There was something wrong with that vehicle

Breakfast the next morning.

Something that really had no business appearing at breakfast turned up on the Hufflepuff table—

French fries.

They were golden, their edges slightly puffed, with a thin, crisp shell sprinkled with fine salt.

They looked no different from anything sold at a fish and chips shop in the United Kingdom.

The biggest difference was—

There were far too many of them, piled into a small mountain.

Ernie stood beside the table, quill in hand, with a half-written sheet of parchment spread out before him.

The parchment was headed:

[Supplementary provision two of the regulations on outside food registration and allergy risk management: provisional classification of French fries]

Gavin glanced at the heading and felt that Ernie's administrative abilities were growing at an alarming rate.

"I need to establish their category." Ernie looked very serious. "If they qualify as fried food, we have to register the type of oil used. I checked yesterday—peanut oil can pose an allergy risk too."

Gavin thought for a moment. "The oil should be—"

"Don't!"

But Justin had already picked up a fry and bitten into it with a crunch under Ernie's horrified gaze.

"It tastes like a French fry."

"Bleached rapeseed oil," Gavin finished.

Ernie looked a little relieved and complained to Justin, "You can't classify food by how it tastes."

"Then what do you use?"

"The preparation method."

Justin turned to Gavin. "What's the preparation method?"

"Thermal radiation."

Ernie's quill stopped.

Justin stopped too.

Several Hufflepuffs nearby looked down at the plate as though they had just discovered that its contents had no legal status.

"You can also think of it as frying without a pan," Gavin continued, watching their reactions. "I thought you wanted the more academic explanation."

Justin curled his lip. "Please speak plain English next time."

That