Harry Potter and the Candy Factory

The Place Furstenberg in the 6th arrondissement of Paris is located in a relatively underdeveloped area, as if some magic had forcibly separated it from the surrounding metropolis with its dazzling skyscrapers. Even now, it still exudes an ancient aura from centuries past, making one feel a sense of bewilderment and reverence upon entering this place.

As Charlie and Little Sanchez strolled through a maze of intricate and secluded alleyways to arrive here, a gust of wind, blowing from an unknown direction, quickly swept across the once-silent square, as if giving it new life and scattering the snow that covered the central platform.

After leading Charlie to the entrance on the platform, Little Sanchez stopped, still maintaining his respectful and humble tone. He bowed slightly and whispered,

"Just stand in the middle and cough once, and the magic will transport you to the headquarters of the Ministry of Magic."

"Alright," Charlie nodded slightly. He was about to look around and examine the towering trees and the unique magic beneath his feet when he saw that Little Sanchez had stopped and didn't intend to come up with him. So, he raised his eyebrows in confusion and asked, "Aren't you coming with me?"

Little Sanchez quickly waved his hand, politely declining with a smile, "Once you arrive in the Ministry of Magic's lobby, they will have someone to take you to the registration office to complete the registration. As for me... I'll just wait for you here."

"Okay then."

Charlie listened to Little Sanchez's words and didn't think too much about it. After a moment of consideration, he nodded in agreement. Then, he found a spot on the central platform, near a pillar-like anchor point, and, following Little Sanchez's instructions, covered his mouth and deliberately coughed twice.

The next second, a rumbling sound accompanied by a sudden shaking began. The four towering trees, which had been standing still, were now all imbued with life. The branches "rustled" as they knocked the snow off onto the ground, intertwining and overlapping above Charlie's head, blocking the sky. Below, thick roots snaked and grew from the soil, covering the entire space of the platform.

Charlie's eyes lit up slightly. He wasn't frightened at all, but instead, without blinking, he watched with great interest as a birdcage elevator woven from vines and branches appeared out of nowhere in a matter of seconds, prompting Charlie to exclaim, "How creative!"

Compared to that telephone booth at the British Ministry of Magic, this is much more inventive. After all, similar scenes are appearing more and more frequently in recent movies. You never know when a Muggle might have a sudden inspiration and accidentally stumble into the Ministry of Magic's lobby.

Just as Charlie was considering whether he could discuss sponsoring a new entrance for the Ministry of Magic with Fudge when he returned to England, perhaps opening it inside a Charlie's Candy Shop, the elevator, formed from the surrounding trees, began to move again.

Charlie only felt a jolt around him and his body lighten. Then, the scenery outside the elevator blurred.

Before he could react, by the time the movement stopped, the scene outside the elevator had changed from the Place Furstenberg to a brightly lit, exquisitely decorated Art Nouveau hall.

Looking at the dome-shaped glass ceiling with its ironwork carvings reflecting the sunlight like a work of art, and the smooth, bright marble floor tiles without a hint of impurity... even he couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement.

"Does the French Ministry of Magic get a lot of sponsorship?"

Looking around and taking in the entire environment of the hall, Charlie slowly stepped out of the elevator, muttering to himself as he walked.

As he stepped off the elevator, a black wizard wearing a gray fleece robe quickly approached him. After stopping in front of Charlie, he took the initiative to greet him,

"Hello, sir, welcome to the Ministry of Magic. How can I help you?"

"I just arrived from England and I'm here to register," Charlie replied.

"Alright, I understand. The registration office for foreign wizards is that way," the black wizard nodded and then pointed to a corridor in the distance.

"Thank you." Without lingering any longer, after a simple thank you, Charlie strode off in the direction the man had indicated.

… … … … … … … … … …

In reality, wizards are a type of being with a sense of territory and rarely leave their location to "travel far." From ancient times to the present, even in the late 20th century, this habit has not changed much in the traditionally magical regions of Europe. Therefore, in any country, the department responsible for registration is always the most leisurely and boring. Likewise, it also means that the staff inside are particularly lazy… … … …

When Charlie followed the direction indicated by the black man and found the registration office, upon opening the door, the only person inside, a middle-aged woman with fluffy orange wavy hair, was dozing off behind the service desk. Even the "creaking" sound of the old wooden door being pushed open didn't wake her up right away.

It wasn't until Charlie sat down in front of the service desk and called out a few times softly that he managed to pull her back from her dream. The awakened woman was clearly not pleased with the act of disturbing her sweet dream, and she glanced forward with a displeased expression. But when she saw that the person in front of her was a handsome man, the resentment in her heart lessened a bit. She stretched lazily, adjusted her posture, and pulled out a form from a pile of papers, placing it in front of her and asking slowly,

"Name."

"Charlie Black," Charlie replied truthfully.

"Charlie Black? That name sounds familiar."

The floating quill kept writing and drawing on the paper. The woman raised her eyebrows and asked curiously,

Charlie smiled, glanced at the middle-aged woman in front of him, shrugged his shoulders, and made up a story.

"It might be a common name... After all, Charlie is quite a common name, and in the British wizarding world, the surname Black is also unremarkable and not very rare."

The woman frowned slightly as she listened to Charlie's words, as if thinking about something in her mind. But in the blink of an eye, she relaxed her eyebrows again, pursed her lips indifferently, and replied,

"That's probably it then."