Charlie had never enjoyed a feast this lavish. His stomach felt like it had swollen into a tight ball.
At the end of the meal, Harry came over and handed Charlie a quill as a gift.
He asked about the chocolate eggs, but Charlie told him they weren't the final version yet and wouldn't be added to the shop anytime soon.
As for what the finished product would look like, Charlie kept that to himself.
When the group invited him to join the snowball fight on the grounds, Charlie had to turn them down with genuine regret.
His mind was already deep inside the book Professor Flitwick had given him: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2.
His hands itched to wave a wand. He had decided tonight he would master his first new spell.
"Where's he going?" Fred's voice drifted from behind Harry as they watched Charlie walk away.
"No idea," Harry said, shaking his head.
"Probably heading upstairs again," George guessed. "That guy really loves magic."
"Upstairs?" Harry turned to look at them.
"Yeah, sixth, seventh, eighth floors. No classrooms up there, so plenty of students sneak up to practice spells, study on their own, or run secret projects nobody else knows about.
Of course, that includes us," George added.
Fred kept going without missing a beat. "And, you know, secret dates, making out in the corners… that kind of thing."
"Though that part definitely doesn't include us," George chimed in again.
"Our secret base is on the seventh floor. We run into him there sometimes."
"Got it," Harry nodded.
He vaguely remembered Charlie mentioning something like that once. Or had he? Honestly, he couldn't recall.
He'd never actually been up to the higher floors himself.
Besides Gryffindor Tower, the highest place he'd ever reached was the library on the fifth floor.
And he only went there because Hermione dragged him to look up Nicolas Flamel.
"He goes night wandering a lot too. Peeves said he's seen him," Fred continued.
"Whatever. Doesn't matter. Let's go throw some snowballs."
George clapped Harry on the shoulder and hauled him to his feet. The whole group headed outside.
They played wildly on the pitch all afternoon. By the time they dragged themselves back to the common room, everyone was soaked to the skin.
Too exhausted for dinner, they skipped the Great Hall. Somehow Fred and George managed to smuggle sandwiches, roast chicken, and desserts up to the tower.
It was plenty. They'd already stuffed themselves at lunch and were ready for something lighter.
After eating, they kept messing around until late. The afternoon's exhaustion finally caught up with them, and one by one they drifted off to their dorms to sleep.
Lying in bed in the pitch-black room, Harry's mind started racing the second his head hit the pillow.
He couldn't sleep.
One thought had been circling all day.
The Invisibility Cloak. He still didn't know who sent it, only that the note said it had belonged to his father.
He rolled over, pulled the cloak from under the bed, and carefully draped it over himself.
Then he looked out the window.
He'd wanted to check his reflection to see if he was truly invisible.
But staring at the dark sky outside, a different realization hit him.
He was free. Completely free. The whole castle had opened its arms to him.
He slipped out of the dorm on silent feet.
---
On the other side of the castle, Charlie gave his wand one final flick.
"Aguamenti!"
A powerful jet of water burst from the tip and slammed into the training dummy across the room.
The dummy was instantly drenched.
Charlie clicked his tongue in frustration. In his head, if he got good enough at the Water-Making Charm, maybe it could hit like a fire hose—something with real force behind it.
No matter how hard he pushed his intent, though, the spell refused to cooperate. He tried building pressure in his mind, willing the water to spray harder, but it just wouldn't listen.
Strange. Professor Flitwick's notes made it sound completely doable.
"Control the flow rate, control the jet frequency…" The professor had written that even this seemingly harmless charm could become a serious weapon in a duelist's hands.
"Guess my proficiency still isn't high enough. Or there's some trick I'm missing." Charlie lowered his wand, picked up the book, and headed for the door.
He felt a little discouraged, but he forced himself to slow down.
He'd only received the book that morning. Already learning a brand-new spell was more than enough.
He pulled out his pocket watch. 12:23 a.m.
"I'm a damn genius. This is already impressive." He snapped the watch shut and nodded to himself.
With a sharp snap of his fingers he muttered, "Lumos."
Two glowing little light sprites popped into existence and floated beside him.
As he walked downstairs, he kept reading, the brighter sprite lighting the path at his feet while the dimmer one illuminated the pages.
This way he wouldn't trip.
Rustle.
A faint footstep reached his ears. Charlie pinched his fingers together and the two light sprites vanished.
He frowned, closed the book quietly, and pressed himself against the wall, eyes shut, listening.
Rustle.
Someone was moving carefully. Filch?
The caretaker probably sensed the holiday restlessness and decided to make an example of anyone still out of bed.
Charlie knew the drill. He'd never been caught by Filch—pure vigilance.
That sharp, cat-like awareness came from years on the streets.
He slipped silently into the shadows at the corner and waited.
A moment later the footsteps faded.
Charlie followed, moving slowly down the stairs.
He reached the sixth floor when a piercing cat yowl echoed through the corridor—Mrs. Norris.
Of course nothing was wrong with her. Her voice was always that shrill and unpleasant. It meant she'd found something.
Clang! Clang!
The rustling footsteps suddenly grew louder.
Wait.
"So the footsteps I've been tracking this whole time weren't Filch's after all?" Charlie peered down the stairs with genuine interest.
Someone this careless about stealth, and it's not Filch?
Which night-wandering idiot was this bold and stupid?
Charlie stood calmly on the stairs between the sixth and fifth floors, watching the scene unfold below as if it had nothing to do with him.
Then, faint but clear, Filch's voice carried up from below.
"Professor, you said to report if anyone was night wandering. Fifth floor. Mrs. Norris caught someone.
The guy was careful. I only heard footsteps. Never saw him."
"Excellent. I'd very much like to see who's feeling so bold tonight."
Snape's cold voice echoed through the empty corridor and reached Charlie's ears.