Charlie stared at the six hundred Pounds in his hand, a little dazed.
A lot? Yes—more than he'd expected. Ten Pounds to one Galleon was a pleasant surprise.
Not enough? Also yes. Even though he'd walked away with far more than he'd planned, he still had to admit that Galleons weren't worth as much as he'd imagined.
The wizarding market was tiny. Overall demand was low. Magic let people skip mass production and complex supply chains while still keeping supply and demand balanced.
Galleons had real purchasing power inside the wizarding world. But the second you turned them into Pounds, you were clearly taking a loss.
Sixty Galleons could have let Charlie live like a king for a while. Six hundred Pounds was barely two weeks' wages for an ordinary full-time worker in London.
If his raw materials stayed locked to Cadbury, and he eventually scaled up production and dropped his prices, he'd be eating another layer of loss on top of the exchange hit.
His thoughts broke off. He shook his head. Whatever. There's still money to be made. Why count every single penny?
Besides, he had no intention of using Cadbury chocolate forever.
He already had a much more interesting idea sitting in the back of his mind, waiting for the right moment.
That wasn't something he needed to worry about right now.
What he did need to do was get to Professor Chambers' office before he was late.
Assistants couldn't afford to show up late.
That evening in the Great Hall, once Charlie finished his work, he found Anthony and Hector.
"Hector, can you write to your parents for me? Ask them to send a box of Cadbury dark chocolate.
Seventy-seven
He shook his cloth pouch. "I finally got my hands on some Pounds. It wasn't easy."
"How'd you pull that off?" Hector asked, curious.
"I asked the professor to exchange it for me. I wasn't about to wait until the end of term just to run to Gringotts."
Anthony and Hector both nodded, then started talking about the upcoming competition.
Charlie helped himself to a slice of roast lamb while he listened, thinking. In the original story, aside from the Triwizard Tournament, there hadn't been much in the way of student competitions shown. Ron definitely hadn't gone to any chess tournament.
What was this, then? The ripple effect of his own butterfly wings?
How much else had he already changed? In the parts of the story that had never been written down, had Hector competed?
The more Charlie thought about it, the more curious he felt. It was the kind of curiosity that would never get an answer.
After dinner the three of them returned to the common room. Hector immediately sat down to write the letter.
The new weekend arrived in the blink of an eye. This one was different—it was the end of March, Easter, and the day Hector was leaving for his competition.
Winter time, which had lasted the entire season, would end on Easter night. The clocks would be turned back an hour.
On Easter morning, owls flew into the Great Hall carrying the Cadbury chocolate Charlie had asked for, along with several brand-new summer outfits for Hector.
"By the way," Anthony asked curiously, "did you tell your parents you're going to the competition?"
Hector shook his head. "Not yet. I'll tell them after I win."
"If I don't win, it's like it never happened."
"Really?" Anthony looked surprised. "I thought stuff like this was just… shared by default."
Hector was quiet for a moment, then shook his head again. "You probably don't get how competitions work. When you've been trained toward one single goal since you were tiny…"
"Your parents are going to be strict. Cruelly strict."
"Now that I'm competing again, it's only because I love it. I don't want to go back to that cutthroat atmosphere."
"I definitely don't want someone standing behind me with a whip."
Anthony digested that while he slowly nodded. "Okay. I think I get it now."
The Easter holiday lasted a full week. That night, after they clinked glasses to celebrate the return of summer time and turned the clocks back an hour, it was time for bed.
The next morning they saw Hector off. Anthony turned to Charlie with a bored expression. "Alright. What are you doing today?"
Charlie gave him a mysterious smile. "I'm going to find one of Hogwarts' secret places."
That got Anthony's attention immediately. "Oh? Do I get to come?"
"Of course." Charlie nodded.
They left the Great Hall and headed down the familiar stairs toward Professor Flitwick's office, then kept going until they reached the first basement level.
It was dim and damp down here—probably because of all the spring moisture in the air.
"I heard there are actual dungeons under Hogwarts," Anthony said. "Slytherin's common room used to be built near them. They were in charge of watching the dungeons."
"Really? We should go take a look then," Charlie said, interest piqued.
"Take a look? Sounds like we're just passing through. What were you originally looking for?"
"The kitchens. But from what I've heard, they're closer to the Hufflepuff common room."
"I didn't know that." Anthony walked with his hands clasped behind his head, strolling comfortably.
The next second he immediately straightened up and dropped his hands to his sides.
Professor Snape had just turned the corner ahead of them.
"Good morning, Professor," Charlie greeted him.
Snape gave them a cold glance. His face didn't turn at all—he kept staring straight ahead, only letting his eyes drop to look down at the two boys.
He always did that. It made him seem towering and intimidating.
He spoke in a low voice, barely moving his lips. "How unusual. Ravenclaws coming down to the dungeons on their own."
"I assume you're not here for Potions class. Planning something else?"
Charlie gave a shy smile. "How could it possibly be about Potions?"
Snape let out a quiet, disdainful snort.
"You already explained everything perfectly in class, Professor. No need to come looking for extra help."
Snape's perpetually tight expression relaxed a fraction.
Charlie continued, "We were just curious. Where exactly did you hide the troll on Halloween night?"
The slight relaxation vanished instantly.
"How many troll brains do you two share to think I was the one who let that troll loose on Halloween?"
"I wouldn't know," Charlie said with a smile. "After all, in a lot of people's minds—"
Anthony quickly grabbed Charlie's arm, trying to cover his mouth, but with Snape standing right there he couldn't actually do it.
Snape curled his lip in clear contempt. "If that's what you think, then go ahead and look."
He turned and started walking away, clearly done wasting time on them.
The next moment Charlie flipped his hand and tossed something at him.
Snape snatched it out of the air with obvious distaste.
Charlie smiled and tapped two fingers to his forehead. "Happy Easter, Professor. Have an Easter egg."
Snape examined the chocolate egg in his hand. It was about the size of a chicken egg, covered in bright, colorful patterns.
It was basically a larger version of the Transfiguration chocolate eggs Charlie had worked on over Christmas.
You could hide some pretty big things inside them.
As Snape looked at it, the chocolate egg suddenly cracked open. A tiny fawn pushed its way out, front legs curled, head emerging first.
The moment it was free it lifted its head, trembling as it stood up on shaky legs and looked around curiously.
Oh no.
Charlie felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He could swear he hadn't done it on purpose.
He'd made several of these eggs and planned to hand them out whenever he felt like it. Since they were the new chicken-egg size, he'd filled them with bigger animals.
The prototype for the one in Snape's hand had been Bambi. The others he was carrying contained characters from The Lion King and some beautiful sea creatures.
This Easter was definitely not going to be happy.
Snape stared coldly at the timid little fawn now standing in his palm, looking around with wide eyes. His voice was icy. "If it were me, I'd add a measured amount of sage mixed with mandrake juice to the chocolate. It would make this ugly Transfiguration of yours more stable."
Charlie wasn't sure if that counted as changing the subject, but either way, Snape had succeeded.
He immediately asked with genuine interest, "What's the ratio, Professor?"
Snape gave him an even more disgusted look. "I think that's the kind of basic question you should figure out yourself. What, do you expect me to hand you every piece of knowledge in the world on a silver platter?"
Charlie shrugged. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine."
The reaction made Snape's teeth itch. He walked past the two boys without another word, black robes flaring behind him.
At the same time his eyes dropped to the chocolate in his hand. A second later he actually processed what he was holding.
Chocolate??
Wait.
Snape had never been a fan of these sickeningly sweet little kid treats, but lately he'd eaten quite a bit of chocolate.
All of it had come from that painting on the second floor. The Dream chocolate in particular always brought him back to that one perfect early-spring memory from his youth.
Lying on the riverbank while the willow tree shaded him from the warm golden sunlight. Fresh green grass and wildflowers all around.
Of course, he never looked at the flowers.
The girl beside him looked at the flowers. He looked at the girl—
The memory snapped. Snape whipped his head around and stared at Charlie.
"It was you?"
"Huh?" Charlie blinked, then looked back at him and glanced around. "Who, me?"
"The chocolate. Was it you?" Snape stared straight at him, the usual cold mask completely gone.
"Oh, you mean the chocolate? Yeah, of course it was me. A lot of the professors know."
Charlie's expression was strange, almost teasing. "You really didn't know?"
Charlie had to clarify—he wasn't trying to be sarcastic or imply anything about Snape's relationship with the other professors.
The fact that Snape hadn't known the chocolate shop belonged to him felt genuinely bizarre.
He was willing to bet Professor McGonagall definitely knew.
And Snape had been the first one to show up at the chocolate workshop that night, ready to drag Lely away for "research."
Dumbledore had been the one who stopped him.
Had Dumbledore really never told Snape that the workshop belonged to a student?
Snape stared at Charlie for a long moment. Then he turned away, gave his hand a sharp flick, and his black robes billowed.
"Mortla rat juice and mandrake juice ratio—best at one hundred to five to one—"
He was already disappearing around the corner.
"A hundred what?" Anthony asked curiously.
Snape was already gone.
"A hundred has to mean the chocolate itself," Charlie said with a small smile. "So according to that, you'd only need one drop of mandrake juice per pot of chocolate."
"Just as a tiny additive. I don't think it would affect the taste."
Charlie stood there thinking.
He still hadn't tried mixing Sun and Moon Dew with mandrake juice alongside Professor Chambers.
He wondered if the wizarding world's miracle cure would react with Moonlight—
Anthony elbowed him lightly. "Come on, stop thinking about it. Let's go."
Charlie nodded and pulled out his notebook as they walked, quickly jotting down everything he'd just heard and thought.
The dungeons under Hogwarts were huge. There were plenty of abandoned classrooms down here. Charlie and Anthony even stumbled across two Slytherin students on a date in one of them.
They also walked right past the entrances to both the Slytherin and Hufflepuff common rooms.
Slytherin, like Gryffindor, was stingy—you needed the exact password to get in.
"Gotta love how Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are actually welcoming," Anthony muttered.
Hufflepuff's entrance worked similarly to a password, but theirs hadn't changed in centuries.
Ravenclaw? If you wanted in, you got in.
They passed the Hufflepuff common room and kept walking.
Two students were coming toward them. Charlie was starting to feel a little defeated—the dungeons were just too big. Asking someone who knew the way would be faster than wandering around.
The two boys walking toward them had the Hufflepuff crest embroidered on their robes.
"Good morning," Charlie greeted them first.
The two were older—probably third or fourth years, a good head taller than Charlie and Anthony.
One of them raised a hand and smiled warmly. "Morning. What brings a couple of Ravenclaws down here?"
"We're looking for the kitchens and the dungeons," Anthony said, looking at the dark-haired boy who had greeted them.
"Wait—are you Cedric?"
"I am." Cedric nodded.
Anthony gave him a thumbs-up. "Knew I wasn't wrong. You fly like a beast on the Quidditch pitch."
"Thanks," Cedric said. He pointed behind himself. "If you're trying to find the kitchens, keep going down and take a left. You'll see a painting.
It's a silver platter piled with fruit.
Tickle the pear under its armpit. It'll start giggling and turn into a doorknob. The kitchens are right behind it.
As for the dungeons you mentioned…" Cedric thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"Sorry. I don't really have any idea about that."