Harry Potter and the Candy Factory

“My dearest Barnabas Cuffe… Listen, Rita, Mr. Black called me ‘dearest’ Barnabas Cuffe.”

Inside the editor's office, the tall Cuffe abruptly stood up from his office chair behind the desk. While reading the letter in his hand, he raised his head and said with surprise to Rita Skeeter, who was sitting on the sofa meticulously applying nail polish.

“Yes, yes… I heard you, Editor,”

Rita Skeeter replied without even lifting her head, her attention still focused on her well-maintained nails as she continued to apply a layer of eye-catching and exaggerated pink.

Seeing that his capable subordinate was not interested, Cuffe's soaring enthusiasm did not diminish. Instead, he slowly paced around the office, subtly puffing out his chest as he continued to read aloud,

“Please allow me to send a belated Merry Christmas. I was incredibly surprised and delighted by the Christmas gift you sent…”

“…Since our brief exchange in Minister Fudge’s office last time, I have been wanting to find an opportunity to chat with you alone…”

“Taking advantage of this opportunity, if possible, I hope we can have a drink together in your free time and become friends. What do you think?… Yours sincerely, Charlie Black.”

The light in Cuffe's eyes grew brighter and brighter. When he read Charlie's name at the end, he even smacked his lips as if he hadn't had enough. His fingers couldn't help but rub the texture and handwriting on the surface of the paper, as if his soul had been elevated in some way at this moment.

“Rita…”

He called out again to his capable subordinate sitting on the sofa.

Coincidentally, Rita Skeeter had just finished applying polish to all ten nails. After admiring her “beautiful” look, she finally deigned to look up and continued to play along with Editor Cuffe, her boss.

“Yes, Editor, I'm here…”

However, her voice was still inevitably perfunctory and helpless.

But Cuffe, who was immersed in his own world, fantasizing about having dinner with Charlie Black, a well-known top tycoon, pure-blood aristocrat, and legendary figure in the entire wizarding world, obviously didn't hear anything wrong in Rita Skeeter's tone. He excitedly continued,

“Look… What did I say? Someone as intelligent as Mr. Black would definitely see the Christmas gift I sent him immediately.”

After saying that, he symbolically waved the letter in his hand at Rita, which caused another silent eye-roll from her. ♦ ൠ     ♦ ♦

“Facts prove that I was right!” Seeing her rolling her eyes, Cuffe was not angry but instead raised his head with self-satisfaction and smiled slightly, taking it as a sign that Rita Skeeter had given in.

He carefully folded the letter in his hand and placed it on his desk. Then, feeling that it was not appropriate, he quickly reopened the envelope stamped with the Black family crest and put the letter back in as it was.

After all this was done, Cuffe finally stopped in the center of the office, took a deep breath of the slightly cool air, and then straightened his chest and back before sighing,

“Sometimes you really have to believe a saying: seeing is believing, hearing is deceiving.

Before I had contact with Mr. Black, I always heard rumors about him. They said he was a strange fellow, that he was cold and unsentimental, that he didn't value his aristocratic status and was willing to associate with house-elves…”

“At that time, I chose to believe these unfounded rumors without ever having met Mr. Black. But what was the result? Through my last meeting with Mr. Black, I knew that he was an elegant and perfect aristocratic gentleman. Through this letter, I can also confirm that he is a humane and kind old gentleman!”

After saying that, he hummed twice with satisfaction, then raised his hand, took out a Marlboro cigarette that was only sold in the Muggle world from his pocket. After putting it in his mouth and lighting it with magic, Cuffe took a deep puff.

After the white smoke slowly exhaled from his mouth, he continued,

“People like me who have only met Mr. Black twice can see these things, but those who spread rumors recklessly are completely unaware.

It can be seen that those who talk eloquently have actually never met Mr. Black. Or… to put it another way, they are not qualified to meet such a top figure in the British wizarding world.”

As soon as he finished speaking, as if thinking of himself, he grinned, revealing a row of bright white teeth, and then tugged at both sides of his trench coat, unhurriedly saying,

“Actually, it's understandable. After all, not everyone is like me, receiving a handwritten letter from Mr. Black and having the opportunity to be invited by him for dinner.”

Hearing this, Rita Skeeter, who had been coldly watching Cuffe's constant daydreaming, finally couldn't hold back. Just as she opened her mouth, intending to pour a bucket of cold water on him, Cuffe seemed to suddenly remember something and hurried back to his seat, rummaging through the papers, muttering to himself, and picking up a pen to write something on them.

“That's right! I almost forgot, I should reply to Mr. Black first!! Mr. Black is a busy man, I can't let him wait too long.”

“…Editor, actually…”

Rita Skeeter pushed up her strange glasses, hesitated, and was about to say something, but was interrupted again.

“What are you still doing, Rita? Shouldn't you be out looking for news at this time? Hurry, hurry, get moving!”

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Walking out of Cuffe's office, the corners of Rita's mouth couldn't help but twitch, revealing a smile that was not a smile.

As a reporter who had been responsible for interviewing Charlie Black in the early days, she believed that she had collected enough information about that gentleman. She had studied him up and down and inside and out.

How could such a top tycoon, whom even Fudge did not dare to offend, personally write back a letter because of your article? Moreover, if Cuffe had not been overwhelmed by excitement, as the editor of a well-known newspaper, he should still be able to see that the main body of the letter and the signature at the end, although the handwriting was very similar, there were still some differences if you looked closely.

If Rita wasn't mistaken, this was probably written by Mr. Black's house-elf assistant, Mr. Russell.

Of course, seeing her boss's unprecedented excitement, Rita ultimately chose not to tell him about it.

“After all, that's not my life.”