"Carnie, wake up!" Neville shook the sleeping Carnie.
"Huh?" Carnie groggily opened his eyes. "What's up?"
"Defense Against the Dark Arts is about to start! You're going to be late!" Neville was already fully dressed.
"Oh, what time is it?" Carnie immediately became more alert and quickly got out of bed to get dressed.
"It's 8:30!"
"How did I oversleep…?" Carnie and Neville hurried out of the dormitory.
Luckily, they arrived in the classroom just before the bell rang. Professor Quirrell, his signature purple turban wrapped tightly around his head, was already inside.
"Good morning, Professor!" Carnie greeted Quirrell with a polite smile. He figured it was best to stay on the good side of this particular professor.
"O-oh! What a p-polite child! G-go take your seat!" Quirrell stammered slightly but managed to maintain a smile, trying not to sound as nervous as usual.
Carnie and Neville found Harry and Ron and sat behind them. As he settled into his seat, he began recalling the events of the previous night.
"Neville, wasn't I meditating by the window last night? How did I end up in my bed?" Carnie vaguely remembered closing his eyes, clearing his thoughts, and focusing on meditation. After that, his memory was blank.
"You fell asleep while meditating. Just collapsed onto the floor," Neville explained.
"We were about to help you up, but then you suddenly stood up by yourself. And, considering what you said before you slept, we were too scared to make a sound," Ron added, turning around.
"I stood up by myself?" Carnie was confused. "Then what?"
"You sat back down and just stared out the window. Since you seemed fine, we just went to bed. You must have been sleepwalking," Neville whispered.
Noticing Quirrell glancing at them repeatedly, Carnie decided to drop the topic for now.
Defense Against the Dark Arts class was mind-numbingly boring. Quirrell merely read from the textbook, stammering through most of it.
Maybe Voldemort really didn't want us to learn anything useful. Carnie thought as he let his mind drift.
Sleep soon crept up on him. It was as if he hadn't slept at all last night. The way Quirrell read the textbook felt like an advanced level of hypnosis. I wonder how deep Professor Binns' sleep-inducing powers go… he mused.
Before he knew it, he was out like a light.
"Alright, that will be all for today's class," Quirrell announced.
And just like that, Carnie had slept through an entire morning.
On their way to lunch, Carnie looked around and asked, "Hey, where's Hermione? Why is it that I only ever see her in class?"
"She's always in the library," Harry explained.
In the afternoon, they had another Herbology lesson—their second for the week.
The class took place in the greenhouses, where they learned about Bubotuber cultivation, its uses, and proper care. Its pus was a powerful treatment for stubborn acne. So, basically wizarding skincare… Carnie mused.
After class, Carnie once again made his way to the eighth floor.
He didn't care if his magical reserves were low—he needed to grind his skills. If you don't have talent, you make up for it with practice.
Later that night, after dinner and a shower, Carnie went through his usual exercise routine, shocking Harry and Ron.
Carnie was taller than Harry by about a fist's length. Ron was only two fingers taller than Harry, while Neville was around Carnie's height but noticeably chubbier.
Damn, Harry really was underfed… Carnie thought. Ron's family struggled to afford food for seven kids, and Neville was obviously well taken care of, despite his parents' condition.
"By Merlin, you're insane! Even Fred and George can't do more than twenty push-ups!" Ron exclaimed.
"If you start training with me now, you'll be able to do thirty in two weeks," Carnie said.
"That long? Forget it…," Ron immediately lost interest.
Carnie decided to change tactics. "Think of it this way: after two weeks, you'll be able to punch Malfoy so hard that he begs you to stop."
"I'M IN!" Ron's enthusiasm skyrocketed.
Ron's physical fitness was average at best. He barely managed five push-ups before collapsing, and even those weren't proper ones.
"You should start with sit-ups," Carnie advised. Strengthening the core is key. If your abs aren't strong, your push-ups will be weak, too.
Harry, having finished washing up, joined in after hearing about Malfoy. He had run into the blond Slytherin that afternoon and realized that, as annoying as Dudley was, Malfoy might actually be worse.
"Carnie, can we see your muscles?" Harry asked while resting.
"Sure," Carnie shrugged and pulled off his shirt.
His muscles weren't overly defined—just enough to show he trained. His abs weren't fully developed yet, only a visible four-pack, but his biceps were well-toned.
He had once heard of a kid in his past life who became obsessed with bodybuilding and ended up stunting his growth. Carnie wasn't about to let that happen to him.
"By Merlin's beard! How long does it take to get muscles like that?" Ron was amazed.
"About a year," Carnie estimated, assuming they trained consistently.
"With one punch, I could probably send Malfoy straight to the hospital wing," Carnie said confidently.
"That's AMAZING! I want to personally send Malfoy to the hospital!" Harry grinned, already picturing a bruised and swollen Malfoy.
Seamus had zero interest in training and scoffed, "You lot won't last a week."
As for Neville? Forget it… He'd have to lose weight first. At this point, he couldn't even do a single push-up without his stomach hitting the floor. Sit-ups were also out of the question—too much effort. And with the school's plentiful food, he was only going to get chubbier.
Harry and Ron, meanwhile, kept chanting "Beat up Malfoy!" as they did their sit-ups.
However, their enthusiasm was quickly crushed by the upper-year students upstairs yelling down at them: "Shut up and go to sleep! We have classes tomorrow!"
Carnie made them stop after about half an hour. Any more and they wouldn't be able to move tomorrow.
As for himself, it was time to meditate.
"If I start sleepwalking, and I'm not doing anything dangerous, don't wake me up," Carnie told the others.
"And if you are dangerous?" Neville asked.
"Then run for your lives," Carnie said with dead seriousness.
Four pillows immediately flew at him.
Back at the window, Carnie sat cross-legged, bathed in the cold silver light of the moon.
He closed his eyes, adjusted his breathing, and focused.
Is magic a physical force or something intangible? Where does it exist in the body? And how does it replenish?
He leaned toward the idea that magic had a physical form, just as small as molecules. If meditation absorbed magic, then it likely entered through the skin's pores, passed through capillaries, and spread via the bloodstream.
It's important to study magic scientifically. I won't be like those wizards who just wave their wands and say, "Boom! Magic!" Carnie thought.
After about ten minutes, he felt nothing.
Except for the cold.
And the absence of mosquitoes.
Damn, should I close the window? It's not freezing, but getting sick would suck… He shut the window but barely felt a difference in warmth.
The moonlight still streamed through, casting a pale glow over the room.
Then, realization struck him—Hogwarts has temperature-regulating magic. That meant the chill he was feeling had nothing to do with the open window.
Carnie hesitated before reopening the window.
A few minutes passed.
Then…
Pffffft…
Carnie let out a fart.
After sitting there for another ten minutes, he sighed. This takes serious patience. He was making no progress.
Opening his eyes, he looked up at the sky.
Tonight, the moon was rounder than the night before. He had seen the moon many times in his past life, but here in the wizarding world, it was different—brighter, clearer.
Maybe that's just how the magical world works…