The Thrill of Feeling the Burn at Both Ends

The moment Harry Potter showed up, the story had officially begun.

Voldemort, who had his eye on the Philosopher's Stone, would be making his move soon enough.

But what did any of that have to do with Cedric Gray?

He was just a decent-looking cook.

Cedric hadn't gone out of his way to keep tabs on Quirrell in ages, so he had no idea what the man had been up to lately. But Quirrell never missed a mealtime. Whenever Cedric sold food, he was sure to be there.

Today was no exception.

Outside the Kitchen, wizards stood in a neat, long line, waiting for today's dish to come out.

They weren't all wizards, either. Quite a few house-elves stood among them, holding silver trays.

The little creatures were there to collect food for their masters. With their abilities, they could serve their masters a meal fresh from the pan even if they lived in another city.

Inside the Kitchen, Cedric worked at an unhurried pace.

Today's cookware was a little different: a round-bottomed iron pan, its curved sides nothing like the flat-bottomed pans he usually used for frying.

That's right. It was a wok.

He hadn't conjured it with a Transfiguration Spell. He'd sent Ron to London's Chinatown to buy it.

And not just the wok. He'd had Ron pick up some Chinese spices and other Asian seasonings while he was there.

Ginger, Sichuan peppercorns, sprouted garlic, and the two most important ingredients: bright red dried chilies and a jar of Pixian Red-Oil Doubanjiang. Proper Sichuan cooking supplies.

The others weren't too hard to find, but that last jar of doubanjiang had been a real challenge.

The stuff wasn't popular with the British at all. Cedric could picture poor Ron trying to force out the word "Pixian" in his dreadful accent.

After everything Ron had gone through, Cedric decided to give him an extra-large serving today to make up for it.

Today's meal was, quite plainly, Chinese food.

Cedric had figured that the punch of Dragon Blood didn't work particularly well in a bland blood sausage. He might as well try something with a stronger flavor.

Following Cedric's instructions, Ron used his wand to turn the Kitchen's magical ventilation up to full power.

If Cedric let the wizards outside get a good whiff of today's dish like they had before, he reckoned the respiratory ward at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries—the best hospital near Diagon Alley—would be packed by the end of the day.

With the preparations done, Cedric got to work.

He heated the wok, poured in cold oil, then tossed in scallions, ginger, garlic, and Sichuan peppercorns. The fragrance hit him full in the face.

Next came the doubanjiang. He fried it until the oil turned a vivid red, then added the Dragon Blood he'd cut into pieces earlier.

This Dragon Blood wasn't the flour-thickened mixture he'd made before.

It used a special ingredient Ron had found in Chinatown: Mesona.

Strictly speaking, this wasn't a proper Dragon Blood dish. Dragon Blood Jelly would be more accurate.

The springy pieces of Dragon Blood Jelly leaped around the wok. The absolute control granted by God's Hand, paired with Cedric's physical instincts, kept every piece whole and unbroken.

Then came the seasoning.

To suit his regular customers' tastes, Cedric quietly sprinkled in extra sugar to take the edge off the heat. Finally, he poured in a cornstarch slurry to thicken the sauce, and a wokful of Spicy Dragon Blood Jelly was ready.

He'd made an enormous batch, nearly a full wok. Served up, it gleamed red with oil and looked mouthwatering.

As for the smell—it was a pungent, spicy fragrance that caught in the throat. Even with Ron using magic to vent it outside nonstop, he couldn't clear it all away.

Plenty of people outside sneezed again and again, but the tempting aroma kept them rooted to the spot. Their noses turned bright red, and still they kept sniffing.

Once the dish was done, Cedric ladled out a portion each for himself and Xuanling. He took off his apron and told Ron, "One serving per person. Five Galleons a serving."

The price didn't startle Ron. He was used to it by now.

He eyed the glossy red dish and caught another whiff of its fierce aroma. "Mr. Grey, isn't the smell a bit strong?"

"Do you want to eat it?" Cedric asked in return.

"I do," Ron said, swallowing. "It's just a little intimidating."

"Don't worry. Spicy food is addictive." Cedric smiled with ill intent.

He'd been generous with the spices this time, and he'd secretly added far too much sugar. That would soften the sting a little, sure, but spicy was still spicy.

Your backside didn't have taste buds. You could pour honey down there, and all it would register was pain.

So go on. Enjoy the thrill of feeling the burn at both ends.

Cedric, who had barely slept after being kept awake by the noise last night, tossed aside his apron and grinned with particular satisfaction.

He'd never worried about whether people would like the taste.

No one could fend off the absolute deliciousness produced by God's Hand just by saying they weren't used to it.

For Cedric himself, though, this level of heat was nothing.

He let Xuanling taste the tiniest bit, then stopped feeding him. Even that was enough to send Xuanling hopping all over the room in search of water.

Cedric took a bite. His mouth burned.

What a pity. If only he had a bowl of steaming white rice to go with it. Hot and spicy together—that would really hit the spot.

It was satisfying to eat, but the dish was still a long way from the ultimate level he sought.

A little disappointing, but Cedric wasn't in a hurry.

Today's dish was still top-notch. There was only one dish that would meet that standard, and sooner or later, he would find it.