"Don't move, or if I flinch, the Sorting Hat might get scratched by you!"
Because of the panicked cries of the Sorting Hat, Elena had to raise her voice to ensure that Fawkes, the phoenix perched on the table in the middle of the room, could hear her.
There was no doubt that Fawkes, who had been Dumbledore's companion for decades, understood the significance of this talkative hat at Hogwarts. Being clever and loyal, it would be extra cautious in such a decision-making moment.
This made both the flames of the phoenix and its sharp beak lose their threat to Elena.
Just as Elena had anticipated, facing the Sorting Hat, Fawkes showed a hint of hesitation in its actions.
"Opportunity!"
Seizing the moment when Fawkes' beautiful large eyes were filled with confusion and its golden beak stayed still, Elena swiftly placed the oversized Sorting Hat onto the poor phoenix's head.
"See, isn't it simple!"
Successfully covering the phoenix's head with the Sorting Hat, Elena raised an eyebrow triumphantly. With one hand embracing Fawkes's warm body and the other gently caressing the trembling phoenix wings, she comforted gently.
"Don't be afraid, today I haven't prepared any cookware, so I won't be eating you yet."
"Hoo-hoo—"
At Elena's words, Fawkes shuddered, emitting a pleading, mournful sound.
The long beak of the golden-red bird, now bound within the Sorting Hat, quietly lay on the table, not daring to move, fearing that any displeasure from the silver-haired little demon on its back might lead to its beak piercing through the Sorting Hat.
"Silly little brat, even if you manage to catch a phoenix, then what?"
The previous headmasters in the portraits clearly had their unique way of communicating. In an empty frame near the bookshelf, a young witch with dark long hair appeared, emitting a disdainful hum.
"Another troublemaker, huh?" The silver-haired little demon pouted in resignation, about to retort when she suddenly heard the witch's conversation change.
"Phoenixes are not afraid of flames, nor heat. Although I haven't cooked a phoenix, when roasting Ashwinders, it proved this approach doesn't work. Have you carefully considered how to cook it?"
Huh?
Roasting Ashwinders...
It sounded like another delicious dish. Could it be that among the former Hogwarts headmasters, there was actually a friend who shared her same culinary interests?
Elena didn't respond immediately. First, she curiously examined the nameplate and description beneath the frame of the young witch with dark long hair, instantly feeling a sense of reverence.
[Phyllida Spore], unfortunate to have died in 1408 due to mistakenly eating Venomous Tentacula, was the headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a renowned herbalist, and the author of "A Thousand Marvelous Herbs and Fungi."
She was practically the female version of a magical European deity. Without such fearless herbalists, the potion standards in the magical world might have regressed for years.
With this in mind, as she looked at the trembling Fawkes, Elena's previous odd sense of disharmony suddenly vanished—thinking about cooking a phoenix from a scholarly perspective didn't seem that odd after all.
"Headmistress Phyllida, you're right. My previous thoughts on cooking were indeed inappropriate. Magical creatures shouldn't be approached with conventional culinary thinking."
Elena, who always hated admitting defeat, pondered for a while, nodding in genuine acknowledgment, openly admitting her mistake.
No wonder she could become the headmistress of Hogwarts; even the residual wisdom in portraits centuries later was enough to guide future generations.
Magical creatures possess their unique traits. Rigidly adhering to the superficial appearance of these beings and forcefully applying non-magical cooking methods would be excessively wasteful.
For ages, people have preferred cooked food primarily because compared to raw meat, cooked food not only lasts longer but is also healthier, easier to digest and absorb, and generally more palatable.
However, while the phoenix may resemble a large golden-red turkey, it shouldn't be seen merely as a fowl to be cooked conventionally.
As a miraculous creature born from the ashes, every piece of meat on the phoenix, right from the start, undergoes strict sterilization through intense heat, making it perfect, top-quality ingredients. There's simply no need to consider cooking it again.
"So, actually, we can thinly slice phoenix meat, lightly dip it in a bowl of ice water, coat it generously with seasoning, and pop it into the mouth.
The contrast between ice and fire, paired with explosive seasonings, would be the most delicious treat in existence."
Elena pondered while caressing Fawkes's soft feathers, swallowing saliva with a hint of concern on her face.
"But this demands an extremely strict requirement for the meat's freshness. It's not like we can go hunting for a phoenix every time we want to eat, and if we accidentally kill it, we'd have to wait for it to grow again."
Hearing the murmurs of the silver-haired girl, Fawkes began to shake violently again. The head trapped within the Sorting Hat started to sway anxiously, as if trying to break free from its bindings.
"Behave, don't make a fuss, I'm thinking."
Sensing the unrest beneath her, Elena gently patted Fawkes's broad wings.
"Don't worry, I'm not particularly fond of sashimi—uh, raw slices—such an unsophisticated way of eating."
"Indeed, it would seem a bit barbaric to eat it raw. We are wizards after all."
The portrait of Phyllida Spore nodded in agreement, crossing her arms with a puzzled look. "But apart from that, it's indeed challenging to find a suitable cooking method for a phoenix."
Unknowingly, all the portraits in the headmaster's office had awakened, nervously watching the potentially hazardous conversation between the girl and the painting.
"Wait, Headmistress Phyllida, I think I've come up with a method."
Elena absentmindedly traced Fawkes's wing muscles with her fingers, suddenly having a brilliant idea and eagerly addressing Phyllida Spore.
"Have you heard of the non-magical fishermen's method of dealing with surplus fish?"
"Hmm? You mean salting—"
The young witch with dark long hair brightened, nodding in approval.
"That's indeed a good method. Just cover the phoenix wings and legs generously with salt, place them in a cool, dry place, let them air dry, and they can be preserved for a long time."
!!!
Fawkes's struggle intensified, its long beak poking out small protrusions from the Sorting Hat.
"Yes, this way, in the cold of winter, by simply adding a small piece of phoenix meat into a soup, you could extract the warm magical essence within the phoenix, enough to instantly warm up the entire body."
Finding a kindred spirit in the magical world, the silver-haired girl excitedly added to Phyllida's words.
After a brief pause, Elena wiped the drool from her lips, somewhat regretfully saying, "Truly, I regret not meeting Headmistress Phyllida earlier, the great wizard who wrote 'A Thousand Marvelous Herbs and Fungi.'"
"
Ah, don't mention it. For all these years, you're the most courageously curious little witch I've ever met."
The young witch with dark long hair blushed slightly, waving her hand, but clearly, the compliment suited Elena well.
Phyllida Spore glanced satisfactorily at the obedient silver-haired girl, thought for a moment, and raised her finger slowly, saying, "Regarding cutting magical substances, I can actually teach you a little trick..."
Hoo-hoo—
Hoo—
At that moment, the phoenix Fawkes suddenly let out a series of unusually high-pitched cries. Its neck, caught in a hold, began to shake vigorously, without the slightest concern about whether the Sorting Hat would be punctured.
Following that, Fawkes's enormous golden-red wings spread wide, and with a powerful flap, it took off directly. "Huh? Huh huh?!"
Elena, who was attentively listening to Professor Phyllida's magical tips, leaned to one side instinctively, hands grabbing onto the brim of the Sorting Hat, attempting to hold back Fawkes the phoenix with all her might.
However, the strength of a young half-blood was no match against the phoenix, capable of bearing the weight of several adults. The difference in power was staggering.
In the next moment, Elena was effortlessly taken aloft by Fawkes. She felt weightless, almost like a piece of paper, offering little resistance as she floated through the air, the magical aura surrounding her body gradually fading.
Gripping the edges of the Sorting Hat, as she followed the phoenix's circling path in the office, the silver-haired girl's mind suddenly recalled an idiom: "Riding a tiger is hard to dismount."
With her entire head covered by the Sorting Hat, the startled Fawkes began darting around Dumbledore's spacious and beautiful office like a headless fly, aimlessly flying about.
On its back, a small silver-haired figure struggled to hold onto a dark hat to prevent herself from accidentally falling off.
"Left, left, left!!" "Ah, clumsy bird, don't fly erratically, I'm not eating you today!"
"To the right, right, don't go there, that's a bookshelf!"
Bang!
The tall wooden bookshelf emitted a grating groan as it slowly toppled over, books scattering like flowers in bloom.
"Stop! Stop! Stop! If you go further, you'll hit the chandelier—"
Clang!
Several of the chandelier's pillars were directly knocked off by Fawkes and twisted, wobbling as they descended.
"Don't come this way! Stay away! Damn it, I knew trouble brews when a phoenix meets a Muggle-born, even in its infancy..."
"Oh, heavens, someone inform Dumbledore!"
Just managing to evade the collision, Elena heard the astonished exclamations of past esteemed male and female headmasters of Hogwarts.
"Wait, over there are the portraits of the headmasters..."
The girl lifted her head, pupils slightly contracting. The next potential target for collision was the frames of the headmasters—some of which were rare; damaging them would be a pity, as she wasn't sure if Dumbledore could repair them.
More importantly, she found the thoughts of those headmasters rather intriguing.
"Never mind!"
Gritting her teeth, Elena grabbed the two sides of the Sorting Hat, swaying her body with the momentum, barely aligning the bird's head toward another direction in the room. She then curled up, facing the inevitable impact to avoid severe injury.
Rumble...
Fawkes, completely startled, descended like a crashing airplane straight toward the wooden table where it had previously stood, scattering various snacks and sweets that had been on it. Finally, it heavily struck Dumbledore's wooden desk and came to a halt.
The ink bottle on Dumbledore's desk rolled off, staining the scattered letters with ink.
Elena's petite frame, carried by inertia, collided against the wall adorned with the headmasters' portraits. In her panic, she seemed to grab the edge of a wooden frame, slightly cushioning the impact, then slowly slid down to the corner.
Snap!
Seconds later, a large wooden frame from the wall unsteadily crashed down. In the next moment, Elena heard Phineas's angry yell.
"I'll expel you! In my day, I would've definitely expelled you."
Well, obviously, Elena knew which headmaster's portrait she accidentally dislodged.
"Sorry, it wasn't intentional."
Elena grinned, sitting on the ground, massaging her slightly swollen shoulder, nonchalantly patting the edge of the portrait frame.
"Moreover, Headmaster Phineas, your portrait is quite sturdy, relax a bit, relax."
Just then, Elena suddenly noticed, behind Phineas's frame, a scroll of slightly weathered parchment, seemingly containing many secrets.
Could it be some hidden magical incantations, or a clue to a founder's secret treasure? Or something akin to the magical artifact, like the Marauder's Map found by the Weasley twins in Filch's office?
The silver-haired girl's eyes gleamed. Glancing around, she smirked, reaching out to retrieve the parchment hidden behind the askew frame.
Creak...
A faint sound came from the doorway, someone seemed to be pushing it open.
—Dumbledore was back!
Elena's expression turned serious. Quickly, she slipped the parchment into her clothes, near her neckline, then whimpered and feigned pain as she collapsed to the floor.
—
Dumbledore pushed the door open, his face full of shock at the chaotic office.
The entire headmaster's office appeared as if it had just endured a fierce battle.
The enormous chandelier on the ceiling was oddly twisted on one side, candies, biscuits, and various snacks littered the floor. The massive wooden bookshelf leaned in the room's center, and the ground was strewn with scattered papers and books. The ink from the rolling ink bottle spread across.
The previously radiant phoenix Fawkes, feathers disheveled, lay drooping in front of his desk, alongside the crumpled Sorting Hat. Elena, the silver-haired girl, appeared pained, tucked away in a corner, partially shielded by the fallen portrait of Phineas.
"Cough. So, what exactly happened?"
Dumbledore, the rarely bewildered and highly esteemed headmaster in Hogwarts history, the greatest wizard of the time, once again felt the sense of bewilderment after many years.
"What happened? I thought you knew..." Not far away, Phyllida Spore in the portrait crossed her arms, her mouth twisted in amusement.
"Dumbledore! Wasn't it you who brought this young Muggle-born into the office? A Muggle-born and a phoenix left alone, what else did you expect to happen... It's okay; they can't really harm each other anyway."