"Don't move, or else if my hand slips, you might tear the Sorting Hat!"
The Sorting Hat's panicked screams forced Alina to raise her voice to ensure that Fawkes on the central table would be able to hear her.
There was no question that Dumbledore's faithful Phoenix companion of several decades knew the importance this babbling hat held for Hogwarts. Intelligent and loyal, it was certain to be very cautious when making its choice.
In this fashion, both the Phoenix flames and the sharp beak posed no threat to Alina.
Just as Alina expected, Fawkes appeared to move a hair slower when facing down the Sorting Hat.
"A chance!"
Seizing the moment when Fawkes's beautiful eyes were brimming with confusion and its golden beak was frozen in the air, Alina used the wide brim of the Sorting Hat to cover the pitiful Phoenix's head.
"See? It was simple!"
Now that she had successfully covered the Phoenix's head with the Sorting Hat, Alina smugly arched an eyebrow. One hand embraced Fawkes's warm body while the other gently stroked its trembling feathers. She began to speak in a warm and soothing tone.
"Don't be afraid. I didn't prepare the cooking tools today, so I won't be eating you for now."
Gulu~~
Fawkes trembled, replying to Alina with a pleading wail.
With it beak being restricted by the Sorting Hat, the golden-red bird could only quietly crouch down on the table. It didn't dare to move for fear that the wicked silver-haired devil on its back might become unhappy and use its beak to pierce through the Sorting Hat.
"Idiot, so you've caught the Phoenix, but now what?"
The people in the portraits had their unique methods of communication. A young witch with dark hair appeared in a frame near the bookshelf, lightly harrumphing as she spoke.
Another antique trying to pick a quarrel with her? The silver-haired half-Veela helplessly opened her mouth and prepared a retort, but then she heard the witch abruptly change the topic.
"Phoenixes don't fear fire and don't fear high temperature either. Although I've never cooked a Phoenix before, I've already confirmed when trying to barbecue an Ashwinder that this method is not plausible. Have you carefully thought about how you're going to cook it?"
Eh?
Barbecued Ashwinder...
It sounded like a very delicious dish. Was there a friend among the Headmasters of Hogwarts that enjoyed the same pleasures as her?
Alina did not answer, choosing to first curiously examine the dark-haired young witch. When she saw the name and introduction under the title, she immediately turned respectful.
Phyllida Spore, a Headmistress of Hogwarts who unfortunately died in the year 1408 after accidentally ingesting poisonous Snakepool Grass. She was a famous Herbologist and the author of 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.'
She was essentially the female Shennong of the European Magic World. If not for this fearless Herbologist, the level of magical medicine in the Magic World would have been pushed back by many years.
As she thought of this and looked down at the trembling Fawkes, Alina felt all her guilt disappear. As it turned out, what she was doing was simply for the sake of a greater ideal.
"Headmistress Phyllida, you are correct. The cooking method I earlier proposed truly was a little inappropriate. Magical creatures can't be thought about through the lens of ordinary conventions."
After a little thought, the unyielding Alina sincerely nodded her head, generously admitting her error.
As expected of a witch who could become Headmistress of Hogwarts! Even after several hundred years, the intelligence remaining in her portrait could still instruct future generations.
The fantastic creatures of the Magic World each had their traits. If one stubbornly insisted on treating them by their external appearances and cooking them according to the fashion of the Non-Magic World, it would be a reckless waste of the gifts of nature.
Since ancient times, humans had a habit of eating cooked food over raw meat because cooking with high temperatures would kill germs. Not only did this make the meat keep for longer, but it was also healthier and easier to digest. Also, cooked meat often had a more satisfying texture.
But while Phoenixes looked like golden-red turkeys, in reality, one could not cook them exactly as one would cook other birds.
These were magical creatures that were reborn in the fire; every piece of meat had already been rigorously sterilized in high temperature, a perfect and top-class ingredient that did not require any additional cooking.
"In other words, I can actually just slice Phoenix meat into thin pieces, prepare a bowl of cold water and a small dish of dipping sauce, and then after dipping the meat in ice water, I can cover it in a thick layer of sauce and put it straight into my mouth.
"The contrast between ice and fire paired with an explosive seasoning is probably the most delicious flavor in the world."
Alina mused to herself as she stroked Fawkes's soft feathers. Swallowing her saliva, she frowned in annoyance.
"But this is extremely demanding on the freshness of the meat. It's not like I can go and catch a Phoenix every time I want to eat its meat. If I'm not careful and end up killing it, I'll have to wait for it to slowly mature again."
The mutterings of the silver-haired girl caused Fawkes to shudder once more, and its head restrained by the Sorting Hat began to sway around in panic as it tried to breakthrough.
"Be good, and don't make trouble. I'm thinking."
Sensing the Phoenix's unease, Alina warmly patted its wing.
"Relax. I don't normally like eating sashimi, ah, that's raw meat, by the way, because there's no skill in that."
"True. Eating it raw is a little too barbaric. We are witches, after all."
Within her portrait, Phyllida Spore nodded in approval; then, she folded in her arms in perplexity. "But besides that, it's truly very difficult to find a way of cooking Phoenixes."
At some point, all the portraits in the Headmaster's office had awakened, and all of them watched with bated breath as this human and portrait carried on with their dangerous conversation.
"Wait a moment, Headmistress Phyllida, I've thought of away."
As Alina unconsciously moved her finger along the contours of Fawkes's wing muscles, she had a flash of insight and happily explained it to Phyllida Spore.
"Have you heard of how the fishermen of the Non-Magic World take care of excess fish?"
"Mm? You're talking about salted fish..."
The dark-haired young witch nodded in approval.
"That's an excellent method. You only need to heavily salt the wings and thighs of the Phoenix and place them in a cool and dry place where they can slowly air out, and that will allow them to be stored for a very long time."
!!!
Fawkes's struggles intensified, and its long beak began to thrust forward, causing a slight bulge to appear on the Sorting Hat.
"That's right. In this way, during the winter, you only need to cut off a small piece of Phoenix meat and put it in some soup, boiling out the warm magic of the Phoenix. Even the smallest bowl would be enough to instantly warm the body."
It was rare for the silver-haired girl to find a kindred soul in the Magic World, and she happily added on to Phyllida's words.
After a moment's pause, Alina wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and somewhat remorsefully said, "As expected of the great witch that wrote 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.' If only I had met you earlier, Headmistress Phyllida."
"Please, you're too much. In all these years, you're the witch with the most courage to explore the unknown that I've ever met."
The dark-haired young witch bashfully waved a hand, but it was obvious that Alina's politeness had been very effective on her.
Phyllida Spore gave the clever silver-haired girl a satisfied glance. After a moment's thought, she raised a finger and slowly said, "With regards to cutting magical substances, I have a small trick here I could teach you..."
Gulu~~
Gu~~
At this moment, Fawkes suddenly made several strange cries, its restrained neck swaying back and forth, not caring that it might damage the Sorting Hat.
After that, Fawkes opened its massive golden-red wings and beat down, immediately taking flight.
"Ah? AAAAAH??!"
Alina, who had just been about to hear about Headmistress Phyllida's little trick, felt her body tilt. She subconsciously grabbed the brim of the Sorting Hat and pulled, trying to control Fawkes.
But this silver-haired girl was often outmatched by fish, and the disparity in strength was even greater with this Phoenix that could carry along several adults in flight.
A second later, Alina was easily whisked into the air by Fawkes like she was made of paper, unable to stop it in the slightest.
Her hands steadfastly held onto the brim of the Sorting Hat as the Phoenix circled the office. The silver-haired girl suddenly recalled a certain idiom: when riding a tiger, it's hard to get off.
As the Sorting Hat covered Fawkes's head, the frightened Phoenix began to fly around Dumbledore's beautiful and spacious office like a headless fly.
The silver-haired girl on its back grimly held onto the pitch-black hat so that she didn't fall.
"Leftleftleft!!
"Ah, stupid bird! Stop flying already! I'm not eating you today!
"To the right, the right! Don't go toward the bookshelf!"
Thump!
There was a tooth-aching groan from the bookshelf as it slowly toppled to the ground, scattering books all over the floor like petals.
"Stop! Stop! Stop! You're going to hit the chandeli—"
Duang!
Fawkes snapped off several candlesticks, which toppled to the floor.
"Don't come over! Getaway!"
"Oh, dear God, someone informs Dumbledore."
Alina, who had narrowly managed to avoid a crash, heard the prestigious former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts cry out in alarm.
"Hold on! The Headmasters' portraits are in that direction..."
The girl raised her head, and her pupils constricted. The next target was the portraits of the Headmasters. Some of these portraits were unique, and it would be a great pity if they were damaged. After all, she didn't know if Dumbledore could repair them.
More importantly, she felt that those Headmasters had some rather interesting ideas.
"Forget it!"
Gritting her teeth, Alina pulled on the two sides of the Sorting Hat and moved her body along with the force of inertia, barely managing to adjust the bird's head so that it aimed at another part of the room. Then, with a look of grim determination, she curled up her body to minimize the inevitable damage.
Cling! Crash! Crush!
The frightened Fawkes flew into the table that it had been standing on a few moments ago like a crashing airliner, scattering the various snacks everywhere before finally coming to a stop right in front of Dumbledore's wooden desk.
The ink jar on Dumbledore's desk rolled over and soaked the letters laid out upon it.
The force of inertia carried Alina's small body into the portraits of the Headmasters. As the girl panicked, she managed to grab onto the edge of a wooden frame, slightly slowing her down, and then she slowly slid down into a corner of the office.
Thud!
A few seconds later, a teetering wooden frame fell from the wall, and then she heard Phineas's enraged roars.
"I want you expelled! In my era, you would have been expelled!"
Fine. Alina already knew which Headmaster's portrait she had accidentally brought down.
"I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose."
Alina smiled. Sitting up, she massaged her sore shoulders and patted the edge of the frame.
"Besides, Headmaster Phineas, your portrait is very solid. Relax, relax."
Alina suddenly realized that there was an old parchment scroll hidden behind Phineas's portrait that was densely covered in words.
Was this some sort of hidden spell or charm? Or perhaps a clue left by the founders to where they kept their treasures hidden?
The silver-haired girl's eyes lit up as she looked around. Her lips curled upward as she reached out to take the parchment scroll and see what was written within.
Creak.
There was a soft sound from the entrance as if someone was preparing to come in.
Dumbledore was back!
Alina turned solemn as she hastily stuffed the parchment down her collar and then began to weep on the floor as if she was in pain.
————
Dumbledore opened the door and stared in shock at his devastated office.
It was like some fierce battle had just taken place in the Headmaster's office.
One side of the chandelier on the ceiling had been twisted into a bizarre shape while candied fruits, cookies, and other small snacks were scattered across the floor. The massive wooden bookshelf had fallen toward the center of the room, adding papers and books to the chaos. The ink jar, which was still rolling around, was continuing to spread ink all across his desk.
The previously breathtakingly beautiful Fawkes was now a disheveled mess of feathers, dejectedly squatting in front of his desk. Next to it was the shabby Sorting Hat, while the silver-haired Alina was curled up in the corner with a pained expression. The portrait of Headmaster Phineas, which had somehow fallen, obscured more than half of her body.
"Cough. So, what in the world happened here?"
This Headmaster of Hogwarts, who had the rare respect of all the students and faculty, the greatest wizard of the era, after so many years, once more appreciated the taste of bewilderment.