In the middle of the night, Charlie arrived at the Hogwarts kitchens right on time.
He wore Alice as a felt hat, with Fiona perched on the brim, looking around curiously.
His arrival, unsurprisingly, caused another commotion in the kitchen.
Even though he remembered Anthony's advice from that morning, it still took serious effort to get the house-elves to stop swarming around him.
The kitchen was empty tonight. Before coming, Charlie had wondered if he might run into some Hufflepuff students or the Weasley twins from Gryffindor.
The night's work was already finished. The rows of stoves were spotless, and the pots and pans sat on shelves or hung on the walls, gleaming like new.
"I thought it would be a mess," Charlie muttered.
Saro walked ahead of him and explained, "House-elves are very good at cleaning, sir. Headmaster Dumbledore would never allow the kitchens to become dirty or disorganized."
Deeper in the kitchen were several doors. Charlie asked, "What are those doors for?"
"The one on the left and the one in the middle are storage rooms—one for meat, the other for vegetables.
The door on the far right is where we sleep."
"Is the work very busy here? Do you get much sleep?" Charlie asked.
"After all, we prepare three meals a day for the whole school, and then we have to sneak around cleaning the entire castle at night… and sometimes deal with unexpected visitors like yourself."
"Oh." Saro suddenly looked flustered and hurried to explain.
"Respected young wizard, we are very busy every day. We never slack off, not even a little. Please rest assured."
"Huh?" Charlie blinked. "I was just saying… it would be best if you weren't too busy—"
"I understand now," Saro said, looking relieved. "I'm such a foolish creature. I misunderstood your meaning.
Please don't worry. We do get enough rest every day.
Only when we're well rested can we work properly! That's what the great Headmaster Dumbledore says. I didn't expect you to think the same way."
"Uh—" Charlie's expression was complicated. He honestly hadn't thought that far.
More accurately—why did house-elves always interpret his words like this?
He had only been curious whether they got enough rest.
He rubbed his forehead. "Alright. Let's just get started. Teach me how to make a good batch of syrup."
"Of course, of course. No problem at all." Saro led Charlie to one of the stoves, but then he seemed to hesitate.
After a moment, he turned back to Charlie. "Respected young wizard… what kind of syrup would you like to make?"
"Different sugar-to-water ratios, different heat levels, different types of sugar, different flavors—they all make a difference. Which one would you like to learn?"
Right. Saro clearly had zero experience teaching anyone.
"My name is Charlie Wonka. You can just call me Charlie," he said with a smile.
He thought for a second, then nodded under Saro's anxious gaze. "I want to start with the most basic syrup, then move on to fruit syrups, and after that, hard candy.
I want to learn everything—how to control the heat, the sugar ratios, how to add flavors… all of it."
Fiona, sitting on the brim of his hat, suddenly perked up. "Mr. Wonka, why do you want to learn all this?"
After spending time together, Fiona had assumed that if Charlie was going out of his way to study something, it had to be magic-related.
Especially since it was the middle of the night—time he should've been sleeping soundly. Yet here he was, learning something new.
Just half a minute ago, Fiona had still been convinced he was about to learn something incredibly impressive.
That was why she had followed him tonight.
"I want to make strawberry candies," Charlie said with a grin. "Hard candy, soft candy, chocolate-covered—I want to learn how to make all of them.
If I actually manage to make something good, I'll let you try it."
He was speaking to both Saro and answering Fiona's question.
Saro immediately shook his head. "Being allowed to teach you is already the greatest honor."
At the same time, he raised his hand. Without a wand, a frying pan hanging on the wall above the stove flew down and landed neatly on the burner.
"Respected Mr. Wonka—"
"No need for the titles. Just call me Mr. Wonka," Charlie said helplessly.
As expected, getting a house-elf to drop the formalities and use his name directly was impossible.
"I understand, Mr. Wonka." Saro nodded apologetically and pointed to a long table behind him.
"That's where we keep the kitchen's common seasonings—white sugar, brown sugar, dark sugar, and so on.
If we want to make a basic syrup, we can use a one-to-one ratio of light brown sugar and water. Of course, we can also add a small amount of white sugar in between."
While handing Charlie the sugars, Saro pointed in another direction. A round pot flew up on its own, went to the tap, filled itself with water, and returned.
Under Saro's careful, step-by-step guidance, the light brown sugar quickly dissolved in the water and began bubbling thickly.
"It worked!" Fiona circled the pot again and again, her little eyes fixed on the rising bubbles, full of curiosity and anticipation.
On the other side, Saro had somehow produced a lemon.
"At this stage, we should also add a slice of lemon to balance out the sweetness."
Charlie nodded. With Saro's help, he dropped a lemon slice into the syrup and let it simmer.
In less than fifteen minutes, a batch of basic syrup had cooked clear and bright, releasing a clean, sweet aroma.
Saro immediately praised him, bowing slightly. "Mr. Wonka, you learn so quickly."
Charlie nodded, but he didn't look particularly pleased. Instead he said, "You explained it very clearly."
Saro looked flattered. After a moment of excitement, he asked eagerly, "Would you like to try making a fruit syrup tonight?"
Charlie pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. 12:36.
He snapped it shut with a soft click and smiled warmly. "If you don't mind me taking up your time, then yes."
Charlie couldn't think of a reason to refuse. He had only been in the kitchen for half an hour.
Saro quickly led Charlie to the storage room on the left. When they pushed the door open, they were greeted by an enormous amount of fruits and vegetables.
Under Saro's guidance, Charlie soon reached a corner in the back of the storage room where bundles of rhubarb, winter apples, and winter pears were stored.
Without access to international trade, these three were indeed the most common fruits available this season.
Even though rhubarb was technically a vegetable and tasted extremely sour and astringent—usually needing to be cooked before it was edible—everyone still treated it like a fruit.
Because it was sweet-and-sour.
Charlie immediately locked onto the rhubarb. What could be better for making syrup?
"Let's use this," he said, picking up a bundle.
Together, the boy and the house-elf quickly left the storage room.
Rhubarb leaves were poisonous and not edible. The part they used was the pink stalks.
With Saro's help, Charlie cut off the leaves, peeled the outer skin, and sliced the rhubarb into finger-width pieces before starting a new batch.
The flame under the pot was gentle. Charlie watched the syrup carefully as the rhubarb slowly softened and its pink juices began to blend with the thickening liquid.
A bright, sweet-and-sour scent—completely different from the heavy sweetness of the basic syrup—gradually filled the kitchen.
Charlie even caught himself licking his lips. He was already tempted to dip a spoon in and taste it.
Damn old habits.
This batch didn't turn out well, though. He misjudged the timing, and the final syrup came out bitter and burnt.
The scorched, bitter taste mixed with the natural tartness of the rhubarb. The moment Charlie tasted it, his entire face scrunched up.
"Looks like I didn't add enough white sugar. Since rhubarb is already so sour, maybe I should've lowered the heat and cooked it longer," he concluded.
Saro nodded. "Mr. Wonka, your sharpness amazes me."
Charlie shook his head helplessly and smiled at Saro. "Making candy isn't as simple as I thought."
"Sir, reaching this level on your very first attempt is already very impressive."
The words were sincere, and the emotion in Saro's huge, lamp-like eyes was completely genuine.
He truly meant the praise.
But—well, Charlie didn't really want to say it out loud, but even if he had completely botched the syrup, Saro, as a house-elf, would still have praised him.
House-elves probably didn't make good teachers. They lacked the ability to correct mistakes—
On the other hand, Charlie himself couldn't be satisfied with today's result.
His goal was to completely master syrup-making during the Easter break.
He checked his watch again. It was already 1:15 in the morning.
"It's already very late. I won't keep you any longer. But tomorrow… would it be alright if I came an hour or two earlier?"
"Of course. No problem at all."
"You always make it sound like no matter what I ask, it's never actually a problem."
"What do you mean?" Saro looked confused.
Charlie smiled helplessly. "It's a compliment."
Finally, he took off the hat Alice had made for him.
He first showed the inside of the hat to Saro, then smiled. "Happy Easter."
He reached into the hat.
Under Saro's puzzled gaze, he suddenly pulled his hand back out—holding an Easter egg right in front of Saro's face.
"Thanks, Saro."
Saro stared blankly at the Easter egg in Charlie's hand, then started clapping excitedly. "What wonderful magic, Mr. Wonka!"
Charlie looked at Saro, who still hadn't reached out to take it, and emphasized, "It's a gift for you. An Easter present."
The next second, Saro's already huge eyes widened even more.
His whole body started trembling. "Really?"
"It's really a gift." Charlie gently pushed the egg into Saro's hands, put the hat back on, and turned to leave. "I'll come earlier tomorrow."
Saro held the Easter egg with both hands and kept waving at Charlie's back. "Goodbye, Mr. Wonka!"
Charlie simply waved over his shoulder without turning around and slipped out of the kitchen.
The next morning.
Lately, the first thing Charlie looked at when he woke up was the strawberry plant on the windowsill.
The largest strawberry was already the size of an egg. More than half of it had turned bright red, and it gave off that unmistakable fresh strawberry scent.
Charlie had been falling asleep and waking up surrounded by the smell of strawberries for days now.
Looking at the fruit that was already mostly red, he could almost picture how vividly red and juicy it would be in a few more days.
Anthony climbed out of bed, still half-asleep, and stood beside Charlie's bed, also staring at the plant. "Man… I can't wait."
"Yeah."
Charlie threw off his blanket and got up. "By the way, is Hector coming back today?"
"Yeah. Just one day," Anthony nodded. "He might be back by lunch. They left yesterday morning using the Floo."
Anthony looked at Charlie expectantly, clearly hoping he would ask what the Floo was.
He was disappointed. Charlie just nodded without any follow-up questions.
"Alright, let's wash up and go get breakfast—"
At lunchtime, Anthony and Charlie were sitting in the Great Hall talking about Transfiguration while Hermione sat quietly beside Charlie, listening.
Behind them, Harry and Neville were whispering about something.
Two familiar figures walked through the Great Hall doors.
It was Hector and Ron.
They walked quickly toward the group. Anthony stood up from across the table and spread his arms in greeting.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
"Won both matches. I get to go to the global tournament," Hector said with a grin.
Hermione turned to look at Ron standing behind Hector. Ron awkwardly scratched his head, looking like he wasn't in a great mood.
Harry, seeing Ron's expression, immediately understood the result and didn't ask further.
Noticing everyone's hesitant looks, Ron forced himself to perk up. He couldn't keep looking miserable forever.
He shrugged. "At least I got to go out and have some fun. You guys were stuck here the whole time."
"That's true," Harry nodded. "We wanted to go out but couldn't."
"Actually, that's not entirely true," a voice suddenly spoke up behind Ron.
Ron spun around and saw two people wearing identical mischievous grins.
Fred spoke first. "After all, George and I can go to Hogsmeade whenever we want."
George added right after, "The only ones stuck in the castle are you little kids."
"I'm going to write to Mum and tell her about your competition," Fred said, clapping Ron on the shoulder.
"What?!" Ron's face went pale. "No! Don't you dare!!"
"Why not?" George leaned back dramatically. "Is our little Ronnie that worried about saving face?"
Ron's expression immediately turned bitter. "I'm serious. Can you please not tell everyone about this?"
"Hey, what's the big deal?" Fred laughed. "It's not like only winners get congratulated."
George also smiled oddly. "We were actually thinking that if you won, it would be a nice surprise for Mum.
Even though you didn't win, it's still fine.
You went to the competition. You played the chess you love. That's what matters.
Doesn't that deserve telling Mum and Dad?
Other people would kill for the chance to compete."