"This…"
Charlie broke off another piece of moonlight chocolate.
"Some kind of mental boost? In mysticism the moon's always been huge, but… no, that was all Muggle pseudo-mysticism. Can't jump to conclusions…"
Even without slapping any mystical labels on it, the effect on his mind was undeniable.
There was still so much to learn—about chocolate, about every interesting element out there.
And Hogwarts… surely there'd be plenty more Wish Dust waiting.
Right now his stash felt laughably small.
He slipped the rest of the piece into his mouth and let the cool, clear energy wash through him. Then he pulled out every bag of sweets he'd bought that day.
Wand play? Done. First spells? Tested. Now it was time for the most important part—proper research on wizarding candy.
He took a quick sip of water to clear his palate, then eyed the open bags like a serious, slightly picky food critic.
First up: Chocolate Frogs.
From what little theory he had, these had to be enchanted with some kind of transfiguration charm.
The box was a regular pentagon, green with fussy geometric patterns around the edge. "Vintage folk charm" if you were being polite; "cheap and tacky" if you weren't.
Any sweet shop in London had better packaging.
He gave the box a shake. No movement. Still solid, then.
Carefully he opened it. A dark brown frog stared back at him.
Like something waking up, the stiff chocolate slowly twitched, lifted its head to look at him, then gradually came to life.
The second it did—
Smack!
Charlie's hand shot out and caught it mid-leap.
"Guess the stiff phase is just to give kids a fair chance."
He held it by the back leg, bit off half its body, and chewed.
The chocolate was soft and overly sweet, melted fast, but gritty and sticky—like cheap chocolate sauce mixed with sugar water.
Was it a budget choice or did they just not care?
No guts inside, just solid chocolate. Once half was gone the enchantment faded fast.
He popped the rest in, rinsed his mouth, and shook his head.
Honestly? Disappointing.
As a fellow maker he had no right to judge.
As a picky customer, though? This didn't deserve the hype.
"Low-grade…"
Next he tried Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. At first it was like chewing a rubber eraser, but once it softened the texture was great—super stretchy. The bubbles were the size of his head and never popped.
The packet claimed you could leave them floating around the house like balloons and they'd never burst.
Charlie didn't test that part.
Ice Mice, Blood Pops, Caramel Spiderwebs… each had a cute little gimmick.
None of them blew him away.
He noted every pro and con in his notebook, then melted more chocolate to prep tomorrow's stock.
...
...
The next day, around noon, Charlie gave his jacket a sharp tug in front of a cracked full-length mirror. His right hand dropped low, pointing at the rabbit.
"Alice!"
The transfiguring rabbit hopped straight into his palm. Charlie gave it a gentle toss—mid-air it turned into a brand-new hat. With a smooth flick of his wrist he settled it perfectly on his head.
"Not bad. Very magical." He grinned, satisfied.
He grabbed his old patched newsboy cap too and left the attic.
Leaving Rabbit Street, Charlie walked quietly down the road.
Suddenly a hand shot out of an alley and yanked him in.
"Over here!" the owner hissed.
Charlie stepped into the shadows. The boy who'd grabbed him—Kevin—peered left and right down the street, eyes wide with paranoia.
"Kevin, do you have to do this every single time?" Charlie sighed at the chubby kid who was maybe ten.
Kevin scanned the street one last time before turning to him.
"You don't get it. If my mum finds out I spent a whole pound on chocolate again she'll kill me."
"Can't really blame her," Charlie said gently.
"Oh sure, blame my mum. It's totally not because your stuff is too damn good, right?"
Charlie shook his head. "Mate, stop making it sound like I'm selling something illegal. Lay off the gangster movies and watch more Disney."
Kevin grinned. "Just kidding. Money first."
Charlie shook his sleeve; a chocolate dropped into his hand and passed over. Kevin shoved a pound note back, already tearing the wrapper open.
[Wish Dust +0.1 — Kevin Mockridge]
Kids had the purest craving for sweetness, but Kevin's reaction wasn't as strong as it used to be.
Charlie still remembered when one sunlight chocolate from him had given a full 0.5 Wish Dust.
"Feels really refreshing. Did you add mint?" Kevin looked up.
"Not mint—your throat would go numb. Something better. Anyway, how's the new recipe?"
"Brilliant. And… weird. I stayed up late reading comics last night, but after eating this I feel wide awake."
"Glad you like it." Charlie nodded and started toward the alley mouth.
"You have no idea how good those comics are. Want the real DC ones? I'll lend them for one chocolate," Kevin chattered, trailing after him.
"No thanks, mate." They walked together until they reached Chester Cathedral. Charlie's real destination was the public cemetery beside it. Kevin waved goodbye and didn't follow.
Inside the graveyard Charlie soon stopped at a plain, rough headstone.
Weston Wonka.
That was all it said.
He hung the old patched newsboy cap on the stone.
This grave belonged to his brother.
Yes, Charlie was an orphan. But no orphan grows up on his own. He'd needed food, shelter, basic protection when he was tiny and helpless.
That person had been Weston Wonka—the tramp who found him.
Of course, he was gone now.
Because of illness.
Charlie stood there a moment longer, then let out a slow breath.
He didn't say anything. Or maybe he'd already said everything that mattered.
With a small nod, he turned and walked away.