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The Untold Story of an Awesome Witch by hestiajones

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Chapter 2: Spring Croll




Teddy Lupin, Hufflepuff Prefect and resident Metamorphmagus, was sniggering.

The Hufflepuff fifth-years had been grouped with Gryffindors, which meant that Timothy Grass and Morgan McLaggen were in the same Magical Cookery class as he. It was a source of endless wonder to him that these two, who as Beaters for the same Quidditch team were required to work together on the pitch, appeared to hate each other’s guts outside of it. After years of sharing classes and watching their antics, Teddy was well-acquainted with their mutual animosity, and though he was a Prefect now and could stop things from escalating if their argument fell to duelling, he’d rather let them bicker in the vicinity and enjoy the constant stream of threats and insults.

–... and I swear you looked like a love-struck rabbit, with your pointed nose sniffing the grass.”

–Oh shut it, Morgan. With a face like that, one would think your mother mated with Doxies.”

Yes, Teddy did feel a twinge of guilt over enjoying this, but only a twinge.

–It was my uncle who ate the Doxy eggs on a dare!” hissed McLaggen. –Not my father!”

–Feck and Begorrah!” Grass exclaimed, making even Teddy grimace. For some reason, Grass was wont to affect Irishness, although he didn’t have a single drop of Irish blood running in his veins. –Really? No wonder your family’s thought of as thick and idi-”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence; McLaggen, although a girl, was a tall, athletic girl, and she had pounced, pinning him to the ground. Immediately, the class was in an uproar, urging the wrestling students on, and Teddy, although further amused by the fight, nevertheless got up and yelled, –All right! That’s enough. Knock it off, you two!”

When neither McLaggen nor Grass heeded his words, Teddy drew his wand and readied to force them apart, but before he could utter an incantation, the wrestlers were thrown off each other.

–Hand-to-hand combat instead of duelling?” said a mocking voice right next to him. –Well, well, well. We’re making progress.”

The students turned around and gasped. Teddy blinked. Even McLaggen and Grass went silent and stared. Standing among them was the oddest creature they’d laid eyes on in their life at Hogwarts. It was a woman, wearing tight blue jeans and a fitted shirt, her head adorned by wild, violently pink hair. She looked like a Muggle who had strayed into the school, which understandably provoked a student into asking, –Who are you?”

–You’ll find out soon enough,” said the woman, as she turned her back on them and moved towards the teacher’s desk, –but first, settle down. All of you. Return to your seats. Lupin, you may close your mouth.”

Teddy blushed, then wondered how she knew his name.

–My name,” she said, as a chalk flew up towards the blackboard behind the word and started scratching letters, –is Calendora Dean Beacon. I am your Magical Cookery professor. Welcome to your first Magical Cookery class. Today, we won’t be dealing with knives and spoons; we’ll warm up to the subject instead. You will each get a copy of the text which we’ll refer to for our practical lessons--I’m giving them away free of charge to celebrate the momentous occasion of instructing young witches and wizards in the maligned art of kitchen-work , so worry not, Grass, you won’t have to cough up any Galleons. Now, time for a roll-call. I’d like to find out your names, though I can already predict which families some of you might belong to. For example, Grass there.”

A stack of books materialised on her desk. With her wand, she directed a copy towards each student as they answered her roll-call. When it was Teddy’s turn, he felt her gaze linger on him before moving on quickly with a slight shake of her head. Frowning, he turned towards his copy. The title read –Shut up & Cook: A Beginner’s Guide to the Art of Creating Culinary Brilliance”. Teddy flicked through the first few pages and watched animated cartoons chopping onions, carving meat, kneading dough and other such activities. He shut the book again and checked who the author was: Crollega Dawson.

–Professor?” said Melissa Carmichael, raising her hand.

–Yes?”

–Is this author the same person who hosted –Spring Rolls Galore”?”

–Why, yes.”

Teddy thought the professor’s lips twitched.

–My Dad’s a Muggle, and he watches reruns of Ms Dawson’s show on the TV. He got a similar book for my mother last Christmas, but that one doesn’t have these ... moving drawings.”

–How odd.”

Now, she was definitely trembling with mirth.

–Uhm. Yeah, I suppose. It’s just ...” Melissa trailed off, looking confused. –Is Ms Dawson a witch, then?”

–Ms Dawson,” said the professor, suddenly straightening up and, in Teddy’s opinion, managing to hide her secret amusement exceedingly well, –who has left her TV career, as of now, is indeed a witch. She was forced to assume a different identity to escape death at the hands of the Death Eaters.”

–Was she a Muggleborn?” asked Harish Dwivedi.

–No,” she answered. –But she was always rather loud about her love for Muggles. Observe the back of the cover.”

Like his classmates, Teddy turned to the back of his copy’s cover and watched a witch’s portrait form on the previously blank surface. It was a woman with sleek blond hair and an ample bosom (he blushed again), smirking up at him. Though he’d never seen her before, there was something very familiar about the way she suppressed her smile.

–Is this Dawson?” McLaggen muttered. –Those are awesome boobs.” The rest of the Gryffindors tittered.

–Awesome?” said the professor, who had apparently heard. –I do hate that word, but for once, I agree with its usage. Five points to Gryffindor.”

McLaggen grinned.

–But I don’t want to encourage discussion of breasts or bums in my class, so five points from Gryffindor.”

–What!” cried McLaggen indignantly.

Professor Beacon ignored her. –Cooking,” she said, getting off her dais and walking among them, –is a misunderstood art form. Most of us tend to think of it as a chore, revering it only as long as it’s somebody else’s hands preparing the meal. And, guess what, that notion isn’t entirely wrong. It does get annoying if you have to cook every day, feeding lord knows how many children--yes, you do have to think of the children, in the end--but cooking can be quite fun. It can relax your mind, and few things can give you as much happiness as watching others heartily devour something made by you.”

Immediately, the smell of his grandmother’s chocolate cake, Teddy’s favourite, washed over him. Puzzled, he looked around for its source (for he was certain he wasn’t at his grandmother’s kitchen, but Professor Trelawney’s former classroom), and saw his friend, Fatima Khan, sniffing.

–D’you smell it too?” he whispered. –The chocolate cake?”

–Hmm?” she said distractedly. –It’s mutton biryani, isn’t it?”

Teddy gaped at her. His nose had never confused mutton biryani with chocolate cake before. –Pretty sure it’s cake,” he insisted.

–What do you smell, Golompierre?” Professor Beacon was asking.

Greco Golompierre went pink. –Escargot.”

–Armitage?”

–Roast lamb with mint sauce, Ma’am.”

–McLaggen?”

–Chicken fricassee.”

–Grass?”

–Irish stew.”

–Carmichael?”

–Welsh rarebit.”

–Jones?”

–Uhm ... fish burger.”

–Dwivedi?”

–Palak paneer.”

–And yet,” Professor Beacon concluded, –it’s chocolate cake for Lupin, and mutton biryani for Khan. Forget the variety for a moment. Does what you smell happen to be your favourite food?” When the class murmured yes, she continued. –How do you feel when someone presents your favourite food to you, nicely done and ready to eat? In fact,” she twirled her wand, –how do you feel now?”

A slice of Andromeda Tonks’ chocolate cake appeared on Teddy’s desk at the same time a bowl of mutton biryani popped up on Fatima’s. Teddy’s mouth started watering, but before he could check if it was just an illusion (which he suspected it was, since Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration dictated that food cannot be conjured), it disappeared anyway, along with the delicious smell.

–How do you feel?” she asked again. There was no response; the class seemed to understand it was a rhetorical question. –Do any of you know how you to prepare your favourite food?” Silence reigned. –Imagine being able to make it whenever you wish. Imagine doing it for someone, surprising them in the morning with a full English breakfast, with nothing burnt. You see, anyone can boil a few eggs, spread butter on toast and call it a meal. When you’re famished, it might do. But coming up with something that takes effort, something that will put a smile on the face of others, make them eager to eat it, that is no mere chore. That is when cooking becomes art.”

She paused. Then, as though realising she’d gone too deep for her own comfort, she coughed and assumed her normal, sort-of-mocking tone. –While I can’t guarantee that your ability to make nice steak will land you a date with that fit lead guitarist of Equally Weird Brothers, I assure you it’s an enviable talent that will serve you well in life. Remember that we human beings take food seriously. We live to eat.”

The students were still quiet, unsure whether to laugh or not. –What a ghastly bunch!” she snapped. –It won’t hurt you to chortle in a while. You’ll need your sense of humour in the coming days. We’re going to learn how to chop, skin, peel, carve, grind, mash, steam, fry, braise, roast, poach, and bake. By the end of the year, I expect you to make your favourite food all on your own.”

–Teddy,” asked Fatima as they stepped off the ladder and headed for Charms, –do you think we can persuade the elves to make us some mutton biryani tonight?”

–Are you asking me?” Teddy raised his eyebrows. –I’m supposed to be the Prefect, remember? No sneaking off to the kitchens!”

She rolled her eyes. –I’m skipping dinner at the Hall and going. You can’t stop me, Pink Man!”

–Say what?”

–Your hair’s bubblegum pink again.”

–Are you sure?” Teddy stopped by a knight’s armour and checked. Fatima was right. It was pink. –Bloody hell! When did that happen?”

–It turned just as she stopped the Gryffindors.” She was watching Teddy change his hair colour to mousy brown with amused smile. –You don’t fancy her, do you?”

–What! Of course not!”

–You want to start controlling your transformations,” she warned as they set off. –People might get the wrong idea.”




–I?” Rita Skeeter said, watching the wizard sitting across her closely. –I write your biography?”

–Yes, Rita,” Gilderoy replied with a smile.

Rita continued observing him. Apropos of nothing, Gilderoy Lockhart, best-selling novelist of yore, had accosted her outside Greengrass Publishing House and implored her to have a drink with him at his flat. Rita wasn’t one to turn down an invitation for drinks, so she’d complied. Now, he was telling her about his plans for a flamboyant return to the magical world, and asking her to join in.

–No need for that,” said Rita coldly. –We both know I’m under scrutiny.”

After Snape: Scoundrel or Saint? was published, Hermione Weasley launched into an investigation of Rita’s sources for the book. Rita would have fought back, had the pesky Weasley woman not threatened to reveal her status as an illegal Animagus. Rita had been forced to retract the fabrications she’d added in the biography (fabrications such as Snape hiding a Squib daughter called Harietta from the wizarding world), and as a consequence, she’d been dropped by Greengrass Publishing House, the biggest publishers in town.

–I can help you get a book deal with Greengrass, if you help me.”

–How?”

–I’m their top cash cow--no offence, dear--and my new book is going to be another explosive best-seller.”

–So, why do you need me to write you the biography?” Rita asked. –Why can’t you get someone more credible?”

Gilderoy put his drink down and said, –Potter and his friends know something about me that they must forget. If you can manage that for me, I’ll secure you your next big biography.” He paused to grin. –You need that, don’t you?”

–You want me to walk up to three people who have no reasons to trust me and then attack them with Memory Charms?” Rita asked incredulously.

–I can show you how to gain their trust,” Gilderoy said, and then added, –Temporarily, anyway.”

–Then, you’ll publish your book?”

–Yes, and I’ll also have a word with Beren Greengrass--nay, I’ll insist--that you be allowed a second chance. And if truth be told, I really wouldn’t want anyone else to do it. You have a gift, my dear lady.”

Rita snorted. Then, she said, –All right. What can I say to those rascals that would charm them enough to suffer another interview with me?”

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