After thanking Cedric, the two boys kept walking.
"The author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them never wrote about Hogwarts' magical paintings. What a loss."
Anthony knew Charlie had been reading that book a few months ago. It was pretty entertaining. Anthony had even flipped through it during History of Magic, treating it like a comic book.
"Maybe Hogwarts turned down any outside interviews," he muttered.
"Or there's another possibility. What if the author went to Hogwarts as a kid? He came down to the kitchens, saw the magical paintings, and got hooked on enchanted art from then on. That's why he spent his life traveling the world looking for more of them."
Anthony looked curious. "When was that book written, anyway?"
"About a hundred years ago," Charlie recalled. "Around the time Dumbledore was born."
They turned the corner and followed Cedric's directions. It didn't take long before they found the giant fruit painting.
"This is the interesting part," Charlie said. "A hundred years, two hundred years… we're living in the same place as all those old students, learning the same lessons, going through almost exactly the same student life."
He smiled and reached out, scratching the big green pear.
The lower half of the fat green pear suddenly split open into a wide grin. It laughed and giggled.
Charlie let go. After three seconds of giggling, the pear twisted, spun, and transformed into a green doorknob.
Charlie pushed down on the handle and opened it inward. The entire painting frame turned into a doorway.
The moment Charlie and Anthony stepped inside, they were stunned. It was an enormous room—easily as big as the Great Hall.
They both looked up at the ceiling. It was incredibly high.
Anthony muttered, "This room has definitely been expanded with an Undetectable Extension Charm."
Charlie nodded in agreement.
In the center of the room stood four long tables, exactly like the four House tables up in the Great Hall. Lining the walls on both sides were rows and rows of pots, pans, and kitchenware.
Directly across from them—where the head table would be in the Great Hall—the space opened up into an even wider area.
Right then, silver platters loaded with steaming roast beef came flying out of the kitchen area and settled neatly onto the long tables.
Charlie said, "I bet they're slammed right now. Maybe we should come back later?"
"Probably. Hey—"
Anthony didn't get to finish. A high-pitched squeal cut him off.
"Little wizards! Respected little wizards!"
A bunch of eyes the size of lightbulbs suddenly appeared at the far end of the kitchen and came rushing toward them.
"Oh, respected little wizards!"
"Thank you for visiting the kitchens!"
"Are you hungry? What would you like to eat?"
The flood of questions and intense, eager stares overwhelmed Charlie for a second. He quickly raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, everyone calm down. We're just here to take a look."
The house-elves didn't slow down at all.
They kept staring at the two boys with bright, enthusiastic eyes, firing off one overly polite question after another.
In the middle of the chaos, Charlie spotted a familiar house-elf.
It was Saro—the same one who had brought Anthony and Hector's trunks back to the dormitory after Christmas.
Back then, just because Charlie had seen him, Saro had started strangling himself and banging his head against the floor like being spotted by a wizard was some kind of terrible crime.
He was still here, standing a little behind the main crowd of house-elves.
"Hey, Saro," Charlie called out, shooting him a pleading look. "Can you get everyone to quiet down?"
"Charlie, that trick of yours isn't going to work," Anthony said, one hand on his hip, looking at him with exasperation.
Then Anthony raised his voice. "Alright, all of you—quiet. Now."
His tone left no room for argument. He sounded calm and natural, like he was just giving a simple order.
The house-elves finally fell silent.
"What you should be doing right now is getting back to work in the kitchen so nobody goes hungry at lunch," Anthony continued.
"If we need anything, we'll find—"
He let his finger drift through the crowd of house-elves while glancing at Charlie.
Charlie pointed at Saro standing in the back.
"That's right. You," Anthony said, pointing at Saro. "The rest of you can go. No need to crowd around."
"If that is your command, we cannot refuse, sir."
"We hope Saro will serve you well, sir."
"If you require anything else, please do not hesitate to ask."
Watching the house-elves scatter back to their stations, Charlie let out a breath of relief.
Saro hurried forward. "Respected young wizards, is there anything Saro can help you with?"
"Good morning," Charlie greeted him. "I came here looking for a couple of small pots.
Also… do you have any recipes around here? I want to learn how to make syrup."
Saro shook his head. "I know how to make syrup, but we don't keep written recipes here. If you need it, respected young wizard, Saro can make it for you."
Charlie looked at him, surprised. He hadn't expected this house-elf to be so skilled.
Or maybe all the house-elves here were like that?
"No, I don't need the syrup itself. I need to learn the technique," Charlie said after thinking for a moment. "How about you teach me?"
Saro looked genuinely shocked. His whole body twitched. His eyes went wide, almost bulging. He stammered, "I—I would be honored?"
"This isn't about honor or anything. Just… would you be willing?"
Saro nodded rapidly. "Of course! When would you like to start? Right now?"
He reached out eagerly, ready to pull Charlie into the kitchen.
Charlie shook his head quickly. "No, not right now. How about tonight?"
"Of course," Saro said at once. "I will wait for you whenever you come."
"Then it's settled. I'll come find you tonight—midnight work for you?"
After they agreed on the time, Charlie and Anthony politely turned down the various delicious foods the house-elves tried to press on them and left the kitchens quickly.
"Those guys are intense," Charlie said once they were back in the corridor.
This was only the second time he'd dealt with house-elves. They were… enthusiastic. And humble in a way that made him uncomfortable.
Anthony smiled and explained quietly, "That's just how they are. You can treat them as equals in your heart, but to them that idea doesn't make any sense.
For them, serving wizards is their entire purpose."
"So if you want to actually communicate with them, you have to use a commanding tone. The equality part—you can keep that to yourself."
"My family used to have a house-elf too. To him, his whole reason for existing was to serve us.
He'd been with our family for over a hundred years. After he passed, we never got another one."