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By the time classes wrapped for the day, Hagrid's little hut was already buzzing with life.
A warm fire crackled in the hearth, shoving the winter chill straight back outside where it belonged.
"Lucien, c'mon, tell us everything! What's Beauxbatons actually like?!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione dragged him down onto the oversized couch, eyes wide with that hungry, first-year-level curiosity only Hogwarts kids could manage.
Lucien grinned and pulled a thick stack of moving photographs from his pocket—every single one enchanted to play like a tiny movie.
The top shot was the big group photo from the final day: all the student champions, professors, and judges lined up in front of Beauxbatons' gleaming palace-style buildings, sunlight bouncing off marble like it was showing off.
"Oh!" Hagrid's deep rumble filled the cabin. "Blimey, what a beautiful lady! And tall! Proper tall! Brilliant!"
Lucien didn't even need to ask who he meant. Madame Maxime stood dead center in the picture, head slightly tilted, smiling that elegant half-smile. In a crowd of normal-sized witches and wizards, her height made her impossible to miss.
She and Hagrid both had giant blood, after all.
Note to self: next time I see Hagrid, remind him never to mention giant heritage in front of her. She hates that.
BOOM—
A sudden thunderous noise rolled out from the kitchen, rattling the teacups.
Hagrid popped up like nothing happened. "Cookies are done! You lot sit tight!"
As for why baking sounded like a dragon clearing its throat… yeah, best not to ask. That was just Hagrid's signature kitchen magic.
A couple minutes later he came back beaming, carrying a tray the size of a small table. Steaming tea and a mountain of what he proudly called "little" rock cakes.
Lucien and the trio automatically reached for the tea first—self-preservation instinct.
But when Lucien's eyes landed on the rock cakes, he actually froze.
Same classic rock cakes: rough, studded with raisins and dried fruit, so hard you could probably use them as bludgers.
Except this time something was different.
Earth element.
He blinked, then focused. Ever since he'd gotten the advanced Earth Rune, sensing the stuff had become second nature.
Sure enough, faint threads of earth-element magic were slowly drifting across every single cake.
Wait… why the hell do cookies have elemental magic?
Hagrid never used a wand for cooking. Rolling pin, dough, oven—all manual. So where was the earth element coming from?
Then it clicked. He'd read about pure-blood giants once: they had a passive talent that slowly turned their favorite wooden clubs into stone clubs over time. No active spellcasting required—just always on.
Hagrid had giant blood. Did that mean the same passive magic leaked out when he baked?
So… all those legendary dark-cuisine disasters… this is why?
The mountain-shaped pattern on his right index finger glowed faintly. Without pulling his wand, Lucien quietly siphoned a few threads of earth element out of the nearest rock cakes.
Then he picked one up and took a careful bite.
Crunch.
Warm wheat and sweet dried fruit exploded across his tongue—crisp, not jaw-breaking. Sweet, but not greasy.
Lucien's eyes lit up.
Yep. Earth-element buildup was the culprit.
Once he pulled the excess magic away, the rock cakes tasted… actually good. Better than the ones he'd softened with spells before. Full flavor, zero dental emergency.
He chewed happily and immediately grabbed a second one.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a shocked glance.
Hermione hesitated, then bravely picked up a cake and nibbled.
"Huh?" She blinked. "This… isn't rock-hard anymore?"
Harry tried one too and nodded fast. "Yeah! Hagrid, these are actually delicious this time!"
"Really?" Hagrid scratched his wild hair, looking genuinely confused. "I didn't change the recipe…"
Ron stared at the pile, throat working like he was watching a horror movie he couldn't look away from.
He still had flashbacks from last time.
Same tray. Same hopeful thought: They can't be that bad, right? Then he'd ignored Harry's frantic warning, taken a huge bite—
And cracked a molar on the spot. Full-on rolling-on-the-floor screaming. Madam Pomfrey had fixed it with a potion, but not before muttering that weird line:
"In the British wizarding world, Hogwarts is the best place for dental emergencies."
She'd said it with this weird mix of pride and exhaustion.
Ron had been too busy crying to think about it then.
He still didn't get it now.
Is it because we eat too much candy? Or…
His eyes flicked back to Lucien happily munching away like the cakes were normal biscuits.
…or is Lucien just built different?