Scotland, the largest inland lake in the British Isles, is a small town on the shores of Loch Lomond.
There is a humble chapel on the south side of the town. Just behind the chapel, there is a small orphanage. Both the priest and the orphanage director are of Spanish descent named Benítez.
The orphanage is not large; most of the children are transferred from other orphanages, and there are only seven in total under Benítez's care.
Among many children, there is no doubt a pair of bright blue eyes like the lake, and Elena Kaslana with silver waist-length hair, is a particularly special existence.
Not only because she is the only girl with a surname, but more importantly, a few years ago, Elena managed the financial allocation of the entire orphanage and the three meals.
At this moment, a group of children sat around the kitchen door, watching Elena prepare breakfast for everyone.
Like most children in the orphanage, ten-year-old Elena is thinner than her peers and barely stands at 1.2 meters tall. She can only reach the kitchen counter by standing on a small wooden stool.
However, just by observing her skillful posture while cooking, no one would have thought she was a little girl of less than eleven years old.
In the flat-bottomed pan sizzling, the tempting aroma of fried eggs wafted, mixed with the smell of pre-baked slices of bread, making the children around the door involuntarily swallow.
Orphanage funding has always been tight. It is only when breakfast is served on Sundays that the smell can be sensed.
Next to the pan, a large black iron pan seems to be stewing some kind of bird. The bubbling soup has turned milky white with a few drops of golden oil floating on it, emitting a special and gentle fragrance. Just by smelling it, the fragrance can make people feel warm.
Elena placed the last piece of fried egg in the iron pot, lifted the spoon and tasted the bubbling soup beside it, lightly touched her mouth, seeming like it needed a bit more cooking.
Elena leaned over, looked at the now less bright fire, frowned, grabbed a stack of thick parchment envelopes on the table and shoved them into the oven, poking them with tongs. She let the flame rise again.
After doing all this, the girl hopped lightly off the small wooden stool used to reach, turned around, and looked at the little gluttons around the door, with a small face, clapping.
"Well, now everyone return immediately to the table! Otherwise, you won't want chicken soup today."
The girl placed her hands on her hips, trying to puff up her flat chest, attempting to appear more powerful, threatening with a fierce tone.
"Sister Elena, can the priest still have breakfast with us today?"
Bran, the youngest boy in the orphanage, asked. Perhaps due to his young age, he was particularly clingy and could be considered Elena's main rascal in the orphanage.
Elena shook her head and pushed Bran out of the kitchen while responding angrily.
"I have said many times that Dean Benítez's typhoid fever is not good, and it is easy to spread to all of you. However, I estimate that after one or two days of chicken soup, he should be fully recovered."
"Then..."
Bran tiptoed and looked over the wooden table towards the bubbling iron pan, swallowing saliva.
"After the dean falls ill, can we continue to enjoy round-crested Scottish chicken soup every day?"
Elena turned her head and gazed at the blazing fire beneath the iron skillet. Amidst the flames, a thick parchment envelope slowly curled and ignited, an elegant coat of arms flickered and vanished.
Despite nearly six years passing since she journeyed to this strange world, as a devoted fan of the Harry Potter series, she still recognized the coat of arms instantly: from the golden lion on a red background to the blue copper eagle at the bottom, the black badger on a yellow background, and the silver snake on a green background comprised the main body of the coat of arms. In the center of the coat of arms, there was a capital letter "H," the renowned emblem of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
However, even though she was a fan of the "Harry Potter" series in her previous life, it did not mean Elena was willing to immerse herself in the world of magic to accompany the trio on saving missions.
She had reborn; she did not wish to waste her precious time on a group of high school students (all at Hogwarts) and a rural terrorist, cunning and brave at most (Voldemort). The muggle world was on the verge of beginning. The Internet era was far more thrilling than the magical world.
As suspected, the Hogwarts letters were attached with a special magic. Not only did the address change to match her actual residence, but the school also possessed enchantments to determine if the young wizard truly opened the envelope to read its contents.
Therefore, she seized the owl promptly and burned the letter outright.
She believed that even if someone from the school came to investigate, she would resentfully withdraw her admission, wouldn't she?
Bending down, Elena stroked Bran's brown hair, removed a dark brown owl feather that had accidentally stained her hair, and tossed it into the fire behind him, the flames licking the feather with a crackling sound.
"Calm down. Before I open that envelope, this round-crested Scottish chicken soup will be here every day."
"So... what is a round-crested Scottish chicken then?"
Bran inquired curiously.
Elena shook her head, chose not to respond, stood up, concluded the discussion on the round-crested Scottish chicken, patted Bran on the head, and smilingly said,
"Alright, you'll find out when you grow up. Now go to the dining hall and sit down. After breakfast, you have to attend early lessons with everyone."