"Why the hell should I? Just because you said so, I have to do it?"
"Yes." Charlie nodded without hesitation. "I said it. So you'll do it."
Malfoy met Charlie's calm, smiling eyes and felt the floor drop out from under him.
This wasn't the same Charlie Wonka he thought he knew.
Before, Malfoy had seen Charlie as nothing more than a slightly tougher version of Neville. Always smiling. Always soft. The kind of kid you could push around and he'd just take it with that same easy grin.
That grin had looked like weakness.
Charlie was trickier than Harry Potter because of Anthony and Hector—those two actually threw punches. But Malfoy had never been afraid of Charlie himself. Even if all three came at him, he still had Crabbe and Goyle.
That idea was dead now.
Charlie Wonka, the guy who always smiled, was a hell of a lot more dangerous than Malfoy had ever given him credit for.
"Since you had the balls to bully him a minute ago, why not go another round?"
"Alright. Bow to each other, then raise your wands."
"Wait, Wonka!" Malfoy's voice cracked.
"There was never any duel! I was just asking Longbottom about a spell I learned."
"Sure, sure. But now Neville's got a spell he wants to ask you about. You're not gonna refuse, are you? You just asked him about one."
Neville's wand was already up. He looked like he was holding his breath, eyes locked on Malfoy with fire in them.
"I—"
"Fine. Since it's not a duel, no need to bow." Charlie waved a hand. "I'll count to three. Then we start."
He didn't wait. Didn't give anyone time to react.
"Three!"
"Leg-Locker Curse!"
Neville cast first. Faster than Malfoy and his goons—thanks to the overload chocolate.
Even so, from Charlie's view, Neville still looked slow.
But it was enough.
Malfoy and his two thugs stood there like idiots.
The next second, Malfoy's legs snapped together. He hit the floor hard.
Crabbe and Goyle charged at Neville.
"Leg-Locker Curse!" Neville swung at Crabbe.
His wand sparked. His arm jerked up.
Crabbe and Goyle were already on him.
But Neville didn't flinch. He lunged at Crabbe and they went down wrestling. His face was bright red. He ignored the punches landing on his back from Goyle and hammered his fists into Crabbe's face.
"You—can't—can't bully me anymore!" he roared. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
"I didn't do anything wrong. I never provoked you. I'm not gonna let you push me around for no reason. Not ever!"
He twisted and took Goyle down too, swinging at his face.
"Third one's down!" Charlie called out like a UFC ref. "Hit him in the face! That's it—crying and punching, shaking while you swing!"
Because of Neville's shouting, students started drifting over from both ends of the corridor. The fifth floor was right by the library—people passed through all the time.
Then a girl's voice cut through the noise.
"Diffindo!"
Right as the spell flashed, Charlie turned toward the source. The magic bolt came from the library side.
Not aimed at him.
In that split second he made his choice—ignore it.
The spell hit Neville and Goyle, yanking them apart.
"What's going on here?"
A girl walked up. She was maybe five-six, older student, green trim on her robes.
She came over frowning, first canceling the Leg-Locker on Draco.
Draco scrambled behind her like he'd been saved.
"Who are you?" Charlie asked.
"Gemma Farley. Slytherin prefect." She said it like it should mean something.
Charlie stayed relaxed. "Got it. No big deal—they were just asking each other about spells."
Neville had gotten back on his feet and moved to Charlie's side. He looked a little calmer now. The Leg-Locker chocolate's blood moon essence was mostly gone. It had been more of a booster than the main effect.
Crabbe and Goyle had already retreated behind Gemma like cowards.
"I don't see any spell-asking happening here."
"Don't be so quick to judge, Prefect. Why don't you ask Malfoy?"
Charlie didn't care about the venom in Gemma's eyes. He looked straight at Malfoy standing behind her.
Malfoy met Charlie's gaze.
The second he saw that smile, Malfoy understood. Gemma Farley was here now, but she wouldn't always be.
If he didn't give the answer Charlie wanted, Charlie would come find him later to "ask about spells."
"Yeah... I was asking Longbottom about a spell." Malfoy forced the words out.
But Gemma Farley looked pissed at Charlie's casual attitude. She nodded.
"Of course I know they were asking about spells. I saw Malfoy curse Longbottom earlier myself. But about Longbottom using his fists—"
"You saw that?"
Charlie sucked in a breath through his teeth and scratched his cheek, pretending to think.
Gemma had short hair. Charlie felt like he'd seen her before.
"When I was coming upstairs earlier, you were walking ahead of me—heading to the library, right? I finally figured out why you looked so familiar.
You were ahead of me, turned the corner first. That means you walked right into Malfoy 'asking Longbottom about a spell'—"
Charlie's voice got quieter. Gemma stared at him. "Is there a problem?"
Charlie's tone turned sharp. "So why the hell are you jumping in now? You think you're playing hero?
Why didn't you stop Malfoy back then?
You're a prefect. Don't you know students aren't supposed to cast spells in the corridors?"
The whole corridor went quiet. Charlie's questions hung in the air like slaps.
Gemma's face darkened.
She had seen Malfoy bullying Neville. Of course she had.
But she hadn't cared. Why would she? She was Slytherin. Neville was Gryffindor.
She'd known Draco Malfoy before he even started at Hogwarts—family parties and all that.
Now that Charlie had dragged the favoritism out into the open, it didn't look so noble anymore.
Gemma lowered her voice, eyebrows knitting tight.
She had to answer with everyone watching.
"Yes, I didn't stop him because I thought students asking each other about spells was perfectly normal."
She took two steps closer, staring Charlie down with clear warning in her eyes.
Like if he said one more word, she'd tear him apart.
Charlie stared right back. "So you're set on protecting Malfoy no matter what?"
"Listen, student. You should show some respect to a prefect. Hogwarts gave me this authority to protect everyone's rights—not to play favorites.
If you have a problem with how I'm handling this, you're welcome to take it up with our Head of House, Professor Snape."
Charlie closed his eyes for a second, thinking fast.
Months ago he'd been waiting for a moment like this. Something interesting.
It was finally here.
"No need to run to Snape. When it comes to playing favorites, you two are cut from the same cloth, aren't you?"
Someone in the growing crowd couldn't hold back a snort of laughter.
"Since you think students asking each other about spells is so reasonable, Prefect Farley... I think I'd like to ask you about a few spells myself."