Chapter 35: Slugs, Spices, and Strange Dishes
"Of course," Douglas added calmly, "that depends on the difference in skill between the two spellcasters."
"You'll learn this counter-spell properly in your fourth year."
Then he looked at Ron—who was now glowing with relief—and sighed regretfully.
"Unfortunately, the Slug-Vomiting Charm doesn't produce tentacled slugs."
"Those are valuable ingredients for certain potions. Could've been worth a few sickles."
Ron's expression instantly changed.
For a moment he looked almost heartbroken.
All that suffering—and not a single useful potion ingredient to show for it.
What a waste.
After tidying the room a bit, Douglas conjured a table beside the stove and placed the gift he had brought on top of it.
It was a large jar filled with pickled chicken feet.
Hagrid hurried to prepare tea for everyone, looking slightly embarrassed but clearly delighted.
"Ha! Pickled pepper chicken feet!"
"I haven't had these since you sent me some a couple years ago."
"I know how to make them, of course—but you know how it is. They take a lot of effort…"
Before he could finish, he noticed the three younger students staring at Douglas in astonishment.
Harry and Ron simply looked confused.
Hermione, however, looked deeply puzzled.
She raised her hand instinctively, as though she were in class.
"Phoenixes," she said thoughtfully, "are classified as Ministry-level magical creatures."
"They're extremely rare bird-like magical beings. While phoenixes can be found in Egypt, India, and China…"
She frowned.
"There are only two known domesticated phoenixes."
"One is Fawkes, Headmaster Dumbledore's phoenix."
"The other is Sparks, the phoenix mascot of the New Zealand Moutohora Macaw Quidditch team."
She pointed at the jar.
"So… how could there possibly be so many phoenix claws?"
Then she hesitated.
"Unless they're from Augureys? They're sometimes called Irish phoenixes…"
Before she could finish, Douglas and Hagrid exchanged a glance and burst out laughing.
Hermione looked offended.
The two quickly tried to compose themselves.
Hagrid waved his hands hurriedly.
"No, no, nothing like that!"
"These are just chicken feet!"
"The chickens behind my pumpkin patch—not phoenix claws."
As he spoke, Hagrid brought out several enormous bowls.
He placed them in front of everyone and poured the chicken feet from the jar.
Then he casually grabbed a handful from his own bowl and tossed them straight into his mouth.
"Mmm! Still not nearly as spicy as the really crazy stuff!"
Douglas picked up a chicken foot and ate it just as casually.
These were boneless chicken feet. Douglas had removed the bones using magic earlier, so there was no need to spit anything out.
He rolled his eyes.
"You think everyone has taste buds like yours?"
"If you're so brave, try the extra-spicy drink I made for Fawkes sometime."
"Hmph."
Hearing that pickled peppers weren't considered very spicy here, the three younger students hesitated.
Then they cautiously picked up chicken feet from their bowls.
They had learned to be careful about unfamiliar food.
Last year, when Hagrid invited Hermione to a barbecue, the food had been so spicy she ended up visiting Madam Pomfrey.
Harry and Ron had let her try it first.
Otherwise they might have been the ones sent to the hospital wing.
While happily devouring chicken feet, Hagrid pointed toward the pot hanging over the fire.
"Now that you know Douglas calls chicken feet 'phoenix claws,' try guessing what he calls the pig's trotters stewing in that pot."
"Oh—and once they're braised, we'll start making the stew."
The last part was directed toward Douglas.
Douglas ignored him and used a chicken foot to tease Fang, who was wagging his tail enthusiastically.
The three students thought for a moment.
Hermione swallowed her bite and said thoughtfully,
"Professor Holmes seems to name dishes after magical creatures."
"Could it be called… Tebo Boar Trotters?"
Harry and Ron blinked blankly.
Hermione sighed and explained.
"Tebo boars are magical creatures, roughly on the same level as phoenixes. They're capable of turning invisible."
Douglas, still pressing Fang's head down playfully, said with mild irritation,
"I name dishes to make them sound elegant, not to deceive people."
"It's just an ordinary Yorkshire Large White pig."
Then he looked at Hagrid.
"Hagrid, why is Fang getting weaker and weaker under your care?"
Hagrid had just swallowed another mouthful of chicken feet.
Douglas's comment made the spice shoot straight up his throat.
He coughed violently.
Hermione immediately jumped up and handed him a cup of tea.
After a moment he recovered and glared at Douglas.
"Douglas! Don't forget—you were still a kid when you used to wrestle with Fang!"
"It's not that Fang's getting weaker."
"You're just getting stronger."
He shook his head in disbelief.
"I still don't understand why a wizard would like exercise so much…"
Hagrid suddenly leaned forward mysteriously.
"You'll never guess the name of this dish."
"It's called One Hand Covering the Sky."
He lowered his voice.
"It means controlling everything through power—deceiving the masses."
Douglas coughed quickly.
"Hagrid, please don't mislead the children."
In truth, Douglas had originally wanted to present that dish to Dumbledore.
Unfortunately, Hagrid was an absolute devotee of the headmaster.
If Douglas had suggested the dish was meant for Dumbledore, Hagrid might have pinned him to the wall in outrage.
So Douglas had claimed it was meant for the Ministry of Magic instead.
Hagrid continued enthusiastically.
"There's another dish whose name you'll never guess."
"And it's Slytherin's favorite."
Ron gulped down water to calm the lingering spice in his mouth.
"I know that one!"
"It's a meatball dish. George told me about it."
"It's called the Big Meatball."
"Slytherins love it because their brains are basically giant meatballs."
Harry frowned thoughtfully.
"I think it had another name in Slytherin…"
"I remember hearing it when I walked past their table once."
Hagrid nodded.
"It's definitely a big meatball."
"But the original name was Lion's Head."
"Because of that name, Gryffindor and Slytherin nearly started a fight in the Great Hall."
"In the end, Professor McGonagall had to step in and rename the dish 'Giant Meatballs.'"
Hagrid shot Douglas a resentful look.
The three students stared at Douglas in shock.
Ron asked weakly,
"Professor… aren't you friends with Bill?"
"How did you come up with that name?"
Douglas shrugged helplessly.
"I'm just the cook."
"That dish really is called 'Lion's Head' in the Muggle world."
"How was I supposed to know Slytherin would take it so seriously?"
"Besides, I'm a Hufflepuff, not a Gryffindor."
He sighed.
At first he had only cooked the dish in the kitchens.
Only Hufflepuffs ate it.
But one Hufflepuff student happened to be pursuing a Slytherin girl.
To impress her, the boy secretly delivered the dish to her table.
After that—
Douglas became famous overnight.
The Lion's Head dish became wildly popular.
Professor McGonagall accused him of harming house unity.
His punishment was cooking special meals for the professors for an entire month.
And the lovesick Hufflepuff?
He never managed to win the girl.
Instead, a group of angry Gryffindors ambushed him in a bathroom and beat him up.
When Douglas finished his story, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat there silently.
A cold realization settled over them.
They had almost forgotten something.
The man sitting in front of them—
Was their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Hagrid, meanwhile, continued eating chicken feet happily, completely unconcerned.
Douglas noticed the students' stiff expressions and suddenly laughed.
Had he really made himself sound like some kind of villain?
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