The pale golden sugar syrup glistened in the pan, creating a fragile and beautiful hue.
Allen moved the pan away from the flame and used the residual heat to bring the dragon liver and syrup to the perfect temperature. He carefully pressed the slices of dragon liver onto the syrup.
Once the temperature cooled slightly, Allen began turning the liver pieces to evenly coat them in a crystal-like sugar shell.
A tempting aroma began to spread throughout the lounge. Even the upper-year students who had already returned to their dormitories couldn't resist stepping out to see what was going on near the fireplace.
Whispers filled the room.
"At first, I thought it was just someone with the same name, but now I'm sure it's him!"
"That legendary chef from Diagon Alley! I've had his food—delicious, but ridiculously expensive."
"Can't believe he's actually a first-year. I wonder if I'll ever get a taste of his food..."
Though they murmured quietly, Allen could hear them as if they were speaking directly beside him. Still, his hands remained steady and unaffected.
"It's done," he said, lifting the pan-fried dragon liver, now wrapped in its delicate sugar shell. He plated the dish and added calmly, "It's best eaten after cooling. But if you're in a hurry, you can soak it in cold water to speed up the process."
Only then did Allen notice the growing number of Gryffindor students gathering around him. Their eyes were full of longing, but there was only so much food.
Fortunately, everyone remained somewhat reserved and just stood nearby, watching quietly.
Allen acted like he didn't notice their hungry stares. There were more than two hundred Gryffindors—there was no way he could feed them all.
He divided the dragon liver between the Weasley twins, Ronald, Hermione, and Harry. As for his own share, he popped it into his mouth without hesitation, not even flinching at the heat.
"Good night," Allen said, wiping his mouth. He stood up, picked up Rogers, and returned to the dormitory, leaving Harry and the others blinking in confusion.
The moment Allen left, a small crowd quickly surrounded the scene. Most were upper-year students—and their targets were, naturally, George and Fred.
Ronald, Harry, and Hermione escaped unbothered, but looking at the ravenous expressions around them, they decided not to waste any more time. They each took another bite of the dish in their hands.
The sugar shell was sweet and crisp, paired with the melt-in-your-mouth dragon liver. The rich fat and intoxicating sweetness blended so well it was almost euphoric.
But the three quickly caught themselves. Allen's food had a way of making people lose control, and they didn't want to be like the others. They finished their shares quickly and backed away.
Then they turned to look at George and Fred, now swarmed by students who resembled hungry zombies.
"Oh, poor George and Fred," Ronald muttered sympathetically, then quickly grabbed Allen's forgotten backpack. He and Harry dashed toward the dormitory.
Hermione, however, stood frozen. She had originally approached Allen to talk but ended up being ignored. Now she was left empty-handed while others got a taste. Fuming with frustration, she stomped her foot and stormed off in a huff.
Thus, Allen's first night in Gryffindor came to a peaceful, if not slightly chaotic, end.
Allen opened his eyes at 5:40 a.m. His roommates were still sound asleep.
Without disturbing them, he opened his personal panel with practiced ease.
Host: Allen Cecil
Hunting Level: 39
Enhancement Points: 11,400
General Enhancements:
Physique Enhancement (D-)
Nerve Reflex Enhancement (D-)
Basic Magic Mastery (D)
Special Enhancements:
Fire Dragon Breath (E)
Material Shuttle (D-)
Breath Concealment (D-)
Anti-Magic (D-)
Exclusive Skills:
Eye of Analysis
God's Hand
Demon's Treasure
(Note: Spells learned are not listed—too easy.)
Allen felt satisfied with his current abilities. No need to use his enhancement points just yet—best to save them for emergencies.
He got up, washed, and prepared food for Tommy. By the time he finished, it was only six o'clock.
Still early for class.
But Allen didn't like wasting time. He packed the books he'd need and left the dormitory.
Most students were still asleep. Those who were awake were practicing spells or reviewing lessons. Only a few remained in the public common room.
Allen walked through the long corridor and left the lounge. He looked at the surrounding stairs and headed downward without hesitation.
The famous Hogwarts staircases seemed to still be sleeping, allowing Allen to walk down without interference. He descended all the way to the basement.
His destination? Certainly not the Slytherin or Hufflepuff dormitories.
His goal was clear—the Hogwarts kitchen.
After tasting the food served at dinner the previous night, Allen was compelled to do something about it. The dishes lacked soul. He had to teach the house-elves what true cooking was.
This would be his first visit, but likely not his last.
After all, cooking in the common room wasn't practical. The tools were wrong. The space was wrong. And worst of all—there were too many hungry, spying eyes.
The house-elves? They were better. Loyal and disciplined. They wouldn't sneak a taste unless Allen explicitly allowed it.
Of course, finding the kitchen wasn't easy.
Allen ended up asking a few portraits before he was finally directed to the correct spot. The entrance was hidden behind a painting of a fruit bowl, just below the Great Hall.
Following their instructions, Allen reached out and tickled the painted pear.
The pear let out a peal of laughter, bending so hard Allen was briefly concerned it might split open from laughing too hard.
Then, it transformed into a door handle. A fine crack appeared around the portrait, outlining a hidden door.
"So magical," Allen muttered, then opened it and stepped inside.
Inside was a scene of organized chaos.
Over a hundred house-elves were hard at work preparing breakfast. Some were kneading dough, others chopping vegetables, still others were heating milk or tending to ovens.
Despite their numbers, everything moved with perfect coordination. Busy but not frantic.
None of them wore traditional clothes, but each was neatly dressed in clean white linen. Their appearance was tidy and efficient.
One house-elf—clearly a supervisor—noticed Allen and quickly scurried over.
"Sir, breakfast isn't ready yet," the elf said politely, looking up. "Please wait just a little while longer. We'll be happy to serve you as soon as it's prepared."
At Hogwarts, breakfast was normally served at 7:00 a.m. The kitchen elves delivered it directly to the dining tables in the Great Hall at that time. Early risers, however, could eat here in the kitchen if they wished.
But Allen didn't come to eat.
He crouched slightly and said clearly, "I'm not here to eat. I'm here to borrow the kitchen."
[End of Chapter]
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