This room was like a Giant's castle.
Ian sat on the bed.
Holding a cup of hot cocoa in his hands, he took small sips while unable to stop himself from looking at Fox.
The Phoenix was curled up under Dumbledore's robes, feathers slightly puffed up, eyes warily fixed on Claire—the Witch who called herself a "Titan." She was currently sitting at a table in the corner of the room, lazily simmering a pot of soup. The fragrance filled the air, appetizing enough to make one's stomach growl.
Except the problem was… what was being stewed in that pot was a Phoenix.
To be precise.
It was her own Phoenix.
"As expected, a mentally ill Phoenix."
Ian stared at the bubbling cauldron. Inside, the Phoenix was lounging as if in a hot spring, occasionally shifting its posture so that the broth could better soak into its feathers.
It was starting to gradually initiate its nirvana process in the soup.
"..."
Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully.
He did not offer any comment.
"So…" Ian slowly opened his mouth, his voice still tinged with disbelief, "your Phoenix can get stronger by eating itself?"
"Yep." Claire didn't even look up, gently stirring the bottom of the pot with a long-handled ladle. "Every time it's reborn, it's a bit stronger than before."
She paused for a moment, then continued, "Sometimes I find her too naggy, so I'll force her to get stewed for a bit, let her quiet down."
Ian's eyes went wide.
"Isn't that just pet abuse?!"
He felt this absolutely must not be seen by any childless cat-loving woman.
"She doesn't think so." Claire pointed at the Phoenix in the pot. "Look, she's actually enjoying herself right now."
As she spoke.
She gave the cauldron another stir.
Ian leaned in for a closer look, and sure enough, the Phoenix was slowly dissolving itself into essence within the soup. It really didn't look like it was suffering at all—in fact, it actually looked pretty happy.
Ian.
"..."
A Phoenix that can eat itself to boost its power—this really felt kind of like a bug in the system. He had no idea if all Phoenixes were like this, or if only a Female Titan's Phoenix worked this way.
Wasn't this just way too bugged?
"Th-this… this is way too ridiculous!" He turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, what do you think about this?"
Dumbledore merely took a sip of tea with a smile, his tone calm: "I suppose every Phoenix has its own way of life, so I will make no judgment."
"Uh…"
Ian wanted to say more.
But Fox's reaction cut him off—the loyal partner of Dumbledore was trembling, only poking out a single head from inside Dumbledore's robes.
Ian wanted to see what this "traditional Phoenix" thought of such an absurd cultivation method among its own kind.
But the moment Fox met his gaze, it let out a sharp "Chew!" and dove straight into Dumbledore's robes, now not even daring to show its head.
"Is it… afraid of being stewed?" Ian asked tentatively.
Apparently not all Phoenixes were this fearless.
"Perhaps." Dumbledore remained unruffled, his tone full of steady resolve, completely unmoved by the lure of power. "But I will not let it meet such a fate."
To Dumbledore, his Phoenix was a partner. Even if the Phoenix couldn't add much to his combat strength, he would never do such a thing just to make it stronger.
If it were someone else doing this kind of thing, the old headmaster would likely offer a bit of criticism. But the other party was the origin-of-all-things Titan, and no one had any say over her stewing her own Alchemy Creation.
"Phew…" Ian let out a sigh of relief. "That's good."
His Hogwarts life absolutely could not be ruined because of this. Just imagine: in that warm, cozy castle, the old headmaster stewing Phoenix in his office every day—that image was simply too speechless for words.
Claire noticed Ian's gaze and curled her lips. "The one in his family is way too delicate. Phoenixes are supposed to be incarnations of the eternal flame—what's wrong with eating themselves?"
"That's called resource recycling."
It was clearly just carding a bug in the system.
But the Female Titan spoke with a kind of utterly unreasonable confidence.
As she talked, she fished out a handful of sparkling powder from her pocket and sprinkled it into the pot. Ian recognized it as some kind of High Tier Magic Spice; the color of the soup instantly shifted from gold-red to a dazzling crimson.
The aroma grew so rich it was almost tangible, condensing into tiny motes of light in the air.
Dumbledore stood to the side,
The blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles gleamed with a thoughtful light, but he still voiced no opinion. His long fingers gently stroked Fox, who was hiding in his robes.
As if soothing a frightened kitten.
"Professor," Ian couldn't help asking, "do you think this… is normal?"
"In the Magic Realm, 'normal' is a rather subjective concept."
Dumbledore replied gently, "I recall Mr. Newt Scamander once recorded a kind of Magic lizard that would eat its own tail. With every rebirth, its scales would grow harder."
That was indeed a fact.
Hearing this.
Claire snapped her fingers triumphantly.
"See! Even your future Fantastic Beasts Expert gets it!" She actually knew the term "Fantastic Beasts Expert"—no telling how much she liked to sneak peeks at the future in her spare time.
Ian rubbed his temples and decided to give up thinking about this. He shifted his attention instead to the increasingly bizarre pot of soup—tiny Phoenix phantoms had begun to appear on the surface.
Gracefully circling.
"So…" Ian carefully asked, "your Phoenix gets stronger every time it's stewed?"