Harry Potter and the Candy Factory

The next day, as usual, after entrusting all the specific affairs of the factory to Russell, Charlie set off with the luggage specially prepared for him, embarking on his journey to Paris.

Before leaving the British wizarding world, Charlie went to Hogwarts again to meet with Headmaster Dumbledore.

However, this time, Dumbledore happened to be filling in as a substitute teacher, giving a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to the first-year little wizards, so the two of them didn't have a conversation in the office as usual.

Instead, it was like returning to his days as a student at Hogwarts, strolling leisurely along the corridor, chatting casually.

"Take this."

The two walked down the stairs, passing through wave after wave of little wizards hurrying to class.

Suddenly, Dumbledore seemed to remember something.

He raised his thick textbook and, after rummaging through it, handed Charlie an inconspicuous, crumpled little piece of paper.

"This is..."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, took it, and curiously examined it.

The note had no magical fluctuations whatsoever.

As it appeared, it was an ordinary piece of paper, and on it was an address written casually with an ink pen: "51 Rue de Montmorency, 3rd arrondissement, Paris, France."

Looking at the ink that had not completely dried, it should have been freshly written by Dumbledore in his office not long ago.

Dumbledore explained with a smile, "Nicolas Flamel is the person who fears trouble the most in the world, so he rarely gives out his address unless it is absolutely necessary."

Charlie understood and then revealed a smile, "Looks like I'm a lucky one."

"Who says you're not?"

Dumbledore winked playfully like a child and chuckled.

"By the way, I've actually been wanting to ask since just now."

Just as Charlie carefully folded the piece of paper, smaller than half his palm, and put it in his clothes, Dumbledore suddenly stopped, turned his head, and sized up Charlie next to him with curious and inquisitive eyes.

"What?" Charlie responded.

"Why aren't you wearing that windbreaker you always wear today, and instead changed into such a... peculiar piece of clothing?"

Dumbledore said, reaching out and gently touching the unique surface of Charlie's down jacket.

Feeling the texture, unlike ordinary woven fabric, he couldn't help but feel a sense of novelty.

"My general agent in the Muggle world gave it to me as a Christmas present.

What do you think, isn't it great?"

"Very interesting."

Dumbledore nodded in praise.

Unlike the typical old fogey of his age, Dumbledore could show 120% curiosity and tolerance towards anything he hadn't encountered before.

In this respect, he and his brother, Aberforth, were remarkably similar.

Just as Dumbledore was planning to chat with Charlie a little more about this novel down jacket, suddenly, from behind them, two familiar voices called out unexpectedly.

"Mr. Black!"

"Uncle!"

Hearing the voices, the two stopped in their tracks and subconsciously looked back, only to see Draco and Harry running excitedly towards them, stopping a meter in front of Charlie.

Behind them, Hermione sighed helplessly, slowly following behind.

After seeing Dumbledore and Charlie turn around, she politely bowed and greeted them.

"Mr. Black, Headmaster Dumbledore, good morning."

"Good morning to you too, Miss Granger."

Charlie and Dumbledore responded with smiles, while Charlie opened his arms and ruffled Harry and Draco's heads as usual.

Then, looking down at Harry, whose face was full of excitement, he asked gently, "How was Christmas?

Did you like the Christmas present I gave you?"

Harry nodded eagerly, his expression becoming even more excited.

"Yes!

I loved it!

That broom is amazing!

Even the Seeker from the Slytherin team, Terrence, couldn't easily catch up with me after I got on it."

"Well, that's great!

I'm glad you like it."

Charlie also smiled, giving him a look full of encouragement and affirmation.

"Do you like Quidditch very much?"

"I love it!"

Harry didn't even hesitate, stating it firmly.

Even Draco, who was beside him, didn't hide the admiration in his eyes for his friend's talent in this area, adding with emotion, "Harry is the most amazing Quidditch talent I've ever seen, especially on the field.

His figure is as fast as lightning.

None of the Quidditch players expected a first-year student to be so amazing..."

Seeming to think of something, Charlie raised an eyebrow for no reason, turned his head, and looked in Dumbledore's direction.

Dumbledore looked back at him with a smile, the lips under his thick beard moving slightly.

Although no sound came out, Charlie could vaguely guess that he was saying, "Just like his father, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Charlie gave his old headmaster an indifferent expression, then turned back and patted Harry's shoulder forcefully: "Good job, kid!"

Just as he was speaking, Dumbledore suddenly seemed to notice something and said abruptly,

"Where's that little Weasley who's usually with you?

Why isn't he here today?"

Hearing this, Charlie suddenly realized that Arthur's son, Ron Weasley, was not among them.

"Oh, Ron..."

The three looked at each other, with a strange expression in their eyes.

After a moment, Hermione explained the situation.

"Ron ate too many sweets yesterday and got a stomach ache.

He's in the hospital wing now.

Madam Pomfrey just fed him three large bowls of disgusting potions."

Listening to Hermione's words, before Charlie could say anything, Dumbledore laughed first.

"Hahahaha..." With his laughter, his thick, snow-white beard trembled as if it had a life of its own.

After laughing for a while, he said with a strangely certain tone, "There must be another reason why he got a stomach ache.

As everyone knows, simply eating sweets can't make you sick."

"Didn't you notice that the vending machines from number six to number thirteen haven't been restocked today?"

Hearing this, Dumbledore's expression changed from certainty to astonishment and disbelief: "How much did he eat?"

Draco shook his head seriously, "No one, no one knows how much he ate."