him, his strength was fading.
He was growing desperate.
Just then, Quirrell saw a light in an empty classroom.
The sound of incantations echoed faintly.
His eyes lit up.
"Robert?"
He remembered that voice.
He also remembered how Robert had brutally beaten a troll on Halloween.
Magic couldn't handle the Cerberus.
But maybe… brute force?
Even if Robert could only hold the Cerberus back temporarily, it would give Quirrell the window he needed.
And in Quirrell's eyes, it would be all too easy to tempt a young, untalented wizard like Robert.
Right now, Robert was practicing alone.
This was the perfect chance.
Quirrell quickly approached the classroom.
Inside, Robert was casting Lumos.
The spell illuminated a pale face outside the door.
His heart skipped a beat; he tightened his grip on his wand.
Then he called out,
"Professor Quirrell?"
"What are you doing here so late?"
Quirrell smiled admiringly, stammering,
"I—I couldn't sleep… so I came for a walk."
"I saw you practicing Charms. Very good, very good."
"I admire dedicated young wizards like you."
"H-Hufflepuff gets three points."
As he stepped into the classroom, his tone subtly changed.
"But practicing like this—it's inefficient."
"These spells are too weak."
"If you really want to learn powerful magic… I know some shortcuts."
"Come to my office. I can teach you quietly."
By now, his stammer was fading, replaced by a smooth, persuasive tone.
His face gleamed with temptation.
Robert's heart tightened.
After a moment's pause, he shook his head.
"No, Professor."
"My current Charms still aren't solid."
"I want to fully master the ones I've learned before anything else."
Quirrell's eyes flashed with dissatisfaction—but he quickly hid it.
He smiled again.
"Very good. Very down-to-earth.
But remember—you can always come to me if you want to learn real magic."
Then he turned and left.
Although Robert had rejected him, Quirrell wasn't discouraged.
He believed he'd planted a seed.
After all, at this age, who could resist the lure of powerful, shortcut magic—especially when basic training grew tedious?
Not the first time…
Not the second…
"But after the third, fourth time—could Robert really keep resisting?"
He smiled to himself.
Like fishing—he had cast the bait.
Now, he just had to wait for the fish to bite.
The first day passed.
Quirrell remained calm.
The second day passed.
He was slightly surprised but confident.
But by the third… fourth day…
Robert never came.
Quirrell's confidence wavered.
"Don't tell me… I came up empty-handed?!"
By the fifth night, he couldn't take it anymore.
He returned to find Robert still practicing basic Charms.
Frustrated, Quirrell asked,
"Robert… why haven't you come to me?"
"What's the point of practicing weak magic?"
Robert sighed inwardly.
Was Quirrell ever going to give up?
Outwardly, he looked innocent.
"Powerful magic? But what's the use?"
Quirrell grew more persuasive.
"It helps you score high in exams, gain admiration, make a name for yourself… and…"
His tone turned darker.
"Don't you want to avenge your parents?"
After a long pause, Robert answered calmly,
"But Professor, I'm a Hufflepuff."
"We don't need top marks—just a passing grade is enough."
"As for glory and admiration—"
"That's what the other houses chase."
Quirrell's face froze.
Still trying, he pushed again:
"But your parents… don't you want justice?"
Robert shook his head.
"The Ministry and Wizengamot have already ruled."
"As members of the wizarding world, we must abide by the law."
"Under Minister Fudge and Headmaster Dumbledore, I trust in fairness and justice."
"We must never seek personal revenge."
Quirrell didn't even wait for the sentence to finish.
His veins were pulsing with rage.
He slammed the door and stormed off.
"Hopeless!"
"Rotten wood!"
"This Hufflepuff is completely useless!"
"This is why we Ravenclaws hate Hufflepuffs!"
Back in the classroom, Robert finally exhaled.
His tension eased.
But his face remained serious.
Quirrell had set his sights on him.
Even if he was frustrated for now, he would surely try again.
His eyes returned to the system panel.
After five days of intense practice, the glow of his Charms had become solid and stable.
But it still wasn't enough.
"I need to find Hagrid."
"The Goldfish Vine project must be accelerated!"
For more chapters
patreon.com/Ben479