Harry Potter and the Candy Factory

#24 - milk

“Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning, Mother.”

“Good morning, Uncle.”

Before long, as Charlie gradually finished his coffee, Draco yawned, looking as if he had just woken up, and walked out of his room near the stairwell.

On the way, he didn't forget to greet the three people below, looking like a very polite child.

“Come down, I warmed up some milk for you.”

Narcissa said, walking back to the kitchen to check on the milk she had warmed up for Draco.

Draco was stunned when he heard his mother's words, and then he couldn't help but frown, looking towards the kitchen after Narcissa's departing figure.

“Mom!?”

His tone revealed a hint of disbelief.

“Why are you in the kitchen? Where's Dobby? That hateful…”

However, he only got halfway through his words before Lucius, who had finished his coffee, suddenly shook the newspaper in his hand and coughed twice.

Draco subconsciously turned his head to look at him, only to see his father glaring at him fiercely.

Instantly, Draco shuddered. Although he didn't know what he had just done wrong, his mouth had already formed a conditioned reflex, and with a “whoosh,” his voice stopped abruptly and he firmly shut his mouth.

Charlie still maintained his smile, as if he hadn't heard anything.

He squinted his eyes, looking at the remaining residue at the bottom of the coffee cup, occasionally reaching out to gently rotate the cup, watching the shapes of the black fragments from various angles.

This was very similar to the divination method he had learned when he was at Hogwarts.

It was just that they used tea leaves after drinking black tea at that time, and now he was using… coffee grounds? Charlie didn't know.

In fact, he also understood that in the eyes of most wizards, house-elves were merely slaves.

This kind of consciousness had been formed in their minds as early as several centuries ago.

Just like humans to dogs… wizards to house-elves were the same.

Once upon a time, house-elves were not called by this name.

They were also an independent race, different from humans, but no different from other magical races.

They lived in the north of England, having their own independent habitats in the jungles.

Everything probably originated from a war that had long been forgotten in some ancient book.

Humans won, thus having the ability to sanction house-elves.

Through generations of captivity and enslavement, their habits were completely wiped out, their way of life was changed, and the first principle of serving wizards was deeply implanted in their minds.

Nowadays, in this wizarding world where the principle of house-elves being slaves has been regarded as common sense, if you really harbor hostility and anger towards all families with house-elves, they will only think you are crazy.

Not to mention, those house-elves would probably hate you even more than their masters, thinking you are a complete demon…

Therefore, truly wanting to liberate house-elves is a difficult and firm thing. It cannot be rushed, but must wait for a specific opportunity in the future.

… … … … … … …

Looking at Charlie, whose expression was normal and unchanged, Lucius breathed a sigh of relief.

He raised his head again, looked at Draco, who was standing on the stairs, not knowing whether to advance or retreat, and said in a deep voice,

“What are you still standing here for?”

Hearing this, Draco was relieved, nodded, and quickly trotted down the stairs and sat next to Charlie.

“Good morning, Draco.”

Charlie's gaze shifted from the coffee grounds that looked like umbrellas or Australian frilled lizards to Draco beside him.

He reached out and rubbed Draco's somewhat disheveled hair, greeting him with a smile.

Little Draco's hair inherited from his father, long and smooth.

But Charlie wasn't sure… if he really kept smearing hair gel like he did at school, combing his hair into a meticulous slicked-back style, would he become bald when he grew up?

You know… this is England.

Thinking of this, Charlie couldn't help but hesitate. Maybe he should find some time to tell Draco.

Looking at Draco again, he was even more confused at the moment.

Looking at Charlie, who was absentmindedly touching his hair, he couldn't help but frown.

He secretly pondered in his heart, it's getting weirder and weirder…

In just these two days, first his father's shocking performance last night, and then his mother personally went into the kitchen.

And now, his uncle, who had just arrived, was staring at his hair in a daze.

Too strange… this is really too strange.

Fortunately, the thoughts in Draco's mind didn't last too long, because soon, Narcissa brought the hot milk back to the long table.

“Come…”

The steaming milk pot and cups floated in the air under Narcissa's guidance, and the entire hall was filled with the aroma of hot milk.

Only Draco, his eyelids couldn't help but twitch.

Because of his height, his perspective at the moment happened to be able to see the bottom of the milk pot.

The bottom of the pot was already pitch black… Although Draco didn't know how it became like this, his strong sixth sense inherited from his father told him.

It's best not to drink it…

“Cough…” Draco coughed twice, giving his mother a stiff smile.

“Actually… I'm not really that…”

He stopped before he could finish his sentence.

Narcissa looked at him, although still smiling, but her narrowed eyes made him feel a pressure as familiar as Lucius.

Immediately, he changed his tone.

“No, not very… awake… I guess I should feel a lot better after drinking a cup of milk.”

The pressure disappeared… Narcissa nodded in satisfaction.

“Great, then drink more.”

Saying that, the milk from the milk pot was poured into the cup.

However, Draco could clearly see some black burnt residue in the milk.

Charlie also saw it… He took his hand back from Draco's head and patted his back instead.