You Mean We're Going to Cook Food in Potions?

[Please leave your brains here for the story going forward. There are mountains of original settings, and I've written a new boss.]

Draco hadn't said those things solely to please Harry's family.

Or rather, given Draco's pride, he wouldn't have allowed himself to go beyond his limits to please a girl.

But just one day of Muggle life had indeed changed many of his impressions of Muggles.

Draco said goodbye to the Dursleys and turned to leave. He planned to return to his room and write to his father, telling him about his new views on Muggles. As he passed Hermione, he paused, struggled with himself for a moment, and spoke.

"Granger," he said quietly, "about before... calling you a 'Mudblood'... I'm sorry."

Hermione looked up sharply. She stared at Draco's face in disbelief, as if checking whether this was some kind of prank. But on that face, which looked extremely uncomfortable about apologizing to her, his gray-blue eyes held only awkward sincerity.

"...I accept your apology," she said at last.

Draco headed for the stairs as if fleeing.

Hermione watched him go, then looked at Harry, who was surrounded by a crowd. She thoughtfully stroked her chin, then nodded firmly. Silently, she gave Harry a thumbs-up.

That's the woman I've set my sights on, all right. She can even change Malfoy!

Meanwhile, in the shadows of the upstairs hallway, Pansy Parkinson clutched the curtains so tightly that her nails nearly pierced the fabric. When she saw Draco come upstairs, she immediately turned and hurried back to her room.

Pansy sat down with her back against the door, gasping for breath.

This is impossible!

Draco actually apologized to that Mudblood? How could he... how could he become like this?!

Her chest heaved.

This is all Harry Potter's fault!

Pansy's nails dug into her palms, but the pain couldn't suppress her surging hatred.

As long as Harry disappears, Draco will surely become the proud, pure Malfoy heir he used to be again!

The temperature in the room suddenly plummeted.

A wisp of black mist seeped from the corner, winding along like a living thing before gradually coalescing into a hazy human figure. Within the mist, a pair of golden eyes slowly opened.

"Let me see..." The black mist's voice carried an eerie delight. "Oh, a lovely little pure-blood witch is troubled~"

Pansy froze, her pupils contracting. She should have run, should have screamed, but her throat felt as though an invisible hand were gripping it, leaving her unable to make a sound.

The black mist swirled around her like a snake waiting to strike. "What troubles you, lovely little witch? What do you want?"

Pansy's lips parted against her will. "I want Harry Potter to die."

The black mist cackled, its voice seeming distant one moment and close the next. "Is that really all? Think... what is it you truly want?"

Pansy's gaze gradually lost focus, and a vision appeared before her eyes-

Draco, dressed in magnificent formal robes, reached out to her. Guests from pure-blood families raised their glasses in celebration. There were no Mudbloods, no half-bloods, only noble witches and wizards. The whole world belonged to them, the pure-bloods.

Her expression changed from a struggle to calm, and finally, the corners of her mouth slowly curved into a vacant smile.

"I want..." Her voice was as soft as a sigh. "A world where no Muggles exist."

The black mist contracted in satisfaction, turning into a pitch-black ring that fell into her palm.

"As you wish, my dear little witch..."

Meanwhile, in the hotel lobby.

Harry suddenly shivered and looked sharply toward the stairs-

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.

"...Nothing." Harry rubbed her forehead, but her gaze remained fixed on the empty bend in the stairs.

It was strange, as though something bad was about to happen.

A sharp pain suddenly shot through Harry's wrist. She looked down to find the snake-shaped bracelet tightening around it, leaving a red mark.

Tom Riddle, what the hell are you doing? she demanded inwardly.

"Don't call me that!" came the furious reply from the bracelet. After a pause, he sounded hesitant. "I sensed a familiar presence."

"The Voldemort of this world? Or the Death Eaters?"

"Neither." Voldemort's voice seemed a little hesitant. "It's from much longer ago... but I can't remember."

No matter how Harry questioned him after that, Voldemort remained silent, as though determined not to answer.

She secretly rolled her eyes, but couldn't help wondering—who was the being that Voldemort couldn't quite remember, yet seemed to be so important?

Elsewhere, in the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts.

Headmistress McGonagall had gone to London with the group, and the office should have been empty, yet two people were plainly sitting inside.

As though sensing something, Gellert Grindelwald narrowed his eyes, a hint of pleasure appearing on his youthful, handsome face.

Dumbledore, sitting nearby and eating dessert, noticed at once. "The big fish we've been waiting for?"

"Yes." Grindelwald stroked the Elder Wand. "That very big fish."

"Well, that's wonderful." Dumbledore smiled. "I thought it wouldn't appear before Voldemort died. It seems it's too impatient after all."

"No wonder it once..."

Back in London, after breakfast, the professors and adults accompanying the group urged the young witches and wizards to gather.

They had two places to visit that day, and if they didn't hurry, they might run out of time.

Aunt Petunia held on to Harry, reluctant to leave, and secretly slipped a voucher into her hand. "Take your friends with you. Remember to order the divided pot, and whatever you do, do not listen to the server and order the red broth!"

After her aunt left, the trio gathered together and unfolded the voucher.

"The Sichuan Fragrance Pavilion Hot Pot Restaurant?!" Ron's eyes widened. "What's that?"

Hermione frowned deeply and looked hesitantly at the picture on the voucher. "I've heard that hot pot is traditional Chinese food. You put ingredients into a boiling broth and cook them. But this looks a little..."

Why does it look like something I've heard about these past couple of days...?

She wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Harry stared at the picture of bright red chilies on the voucher.

For some reason, the picture on the voucher kept reminding her of Potions.

An even more ominous premonition than before rose in Harry's heart.

This can't be that legendary cooking food in Potions, can it...??