Harry Potter and the Candy Factory

The Leaky Cauldron Pub

A cacophony of boisterous shouts mingled with the pervasive aroma of alcohol.

Faint, ethereal, unidentifiable smoke intertwined, painting the primary hues of the scene.

"Ha!!!"

Beside a slightly aged, round wooden table, a hand slammed a just-emptied tankard onto the surface with considerable force.

The sensation of the liquor cascading down his throat and into his stomach sent a jolt through every cell in his body.

Hagrid's face, partially obscured by his thick beard, flushed red, and he involuntarily emitted a loud belch.

He licked his lips, wiping away traces of beer from his whiskers with the back of his hand.

Then, he raised his tankard once more, turning towards the bar and bellowing in a voice that nearly drowned out all other sounds in the pub:

"Tom!!! I'm empty! Another one for me!!!"

Behind the bar, an elderly man, nearly bald and with a wrinkled face, slowly raised his head.

He glanced at the large, burly man in the distance, who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely and was waving his tankard insistently.

"You've had fourteen pints already, Hagrid! Don't forget you have something to do later."

He remained stationary, continuing to polish a beer glass in his hand, offering the reminder in a measured tone.

"Something…"

Hagrid lowered his raised tankard slightly.

He paused, repeating Tom's words to himself.

The effects of the alcohol amplified his already limited cognitive abilities, rendering his mind even more muddled.

Hagrid furrowed his brow and began pressing his large fingers against his temples, hoping to clear his head, but to no avail.

His thoughts remained jumbled, and he couldn't recall anything.

He leaned his elbow on the table, supporting his massive frame, causing the old wooden surface to emit a series of grating creaks.

Old Tom behind the bar couldn't help but wince, fearing that the table, older than himself, might finally meet its demise today.

He quickly set down the beer glass in his hand and hurried out from behind the bar.

Old Tom reached out and managed to steady Hagrid, who was on the verge of collapsing halfway onto the table, then continued:

"Have you forgotten? You said when you came in that Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had given you some important task…"

"Dun… Dumbledore… Headmaster?"

Hagrid squinted, instinctively repeating Tom's words.

He allowed the small, stooped man to struggle with his arm, attempting to save his beloved little round table.

"Headmaster Dumbledore!?!"

However, in the next moment… a surge of electricity seemed to pass through his mind, instantly sobering the inebriated man.

"Hiss…"

He gasped, inhaling sharply.

His previously half-closed eyes widened, now devoid of any trace of intoxication.

Old Tom, who had been laboriously supporting the giant arm, suddenly felt the weight lifted and looked up in surprise.

He saw Hagrid, who had been drowsy and disoriented, now standing, albeit unsteadily.

"Tom! What time is it?!"

He grabbed the coarse cloth coat lying nearby and asked anxiously.

"Uh…"

Old Tom blinked and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall nearby.

"Three… fifty?"

Upon hearing this, the already flustered Hagrid's face turned from red to pale.

"I'm done for, I'm done for…"

He muttered to himself as he frantically began to move his unsteady feet.

After knocking over several empty tables in his chaotic rush, he finally burst through the pub's wooden door and stumbled outside.

Old Tom raised his eyebrows, surveyed the somewhat disarrayed scene before him, and "humphed" a couple of times.

He didn't say much, however, and began to clean up on his own.

Clearly, this was not the first time.

… … … … … … … … …

Hogwarts Headmaster’s Office

Sunlight streamed through the leaded glass windows, illuminating slightly yellowed papers on the desk.

Portraits of past headmasters, their eyes closed in slumber, lined the walls.

Fawkes the phoenix, his head nestled in flame-colored feathers, perched on his brass stand…

The light also fell upon the white-bearded, kindly-faced old man behind the desk—Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, his gaze lowered, studied the papers filled with writing before him, seemingly lost in thought.

At the same time, he reached into the half-open drawer below, expertly retrieving two candies, which he promptly popped into his mouth, quietly waiting for them to slowly dissolve.

The entire office was utterly silent, the only sound being the scratching of Dumbledore's quill as it moved across the paper.

Time and space seemed to stand still at this moment, like an elegant painting, everything appearing leisurely and serene.

Until…

"Bang, bang, bang!!!"

A sudden burst of knocking shattered the peace.

Like a pebble thrown into a calm pond, the ensuing ripples completely broke the tranquility into irreparable fragments.

Around the room, the portraits of the headmasters, who had been resting, instantly awoke.

"Oh! Heavens…"

"Oh, damn it! Albus! You should tell him to be a little gentler! It's always like this; the office door will be torn off one of these days!!"

"…This office is older than all of us combined! You should tell him not to treat the poor door like that!"

"It's that fellow again… He always wakes me up when he comes!"

"I'm an old man!! I deserve to rest!!"

"Damn it! You should fire him!"

… … … …

Whether angry, irritated, helpless, or sighing, although the words were chaotic, the meaning expressed by these distinct and ideologically diverse headmaster portraits was unusually consistent…

Nothing more than a heartfelt complaint about the person outside the door.

Even Fawkes couldn't help but let out two noticeably unhappy cries, spreading his wings to shield his little head.

"Alright, quiet down, everyone."

Albus Dumbledore raised his lowered eyes again, glancing at the headmaster's office door, which was being pounded upon and from which small splinters of wood could be seen flying, while helplessly raising his hand to signal the portraits on the wall to calm down.

"Hagrid?"

Dumbledore asked slowly.

"Headmaster… I'm sorry I'm late."

Outside the door, Hagrid's voice sounded somewhat uneasy.

Fortunately, the wind he had faced along the way had completely sobered him up, and his words were no longer as slurred as they had been at the Leaky Cauldron.

"It's alright, come in."