"Fine. You can keep half these Sickles for change," Charlie said.
"No problem at all." Lely nodded. Charlie dumped a big handful of silver coins back into her pouch.
He also shoved in another stack of fresh chocolates. The ones already in there were down to just a few, exactly like she'd warned.
"Sir, don't stress. This is only the beginning. Once word spreads in the next couple days, we're gonna sell even better."
"I don't know whether to be excited or terrified," Charlie muttered, shaking his head with a complicated look.
He just hoped that after the initial rush, people would calm down and only the real chocolate lovers would keep coming. That way he'd actually harvest more Wish Dust.
Once everything was packed, Lely got ready to leave. Charlie waved and called after her, "Don't talk to any shady—"
She was already gone in a blur of paint.
"Guess she's hit the rebellious phase," he sighed.
It was the second week back after Christmas break. Tuesday.
Whether you called it fast or slow, news about the Chocolate Factory had reached Anthony—the ultimate social butterfly—without anyone even trying.
Michael Corner was practically vibrating as he led the way. "This way, come on, you guys are gonna lose your minds. I swear. I've never seen anything like it. Who the hell came up with this idea?
A painting. A shop.
You know what I mean?
A painting. A shop."
He kept switching between the two words like he was on stage at a product launch. Charlie half-expected him to start saying "one device, one phone, one internet communicator."
"Pretty much," Anthony said, nodding slowly.
He only knew the basics. Even though it was already the second day of classes, neither he nor Hector had actually visited the shop yet. Anthony had been waiting to see exactly when the news would reach him.
They'd even made a bet. Charlie said four days. Anthony said three. Hector said a full week.
Word travels, everyone knew that. Anthony was sure his connections were top-tier, but he never expected the gossip to hit him on day two—straight from Michael Corner.
"Michael, who told you about this?" Anthony pressed.
Michael looked confused. "Why does that matter?"
Wasn't the insane magical painting shop the interesting part?!
If Anthony could read minds he would've waved it off: Screw the chocolate, I just need to know why you heard before I did. And why I'm hearing it from you.
"Fine. It was Delia Lord. She even split a piece with me. Tasted amazing. I had to tell you guys."
Delia Lord. Charlie searched his memory. Second-year girl. Didn't really know her.
"Splitting one piece in half…" Anthony muttered, smacking his lips.
He finally nodded and glanced at Michael's face.
The modeling nerd clearly thought he had the upper hand.
A few minutes later the four of them stood outside the Chocolate Factory. Several girls were already lined up.
"Do you have any infatuation chocolate, miss?" one girl asked.
Lely shook her head. "We don't sell anything like that, little witch. We only have three kinds—Sunshine, Moonlight, and Dream."
Michael grabbed Anthony and Hector and shoved through the crowd. "Hurry up, you're gonna freak out."
Charlie hung back, scanning the paintings on the wall.
Noble portrait. Picnic scene with a bunch of girls. Nighttime river landscape—maybe other paintings came here to enjoy the breeze at night.
Then he spotted one that looked like Gin Lane. A drunk slumped in an alley, half his body in a filthy puddle, but his face was pure blissed-out bliss.
Was this supposed to be Knockturn Alley? An imitation? Or had something like this actually happened in the wizarding world?
The drunk in the painting noticed Charlie staring. His expression twisted. "What the hell are you looking at?"
"Can't I look?" Charlie answered, voice flat.
He already knew some portraits in this world were unhinged. They liked jumping into other paintings to start fights. Canon had that crazy knight on a tiny horse or whatever it was.
The drunk pushed himself up and pressed against the frame, shouting, "You got a problem with me? Huh? Wanna fight? Come on in and hit me!"
Charlie's mouth twitched. He didn't even know how to respond. His theory was confirmed—this guy was completely off his rocker.
"Come fight me, you stupid wizard! Who do you think you're looking down on?"
Charlie turned to the picnic painting next to him. "Ladies, is he always like this?"
"Oh, we don't talk to him," one girl said, wrinkling her nose.
"He's like this all the time," another added.
Right on cue the drunk leaped into their picnic scene. The girls started chucking bread, bottles, and cups at him. "Get back in your alley, you drunk!"
Charlie glanced over at Lely's shop. Yep. Just like he figured—she was stuck living next to another unstable painting.
"You really think I won't come in there and punch you?" Charlie asked the drunk.
"Come on then! Single combat, right here!" the painting taunted.
"Alright." Charlie nodded.
He still had some leftover paint in his bag. Not much, but enough for a quick portrait.
"First time I've ever seen someone pick a fight with a painting," a sharp voice said from the side.
Charlie turned. "Oh. Malfoy."
He greeted him casually, like they were old friends.
Malfoy's face darkened. "Why the hell are you greeting me like that? Are we close?"
Charlie just smiled.
He hadn't even done anything yet and Malfoy was already getting worked up.
What Malfoy didn't realize was that Charlie's relaxed attitude was exactly what pissed him off the most. Like none of their past bullshit had ever mattered. Like Malfoy wasn't even worth remembering.
Meanwhile this lunatic was seriously arguing with a painting.
Him—Draco Malfoy, heir of the Malfoy family—worth less than some drunk in a frame?
Charlie kept smiling. "What, you gonna start shit again? Same as always, I'm not gonna get mad. But—"