Over the next few days, Charlie experienced various courses at Hogwarts.
In Charms Class, Professor Flitwick teaching from atop a stack of books made Charlie laugh.
The small Professor with Goblin blood was knowledgeable and enthusiastic in his teaching.
When he called Harry's name for the first time, he was so excited he almost fell off the stack of books.
"Mr. Potter!"
Professor Flitwick shrieked, his voice trembling with excitement.
"What an honor, what an honor!"
The Herbology teacher was Professor Sprout, the Dean of Hufflepuff.
She was a short, plump Witch, always wearing patched clothes, with dirt perpetually under her fingernails.
But she was extremely kind to her students, even those who knew nothing about Herbology, she was full of patience.
Because Charlie insisted on exploring the Castle with the Weasley Twins every night, he was always drowsy during daytime classes.
Professor Flitwick would directly tap his desk with his wand, angrily deducting points from Hufflepuff.
"Mr. White, this is the second time this week you've slept in my class! Five points from Hufflepuff!"
However, when Charlie woke up and demonstrated a perfect Spell, Professor Flitwick would excitedly add the points back.
"Excellent, a perfect Levitation Charm, five points to Hufflepuff!"
Professor Sprout, on the other hand, adopted a gentler approach.
Whenever Charlie fell asleep in her class, she would quietly walk over to him and gently rub the top of his head with her rough but warm hand until he woke up.
"Mr. White, I know you're tired, but the Mandrake's cries won't get quieter just because you're asleep."
She always spoke so gently, without a hint of reproach.
This made Charlie feel too embarrassed to sleep in her class anymore.
Time quickly came to Friday.
There was only one Potion Class in the morning, which was with Gryffindor. (Fanfiction Adaptation)
Last night, Charlie had once again explored the Castle with the Weasley Brothers until the early hours, so much so that he fell asleep at his desk as soon as he arrived in the classroom that morning.
Ernie and Justin sat on either side of Charlie, already accustomed to his behavior.
"How do you think Professor Snape will deal with Charlie?" Justin whispered to Ernie.
"I don't know, but it definitely won't be as gentle as Professor Sprout," Ernie said, looking worriedly at the sleeping Charlie.
The classroom door suddenly burst open, and a greasy-haired man strode in, his black robes billowing behind him like a giant bat.
The classroom immediately fell silent, all students holding their breath.
As soon as Snape entered the classroom, his eyes fixed on Harry.
He walked towards the podium, softly speaking in his flat, indifferent voice.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of Potion-making."
Harry, being stared at intensely and listening to his voice, got goosebumps all over.
At the same time, he had a bad feeling; this Professor seemed to pay extra attention to him.
"Here there will be no foolish wand-waving, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you to really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..."
Just as Snape was about to call Harry's name, his peripheral vision caught something, and his voice abruptly stopped.
All the students followed his gaze and saw Charlie, sound asleep at his desk.
The temperature in the classroom seemed to drop several degrees instantly.
"It seems," Snape's voice became even deeper, carrying a dangerous undertone.
"Someone among us believes they have already surpassed Potions and no longer needs to attend class."
No one dared to speak.
Ernie gently nudged Charlie, but he only grunted and continued to sleep.
Snape's face turned ashen, he grabbed the blackboard eraser from the podium and threw it forcefully at Charlie.
The eraser accurately hit the top of Charlie's head.
Charlie woke up with a jolt, groggily lifted his head, and saw all his classmates staring at him, while Professor Snape's gaze was practically murderous.
"Tell me your name!"
"Charlie White."
"Mr. White," Snape said coldly.
"It seems my class is too boring for you, so much so that you'd rather use it to catch up on sleep."
Charlie rubbed his eyes, realizing he was wrong.
Falling asleep in class was one thing, but directly sleeping face down was a bit disrespectful to the teacher.
"I'm sorry, Professor. I was studying late last night and accidentally fell asleep."
Snape narrowed his eyes, a cold sneer playing on his lips.
"Studying? I think you were wandering around the Castle, weren't you?"
Charlie's heart skipped a beat.
How did this guy know? Did he see me and the Weasley Twins last night?
"Since you have so much energy to wander at night, then you must be very proficient in Potions," Snape said slowly, every word carrying a bone-chilling coldness.
"So, Mr. White, tell me, what would you get if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Charlie was stunned, wormwood? For colds? But it's best not to answer randomly, being honest would avoid further mistakes.
"I don't know, Professor."
Hermione immediately raised her hand, almost jumping out of her seat.
Snape completely ignored Hermione, a hint of sarcasm on his lips.
"Tsk tsk, it seems your Troll brain doesn't match your reputation. I heard you performed well in Transfiguration Class, but you know nothing in my class."
Some students in the classroom snickered.
"I'll give you another chance," Snape continued.
"Tell me, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Hermione's hand was raised even higher, almost touching the ceiling.
Ernie whispered something beside him, but his voice was too low for Charlie to hear clearly.
Snape gave Ernie a cold glance, and the latter immediately shut his mouth.
Charlie frowned, this was clearly a deliberate attempt to make things difficult.
"I don't know, Professor."
"What a pity."
"Since your brain is empty, you should pay attention in class, you idiot."
The students laughed even harder.
"Last question, Mr. White." Snape's eyes gleamed with malice.
"Where can you find a bezoar?"
Charlie now completely understood.
Snape was just looking for trouble; he had only slept for a while before class, and had apologized when he came in, yet Snape was still unrelenting.
If that was the case, why should he indulge him?
"Professor," Charlie replied with a cold face, "In dung."
Due to the phrasing, the remark sounded highly ambiguous.
A burst of laughter immediately erupted in the classroom.
Snape's face instantly turned ashen.
"Silence!"
He roared, and the classroom immediately fell silent.
"Utterly foolish!" Snape said through gritted teeth.
"Powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood together make a sleeping Potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, both are aconite. As for a bezoar, it is taken from the stomach of a goat."
"Put away your self-righteous attitude, this is not your Gryffindor common room."
Apparently, he mistook Charlie for a Gryffindor.
Charlie was furious at being reprimanded.
He admitted that sleeping in class was wrong, but even a mud statue has some temper.
Mistakes could be pointed out, and punishment accepted, he would take it all, but what was the meaning of deliberately making things difficult for him in other ways?
"Professor," Charlie looked directly into Snape's eyes, his voice clear and firm.
"There are many Potions that can be made by combining powdered asphodel root and wormwood with different auxiliary ingredients. How am I supposed to know which one you're referring to?"
"There are so many types of aconite, do you expect a student on their first day of school to be able to distinguish all of them?"
"Are a goat's intestines filled with feces or your brain?!"
As soon as this sentence left his mouth, the entire classroom instantly fell into a deathly silence.
Hermione's mouth hung open, looking disbelieving.
Harry stared at Charlie, dumbfounded, his eyes shining with admiration; he was practically a war god.
Snape's face went from ashen to pale, then to purple-red.
"Thirty thousand points from Gryffindor!"
Snape finally roared, his voice so loud it almost shattered the classroom windows.