windkaze
patreon
BFH# Chapter 73: Excuse Me, What Am I?
🕑 Added 2025-03-16 20:30:42 +0000 UTCBy the time the three of them climbed up the rope ladder and returned to the house with the little wooden puppet in hand, the sun was already setting. The distant sunset dyed the surrounding mist in a soft red hue, making everything appear warm and tranquil.
In this atmosphere, Harry was the first to climb up to the trapdoor of the small house.
But the moment he pushed the door open, he realized that the house, which had only two occupants before, now had one more.
An old woman sat hunched over on one side of the dining table. Her face was covered in warts, and she had only a few sparse teeth remaining in her mouth.
—It was the Baba Yaga crone he had seen before.
At that moment, Baba Yaga was chatting with the others at the table. She let out a hoarse, cackling laugh while grabbing a biscuit from the table and bringing it to her mouth.
Judging by the biscuit’s grayish, rock-hard surface, it was a rockskin biscuit.
Harry quickly climbed up a few more steps, wanting to stop her. But before he could say anything, he witnessed an unexpected sight—the few frail-looking, wobbly teeth in Baba Yaga’s mouth effortlessly bit through the biscuit.
Crunch!
Harry: "?"
He stared, dumbfounded, as Baba Yaga casually crushed the rockskin biscuit with her teeth.
As she chewed, she continued chatting with Hagrid:
"Oh, this snack is quite nice… You giants really do know how to cook…"
As she spoke, she kept munching on the rockskin biscuit, finishing the entire thing in just a few bites.
"Glad you like it."
Opposite her, Hagrid chuckled awkwardly, scratching his head as he tried to hide his embarrassment by taking a swig of beer.
Just then, as Baba Yaga continued chewing her biscuit, she suddenly seemed to notice something. She turned her head and met Harry’s gaze—he was still only halfway through the trapdoor.
A kind smile appeared on her wrinkled face:
"Come on up, children. Dinner will be ready soon."
Harry smiled back awkwardly and hurriedly climbed the rest of the way up, followed closely by the Weasley twins.
As soon as the trapdoor was shut, the cold winter wind was blocked out, leaving only the cozy warmth radiating from the fireplace. Beside it, the dining table had grown to twice its original length—clearly extended by magic.
With their pouches full of spices, the four of them found seats at the table and joined the conversation.
At some point, Harry and Ron hesitantly took a piece of rockskin biscuit from the table—and, as expected, nearly shattered their teeth on it. Harry felt as if he had bitten into solid rock, a dull pain spreading from his tooth roots to the tips.
Dazed, he set the biscuit back down.
…This isn’t right.
When he turned to look at the three people effortlessly devouring their biscuits, he suddenly felt an insurmountable gap between himself and them.
"Harry, come with me for a moment."
A few minutes later, as they waited for dinner to finish cooking, Viktor suddenly stood up and gestured for Harry to follow.
Though unsure of what the professor wanted, Harry was more than happy to abandon his struggle with the rockskin biscuit and escape Ron’s suffering beside him.
They walked to a room on the right side of the living area. Only when Viktor pushed open the door did Harry realize it was a kitchen.
The kitchen was clean and orderly, but on the table sat a row of steaming, peculiar-looking dishes that seemed completely out of place. On the far right, Harry spotted a glass pot bubbling with a red liquid, a faint blue flame flickering at the top. To the left, there was a bowl of green soup with dead caterpillars floating inside.
The moment Viktor stepped inside, he tossed the fire-spitting peppers they had gathered into the already unappealing caterpillar soup, making its color even more dreadful.
The soup let out a few feeble bubbles.
Seeing this, Harry instinctively shrank back in apprehension.
"Don’t worry," Viktor said without even turning his head. "It won’t taste bad."
Harry forced a polite but unconvincing smile. If anything, that reassurance only made him worry more.
After stirring the soup for a moment, Viktor turned to Harry and said:
"Alright. Take out your wand and cast a small flame at that red liquid."
Harry obeyed—fire magic was something he had learned with Hermione over the past few weeks. As he cast the spell, he asked, "Professor, what is this dish?"
"Aging Red Wine Braised Lamb." Viktor replied.
"The aging red wine is a recipe from my homeland. It requires a flame filled with human hope to be fully cooked. I modified it using your Ageing Potion, so now it will briefly project an image of what someone might look like five years from now."
"Oh, I see."
Harry nodded, though he only half understood.
Viktor continued his preparations, adding a variety of spices that made Harry feel dizzy just from the scent. By the time he was done, many of the dishes had become even less appetizing.
But then, out of nowhere, Viktor suddenly asked:
"Harry, would you like to become our apprentice?"
"Huh? Apprentice?"
Harry blinked in confusion.
He had no real concept of the word. Having grown up outside the wizarding world, he had never heard of such a thing. Even after coming to Hogwarts, he had never encountered anything like it.
Viktor explained:
"An apprentice is a wizard’s personal student. The master teaches them magic for life, and in return, the apprentice assists the master as needed. This tradition once existed here as well, but over the past few centuries, it has been replaced by the school system."
"What do you think? If you become Baba Yaga’s and my apprentice, we can teach you some of our magical techniques."
"…I don’t have a problem with that, Professor," Harry replied hesitantly. "But why me?"
"Let’s just say it’s because you have ‘talent.’" Viktor said indifferently.
Talent. That word again.
Harry looked up at him, still unable to grasp what kind of talent he supposedly had. He had been at Hogwarts for more than half a semester now and had yet to discover any particularly outstanding magical abilities.
If anyone had talent, he felt it should be Hermione.
But Viktor’s motives were clear—he was trying to bring Baba Yaga a child.
Baba Yaga was close to completely erasing her abnormalities. If she took in a student like Harry, someone uniquely entangled with fate, it might accelerate the process and eliminate any remaining uncertainties.
In fact, this was the real reason Viktor had invited Harry over for dinner.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Viktor suddenly added:
"Since you’ve agreed, Harry, I’ll give you an initiation trial. Complete this trial, and you’ll learn an important piece of magic—and truly become one of ‘us.’"
"The trial is a riddle:
"I have no form, yet I cannot be ignored;
I create something from nothing, yet I am not a miracle;
Some call me the source of magic, the foundation of all unseen knowledge—
So tell me, what am I?"
