"I hope you do not mind an audience," Dumbledore said, sitting on a stool as well.
Harry shook his head. "Not at all. Thank you, Sir, and Inky." He took a deep breath and let it out smoothly before starting. In no time at all he had things arranged on the tabletop to his liking. The hob was turned on and a pan was warming over the open flame. He cracked three eggs into a mixing bowl and started beating them.
Dumbledore leaned forward, interested. Harry had transformed right in front of him. Gone was the shy boy, the clear reservation. This Harry moved with purpose, his motions crisp and thoughtful. He beat the eggs until it was completely homogenous, not a trace of white could be seen. A sprinkle of salt and white pepper went into the beaten egg and he swirled the mixture around for a few more moments. A knob of butter was placed into the heated pan and he waited for the butter to melt. As soon as the butter was melted and the bit of foam was gone, he poured the golden mixture into the pan.
He turned the heat to low and gently swirled the pan around, coating the entire pan with the egg mixture. Then he gently started to stir the eggs around, never ceasing and using smooth motions. He hummed softly, eyes focused on the pan, not noticing how Dumbledore and Inky watched with equal fascination. As soon as the eggs set in the pan, he started to roll them. He rolled the edge of the omelet over and lifted the pan and held it at an angle, using gravity as well as the fork to roll the egg into a long cylindrical shape. Finally, he lifted the omelet out and put it on a plate.
Dumbledore blinked. It smelled incredible; a savory scent underscored with butter. The omelet was uniform in shape and color, not a hint of brown in the golden hue. He blinked once more when Harry pushed the plate over to him. "For me?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes Sir. For letting me cook, since students aren't normally allowed in the kitchens." He began to beat another three eggs in the bowl, returning the pan to the heat.
"Well, if you insist. Thank you very much, Mister Potter." Dumbledore picked up a fork and cut the end of the omelet, marveling at the soft even texture. The egg held its shape well but the fork went through it easily, barely any resistance met. When he ate that bite of omelet however, he paused. The insides of the omelet were soft and smooth, almost creamy like custard. He could taste a pure egg flavor, accented with butter, flavored with salt and pepper. It fell apart easily as he chewed and his eyes opened wide when he swallowed.
"This is incredible," he praised, surprise and wonder in his voice. "What a wonderful French omelet!"
Harry's eyes opened with surprise. "Thank you, Sir," Harry beamed. "I'm pretty good at making them, I've practiced a lot."
"Pretty good? Amazing I would say," Dumbledore said as he ate more. "I have been to France and have more than a few made by chefs and this ranks up there."
Harry ducked his head, a shy but proud smile on his lips as he made another.
Inky had stared at Dumbledore with undisguised envy as he ate, but the expression melted clean away when the next omelet was placed before her. "This is for Inky?" she gasped, her eyes popping wide as she goggled at Harry.
"If you like," he said. "I'm sorry, I've never met House Elves before today. Do you eat?"
"We do! Thank you!" Inky did not hold back and she ate a very large bite. "Mmm! Very good!"
Dumbledore noticed that Harry stood there with a small and satisfied smile. "Surely you will make yourself one," he remarked.
"Oh! Uh, yes Sir," Harry said, startled. "May I make something else too? It'll take longer and I don't know how much longer I can stay. I think it's close to curfew."
"You are punished if you are out after curfew if you have no reason or are unaccompanied. Fortunately, you have reason and are with me," Dumbledore said kindly. "What else would you like to make?"
"Biscuits."
"Then go right ahead," Dumbledore said. "On two conditions. You are to make an omelet for yourself and enjoy it and that I receive some of the biscuits as well." Harry's smile made him smile and he watched as Inky eagerly gathered the necessary biscuit ingredients. He slowly finished his omelet, chewing thoughtfully. "You are quite comfortable in the kitchen."
"Yes Sir. It was one of my first chores and after I got good at it, it became my main one." Harry beat the butter and sugar together industriously.
"Do you enjoy cooking?" Dumbledore asked mildly.
Harry nodded. "I love it now," he said as he rubbed the creamed butter and sugar between thumb and pointer finger. "At first I didn't, but I came to really like it," he added off-handedly. Then he realized what he said and looked away.
Dumbledore filed the information away to be ruminated over later. "So you cook a lot when you are back at home?"
"Yes Sir. Like I said, it became my main chore and my…aunt and uncle like to entertain so I cooked for their parties and dinners."
Dumbledore waited for Harry to finish mixing eggs and flour and vanilla into the creamed butter and sugar. Once mixed, Harry added the chocolate chips and rolled out individual biscuits and laid them out onto the baking sheets. After putting them into the oven, Harry went back to the stove and made himself an omelet.
"What do you like to cook?" Dumbledore asked.
"Mostly British food aside from the omelet and a few other things," Harry said. "The Dursleys aren't too fond of foreign cookery but I'd love to try other things one day."
"I'm sure you will and have faith that you will do them justice," Dumbledore said sincerely. He did not say more, waiting for Harry to finish cooking and eating his own meal, noticing that Harry stood slightly apart when he did, not sitting with him or Inky. He frowned at that, once again filing the detail away.
His frown disappeared entirely when Harry pulled the baking sheets out of the oven. The biscuits smelled wonderfully, rich in sugar and chocolate and vanilla. They evoked a sense of warmth, a comfort that started deep inside. When Dumbledore bit into one, he reflexively caught the crumbs that fell, smiling with delight. "Delicious," he said. "Simply wonderful."
"Agreed!" Inky fairly gobbled her biscuit and another followed soon after. "Mister Potter is very good cook!"
"Thank you," Harry said with that small but proud smile. "You can share these with any of the other House Elves that want one," he said, pushing a tray over. The boy's smile grew at Inky's delight and at the other House Elves that drifted over.
Another detail to be remembered, but at least a more pleasant one. Dumbledore accepted a small handful of biscuits for himself. "I wish I could take more but Madame Pomfrey may fuss at me," he said with a mischievous smile. He grew solemn. "Perhaps we can arrange for you to cook more at another time."
Harry nodded emphatically. "Yes Sir. And thank you again for letting me do this. I've missed it a lot."
"You are welcome." He wrapped up the remaining biscuits and tapped the packaging with his wand. "Another handy spell to keep things fresher for longer," he said.
"I love magic," Harry grinned.
"As do I," Dumbledore said with a matching grin. "Now, let us get you back to your tower or else Professor McGonagall will fuss at me as well."
"Thank you, Mister Potter!" Inky said through a full mouth and a few of the other House Elves joined her with their thanks. "Hope to see you soon!"
"You're welcome! You can call me Harry though, it's odd when you call me Mister Potter." Harry waved happily and despite the many stairs back up to the tower, the trip felt short. After bidding Dumbledore good night, Harry went to his dorm room and not even the look from Seamus could ruin his good mood. He put the wrapped biscuits away in his trunk and got ready for bed, feeling the best he had ever since arriving at Hogwarts.
...
"Inky, a moment please."
A small crack heralded Inky's appearance. "Yes Headmaster?"
Dumbledore sat at his desk and looked at the House Elf. "Mister Potter's cooking was quite delicious."
"Yes Headmaster." Her ears flapped as she nodded emphatically. "Very good!"
"I would not expect someone so young to be so accomplished," he mused softly.
"Inky has never met a wizardling or witchling that could cook like that," she said. She looked pensive. "Not many older magicals can cook like that either."
"That is what I thought as well," Dumbledore said. "A French omelet is rarer here, but we have had omelets plenty of times. Biscuits as well. But there is something different with his, however."
"Inky agrees." She shrugged. "Not many magicals are so willing to cook for House Elves either," she said pointedly.
"No, they are not," Dumbledore agreed. "He seems used to cooking for others."
"Inky heard." She frowned. "Inky does not like what that means."
"I find myself curious about that as well," Dumbledore admitted. "I hope to learn more in time. Thank you, Inky."
She curtsied slightly. "Mister Harry is very kind," she said and popped away.
"Yes, yes he is," Dumbledore said softly to himself. He looked at the stand beside his desk, at his phoenix Fawkes noisily enjoying a biscuit. His companion had looked at the small stack of biscuits with undisguised want and had gleefully taken one when offered. The magical animal chomped on the treat with obvious pleasure.
"Talented, and very kind," Dumbledore repeated. He bit into another biscuit and looked out over the moonlit waters of the Black Lake. He chewed slowly, savoring the baked treat. He managed to save the rest and continued to look out over the grounds, lost in thought.