The big black rat, once considered a symbol of social breakthrough, had scurried off. Fortunately, Harry's boundless enthusiasm ensured that Ronald's excitement didn't dwindle.
"Hello, Ronald," Harry greeted warmly, "My name is Harry. Harry Potter."
"Oh my God! You're the Harry Potter? The great hero who defeated You-Know-Who!" Ronald exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. "Can I see it? You know, your logo!"
Allen glanced up at Ronald, who was waving his arms around animatedly. There was something strange in his eyes.
If Allen remembered correctly, the so-called mark Ronald referred to—widely viewed as a heroic symbol—was actually the beginning of Harry's tragedy.
There was something darkly ironic about glorifying a scar left by a murderer—an imprint of a parent's death—as a badge of honor.
Harry, still unaware of how the scar had truly come to be, felt awkward under Ronald's eager gaze. Embarrassed to correct him, Harry took off his glasses and lifted his bangs, revealing the lightning-shaped scar.
"Cool!" Ronald breathed in awe.
"I think it's pretty normal," Harry mumbled, pushing his glasses back onto his nose. Sensing that Allen wasn't going to speak up, Harry quickly changed the subject. "This is my friend, Allen Cecil. You've probably heard of him."
"Allen Cecil?" Ronald turned toward the tall boy engrossed in a book. When Allen gave him a polite nod, Ronald hesitated and admitted, "I... I've never heard that name before."
"You haven't?" Harry scratched his head, puzzled. "Allen was pretty famous in Diagon Alley."
"Is he some kind of celebrity?" Ronald asked curiously, squinting. "Well, he does look the part. I've never seen someone so... striking."
Well, I like hearing that kind of truth.
Allen, flattered, finally put his book down. He took out a paper bag filled with sweets and offered it to Ronald. "Eat some candy," he said simply.
"Huh?" Ronald looked surprised but carefully reached in and pulled out one piece.
It was a Rock Sugar Biting Cabbage. The candy sparkled like a plant preserved in amber. It looked almost too good to eat.
Harry grinned knowingly and chimed in, "Allen made those himself. Three for one Galleon in Diagon Alley!"
"How much?!" Ronald nearly choked.
Three for one Galleon—that meant the single candy in his hand was worth nearly nine Sickles!
It was the first time Ronald realized that candies could cost so much. The candy suddenly felt absurdly heavy in his palm—as if it were made of solid gold.
"I... I don't think I should eat it." Ronald chuckled nervously and tried to return it. But Allen had already closed the paper bag with finality.
"Eat," Allen said again, calmly.
"O-okay... I'll eat it," Ronald stammered, slipping the candy into his mouth as though it were a priceless artifact.
He felt like he wasn't tasting candy, but money itself.
George and Fred would go nuts if they knew I got to eat this!
Random thoughts buzzed through Ronald's mind as he bit into the candy.
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And then—everything stopped.
His mind went blank, his body stilled. The only thought that remained was "delicious."
Harry and Allen were surprised into silence. They waited patiently for Ronald to come back to his senses.
The Rock Sugar Biting Cabbage wasn't like any ordinary dessert. It didn't have fancy packaging or a mysterious magical effect—it was simply delicious in a way Ronald had never imagined.
Two minutes later, Ronald jolted back to life.
"Did Allen really make this?" he asked, eyes shining with wonder.
"No wonder it's expensive! It tastes like... like heaven!"
"Right?" Harry grinned, feeling proud. "Allen doesn't just make good candy—his dishes are unbelievably tasty too. I'm learning how to cook from him now. Someday I'll be making delicious food too!"
Ronald's face lit up, cheeks flushed with excitement. His hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned red.
At that moment, a snack cart rumbled up outside their compartment. An old witch with a kindly but wrinkled face stepped inside and asked, "Anything off the trolley, dears? Candy or snacks?"
It was past eleven now, nearing lunchtime. Since they wouldn't reach Hogwarts until nightfall, lunch was usually eaten on the train.
Most students brought sandwiches or packed lunches and bought snacks from the cart to supplement their meal.
Of course, children from poorer families—like Ronald—would only eat what they'd brought from home.
Ronald's family wasn't necessarily poor; they just had a lot of children, so every Knut counted. In truth, most wizarding families weren't strapped for money—Ronald's was simply stretched thin.
"No thanks, I brought food," Ronald said quickly, trying not to stare too long at the colorful array of sweets on the cart. The candy he had just eaten had awakened his appetite, but he knew he couldn't afford anything else.
Harry, who had spent the past month enjoying Allen's meals and desserts, didn't even glance at the snacks. As far as he was concerned, no food could compare to Allen's cooking.
Ronald looked longingly at the trolley for another moment before turning back to Allen. "Do you cook every day?" he asked, eyes full of hope.
"Mostly," Allen replied, returning to his book.
Ronald blinked, then blurted out, "Can I eat with you guys sometime?"
Harry and Allen exchanged amused glances.
"If you don't mind washing some dishes," Harry joked, "then sure."
"I'll scrub them till they shine!" Ronald said immediately. "I'll polish them so well you'll see your reflection!"
Allen smiled faintly. "We'll see."
From then on, Ronald stayed close to Allen and Harry, chatting excitedly about everything from his brothers to his pet rat Scabbers.
Even though the candy had long since melted in his mouth, the memory of its flavor lingered.
"So," Ronald asked after a while, "how do you make that candy taste so good?"
Allen glanced over his book. "Time. Patience. And precision."
Ronald looked impressed, as if Allen had just shared a great magical secret.
"I wish I could do something like that," he said wistfully. "All I ever make is a mess."
Harry patted his shoulder. "I used to say the same thing. But after a few lessons with Allen... well, I still make a mess, but at least it tastes like food."
They all laughed, even Allen, whose chuckle was more of a soft exhale.
The three of them sat in comfortable silence for a while. The train's rhythmic hum provided a soothing background as the countryside sped past the windows.
Eventually, Ronald took out the sandwich his mother had packed and began to eat. It was dry, and a bit squished from the trip, but he didn't complain.
Every few bites, he glanced at Allen with subtle admiration.
That candy had changed something in him—not just his taste buds, but his perspective.
He suddenly felt hopeful that his time at Hogwarts would bring more than just spells and broomsticks.
Maybe—just maybe—he'd make lifelong friends.
Maybe he'd learn something worthwhile.
And maybe, if he was lucky, he'd get to taste another one of those amazing candies.
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