He wasn't in the best mood.
Ian walked through the corridor beneath the Great Hall. Torches blazed along the walls on either side, while the various decorative paintings were filled with lifelike images of countless dishes.
When he reached a huge painting of fruit, Ian scratched the pear in the picture. As if ticklish, the painted pear giggled and wriggled itself into a doorknob.
He opened the door and stepped inside.
A room laid out exactly like the Great Hall appeared before Ian. It was incredibly spacious, with all kinds of copper pots and iron cauldrons hanging beneath the high ceiling.
They swayed gently in the occasional breeze, producing pleasant clinking sounds.
On the enormous stone stoves, flames automatically adjusted their intensity under the effects of magic, cooking every kind of food imaginable—from traditional English breakfasts to foreign dishes.
Who knew which groups these extra meals were meant for.
"It's a first-year Young Wizard!"
"The gentleman at the Ravenclaw table who likes steak!"
"He's so clever! He discovered Hogwarts' Kitchen on his very first day!"
There were also many strange-looking creatures in the room. Their huge ears were utterly disproportionate to their heads, while their frog-like eyes bulged from their faces, each nearly the size of a fist.
With pointed noses, chopstick-thin limbs, and their distinctive burlap clothing, they were the Wizarding World's famous House-elves—vanquished people from ages past whose thoughts had been magically altered generation after generation.
Before Ian could greet the House-elves, a figure carrying a large basin emerged from the butchering room. He was an adult, considerably taller than Ian.
Ronnie Erich.
The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
This was already the second time Ian had encountered this professor today.
"Good evening, Ian."
He was carrying a basin covered with oilcloth, giving off a fishy stench.