HP: A Sociopath Gamer In Magic World [ Chapter 38: Pretty Face is all that mattered! ] (Patreon)

"The rest shouldn't be a problem. Though I am curious why you are interested so much in ley lines and magical items all of a sudden."

"What can I say? We all have hobbies, right?" I replied with a shrug.

She gave me a deadpan look. "Most 12-year-old boys don't have hobbies that costs hundreds of galleons every month."

I said nothing.

"Besides, what happened to all of those books you already bought? There must have been at least forty, you couldn't possibly have finished them all."

I had actually. Now that I had stopped sleeping entirely, I was left with a surplus of time which I used to read my books. While most of them couldn't be absorbed since I didn't have the required INT yet, that didn't mean I couldn't read them and familiarize myself with it beforehand. Plus, it wasn't that hard, since thanks to my high WIS, I was able to understand it all after reading it only once.

Still I kept silent as Daphne continued to rant about my odd behavior.

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Professor Flitwick:-

The Head of Ravenclaw was awoken from his slumber as the alarm he placed around Ravenclaw Tower went off, informing him that someone had left the common room after dark.

With groggy steps the small man retrieved a night robe and shuffled out of his room in his fuzzy slippers.

He could already guess as to the identity of the rulebreaker from similar experiences this last week.

Walking down the flights of steps he made his way to the opposite side of the castle. He spotted the familiar form of his friend and fellow teacher, Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva," he greeted her before joining her to stare out of a window with a clear view of the lake. A black figure could be seen walking along the shore.

"Filius," she said without taking her eyes off the figure.

With a wave of his wand a pair of eyeglasses appeared in his hands, charmed with telescopic view. In seconds he zoomed into the scene of a certain Ravenclaw digging around in the sand and retrieving an old iron sword.

"He needs help Filius, you should talk to him," McGonagall told him as she watched Charles transfigure sand into large troll-like sculptures. Despite the worry she felt, she couldn't help but be impressed at his progress in magic.

They watched as the young twelve-year-old swung the sword clumsily at the sand trolls.

"I wish I could Minerva, but I'm afraid that would do more harm than good," Filius commented even as the goblin and duelest side of him winced at the atrocious display of swordsmanship. "The troll might not have done him any physical damage, but it did leave a scar behind."

"He's going to burn himself out at this rate."

"It is something he has to work out himself. Trauma from being so close to death is not something that one can easily overcome, you know this as well Minerva," the charms master told her. They watched the young Ravenclaw overextend on a swing that sent him tumbling to the ground, only to pick themselves back up again. "But at least he is trying in his own way."

McGonagall stayed silent as her eyes gained a far-off look.

The quarter goblin wizard shook his head ruefully. "Charles is talented. Despite his struggling at the beginning of the year he has proven to be one of my best students.

His understanding of the material comes from his inability to take anything at face value, that is both his weakness and greatest strength. I've seen him in the library on occasions researching books about the lesson I just taught in order to prove what I said was true.

While I'm unaware of his home life, his lack of trust for authority figures must stem from something. Our inability to stop the troll from getting in might have also painted us in a bad light, where he is unlikely to trust us," he said the last part with a small amount of guilt in his voice.

Minerva let out a sigh, "I agree that he has shown remarkable improvement since the start of the year, but I think you are giving him too much credit. He is just a boy; this is not something he can work out by himself."

"And I don't intend for him to," the small man looked up to her with a serious expression, "I'll have a talk with him. But for now, he has to try things his way before he is willing to listen to me."

They were just in time to see Charles throw his sword to the side and charge at one of the sand trolls.

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I took a deep breath as I did some last-minute warm-ups in the Ravenclaw locker room.

"Nervous?" Robert asked as he took the seat next to me on the bench.

Cracking my neck, I shook my head and stood up, "Not really."

He stood up as well and placed hand on my shoulder in what he must have thought was a comforting manner but seeing as we were both shirtless it had the opposite effect. "Good, there's nothing to be worried about. Do you still remember your job?" he continued, completely ignoring the awkwardness of the situation.

"Try to break their bones?"

"Exactly," he said with a grin before walking away.

Anyways, these months of intense training had really done wonders for my body. While I didn't really have the bulky build that most beaters tended to have, I had managed to stack quite a bit of muscle, enough to at least look proud of showing it. I had also shot up to an even 5'6''.

I wet my hair and then used a rubber band to keep it out of my face. It had been months since I've gotten a proper haircut and was starting to get kind of shaggy. I looked at myself in the mirror and was pleased by what I saw. While I might not be a full-blown narcissist, I did take care of my appearance. After all, more people were willing to trust a pretty face than not.