"That's right. I happened to get some new ingredients and wanted to practice my skills," Allen said casually.
Tom chuckled and leaned against the counter. "Is it okay for you to be back here? Aren't there a lot of customers outside?"
"Ha! It doesn't matter. What they need is wine, food, and happiness—not an old man like me," Tom replied with a laugh. "As long as they have my precious wine sets, they're content."
Magic did everything now. It handled cooking, bartending, even cleaning. The wizarding world had made things easy. Tom only needed to collect the money. Wasn't that a little too comfortable?
Allen thought about this as he moved toward the corner of the kitchen that Tom had cleared out for him. He carried a bundle of ingredients in his hands.
This spot was specially prepared by Tom in just a few minutes. It had a stove, all kinds of utensils, and shelves lined with prepped seasonings. Although the space was small, it had everything he needed.
Allen began by skillfully sprinkling seasoning over the mink meat. At first glance, his movements seemed rough, even careless. But in reality, guided by the Hand of God skill, each motion was precise and efficient. Every grain of spice landed where it was supposed to—down to four decimal places.
British kitchens—wizarding ones included—didn't carry cooking wine. So Allen substituted with a small amount of red wine. Then he sliced half an onion and tossed it into the bowl.
As he chopped, his mind drifted unexpectedly to biting cabbage, one of the magical ingredients he'd experimented with before. He suddenly wondered: What would happen if I combined multiple magical ingredients together?
It was a tempting idea, but now wasn't the time for experiments. The mink meat he had was rare—practically a gift. There wouldn't be a second chance if he messed this up.
Better save those bold combinations for later—when he had more common magical ingredients to work with.
Once the mink was seasoned and set aside to marinate, Allen paused. After thinking for a second, he turned to Tom.
"Can I borrow half a stick of butter?"
Tom handed it over without question, and Allen melted it into the mix.
Mink meat had very little fat, and he didn't want it to dry out while grilling. The butter would keep it moist and tender.
With everything ready, Allen asked Tom for some apple wood.
The apple wood soon burned in the stove, releasing a sweet aroma as the flames danced. Allen skewered the marinated mink meat and carefully hung it inside the oven, letting the smoke slowly infuse it.
Soon, the rich aroma of roasted meat filled the kitchen.
Allen hadn't eaten yet, and the scent made his stomach growl. This magical creature was extraordinary. Its smell alone was several times more appealing than any ordinary meat.
Even more interestingly, Allen detected a subtle scent within the smoke that seemed to resonate with his magic. His body felt warm, his spirit more alert—as if his very magic was responding to the food.
The savory aroma wafted beyond the kitchen and into the bar. The once-lively bar fell silent as the smell hit the air.
"What's that delicious smell?" a regular suddenly exclaimed. "Hey, Tom! What are you making back there?"
Wizards weren't known for patience. Within moments, a crowd of customers had gathered near the kitchen door, curiosity turning into excitement.
Even Professor Quirrell, who had been about to leave, paused and turned back. When he saw the crowd, his brows furrowed. Then he caught sight of Allen inside and hesitated before walking over.
Tommy, Allen's magical bird companion, flapped his wings nervously. He eyed the group of wizards suspiciously from atop a spice shelf.
Tom raised his hand and stepped toward the door. "Sorry, folks," he said firmly, "I'm not the one cooking. A guest is just borrowing the kitchen."
But the crowd didn't buy it. They pressed forward, shouting and offering to pay for whatever smelled so divine.
The noise grew louder, disrupting the cozy vibe of the bar. Allen tried to ignore the commotion. He pulled out one of the skewers and laid it on a plate.
[Smoked Grilled Mink]
Effect: Upon consumption, grants [Magic Filling E]. The user receives 15 strengthening points and temporary abilities: [Aura Masking E] and [Material Shuttle E].
The [Magic Activity] effect of grilled biting cabbage boosted a wizard's magical output. But this smoked grilled mink? It enhanced magical recovery.
Allen could feel it working already. The magical energy he'd spent earlier—especially with his multiple transfigurations—was quickly returning.
Satisfied, he ate his portion and gained 15 strengthening points. Then, with a sly grin, he broke off a small piece and fed it to Black, his magical companion.
Outside the kitchen, the crowd had grown impatient, shouting over one another. Allen sighed, grabbed the plate, and walked over.
"Everyone, please quiet down," he said, tapping the plate with a spoon. The clear clink echoed through the bar. "One piece per person."
Tom hurried over, clearly excited. "Let me help! I'll distribute it."
To no one's surprise, he helped himself to a piece first—grinning like a child—then began handing out small portions to each wizard.
The meat was limited, but there was just enough to give every customer a taste.
Even Quirrell, who had finally squeezed through the crowd, received a piece.
Meanwhile, the remains of the raw mink—blood, fur, and bones—sat quietly in a package at the back of the kitchen.
Quirrell stared at the plate in his hand. The meat had once been his—purchased for nearly a third of his savings. And now, it was reduced to a single bite-sized piece of barbecue. His lips trembled with frustration.
I'll just consider this one bite a reward...
Before he could eat it, a cold voice echoed in his ears.
"Wait," came the whisper from the back of his mind—Voldemort.
"Don't eat it. Take it back. I want to taste it myself."
Quirrell's shoulders slumped.
There goes my dinner...
"Yes, Master," he mumbled dejectedly.
Suddenly, a voice rang out in shock.
"Oh my god! This meat—it's restoring my magic!"
"What?!"
"Seriously!" another wizard shouted. "Not as fast as a potion, but way better than just waiting around!"
The bar burst into a new kind of chaos—one filled with disbelief and excitement.
Allen watched the scene calmly. He'd expected this reaction.
Even Quirrell raised an eyebrow. He stared down at the single, precious bite in his hand and... reluctantly didn't eat it.
He slipped it into his robe instead.
Back in the kitchen, Allen leaned back and looked at the now-empty skewer.
He'd cooked something special—something that didn't just fill the stomach, but revitalized the spirit.
If he could combine more ingredients like this in the future, who knew what kind of magical cuisine he could create?
A dish that heals. A dish that strengthens. A dish that enchants.
Magic wasn't just spells and potions.
Sometimes, it came on a plate—hot, smoky, and served with apple wood.
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