Hodge's proposal was quite reasonable, and he wasn't being greedy. He wasn't chasing the nearly miraculous strengthening effects—it was the exquisite taste he was after.
Of course, even if he wanted it, Allen couldn't give it to him. After all, the effect wasn't from a natural source—it was a talent bestowed by the system. Perhaps there was some undiscovered rule that could replicate such miracles, but Allen hadn't uncovered it yet.
Still, Allen had no intention of handing over the recipe for rock sugar-biting cabbage to Hodge. It wasn't out of selfishness or pride—it was to prevent the price of biting cabbage larvae from skyrocketing!
God only knew how much of the larvae a business that controlled 90% of the conventional magic candy market could consume. Most wizards were still small-scale farmers, especially when it came to planting. Even with magical techniques, the scale of production wasn't enough to keep up.
When that time came, the price of biting cabbage would shoot through the roof!
"Mr. Hodge," Allen said, spreading his hands, "why insist on rock sugar-biting cabbage? Aren't the other dishes I make just as delicious?"
"Of course not," Hodge said quickly. "Every dish you make is a perfect work of art."
He was being genuine. "But I'm a candy maker. No matter how exquisite your dishes are, they're not candies... I can't use them."
"No, Mr. Hodge. I think you've misunderstood me." Allen raised a hand to stop him. "What I meant is that the reason my food is delicious isn't because of how rare the ingredients are—it's because of me."
Allen pointed at himself. "Do you understand? There's no need to focus on the high-cost, hard-to-find biting cabbage. I could make even a simple candy into something truly extraordinary."
He had crafted the rock sugar-biting cabbage specifically to bring out the best in biting cabbage. It wasn't about creating the ultimate candy—it was about harmony and balance.
With the precision of his God's Hand, Allen could turn even the most ordinary ingredients into the most exquisite candies. It was all about ratios, balance, and technique.
In the end, candy was a gimmick—one that needed to be novel, fun, and delicious. That was what made rock sugar-biting cabbage so special. But it wasn't irreplaceable.
"This... I never thought of it that way," Hodge murmured, deep in thought. "So, what kind of candy are you thinking of making?"
That question caught Allen off guard. His previous excitement had been impulsive—he hadn't come up with a concrete plan yet. Hodge's question now forced him to consider his options.
Nut candies? No way. A piece of five-nut mooncake could knock out 90% of European taste buds. Even wizards wouldn't be spared. So things like peanut brittle, melon seed candy, and similar desserts were out of the question.
Toffee? Fruit candy? Gummies?
Allen frowned. At the moment, he really couldn't decide what type of candy would be the most suitable.
Just then, Allen spotted a familiar figure entering the Leaky Cauldron from the main entrance—Professor McGonagall. Behind her stood a father and daughter, clearly a Muggle family judging by their amazed expressions.
And suddenly, an idea clicked.
Allen remembered the taste of a potion he'd once tried—the one McGonagall gave him when he felt sick after his first attempt at Apparition: a small amount of Joy Potion.
Why not try turning potions into candy? Allen's eyes lit up as he looked toward Professor McGonagall. That would be interesting.
"We'll continue our discussion later," Allen said, turning back to Hodge. "Go and fetch a bottle of Joy Potion. I'll turn it into candy. You'll see."
Hodge looked skeptical. Potion-infused candy? That sounded a little crazy.
But also… kind of fun.
Allen, unconcerned with what Hodge thought, walked briskly toward Professor McGonagall and greeted her politely. "Hello, Professor McGonagall."
The professor turned and smiled. "Good to see you, Mr. Cecil. And I'm pleased to see that your crow is still with you—safe and sound."
Allen looked a little sheepish. He cleared his throat and muttered, "I'm not that hungry yet."
"I've heard a few things about you," McGonagall said, glancing at the Muggle man and the young girl beside her. She turned slightly and introduced them. "This is Allen Cecil. He'll be one of your classmates at Hogwarts this year."
"Hello, Mr. Cecil." The girl stepped forward with surprising poise for her age. "My name is Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you."
She tried to sound calm and composed, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her nerves. She was staring at Allen with barely concealed awe.
How can a boy look so... good-looking? Hermione's little heart thumped wildly.
Allen, in contrast, remained calm—perhaps even overly calm—despite recognizing her name immediately.
Oh… this is Hermione Granger, he thought.
Allen's eyes briefly swept over her face. She didn't look quite like the actress in the movie, but she also didn't have the buck teeth described in the original book. She had a clean, bookish appearance with brown, wavy hair. All in all, a sweet and presentable young girl.
Still, Allen couldn't help thinking that—purely in terms of looks—he had the upper hand.
"I'm glad to meet a young lady like you," Allen said with a sunny smile. "Would you like a snack? I made these myself."
Hermione's blush deepened.
As he spoke, Allen took out a small box from his bag—not rock sugar-biting cabbage, but a variation of the biting cabbage prepared in a completely different way.
These were low-temperature slow-roasted larvae that had been soaked in sugar water until chewy. Then they were dried, fried, and seasoned with sea salt, a bit of sugar, and a dash of black pepper. The result was a salty, flavorful snack.
Though it had fewer strengthening points, since the intense cooking process destroyed most of the nutrients, the flavor was still fantastic—perhaps even addictive.
In a way, this was the junk food version of the ultimate dish. It wasn't fancy, and it didn't offer miraculous effects, but it was undeniably tasty.
After all, life isn't just about the ultimate.
Even the best food can get tiring if you eat it too often. Variety, even imperfection, has its charm.
Hermione hesitated, her curiosity clearly piqued.
Professor McGonagall gave her a small nod of encouragement. "Try it. Mr. Cecil is quite the cook."
Hermione carefully took a piece and put it in her mouth. The flavor hit her almost instantly—salty, slightly sweet, with a satisfying crunch. It was a strange combination, but oddly addictive.
"This is… weird," she said honestly, then smiled. "But really good!"
Allen beamed. "Glad you like it. I'm still experimenting with a lot of flavors."
Hermione looked at him with admiration. "You're really amazing…"
Professor McGonagall, always sharp, chuckled lightly. "I have a feeling Hogwarts is going to be quite the experience this year."
Allen nodded modestly. "I'll do my best."
Just then, Hodge returned, holding a small bottle of Joy Potion with a look that mixed excitement and doubt.
Allen took the bottle, examining the potion carefully. "Let's see if we can turn this into something delightful."
He glanced once more at Hermione and smiled. "Would you like to try that one too, when it's done?"
Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely!"
As Allen turned back to the bar to begin preparations, he felt a sense of purpose—greater than ever before.
Creating the ultimate dish was thrilling, but so was creating joy through simple things.
For Allen, life couldn't just be about extremes.
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