Harry Potter and the Candy Factory

After everything was properly arranged, and after bidding farewell to the grateful Dobby, Dursley, and the other house-elves, Charlie, who couldn't wait any longer, immediately transformed into a beam of light and disapparated from the spot.

When he returned to the office with the sound of crackling electricity, Russell was nowhere to be found. The box he had been focusing on was now sitting motionless in the center of the office carpet, as if waiting for Charlie's arrival.

"Excellent…"

Excitement shone in his eyes, and he murmured to himself with a slight smile. Without any hesitation, he quickly walked to the box, leaned down, and prepared to examine it closely.

"Clang…"

The rusted lock on the box struck the iron sheet covering the wooden frame, emitting a dull and decaying sound.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, but without much hesitation, he did a simple check and, finding no hidden curses, lifted his hand and gently grasped the lock.

The next second, with a soft "Peng!" sound, flames with a few strands of light blue brilliance blazed from his palm, surging outwards through the gaps between his fingers. Even the surrounding air seemed to distort from the terrifying temperature emanating from it.

In just a few seconds, the iron lock was burned red-hot, and dazzling light was released from the inside out, like a small sun being held tightly in Charlie's hand.

Seeing that it was almost done, Charlie exerted a slight force with his wrist, and with a "crack" sound, the iron lock, which could no longer withstand the pressure, was completely broken, officially ending its diligent work of more than ten years…

"Tss…"

The lock, which was still burning hot the previous second, cooled and solidified the next, with white steam billowing out, completely turning into a piece of scrap iron.

He casually threw it aside, not paying it any more attention. Charlie finally slowly opened the box, casting his gaze inside, hoping to find something "interesting".

As the most trusted right-hand man of Voldemort, the items that Voldemort specifically stored in his home would naturally not be unimportant things.

With just one glance, Charlie couldn't help but feel a sudden thumping in his heart.

Death Eater meeting minutes, lists, and data and reports that were once used for various dark magic experiments… Inside the box, densely packed documents and papers were piled together, almost listing all the records from Voldemort's rise to annihilation. Looking at the familiar names on them, Charlie sighed in his heart, if this box of things were to leak out, it would probably be a huge shock to the British wizarding world.

And Lucius's choice to hand it over to him without reservation as a pledge of allegiance, even Charlie himself felt that the weight was terrifying.

Even under careful searching, even Voldemort's own insights and research on commonly used magic could be found in quite detailed notes.

You should know that although he had turned himself into something inhuman through dark magic, even Charlie Black, who was also a genius, had to admit that his magical achievements were powerful.

And as the notes he personally compiled, their preciousness was naturally unparalleled.

Carefully flipping through the neatly written pages of notes in his hand, Charlie couldn't help but feel a burst of joy. Just as the two had said during their duel in the Forbidden Forest not long ago, what Charlie lacked compared to Voldemort was decades of experience.

However, now, this notebook from Voldemort's own hand could just help him fill some of the gaps in this shortcoming!

Moreover, comprehending the insights left by Voldemort was equivalent to studying him carefully from the inside out.

If so, when the two fought again next time, wouldn't Charlie be able to give the other a big "surprise"?

This was somewhat like using the enemy's strengths to defeat him…

Suddenly, a strange idea popped into his head… Perhaps, if Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had really agreed to his request back then, Voldemort could have become a very good Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Charlie shook his head, suppressing the inexplicable thoughts that arose in his heart. The ring on his finger flashed red, and he put it into his storage space, waiting for a free time to study it carefully.

As for now… his eyes refocused on this pile of "treasure".

… … … …

"This is… … … …"

Suddenly, just as Charlie was enthusiastically flipping through Voldemort's relics, a seemingly ordinary notebook placed at the bottom caught Charlie's attention.

The reason he was attracted to it was not because it was so special, or because there were any unusual magical fluctuations floating on it. On the contrary… this notebook was too ordinary, so ordinary that it was no different from a notebook that could be bought for three pounds in any store in the Muggle world.

However, such a thing could be placed in the same box as so many top-secret internal materials of the Death Eater organization. Charlie would never believe that it had nothing special about it.

With this thought in mind, he slowly reached out his hand and gently picked up the notebook at the bottom of the box.

It seemed that because it had been stored for too long, the cover of the notebook was even stuck to the bottom of the box, causing Charlie's movements to be slightly hindered.

But with a subtle, almost imperceptible "tearing" sound, the notebook was finally taken out and came to Charlie's face.

He opened the cheap black leather cover, revealing the title page inside. A name written in a familiar handwriting was reflected in his eyes.

"Tom Riddle… … …"

Muttering this unfamiliar and familiar name in a low voice, Charlie's expression gradually became complicated. The memories of his previous life more than thirty years ago, which had long been sealed, resurfaced in his mind like sea water, and he finally remembered the origin of the notebook in his hand.

After a while, a subtle smile bloomed on the corner of his mouth. The hand holding the notebook suddenly added a bit of force, leaving a shallow dent on the cheap artificial leather cover.

"It seems like you're going to be in my hands again, my dear Tom."

.