There seemed to be something lurking under the water near the shore of the Black Lake!
Allen squinted, trying to get a better look. Unfortunately, he couldn't focus well enough to activate the Analytical Eye, but he was certain—there was something big hiding motionlessly just beneath the surface.
The danger wasn't what frightened him—it was the unknown lurking danger that made his skin crawl.
It was obviously unwise to stay here any longer, and Allen couldn't be sure whether the creature in the lake would attack him or not.
Should he fight back? Or run away?
As a Gryffindor student, Allen's decision was already clear!
Without hesitation, he picked up the soup pot and ran away.
It wasn't that he was afraid to fight some unknown lake monster, but Allen would absolutely lose it if his lunch got ruined in the process.
Especially this close to water—if even a splash made it into the soup, wouldn't that be a disaster?
At this moment, Allen didn't look like a brave Gryffindor lion at all. He looked more like a startled badger, clutching a prized fruit and bolting for safety.
Just as Allen was sprinting away, the previously calm waters of the Black Lake suddenly began to churn violently, as though the surface had come to a rolling boil.
Then, several thick tentacles burst through the surface, waving and thrashing as if venting their irritation.
Water splashed everywhere along the shore.
Had Allen not dodged in time, his precious lunch would've been a soggy mess.
But when Allen turned back and caught sight of the enormous tentacles—his eyes lit up, and an entire menu of recipes flashed through his mind like a slideshow.
Teppanyaki grilled squid… octopus balls… stir-fried squid rings… spicy shredded squid… char-grilled tentacle skewers…
The tentacles, which had been thrashing around a second ago, suddenly froze—as if sensing some deep malice in the air—and hastily retreated into the depths, trying to sneak away unnoticed.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going, monster?!" Allen shouted, conjuring a fireball in his left hand as he sprinted back toward the lake. On the way, he carefully set down the soup pot to avoid spilling it.
The tentacles, realizing they had been discovered, quickly vanished beneath the waves. The lake's surface surged and split, a clear sign that something enormous was retreating beneath the water.
Allen became frantic.
He wasn't just watching food escape—he was watching a once-in-a-lifetime delicacy swim away!
Without hesitation, he launched the fireball he'd been preparing.
"Stay right there! Even if it's just one leg~!"
Allen usually used Fire Dragon's Breath as nothing more than a portable lighter or cooking flame. But in reality, this spell, modeled after the Australian Opal Eye's precision and the Hungarian Horntail's explosive power, was a long-range killer move!
The moment it left his hand, the fireball transformed into a cone-shaped pillar of searing fire and shot toward the lake like a flaming missile.
The terrifying heat instantly brought a large section of the lake's surface to a boil, releasing clouds of scalding steam. Unfortunately, the result was disappointing—whatever it was had dived deeper and successfully escaped the blast.
"Damn it… it got away." Allen muttered, annoyed, but before he could think further—he noticed someone else watching.
It was none other than Principal Dumbledore, who had, for some reason, arrived at the scene just in time to see Allen hurling fire from his palm.
"It seems you have rather… astonishing talents," Dumbledore said with calm amusement. He quickly resumed his usual serene demeanor. "But the giant squid in the Black Lake has lived here for quite a long time. In fact, it was already here when I was a student. Best not to disturb it."
What? It was already living in the lake when Dumbledore was young? How long had that squid been alive?
From what Dumbledore said, the creature clearly had high intelligence—possibly a Hogwarts mascot or something of that nature. In hindsight, chasing it down for dinner might not have been the most appropriate action.
Allen laughed awkwardly. "Oh, I see. I thought it might be a dangerous creature threatening students. I was just, uh, trying to eliminate a potential threat for the safety of others."
Of course, Allen understood now—but he had no intention of giving up.
He still wanted to try a bite of that ancient squid someday.
Next time… he'd be more discreet.
Just then, Dumbledore sniffed the air, his eyes drawn to the fragrant pot of soup still resting by the shore.
"Are you having lunch?" he asked. "Might I have the honor of tasting your cooking?"
What else could Allen say when the headmaster himself requested a taste?
Of course, he had to oblige—though inwardly, he was already thinking about what to do after Dumbledore died, and whether or not the squid would be up for grabs again.
"Of course! It would be my honor," Allen said with a polite smile. "If you don't mind, there's a stone over here we can sit on while we eat."
Dumbledore nodded in agreement, and the two of them sat on a large flat rock near the road. Without even pulling out his wand, Dumbledore casually picked up a small stone, which transformed instantly into a delicate ceramic bowl.
The level of skill required to cast Transfiguration this effortlessly—without incantation or wand—meant the magic was at least Grade A or higher.
As expected of Dumbledore.
Allen knew his own abilities—if he tried that without a wand, nothing would happen.
"Nonverbal and wandless casting like that is really impressive," Allen said, ladling some soup into Dumbledore's bowl. He even added extra mushrooms and tore off a generous piece of chicken from the leg.
"The wand isn't strictly necessary," Dumbledore replied thoughtfully. "It merely guides and amplifies magic. A powerful wand can certainly increase one's capabilities, but in the end, it's the wizard that matters most."
Allen understood the implication—this was Dumbledore's way of responding to his earlier show of magical power.
Allen didn't reply. He had no real desire to challenge or compete with anyone, so Dumbledore's words didn't bother him.
Seeing Allen remain silent, Dumbledore simply smiled and lowered his gaze to the soup in his hands.
The dancing jump mushrooms floating in the clear broth made his eyebrows rise in surprise.
"You used enchanted mushrooms to make soup?" he asked. "That's… ingenious. I always thought mushrooms like that only belonged in cauldrons, either to brew potions or produce bubbling slimes of questionable origin."
"There's a big difference between cooking and potion-making," Allen replied with a grin. "If you don't control the time and temperature properly, of course you'll end up with a disaster."
As he spoke, Allen picked up the pot—Arya—and began to eat directly from it, quite naturally.
He had no plans of offering Dumbledore a second bowl—this was his lunch after all, and generosity only extended so far.
However, he did take out another bowl and set it aside.
That was for Bran.
Soon enough, Bran returned carrying a bundle of dead branches in his beak. Sadly, Allen no longer needed firewood, but he appreciated the effort. He set the branches aside and signaled for Bran to join in the meal.
The two of them—one human, one crow—ate together quietly and contentedly.
Dumbledore watched this scene with gentle amusement before finally taking his first sip of the soup.
The moment the broth touched his lips, his eyes widened in astonishment.
The soup was lightly salted, letting the richness of the chicken and the subtle sweetness of the jump mushrooms take center stage. A hint of ginger and a trace of garlic rounded out the flavor, removing any gaminess and amplifying the overall taste.
By the time Dumbledore regained his senses, his bowl was already empty.
"…That was delicious," he murmured in disbelief.
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