Harry Potter and the Candy Factory

Instantly, sweat soaked through his clothes, yet his heart felt like it had plunged into an icy abyss.

In Quirrell's eyes, a fierce look flashed, and the cowardice he had worn to conceal his identity was completely torn away.

Almost without hesitation, he subconsciously took a step back, hoping to create distance. His hands moved incessantly, immediately drawing his wand from within his voluminous robes, intending to strike first and gain the upper hand.

Having been hired as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, Quirrell's strength was naturally more than just an empty facade. Whether it was his initial reaction or the speed at which he drew his wand, to some extent, Quirrell could even be said to surpass some ordinary Aurors.

However, in Charlie's eyes, it made no difference, because he was always faster than anyone else.

The instant Quirrell moved, Charlie stepped forward to close the distance.

With a "whoosh!" the red gem on the ring shimmered.

Before Quirrell could react, the wand made of elm wood and containing Norwegian Ridgeback dragon heartstring was already pointed straight at Quirrell's chest, pressing firmly against his chest through his robes and the clothes beneath.

And from beginning to end, Charlie's expression showed no sign of urgency, not even a hint. The playfulness in his eyes was that of a cat who had caught a mouse, as if everything were within his grasp.

Quirrell's movement of drawing his wand froze stiffly. He had drawn his wand halfway, but only halfway.

The two men's actions began simultaneously, yet ended simultaneously in less than a second, and then fell into a pause and silence that was not short.

"Plop…"

A drop of sweat trickled down Quirrell's cheek, falling to the ground and shattering into tiny droplets.

Only at this moment did uncontrollable fear and regret finally clear his mind completely, making him understand that the young man who had risen to fame before him, and was now even younger than him, was not some mere showpiece, but an existence he could not even touch…

"M-Mr. Black."

Quirrell's Adam's apple trembled frantically, and his breathing became heavy… The stutter that was originally feigned to deceive others had become real at this critical moment of life and death.

"Actually… actually, we don't need to be so tense."

Quirrell's stiff expression forced out a few smiles. He licked his dry lips, and although he tried to suppress the trembling in his voice, the effect didn't seem to be very good.

"Don't need to?"

Charlie raised an eyebrow with interest, tilted his head, and pressed the wand against Quirrell's chest with a bit more force.

"Hiss…"

Feeling the pain coming from the tip of the wand, Quirrell gasped, but the smile on his face never disappeared.

"Yes… Actually… I believe you can understand that, although… although you and my master had some misunderstandings before… but, misunderstandings can be slowly resolved as long as the common interests are large enough."

"Glug…" Quirrell swallowed a mouthful of saliva, then cautiously looked into Charlie's eyes.

Charlie's eyes flickered, as if he was really thinking about what Quirrell said.

Seeing this, Quirrell, who had been faintly trembling with fear and not knowing what to do, immediately calmed down. His mind began to work, as if he wanted to use all his brain cells to launch a verbal attack on Charlie.

"Actually, I believe you can see it too… If it hadn't been for that accident, with my master's strength, he would never have failed… With the number of his subordinates at the time, sweeping the entire British wizarding world would not have been a problem at all, let alone Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix… Even Dumbledore would not have been able to suppress his power."

Speaking of this, Quirrell's expression already carried a hint of fanaticism. He looked eagerly at Charlie, and his words began to become more and more fluent.

"Even now, although the master is injured, his subordinates are still loyal to him, and even in Azkaban, his followers still firmly believe that he will return."

"Mr. Black… this is an opportunity. You only need to pretend that you don't know anything now, and that will be the greatest help to the master. He will soon be resurrected, leading his servants to sweep the entire wizarding world once again… And at that time, you, who helped the master in times of crisis, will receive unimaginable rewards!"

"Resurrection?" Charlie seemed to be moved, he raised an eyebrow, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

"Has he already found a chance to resurrect?"

"Of course!" Quirrell nodded frantically, looking at Charlie with a look of firm belief, as if trying to convey his emotions to the other party.

"Actually, I'm here this time for the master's resurrection plan… If you can let me go, I am very confident that the master can be resurrected because of it!"

"… … …" Charlie was silent again, he lowered his head, as if he was really starting to think about the possibility of this matter.

And the entire time Charlie was thinking was undoubtedly the most agonizing period of time in Quirrell's life.

Finally, Charlie raised his head again, and the wand that had been pressing against Quirrell's chest disappeared back into his hand with a flash of the ring.

"Remember… this is what he owes me."

A smile appeared on the corner of Charlie's mouth, and he extended his hand to Quirrell again.

"Pleasure doing business with you?"

"Pleasure doing business with you!!"

Quirrell's legs almost gave way, but he desperately propped himself up, once again shaking Charlie's hand tightly, but this time, he dared not play any tricks.

Quirrell left, walking back to his room with a smile, as if basking in the spring breeze, under Charlie's gaze.

Then, with a "bang," the wooden door closed, and the smile on Charlie's face finally faded, turning into uncontrollable mockery and playfulness.

He crossed his arms, tilted his head, leaned against the door frame, and stared deeply at the room that was only a few doors away from him, muttering to himself

"Tom, I can't kill you… … … At least not now."

After speaking, he shook his head, straightened his body, stopped looking at anything, and turned around and walked back to his room.

"You should continue to live in such a precarious way. Like a monster who can never appear in the light, with that disgusting nose of yours… … …"

With a "bang," Charlie's door also closed, and silence returned to the corridor, as if nothing had happened.