Charlie also parted ways with everyone and returned to his dormitory.
Ernie and Justin were already sleeping like logs. Charlie tiptoed, washed up, and lay down on his bed.
Two days passed in a blink of an eye. On Friday, Charlie groggily climbed out of bed.
After washing up, a sumptuous breakfast prepared by Billy was already laid out on his bedside table.
Hot fried eggs and bacon, along with freshly baked toast, filled the air with their aroma.
"How thoughtful."
Charlie ate his breakfast while marveling at Billy's service quality.
["Your Majesty indulges in pleasure, tyrant points +1"]
Hey, can't I enjoy myself?
After eating and drinking his fill, Charlie leisurely strolled towards the Potion Class classroom.
In class, Snape continued his usual routine of bothering Harry and Charlie.
He always stood stealthily behind them, using his unique tone to seize upon their minor mistakes and deduct points mercilessly.
This class was teaching a new Potion: the Confusion Potion.
In fact, Charlie had recently won a perfect Confusion Potion recipe from a lottery, which was even more refined than the one in the textbook.
Twenty minutes later, standard silver-white steam was rising from Charlie's cauldron, and the Potion's surface shimmered with a subtle pearlescent glow.
Snape walked to Charlie's desk and looked down at the Potion in the cauldron.
A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, but his face remained expressionless.
Oh, if anyone said Professor Snape could have emotional fluctuations, I would kick his butt hard and tell him to stop telling science fiction stories.
"Hmph, barely acceptable."
"However, the brewing speed is too fast, clearly a sign of being overeager for success. Hufflepuff, minus one point."
Charlie was already numb to this kind of operation.
He just wanted to see what new tricks Snape would pull and what excuses he would find to deduct points each time.
The bell rang for the end of class, and students, relieved, packed their things, ready to leave.
Just as Charlie was about to walk out of the classroom, Fred and George appeared mysteriously at the door.
The Twins raised their eyebrows at Charlie, their eyes full of excitement.
Charlie understood immediately; the props were ready.
"How is it?" Charlie asked in a low voice.
"Everything is ready." Fred said with a mysterious smile... in a deserted corridor.
Earlier, Charlie had observed that Quirrell passed through this corridor every day, so he asked The Twins to make an automatic hook.
The hook would be installed in the corridor, and when Quirrell passed by, it would hook his turban.
Fred pulled out an exquisite mechanical hook from his pocket.
A slender rope was attached to the top of the hook, and the entire device emitted a faint magical glow.
"Has this thing been tested? How well does it work?"
Charlie curiously examined the small mechanism.
George patted his shoulder, a triumphant look on his face:
"Don't worry, brother, just watch my hook from the side."
"The working principle of this hook is very simple," Fred explained as he installed the device on the ceiling.
"The sensing magic will detect the target approaching, then automatically release the hook."
"The hook will accurately locate the turban's position, so fast that people won't even react."
Charlie nodded; The Twins' craftsmanship was indeed good.
The device was cleverly hidden behind the decorative carvings on the ceiling, completely undetectable.
The three ambushed at the corner of the corridor.
Soon, familiar footsteps echoed from afar.
Charlie peeked out and saw it was Professor Quirrell.
He still had that timid look, tightly wrapped in his purple turban, trembling even as he walked.
"He's coming, he's coming." George excitedly rubbed his hands.
"Get ready for a good show." Fred's eyes gleamed with mischief.
Quirrell walked step by step towards the trap area, completely unaware of the danger above his head.
Charlie held his breath, feeling a strange anticipation inside, wondering how many tyrant points this would yield.
When Quirrell walked directly under the device, the hook instantly popped out from the ceiling, accurately landing behind him and snagging a corner of the purple turban.
"Click!"
The hook pulled sharply upward.
However, something unexpected happened.
The turban seemed to be glued, sticking tightly to Quirrell's back of the head.
The hook pulled hard, and Quirrell's entire back of the head was distorted, stretched like modeling clay.
"Ah ah ah ah!"
A shrill scream echoed through the corridor.
The scream sounded nothing like Quirrell's usual timid voice; instead, it carried a chilling hoarseness, like the sound of a snake.
Charlie felt a pang of sympathy.
How strong must that pull have been to deform a person's head?
["Your Majesty tortures a teacher, acting with extreme cruelty, tyrant points +50"]
That many? Just pulling off a turban shouldn't be that bad.
Now the sympathy was gone, replaced by a slight satisfaction.
Quirrell quickly reacted, reaching out to grab the hook and forcefully pulling the turban off it.
After readjusting his turban, Quirrell looked around, his gaze becoming exceptionally wary.
The timid expression vanished, replaced by a chilling vigilance.
He quickly left the scene.
Only after confirming Quirrell had gone far away did the three emerge from their hiding spot.
"What a shame." Fred's face was full of regret.
"Still couldn't see Professor Quirrell's back of the head."
"That turban was stuck too tightly, wasn't it?" George stroked his chin in thought.
"You don't think he was possessed by a female ghost in Egypt, and he's hiding her on the back of his head?"
Charlie let out a chuckle: "Then this female ghost must smell awful, all garlic."
The three retrieved the device, Fred looking dejected.
George also hung his head: "Looks like we need to rethink our approach."
Charlie, however, was in a good mood; the 50 tyrant points from the system notification made him beam with delight.
This was much more satisfying than the usual petty mischief.
"It's alright, take your time." Charlie patted both of their shoulders.
The Twins exchanged glances, both seeing unwillingness in each other's eyes.
How could their prank empire be thwarted by a mere turban?
No, they had to intensify their efforts.
"Let's go, let's go. I need to report to Professor McGonagall."
Charlie waved, walking cheerfully towards Professor McGonagall's office.
Today was Friday, Professor McGonagall's detention time... Meanwhile, Quirrell frantically ran back to his office, slamming the door shut.
He leaned against the door, panting heavily, his purple turban slightly askew.
"My Lord, someone attacked me just now..." Quirrell's voice trembled.
A chilling voice came from the back of his head, with clear anger:
"You incompetent fool! To be ambushed by students!"
"It's my incompetence, My Lord!" Quirrell fell to his knees with a thud.
"I really didn't expect anyone to..."
"Shut up." Lord Voldemort's voice was chillingly cold.
"As an adult Wizard, to be played for a fool by a few students, I am truly disappointed in you."
Quirrell felt a piercing pain in the back of his head, as if countless needles were pricking him.
"Ah ah ah, My Lord, spare me."
He writhed on the floor in agony, clutching his head tightly with both hands.
"I have given you chances, Quirrell." Lord Voldemort's voice was filled with disgust.
"If I didn't still need this body of yours, you would have died countless times over."
"I was wrong, I was wrong, I beg My Lord to spare your loyal servant." Quirrell cried profusely.
"You had best pray there are no more such blunders." Lord Voldemort snorted coldly.
"Otherwise, the next punishment will make you wish you were dead."
The pain finally stopped, and Quirrell collapsed to the floor, his face covered in tears and snot... At this moment, Charlie was organizing books in Professor McGonagall's office.
["Your Majesty acts recklessly, causing a teacher to cry bitterly, tyrant points +2"]
Charlie paused.
What the heck?
Who was crying bitterly?
He turned his head to look at Professor McGonagall.
No, she was grading homework.
["Ding! System notification: Your Majesty acts recklessly, causing a teacher to cry bitterly, tyrant points +2"]
Again?
Who is this teacher?
It couldn't be Quirrell, could it?
Is Professor Quirrell that sensitive? Crying in his own office?