In the end, the two jars of Venom were divvied up into ten two-ounce bottles and fifteen one-ounce bottles, plus the extra ounce Qin Yu set aside for himself—a grand total of two pints and sixteen ounces. (For reference: one pint equals twenty ounces, or 568 milliliters—about the size of a standard water bottle.)
By any standard, this batch was top-tier S-grade venom, fetching a market price of 250 Galleons per pint—and that was the going rate Qin Yu remembered from before.
Nearly three pints in one go was no small haul. Even better, according to their agreement, they'd be getting this much every month until spring arrived. If the Acromantulas grew accustomed to regular feedings, the arrangement might last even longer—provided the "partnership" stayed mutually beneficial.
All in all, George and Fred were thoroughly pleased with their day's work, already dreaming up plans for the future.
In their good mood, the twins even volunteered to help Hagrid prepare the day's "feast."
But Qin Yu, busy stirring the meat broth, immediately blocked their way with a stern glare.
"Oi, have you two even washed up? If a drop of Venom got into the food, you'd be lucky to see dancing pixies—worst case, you'd be seeing your ancestors waving you over from the other side!"
The twins didn't argue. Instead, they wandered off, heads together, plotting how to sell the venom and how to further "upgrade" their spider-feeding program—if they could make the Acromantulas completely dependent on them, the venom would keep flowing.
As he stirred the pot, Qin Yu remembered something he'd meant to ask and turned to Hagrid:
"Did the Acromantulas always face danger in winter?"
"Losing one or two here and there, sure," Hagrid replied, sliding a tray of rock cakes into the oven. "But this year, over a dozen big spiders died in a row. That's not normal. It's why Aragog won't risk sending out any more of his children."
"Did the old spider say what the danger was?"
"He couldn't say for sure. But if you ask me, the most valuable thing about Acromantulas is their venom. If someone's hunting them, that's probably what they're after." Despite his gruff appearance, Hagrid had a keen eye for the heart of the matter.
The moment the twins heard someone might be poaching venom, their ears perked up—like someone had just tried to snatch their business right out from under them.
Losing business was like losing a girlfriend!
Neither twin had a girlfriend, but the sting was real.
But since even Aragog didn't know what—or who—was killing his foraging children, nobody else was likely to solve the mystery either.
With no more answers to be found, Qin Yu set the question aside and focused on helping Hagrid with the banquet.
Hagrid watched Qin Yu's every move, trying to memorize each step. But he soon grew frustrated—Qin kept saying things like "add a pinch," "just enough," or "let it cook a bit longer," and even mentioned high-level tricks like "bring the oil to eighty percent heat."
Qin Yu was doing his best to use precise measurements, but real cooking always called for a little improvisation. He could only hope Hagrid would pick up what he could.
"Longer for the meat, always. And with salt, add a little at a time—don't dump it all in at once. If you're not sure, just taste it," Qin Yu said, sharing his most essential secret.
"Right, I'll remember that!" Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. He'd always just thrown in salt by the handful—no wonder things never tasted quite right.
…
By the time Harry, Ron, and Adam arrived at the hut, Hagrid had already baked the first batch of rock cakes.
One look at those rock-hard lumps, and Harry and Ron turned green, as if they could already feel the pain in their teeth.
Qin Yu took in the scene, barely hiding his amusement. "Hagrid's really outdone himself this time. Look at that color—golden brown, just beautiful."
Harry and Ron shot him looks of pure betrayal. Had Qin secretly mastered some mystical Eastern technique over the holidays, turning his teeth to iron? How else could he face Hagrid's rock cakes with such composure?
Hagrid, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in his preparations.
What he did next left Harry and Ron puzzled.
He began breaking the freshly baked rock cakes into small pieces, one by one.
"Oh, I get it!" Ron whispered to Harry, suddenly enlightened. "Hagrid knows we can't bite through them, so he's breaking them up first to make it easier for us!"
"Well, that's actually a good idea," Harry admitted. At least now they wouldn't have to debate whether to use a hammer or a saw to tackle the cakes.
"Looks like Hagrid's well aware how tough these things are…"
"But he still insists we eat them."
Both fell silent. Even in pieces, the cakes looked like they could break a tooth.
Just then, Hermione strolled by and, in her most serious voice, asked, "Harry, Ron, you two seem so excited—are you really looking forward to the rock cake feast?"
What could Harry and Ron say? They nodded, mumbling half-hearted agreement.
They were just being polite, but Hermione immediately craned her neck and called out, "Hagrid, be sure to give Harry and Ron extra helpings—they said they're really looking forward to your food!"
"Did they now? Haha! I'll make sure their plates are piled high!" Hagrid boomed, delighted.
Big sister, have a heart!
Harry and Ron stared at Hermione in disbelief, then glanced over at Qin, who was helping out nearby. Was it just them, or was Hermione starting to act more and more like Qin?
Hermione saw their reactions and was inwardly gleeful, though she kept her face perfectly innocent.
Ah, so this is what Qin's joy feels like—I finally get it.
With that thought, the little witch skipped over to Qin Yu, stood on tiptoe, and whispered something in his ear, giggling all the while.
…
Harry and Ron's despair was written all over their faces, but it didn't last long.
Because this time, Hagrid had a new trick up his sleeve—he soaked the rock cake pieces in steaming meat broth.
As the rich aroma of broth mingled with the cakes and spread through the hut, both boys found themselves sniffing the air, faces lighting up with actual anticipation.
They exchanged a glance, the same thought running through both their minds:
Merlin's beard, are we actually looking forward to Hagrid's cooking? That's not magic—it's madness!
When it came time to eat, they nervously speared a broth-soaked cake chunk with their forks and popped it into their mouths. After a few tentative chews, their expressions relaxed—and then they started wolfing it down.
To their surprise, this version of rock cake was perfectly edible—actually, it was pretty good. Different from the Great Hall's fare, but in a good way.
After a while, Harry noticed Qin and Hermione exchanging secretive smiles. Of course—they'd been in on it the whole time. Qin had helped Hagrid prepare everything, after all. He and Ron had been set up.
Well, since it was just a harmless prank, he decided to let it go.
"Hagrid, can I have seconds?" Ron's voice suddenly piped up next to Harry.
While Harry had been lost in thought, Ron had already polished off his plate.
"Of course!" Hagrid beamed. Nothing made him happier than seeing his food enjoyed.
Harry quickly finished his own serving and asked for more.
The group ate and chatted—swapping holiday stories, discussing the new term's classes, and, inevitably, gossiping about the professors. Snape's face seemed to be getting longer by the day, and as for Professor Quirrell's turban, surely it had never been washed—how else could it always smell so foul?
Naturally, the conversation turned to Quidditch—with four team members, two diehard fans, and one proud family member at the table, how could it not?
Good food, good friends, and laughter all around—this rock cake banquet was a smashing success.
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