"What? I would never do such a thing! And what on earth is all this nonsense about leaving someone out on the streets?" The bushy-haired girl scowled, taking a half-step back.
Charlie's words had clearly thrown her for a loop. She hadn't even done anything yet, and somehow she was being painted as the mastermind behind someone's impending homelessness.
Charlie's lips curled into a smirk.
"Oh, but it is entirely possible, my dear friend."
"Well, I am not going to report anyone. And... I wouldn't do that anyway," Hermione said. Her lips pressed into a thin line, making her sound as if she were confessing to a crime she hadn't even committed.
Charlie chuckled, deciding to spare her from further teasing on such a trivial topic. He turned his gaze to the window. Right on cue, the train's whistle blew a long, echoing hoot. The Hogwarts Express was finally departing.
The young girl quickly forgot the minor squabble and extended a hand. "I am Hermione Granger, by the way. And who are you? Are you first-years too? I have already read all our course books over the summer, just to make sure I can keep up with everyone."
The round-faced boy beside her gingerly shook her hand. "I am Neville Longbottom. But what do you mean, 'keep up' with us?"
"With the magic, of course," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "You both must know loads of spells already. Did you attend a magical primary school? I didn't, so I have to be proactive if I am going to stay on your level."
"What is a magical primary school?" Neville looked utterly bewildered.
"There is no such thing," Charlie chimed in. The platform was sliding away as the train gathered speed. "Don't worry about keeping up. None of that really matters."
"Really? Oh, thank goodness." Hermione nodded in relief, her eyes drifting over to the rabbit sitting comfortably on Charlie's lap. "You mentioned earlier that she is a Transfiguration Rabbit? Does she have any special magical powers?"
"In short, she transforms into small, everyday items. At least, that is what the clerk at the Magical Menagerie claimed. Hats, wallets, bracelets, scarves, that sort of thing. Though I highly recommend against keeping your money in the wallet version."
"Can she turn into absolutely anything?" Hermione leaned in, thoroughly intrigued. Alice twitched her nose, sniffing Hermione's outstretched finger.
"I think every Transfiguration Rabbit has a specific set of items," Neville offered quietly. "I heard grown-ups talking about it when I was little. A rabbit like Wonka's, for example, might only be able to turn into a hat right now. She will never become a scarf or a wallet. But as Wonka bonds with her, the hat will slowly shift into a style he prefers. At the end of the day, though, she remains a hat."
"Fascinating." Charlie looked down at Alice with newfound respect. "And what about toads? I have been meaning to ask. Do toads hold some grand, mystical status in the wizarding world?"
Charlie was starving for knowledge about the occult and magical lore. He had wanted to ask about Neville's toad, Trevor, earlier, but the conversation had been derailed. Hearing Charlie's question, Hermione also turned her curious gaze toward Neville.
"Um... maybe a little?" Neville fidgeted. "My gran absolutely loves toads. I think they are quite important in Potions. Sorry, I don't really like Potions much. I can't stand the smell of all those brewing ingredients."
"You don't like the smell?" Hermione asked, clearly confused by his reasoning.
"Yeah, I just... I just don't like it," Neville nodded frantically. His excessive agreement made it seem like a flimsy excuse to cover up a simple fear of the subject.
For the next hour, the trio chatted about the quirks of the magical world. Hermione had a habit of firing off highly academic questions that left poor Neville stammering for answers. Eventually, Charlie had to hijack the conversation just to give the boy a breather, steering them toward lighter topics like garden gnomes, peculiar magical plants, and bizarre wizarding sweets. Naturally, Charlie was secretly mining the conversation for inspiration to add to his own confectionery vault.
A while later, the compartment door slid open with a gentle knock.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" A plump, friendly witch stood in the corridor, pushing a cart piled high with treats.
Neville thought for a moment before standing up.
"I will treat you both to lunch. What would you like?"
"How generous of you, Neville," Hermione said quickly. "But just so you know, we do have Galleons. We exchanged them at Gringotts." She nodded emphatically. "You really don't have to pay for us."
"Ah, oh... is that so?" Neville's face instantly turned the color of a ripe tomato. It took a lot for him to muster the courage to be a generous host, and the polite rejection left him entirely out of his depth.
"However," Charlie swiftly interjected, pivoting the mood, "I am never one to turn down a free meal from a friend. Neville, I am absolutely taking you up on that offer."
"Of course! Be my guest." Neville beamed, his embarrassment vanishing as he stepped out to the trolley. "What are you craving?"
"A pumpkin pasty and whatever juice you recommend," Charlie said, opting for a simple snack.
Hermione, after a moment of thought, asked for a small bite as well. Neville, worried it wasn't enough, loaded up on a mountain of extra sweets, spending a grand total of five Sickles and eight Knuts.
After they finished their modest lunch, Charlie reached into his pocket and produced two neatly wrapped squares of chocolate.
"Neville, my friend, as a resident expert on wizarding sweets, I need you to taste-test this for me."
Curious, Neville unwrapped a piece and popped it into his mouth. Almost instantly, a sensation like warm sunlight melted across his tongue and flowed through his veins. The usual post-lunch drowsiness was replaced by a deep, luxurious feeling of comfort. It was an indescribable warmth, reminding Neville of lazy summer afternoons spent dozing in the rocking chair in his back garden.
His eyes snapped open, and he stared at Charlie in pure shock. "Wonka, what kind of chocolate is this? Where on earth did you buy it?"
"I made it myself. How is it?"
"You made this?! I have never tasted anything like it. It is simply... brilliant."
Hermione gave Charlie a skeptical look before placing her own piece into her mouth. Within seconds, her eyes widened in identical astonishment.
"This is... it feels like stepping into a sunbeam," Hermione breathed, her eyes sparkling. "Wonka, did you truly make this yourself?"
"Guilty as charged. And please, just call me Charlie." He shrugged casually. As a kid who grew up on the streets, he was hardly used to the stuffy formality of being addressed by his surname.
"How would you say it compares to a Chocolate Frog?" Charlie asked, leaning forward with genuine interest.
"Oh, it tastes miles better," Neville said earnestly. "But..."
"But?" Charlie's expression turned serious.
"But... well, it might not be quite as fun," Neville hastily explained, worried he had caused offense.
Not as fun. Charlie chewed on those words, his sharp mind connecting the dots. Of course! Was the massive success of certain Muggle novelty chocolates really about the taste? No, it was about the thrill of a surprise toy hidden inside!
Wait, what had he just realized? Charlie whipped out a small notebook and frantically scribbled down his epiphany. That was it. Every child who bought a surprise treat was investing a tiny sliver of hope, generating endless amounts of Wonder Dust.
"A brilliantly insightful answer, Neville. I definitely found the right taste-tester. I can't solve the 'fun' issue just yet, but I have noted it down." Charlie pocketed his notebook with a satisfied grin. "Now, let's change the subject. Does your toad need some lunch?" He pulled a handful of premium rabbit feed from his other pocket.
"Oh, yes! Trevor!" Neville called out, standing up to scan the seats.
His expression rapidly shifted from mild concern to outright panic. Two minutes of frantic searching confirmed their worst fears. Trevor was gone.
"Do you think he slipped out when we were buying food from the trolley?" Charlie frowned. That toad was a slippery little escape artist.
"I am doomed! Gran is going to be absolutely furious when she finds out I lost him on the very first day," Neville wailed, looking on the verge of tears.
"Don't panic, Neville. We will help you look for him," Hermione declared, standing up with a look of fierce determination.
Charlie raised an arm, and Alice dutifully hopped up his sleeve, perching on his shoulder before leaping into the air. Mid-jump, she transformed into a stylish top hat, landing perfectly on Charlie's head.
"Let's go. It is a good excuse to stretch our legs anyway," Charlie said, patting Neville on the back. "Relax."
The trio stepped out into the narrow corridor. As they walked, Charlie's mind wandered to the original plotline of this world. Harry Potter... Now there was a boy who was essentially a penniless orphan sitting on a mountain of gold. He could be a massive source of Galleons and Wonder Dust. But Charlie had zero interest in inserting himself into childish squabbles or dramatic destiny plots. He preferred to let nature take its course.
They split up to cover more ground. Neville and Charlie headed toward the front of the train, while Hermione took the rear. Along the way, Neville grew increasingly agitated, his eyes red and glassy. Meanwhile, Charlie was busy brainstorming marketing strategies for his Moonlight Chocolate.
The Ravenclaws, perhaps? A house full of obsessive bookworms would surely pay top Galleon for a chocolate that instantly banished mental fatigue after an all-nighter of studying. He could absolutely market it like an energy drink.
Twenty minutes later, they neared the driver's compartment. Still no sign of Trevor. The toad was simply too small.
Taking the lead, Charlie guided Neville to find the Trolley Witch. They politely asked her to pass a message to the train driver and the cleaning staff. Whenever the Hogwarts Express finally stopped, they were to keep an eye out for a lost toad belonging to a frantic first-year.
The kindly witch assured Neville that once the train reached Hogsmeade, a small army of house-elves would board to transport the luggage and pets to the dormitories, cleaning every inch of the carriages in the process. As long as the toad was somewhere on the train, it was impossible to lose him forever.
Hearing this official guarantee, Neville finally let out a massive sigh of relief, his anxiety melting away.
As they headed back down the train, they bumped into Hermione.
"Any luck finding him?" she asked breathlessly.
"We found him. Well, we found him in the future," Charlie replied with a solemn nod. Neville couldn't help but laugh at the phrasing, his bad mood completely evaporating.
"I have absolutely no idea what you mean. You say the strangest things. Keeping up with your logic is turning out to be quite difficult," Hermione sighed, offering a helpless smile. She was, above all, a creature of strict logic.
Neville quickly explained their arrangement with the Trolley Witch. Hermione nodded in understanding. "I see. In the future, then. Let's head back to our compartment."
They began to retrace their steps. Just as they crossed into the next carriage, they spotted three boys stomping down the corridor in their direction. The boy in the lead had a pale, pointed face and a thoroughly sour expression. He was flanked by two thickset, thuggish-looking boys who looked equally disgruntled, like soldiers retreating from a humiliating defeat.
"Boring, the both of you. Absolutely useless," the pale boy spat at his two companions. The large boys kept their mouths shut, clearly lacking the wit to argue back.
The corridor was narrow, forcing the two groups to squeeze past each other.
"Potter," the pale boy sneered to himself as he brushed past. "The blind idiot, choosing to slum it with a Weasley. He will soon realize he has made a massive mistake."
Charlie glanced over his shoulder at the retreating trio, amused. It seemed the illustrious Boy Who Lived had already rejected the arrogant aristocrat's hand in friendship. Classic.
Up ahead, Hermione marched up to a compartment door and slid it open without a second thought. "What on earth happened in here?"
There were only two boys inside. One was small and skinny, with messy black hair that hung over his forehead. The other was tall, gangly, and covered in freckles, with bright red hair. He was currently staring in shock at a fat gray rat in his hands.
"Wow, looks like a war zone," Charlie noted, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I take it you lads emerged victorious?"
"Not really. We didn't even fight," the red-haired boy muttered. "Scabbers here did all the work. He bit one of them." Both boys looked up at Charlie. "Can we help you with something?"
Charlie surveyed the sweets scattered all over the floor, then spread his hands. "I should be asking you that. But I am far too lazy to help you clean up, so let's skip that part entirely."
With a flick of his wrist, two wrapped chocolates appeared in his palm. "Eat these. They will make you feel better."
"Thanks," the boys said, accepting the sweets. "We didn't catch your name." They unwrapped the chocolate and popped them in.
"Charlie Wonka. As for the toad-less lad here, that is Neville. And the girl who doesn't believe in knocking is Miss Granger. I believe you have already met."
"Just met her earlier. I am Ron Weasley. Wow, this chocolate is brilliant! Where did you get it?"
Charlie waved a hand dismissively. "My own creation. If you want more next time, you will have to pay."
"Thanks for the sweets," the dark-haired boy said, offering a polite nod. "I am Harry Potter." As the chocolate melted in his mouth, he felt absolutely fantastic. Any lingering aches and pains from the brief scuffle with Malfoy's gang had vanished instantly.
"Don't mention it." Feeling the subtle, satisfying trickle of Wonder Dust gathering from the boys' gratitude, Charlie turned to leave. "Catch you later, mates. If fate is kind, maybe we will end up in the same House."
With a cheerful wave, he headed back toward his own compartment. Neville and Hermione waved goodbye to Harry and Ron before following him.
"Though I secretly hope fate isn't that kind," Charlie muttered to himself with a quiet chuckle.
Hermione hurried to catch up. "Say, am I really that bad at knocking?"
Charlie stopped and looked at her. "Miss Granger, you are fully aware of your knocking habits. What you are actually asking is: 'Is it really that rude to barge in?' And the answer is a resounding yes!"
Hermione looked down, her cheeks flushing pink.
"Right. Well... I am sorry. Really."
"All is forgiven," Charlie smiled warmly, leading the way back to their seats.