A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 662 Informing or Provoking?
In the magical world, different wizards lead their teams in different ways.

With his unparalleled wisdom, the prestige he gained from Grindelwald, and the power to instill fear in even the darkest forces, Dumbledore forged the Order of the Phoenix into a solid fortress of light.

Voldemort, the Dark Lord whose very name inspires fear, relied on pure violence, omnipresent terror, and powerful dark magic to bind the Death Eaters into a terrifying chariot filled with brutality and despair.

As for Charles, he neither raised the banner of justice nor spread the fear of darkness; he simply led the employees of Farbatton Castle to make money, realize their grand or small magical innovation ideals, and incidentally solve everyone's worries.

To paraphrase some pure-blood wizards, "He's like a Gringotts goblin, using Galon to win people over!"

But undeniably, it is very effective.

The team at Farbatton Castle is efficient, loyal, and remarkably united because they are not protecting some abstract ideal, but their own tangible financial future and prospects.

Tonight, this very wealthy boss just orchestrated a brilliant deception.

August Lukewood, the Death Eater who had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic for many years, spent time in Azkaban after being denounced, and later returned to Voldemort's command, was currently enjoying the fine wine that Old Smith had sent him during the summer in his comfortable room at Farbatton Castle.

Charles meticulously crafted a death scene using some bone fragments removed during Lukewood's plastic surgery in an effort to completely transform himself and escape his past.

The bone fragments found at the scene and the confirmed reaction of the compound decoction made everything seem perfect.

Meanwhile, an old wizard who originally worked for Grindelwald, the real cleaner, was dragged out of bed in the middle of the night by Ruby and sent to a hospital on the shores of Lake Victoria to continue working as a cleaner, under the pretext of accidentally breaking Charles's teacup.

The truth of the matter was known only to Charles, Lukewood, and the old wizard; everyone else believed that Death Eaters had indeed been summoned to the castle.

For Lukewood himself, this meant that he had finally severed his ties with the horrors of the past and could now work under Charles, using his knowledge and secrets about the Ministry of Magic to secure a stable, high-paying job where he wouldn't have to worry about incurring the Avada Kedavra curse at any time, and where he could feel extremely fulfilled.

After finishing his business at the castle, Charles returned to Hogwarts Castle.

Night had fallen, and the castle was quiet except for the soft snores of the portraits on the walls and the occasional Pippi Longstocking song.

Filch's footsteps sounded, and Charles greeted him, casually bringing back a bottle of hot caramel bubble tea that he had originally intended for Hermione from the dining room at Falbaddon Castle.

Charles did not return to the Gryffindor Tower, but went straight to the first basement level. He walked for a while in the dark corridor and stopped in front of a bare stone door without any markings—this was Snape's private dormitory.

"Boom, boom, boom."

Charles raised his hand and knocked on the door, neither too hard nor too soft.

The sound echoed clearly in the silent stone corridor.

First came a muffled, sleepy murmur from behind the door, followed by the rustling of fabric and slightly heavy footsteps.

After a while, the door lock clicked softly, and the stone door was pulled open a crack.

A pale, greasy face, filled with the resentment of being woken up, peeked out. In the flickering candlelight, the dark eyes appeared even deeper and more impatient due to drowsiness.

"Who?"

Snape's voice was hoarse, filled with the frustration of being dragged back to reality from a nightmare.

Charles's gaze fell on the robe he was wearing, and then he froze instantly as if struck by a petrification spell.

It was a dark green velvet robe that looked to be of quite good quality.

However, this dark green robe was covered with mandrakes in various poses.

These mandrakes aren't the terrifying kind that screams when pulled from the soil; instead, they've been cartoonized and made cute.

They have round, plump bodies, wave their tiny leaf arms, and make all sorts of cute faces. Some are yawning, some are hugging and munching on strawberry cakes, and some even have little sleeping caps on each leaf...

In the dim candlelight, these whimsical patterns, combined with Snape's perpetually gloomy face, which now looked as if he had just finished a can of herring, created perhaps the most visually striking contrast in the history of Hogwarts.

Charles's lips began to twitch uncontrollably.

He was certain that if a photo were taken right now, Harry could get it printed and plastered all over Diagon Alley.

But now he had to use all his self-control to avoid bursting out laughing on the spot. Business was important, and he had to laugh until he finished his business.

The moment Snape saw that it was Charles outside the door, it was as if he had been doused with ice water, and the drowsiness brought on by sleep instantly disappeared.

He suddenly realized what he was wearing—a gift from some herbalist trying to curry favor with him; the material was indeed incredibly comfortable, but the pattern…

Snape originally thought that if he only wore it in the bedroom and no one saw him, nothing would happen.

It was the middle of the night, and usually only Dumbledore would come to see him. If he saw him, it wouldn't be a big problem.

However, tonight, thinking it was Dumbledore knocking, I opened the door, only to find it was Charles!
A chilling killing intent surged from the depths of Snape's heart and quickly spread to every part of his body.

If the Death Eaters find out about this, it will be disastrous!

Snape's dark eyes narrowed involuntarily, his fingers tightening around the brass candlestick until his knuckles turned slightly white. At this moment, using his swift and decisive strike to finely chop Charles into mincemeat seemed to be the most direct and effective way to resolve the current awkward situation and maintain his own authority.

He even began to think rapidly about how to dispose of the body and how to explain to Voldemort and Dumbledore that Charles had disappeared on his own in the basement.

The occasional disappearance of one or two students from Hogwarts isn't a big problem; for example, a few years ago...

Snape suddenly realized something, his eyes widened, and he looked at Charles in disbelief.

Charles keenly sensed the murderous intent that was almost tangible.

He forced himself to look away from the lovely mandrakes and stared intently at Snape's left hand holding the candlestick, as if that hand were the most interesting thing in the world.

Then he noticed that Snape looked extremely surprised, but he didn't know why.

With business at hand, he took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady, but a very slight tremor betrayed that he was fighting a desperate battle with the urge to burst out laughing.

“Lukewood,” he began expressionlessly, getting straight to the point, “August Lukewood.”

“Tell your master that he did something very, very inappropriate.”

Snape's murderous intent faltered slightly as he was drawn to the sudden name and information.

“Lukewood?” he repeated in a low voice, his brow furrowed. “What did he do?”

Lukwood is a Death Eater assigned an important mission by Voldemort. Now that Charles says he's in trouble and is contacting him directly, it means this is no ordinary matter.

Snape temporarily suppressed his urge to kill him and waited to see what Charles had to say.

“He’s dead now,” Charles said succinctly, his gaze still fixed on the candlestick. “The details don’t matter.”

"All you need to do is tell your master that Lukewood crossed the line and broke the rules, so he's dead now."

“If he has any objections to this…” Charles raised his eyes, meeting Snape’s eyes which held six parts doubt, three parts seriousness, and one part suspicion, and sneered, “Heh, let him come and challenge me to a duel.”

This almost provocative statement completely snapped Snape out of his embarrassment and murderous intent stemming from the dressing gown.

He became unusually serious, his body tensing slightly.

“Smith,” he asked slowly, “are you…very angry right now?”

He rarely sensed such direct, almost warlike anger from this young man who always appeared extremely calm.

The only similar situation was when Malfoy was almost killed.

Charles's face was expressionless, but the coldness in his eyes was enough to drop the surrounding temperature to freezing point, and the candlelight dimmed slightly.

“He crossed the line, my line.” His voice was soft, as if he were chatting, but he said something chilling: “No matter who it is, they will die.”

Snape remained silent.

He looked Charles over and after a long while, he nodded almost imperceptibly.

“I will tell the Dark Lord.” Snape’s voice returned to its usual coldness, as if the momentary killing intent brought by the mandrake robe had never existed.

He felt that Charles had come not to relay the message, but to provoke him.

"Good night." Charles nodded, quickly turned around, and strode towards the kitchen.

He feared that if he stayed even a second longer, that damned robe would completely ruin his composure, and his laughter might wake up the Slytherin and Hufflepuff students.

Snape stared blankly in the direction Charles had disappeared, and after a long while, he slammed the door shut.

He glanced down at the mandrakes laughing carelessly on his robe, a rare, twisted expression of annoyance and helplessness flashing across his face.

Perhaps it's time to get rid of this robe.

Alternatively, find an opportunity to give Charles a potion that will make him forget tonight's events, preferably one that can be mixed into his soda so that no one can detect it.

He thought gloomily and blew out the candlestick.

In the kitchen, a group of house-elves gathered in front of the fireplace, looking at Charles, who was laughing and rolling on the floor behind the door, with a head full of question marks.

"Come here for a moment."

After Charles finished laughing, he summoned the house-elf who was skilled at making desserts and gave him a serious instruction.

(End of this chapter)