Harry and Ron wolfed down the rest of their food the second Charlie disappeared.
Ron polished off two chicken legs in record time, wiped his hands on his robes, and stood up. "All right. Let's go."
They hurried out of the Great Hall and up the stairs. Halfway there they passed three Slytherin students, but neither boy paid them any attention.
"Left turn first, then right after the bathroom," Harry muttered, retracing Charlie's directions.
They passed Moaning Myrtle's abandoned girls' bathroom, kept going, and turned right into a dim corridor. The air felt heavier here, like they were sneaking into some secret part of the castle.
"I put everything there. If you want some, go get it," Charlie's words echoed in their heads.
"Little wizards, welcome to the shop!" a bright, cheerful voice called out from the shadows.
Ron nearly jumped out of his skin. "Merlin's beard!" He clutched his chest and spun toward the sound.
It was a painting. The scene inside showed a dark evening with a glowing lantern hanging above a window. The warm light spilled across the windowsill and lit up the curved wooden sign above it.
Chocolate Factory!
"That's it! That's it!" Ron grabbed Harry's shoulder and shook him.
Harry stared at the girl inside the painting. "So this is Charlie's shop? Who are you supposed to be?"
"Sorry, I don't know anyone named Charlie," Lely said with a polite smile.
Ron frowned. "Really? Then how do you know we're customers? Didn't Charlie tell you we were coming?"
Lely shook her head again. "I'm sorry, I don't know any Charlie. But I do know why you're here."
She wasn't stupid. Who else would wander down this empty corridor at night except to buy chocolate?
Harry gave up arguing. "Fine. What do you have?"
Lely launched into her sales pitch, listing the three kinds of chocolate and their prices like she'd done it a hundred times.
"I'll take two Dream Chocolates. One Galleon, right?"
"Yes," Lely nodded. She placed her hand under the music box on the windowsill. "Please put the money here."
She walked them through the whole process—dropping the coin into the drawer, taking the chocolates out of her bag, and sliding them back into the music box for them to retrieve.
The whole transaction felt completely new and magical to both boys. Even Ron, who thought he'd seen every weird magical thing Hogwarts had to offer, had never bought anything from a painting before.
"All right, I'm officially convinced you have nothing to do with Charlie," Ron muttered.
Harry shot him a confused look. "Why are you so sure?"
"Oh come on, Harry. You really think Charlie could make something this advanced?" Ron said. "Even Percy couldn't pull this off. This is proper high-level magic painting."
Lely's painted lips curved into a tiny, knowing smile.
"Whatever," Harry said. He reached into the music box, took the two chocolates, and handed one to Ron. "Come on. Let's head back to the common room."
---
The wind howled outside the tower windows all night.
The next morning Charlie woke up groggy, rubbed his eyes, swung his legs out of bed—and immediately kicked something hard.
He looked down. A pile of wrapped packages sat at the foot of his bed.
Charlie raised an eyebrow. Christmas presents? He hadn't expected this many.
In his head he'd pictured maybe two or three boxes at most.
He sat back on the bed and gently rubbed Alice's head. "All right, little one. Let's see what we've got."
The first box contained a set of wizard chess pieces.
Charlie guessed Hector had sent it. A folded letter sat on top.
Charlie, Merry Christmas.
I got you a chess set. You'd better start training the pieces quick—though I bet you'll have them whipped into shape in half an hour. Still, consider yourself warned.
When I get back we're playing a proper match.
Also, if you've been watching the Ravenclaw hourglass lately, you'll notice we're down over twenty points.
On the train back from the holidays Malfoy tried to start something again, so Anthony and I gave him a proper beating. Don't worry, we'll tell you the whole story when we're back.
That's it. Merry Christmas.
Charlie stared at the letter, completely stunned.
Anthony and Hector had beaten up Malfoy?!
He set the letter and chess set aside and opened the next package. The moment he picked it up he knew it was a book.
Let me guess… Hermione?
He tore the wrapping open. Sure enough, a thick book from Hermione.
An Introduction to Alchemical Symbols and Arrays: Detailed Explanation of Runes and Viking Sigils.
Charlie flipped through it with interest. Everyone knew Viking history and culture were full of powerful symbols and patterns. And runes were supposedly created by Odin himself in Norse mythology. The history and magical research behind them were genuinely valuable.
Honestly, Hermione had picked a good one. The difficulty was just right and the content felt very British.
There was no long letter, just a simple Christmas card that said Merry Christmas.
The next package was small—Anthony's. Inside was a square box wrapped in soft suede. When Charlie opened it, a beautiful copper pocket watch gleamed back at him.
"Whoa…" Charlie blinked. Anthony had actually given him something genuinely useful that he didn't even know he needed.
Another letter came with it. Anthony had written in his usual excited style, describing exactly what had happened on the train.
On the way back, Anthony, Hector, Hermione, and Neville had shared a compartment. Not long after the train left the station, Malfoy had shown up. He'd opened the door, taken one look inside, and immediately shut it again.
Then he'd said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Just like I said—kids whose parents don't want them can't even get on the train."
The next second Anthony had yanked the door open and charged out.
Charlie couldn't help laughing as he read Anthony's dramatic retelling. That idiot really was something else.
He put the letter away and looked at the remaining gifts.
Neville had sent a self-warming cup that kept whatever liquid was inside at the exact temperature it had been poured—hot or cold.
Professor Chambers had given him a brand-new set of engraving knives—seven different sizes and shapes.
And the last one completely surprised him: a gift from Professor Flitwick.
Charlie was glad he'd remembered to send chocolate boxes to the professors he actually knew. Otherwise this would have been awkward.
Flitwick had sent The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2.
It was the exact textbook used in second-year Charms—and it was clearly an old, well-used copy.
Charlie opened the front cover. The first thing he saw, written in faded ink, was Filius Flitwick.
This book was ancient. The ink had gone gray with age.
Obviously it had once been Flitwick's own schoolbook. Below his name, fresh black ink spelled out a new message:
To Charlie.
Courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to move forward knowing the danger exists.
May spells become your shield of protection, never a blade to harm others.
Merry Christmas — Flitwick.