Looking at the Cantonese wontons in his bowl, Tiger gently blew on his spoon, elegant beyond belief.
For the first time in ten years, he felt genuine respect for food.
The bone broth had penetrated the skin—one bite revealed fresh filling, tender wrapper, and rich broth harmonizing perfectly.
"Damn English chefs..."
"This is food fit for humans." In his long sigh lay undisguised comfort and satisfaction.
"Exactly, bastard..."
Like facing a side dish, Venom greedily glanced at the platinum head beside him, draining the chocolate-sauce tofu pudding in one gulp. His scarlet tongue licked between sharp teeth with lingering taste and regret.
"I remember what Polly said."
"She said true deliciousness always brews between people—those words are pure truth."
"Oh, I think I need several more bowls. This dish truly moves a symbiote..."
Tiger silently glanced at Venom.
In this moment, he admitted the words were perfectly apt, but they shouldn't come from Venom's mouth.
Mother Polly's "people" meant human warmth, the longing between souls, spiritual refuge and peace.
Undoubtedly, Venom's "people" was simply a meat dish full of phenylethylamine.
Had to say... truly nauseating! (⊙_⊙)
While the little Slytherin snakes feasted heartily, the other three House tables stared dumbfounded—they didn't even recognize those delicacies.
Only Ravenclaw'sCho Chang looked again and again, her delicate, beautiful face full of disbelief.
"Cho, what are you looking at?"
"Looking at... home..."
Cho Chang sighed with nostalgic eyes.
She'd forgotten what her grandmother's handmade wontons tasted like...
"Why are they eating different food from us!"
"This isn't fair!"
Ron swallowed hard. The sizzling grilled sausage on his plate completely lost its appeal.
"Maybe that's pure-blood aristocracy."
Seeing Malfoy's smug look directed at him, Harry silently turned back, dryly eating his sandwich.
Somehow, he felt Malfoy looked even more detestable than usual.
"What's the big deal, I'm also pure—"
Ron wanted to say something indignantly.
However, his voice grew quieter, his disdainful expression tinged with envy.
"Actually, it looks just so-so, nothing special. Right, Harry..."
"Uh..."
Harry looked hesitant. Facing this stubborn friend who was practically drooling, he didn't know what to say.
"That's Chinese cuisine, Ron."
Hermione carried heavy textbooks, setting them down with a "thud," then sat across from them, introducing with confident, slightly proud posture:
"Chinese cuisine is incredibly diverse. You might not like certain dishes, but you'll definitely find your lifelong favorite among the other tens of thousands of Chinese dishes..."
"Tens of thousands of dishes?!"
"Unbelievable!"
"How is that possible?!"
Given Britain's claim to the world's thinnest menu, Seamus Finnigan and others looked stunned.
"That's definitely impossible."
Ron rolled his eyes without concealment, mouth turning down, thinking the know-it-all was showing off her vast knowledge through bragging.
"It's exactly like that. The library doesn't only have magical books—I think you should look into it."
Hermione ignored Ron's petty mood. She'd seen too many such childish reactions.
Before, she might have felt uncomfortable, but since meeting Tiger, her resilience had strengthened considerably.
If Ron dared say anything excessive, she'd definitely slap that Potions textbook across his face...
"Cranberry toast, one glass of milk."
Hermione yawned and lightly tapped the table.
She'd stayed up too late memorizing History of Magic, making her terribly sleepy this morning, which was why she was late.
However, what appeared before her wasn't cranberry toast, but two steaming baskets of soup dumplings.
Next, warm, soft black rice porridge appeared, emitting faint sweet fragrance.
"Oh, no no no..."
"This isn't right, you made a mistake."
Before Hermione could react, Neville sitting diagonally across suddenly called out somewhat frantically, but the food on the table wasn't taken away.
Looking at the fragrant chocolate-sauce tofu pudding and brown sugar sesame cake before him, the chubby boy frantically swallowed his saliva.
"Hey! Chubby!"
Venom suddenly shouted.
Dark, twisted tentacles danced menacingly on the Slytherin table. Neville looked over at the sound.
"Trust me, you'll love the brains..."
Before Venom could finish, Tiger quickly pulled the idiot back.
You know, many little snakes had eaten tofu pudding—if they heard this idiot's nonsense, who knew how much they'd vomit.
"Thank you, Venom!"
Learning the delicious food came from his friend, the chubby boy happily picked up his spoon, eating with great pleasure. Sesame seeds and crumbs from the cake covered his lips.
Hermione also looked toward Tiger with excitement.
Unfortunately, Tiger wasn't as enthusiastic as Venom—he just nodded casually.
The know-it-all puffed her cheeks and turned her head back, then sighed somewhat helplessly.
"I'm so stupid. I should have gotten used to this..."
Delicious food always held irresistible temptation for children. Looking at the delicacies before them, the Gryffindor first-years felt indescribable envy.
Ron muttered, wanting to say something more.
But Hermione stuffed a soup dumpling in his mouth, the somewhat rough action making his freckled cheeks flush red.
He struggled to swallow the dumpling, his expression gradually exaggerated as his eyes widened: "This is too delicious..."
"Indeed..."
Harry's cheeks moved back and forth. Perhaps from too much harshness at the Dursleys', the lingering fragrance of soup dumplings on his lips made him somewhat dazed.
As a rich kid, he suddenly felt his vault full of Galleons had somewhere to be spent...
"Gryffindor loses three points..."
"Gryffindor loses two points..."
Potions class was as delightfully entertaining as always.
Seeing Harry and Ron's heads getting smacked by Professor Snape with parchment assignments, Draco Malfoy felt absolutely refreshed.
"Honestly, I've never felt this good."
Pansy Parkinson nodded silently at his words.
"When the Professor scolded me, I actually didn't feel wronged. I must be crazy."
Blaise Zabini tilted his head with a light smile: "Me too. Even the slug slime in my hand looks much more pleasant. How strange..."
After class, the little snakes' cheerful discussions rang out constantly. Past heaviness and gloom seemed quietly blown away by fresh breeze.
Professor Snape walked among them, brow slightly furrowed.
He sensed the little snakes seemed to be experiencing some subtle change, yet couldn't discern the exact cause, feeling puzzled and confused...
(-_-)?
If French cuisine's characteristic was highlighting fresh ingredients' natural flavors, then British cuisine's characteristic was using black pepper to emphasize ingredients' fishy taste.
Even pure-blood aristocrats couldn't avoid such flavors.
After all, ancestral recipes were part of family heritage, representing family history.
At lunch, Slytherins sitting at the table carried hidden anticipation, glancing at Tiger from the corners of their eyes.
They'd indeed eaten many precious, rare ingredients, but only today did they discover that those ordinary ingredients they'd ignored could bring such tremendous surprise and anticipation.
The door to a new world had opened.
To put it more romantically, they'd tasted the flavor of salt, mountains, wind, and sunshine—the taste of history, and even more, the taste of leadership...
"Shut up, Blaise."
Tiger glanced at him lightly. "Save those words for little girls..."
Seriously. What kind of logic was feeding dogs until they're full every meal?
With that, Tiger picked up the tomato beef noodles from his bowl and began slurping loudly.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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