Alan shared his snacks with Professor McGonagall, Hermione Granger, and Hermione's father, Mr. Granger.
"What is this? Brussels sprouts?" Mr. Granger asked, examining the crispy snack in his hand with curiosity. The rich, savory aroma made his mouth water.
He was just about to take a bite when Professor McGonagall quickly reached out to stop him.
"Sorry, Mr. Granger," she said apologetically, "You can't eat this."
"This..." Mr. Granger looked puzzled, and even Alan, the cook himself, was caught off guard.
Hermione, who had just picked up a piece and was ready to taste it, froze and turned to Professor McGonagall, her expression full of curiosity.
"Is there a problem?" Alan asked, a little concerned.
"Of course," Professor McGonagall said, returning the piece Mr. Granger had taken back to Alan. "You made this using biting cabbage, didn't you? I've been hearing a lot about you recently."
"Yes, everyone seems to love it. This is my latest snack, and I must say—it tastes absolutely amazing," Alan replied with a proud smile.
"The issue isn't the taste, but the ingredient itself," Professor McGonagall said seriously. "Biting cabbage is a magical plant. Muggles can't consume magical foods like this—or most potions for that matter. Their bodies aren't adapted to magic, and ingesting it could lead to serious, irreversible effects."
So serious?
Alan's eyes widened. He was grateful for the timely reminder from Professor McGonagall. He had read quite a few books, but none of them—including the standard Potions textbooks—had mentioned this.
"Well, it looks like Mr. Granger is out of luck," Alan said regretfully and popped the returned snack into his mouth.
Professor McGonagall and Hermione gave Mr. Granger an apologetic look before each took a piece for themselves.
"It's delicious!" Hermione exclaimed with shining eyes, her mouth half full. "I've never had anything this tasty before!"
Even Professor McGonagall appeared genuinely surprised. She'd heard of Alan's culinary talent, but she hadn't expected the snack to be this good.
Though this wasn't one of his ultimate dishes, the flavor was undeniably impressive—comparable to the famed rock candy bites of kale. Despite its modest magical enhancement, its rich taste and perfectly crispy texture had won them over instantly.
Professor McGonagall and Hermione were clearly impressed.
Seeing the starry look in his daughter's eyes and the rare smile of delight on Professor McGonagall's face, Mr. Granger's mood sank further.
Damn it. If I can't eat it, at least don't make it look so good!
Of course, Professor McGonagall was too composed to remain enchanted for long. She soon regained her usual calm and commented, "Truly remarkable."
She glanced at the bag of snacks in Alan's hand with visible interest. Unfortunately, Alan had no intention of sharing any more and quietly put it away.
Hermione and Professor McGonagall both let out a soft sigh of disappointment.
"Huh? Why the sigh? Did it not taste good?" Alan asked, genuinely puzzled.
"No, it's just… a little sigh of longing," Professor McGonagall said, clearing her throat and straightening her robe. "Now, I must take Miss Granger and her father to Diagon Alley, so we'll be leaving now."
"Then I won't keep you," Alan said. "Though I'd like to visit Diagon Alley too, we're going for different things. It'd just slow everyone down."
…
Naturally, Professor McGonagall's route was different from Alan's. She would start at Gringotts, which was located deeper within Diagon Alley.
Alan walked slowly and aimlessly down the street. The scenery on either side had long lost its novelty. Magic candies, toys—none of them held his interest. Not anymore. Not when he could cook something as delicious as biting cabbage.
Even the Quidditch shop, which drew a crowd of excited children, didn't interest him. They were gathered around the display window, yelling in excitement over the new broomsticks.
Alan didn't understand what was so enjoyable about chasing a ball in the air on a broomstick. In fact, he wasn't fond of broom travel at all.
If I could fly, I'd rather do it freely. Not while straddling a broomstick.
He wondered idly what kind of magical food might give him the ability to fly.
With these random thoughts running through his mind, he soon arrived at his real destination for the day.
"Snap Pulse Clothing Store."
This was a high-end boutique known for custom-made magical garments. Unlike Ollivander's Wand Shop, whose sign hadn't changed for centuries, the facade of Snap Pulse gleamed with a golden, reflective sign, catching the sunlight and exuding pure luxury.
Alan paused for a moment and looked up at the sign. Despite wearing cheap, ill-fitting clothes—ones that Professor McGonagall had bought for him—he walked into the luxury shop without hesitation.
"Hello there, young man. Can I help you with something?" came a warm voice from within.
The owner of Snap Pulse Clothing Store stood up to greet him. She looked slightly surprised when she saw Alan, but remained polite.
She was an elegant woman with glossy black hair, dark eyes, and a high nose bridge that hinted at Roman ancestry. Her beauty was refined and natural.
Her clothing wasn't gaudy like some wizard fashion, nor was it overly old-fashioned like many magical garments. Instead, her style balanced modern taste with wizarding tradition—showing off elegance, confidence, and propriety in one package.
In short, the owner had exceptional taste.
Alan took a moment to study her. She was poised and self-assured, and the cut of her robe complemented her figure without being flashy.
Nice. If she tried to dress me in some old-school dark wizard look, I'd walk right out, Alan thought. But with her fashion sense, I think we'll get along.
The shop interior was luxurious but not ostentatious. Racks of neatly arranged robes in every fabric and color lined the walls. Display tables held enchanted accessories: gloves that warmed themselves, scarves that changed colors based on your mood, and hats that reshaped themselves at a touch.
"Are you here for school robes?" the woman asked kindly, noticing his age. "Or something custom?"
Alan nodded. "Custom. I'd like something unique—something that stands out but doesn't scream 'I'm a wizard.' Something practical, but with flair."
The shopkeeper's eyes sparkled with interest.
"A young man with taste," she said with a smile. "Follow me."
She led him to a quieter part of the shop, where rich fabrics were displayed behind enchanted glass.
"Let's see… Do you have any preference? Color, texture, material?"
Alan paused. "Nothing too bright. I want something comfortable but sturdy. Ideally, it should resist minor spells, and maybe self-clean?"
The woman raised an eyebrow. "You've done your homework. Most students don't even think of that."
Alan grinned. "I cook. Stains are a problem."
She chuckled and pulled out a few sample robes. One was woven with silk-threaded thestral hair—soft but almost invisible. Another was a deep charcoal gray with a dragonhide lining. Another was a chameleon-fabric that changed slightly under different lighting.
Alan's eyes lit up. "That one."
"Good choice," she said, setting it aside. "Let's get your measurements."
With a wave of her wand, magical measuring tapes flew toward him and began wrapping around his limbs, taking every dimension in seconds. Alan stood still, trying not to squirm as the tape circled his neck and ankles.
"All done," the shopkeeper said with satisfaction. "Come back in three days, and I'll have it ready. You'll look sharper than half the Ministry staff."
Alan nodded, genuinely pleased. "Thanks."
She gave a small, professional smile. "Don't thank me yet. Wait until you wear it."
He turned to leave, glancing one last time at the polished gold sign of Snap Pulse reflecting the afternoon sun.
He couldn't help but think: Maybe dressing the part is just as important as having talent.
As he stepped back onto the street, the world felt just a little bit brighter.
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