The Kitchen!
10: Chapter 10: Trailblaze!
The Kitchen!
The end-of-class bell for Defense Against the Dark Arts, for most Hogwarts first-years, meant liberation and an urge to rush toward the Great Hall to enjoy dinner.
But for Stelle, the bell was a clear signal—”Trailblaze time.” While the students around her chattered about what kind of pudding would be served for dinner, Stelle squeezed past the crowd, walking in the direction she remembered the prefect describing yesterday.
The Hufflepuff common room was near the kitchen, in the same corridor.
Stelle calculated in her mind, her golden eyes glittering in the dimly lit basement corridor, looking very much like a raccoon searching for its target in the night.
Her steps were light and firm, her gray hair swaying slightly with each stride.
Among the portraits hanging on both sides of the corridor, still lifes of fruit bowls and food began to increase in number.
Stelle stopped in front of an oil painting depicting a silver bowl piled high with fruit.
She remembered it being mentioned last night: tickle the pear in the painting.
Instead of acting immediately, she leaned closer, her nose almost pressing against the canvas as she closely observed the green pear, which looked exceptionally juicy and plump.
The pear in the painting seemed to shudder slightly under her intense gaze.
“Hmm…” Stelle pondered for a moment, then extended her index finger and carefully poked the pear.
The pear shrank back abruptly, let out a tiny, giggle-like sound, and wriggled, transforming into a green doorknob.
“Interesting,” Stelle nodded, approving of this interactive design.
Compared to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, which required crashing into a wall, this at least provided clear visual feedback.
She grasped the cool doorknob and gave it a gentle pull.
The oil painting swung open like a door, and warm, bright light along with the rich aroma of food instantly enveloped her.
What met her eyes was a vast room with a high ceiling, comparable in size to the Great Hall upstairs.
Gleaming copper pots and pans, polished like mirrors, stood all around, and at the far end of the room was a massive stone fireplace.
But the most eye-catching sight was the hundreds of tiny figures dressed in tea towels emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest—house-elves.
They were busily preparing dinner.
Some were directing knives and forks to chop vegetables, some were stirring cauldrons taller than themselves, and others were using magic to make plates fly in neat queues toward the shaft leading to the Great Hall.
Stelle’s sudden intrusion caused several elves near the door to stop their work, staring at this unfamiliar, gray-haired, gold-eyed little witch with curiosity and a hint of nervousness in their tennis-ball-sized eyes.
Stelle’s gaze swept quickly across the entire kitchen.
Skipping past the steaming delicacies and the glittering utensils, her eyes finally locked onto a large, exceptionally clean, and almost shining metal trash can in the corner.
!
Her golden eyes instantly lit up, almost glowing with physical light.
It was the look of someone laying eyes on a treasure.
Completely ignoring the house-elves staring at her—in her mind, focusing on one’s own goal was the ultimate sign of respect for others’ work—she marched straight toward the trash can.
Her stride even carried a hint of the swiftness she used when swinging her baseball bat.
Just as she was a mere three steps away from the trash can, her fingers almost touching its cool metallic surface, a squeaky yet highly respectful voice sounded beside her.
“Noble young lady!
Is there anything you need?
The kitchen is not a place where students usually come!” A house-elf who looked slightly older, with more white hair growing out of its ears than the others, appeared beside her with a *crack*.
It bowed slightly, its eyes full of inquiry.
Stelle’s movements froze.
She turned her head to look at the house-elf.
There was no annoyance at being interrupted on her face, only a matter-of-fact earnestness.
“Hello,” she said in a steady voice.
“I am here to explore the kitchen.
And to inspect this.” She motioned with her eyes toward the enticing trash can.
“In-inspect?” The elderly-looking house-elf, whose name was Bobo, seemed dumbfounded.
It had hosted many students who wandered into the kitchen by mistake or came to sneak snacks, but one who explicitly stated they wanted to inspect the trash can was a first.
“Yes,” Stelle nodded, then asked a very pragmatic question.
“Does this trash can only receive food waste, or can it also accept other types of waste?
For example, broken quills, or old parchment?” Bobo and the surrounding elves who had pricked up their ears to listen were all stunned.
This question was entirely beyond their realm of common sense.
“Uh…
m-mostly food-related, miss,” Bobo stammered in reply.
“But occasionally, other things from the castle are accidentally thrown in…” “I see.
It seems Hogwarts’ awareness of waste sorting and recycling still has room for improvement,” Stelle concluded thoughtfully.
Her gaze drifted back toward the inside of the trash can.
She even unconsciously rubbed her fingers together, looking eager to try.
Seeing her focused, even slightly longing expression, Bobo and the other elves exchanged bewildered looks.
Ultimately, Bobo seemed to understand something—albeit a completely wrong understanding.
It said in a pitying tone, “Oh…
poor young lady, are you hungry?
Before dinner?
Would you like something to eat?” As soon as the words left its mouth, before Stelle could reply, several elves quickly brought over a silver platter piled high with freshly baked cakes, pastries, and a cup of pumpkin juice.
Stelle’s attention was finally pulled back a bit by the fragrant food in front of her.
She looked at the platter, then at the friendly and expectant elves, and finally back at the trash can that was so close at hand.
Her eyes darted back and forth between the food and the trash can, clearly caught in a brief dilemma.
*Trailblazing must be done step by step.* She made her decision internally.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the platter.
Stelle looked around and found a vacant stone table nearby, used for temporarily holding ingredients.
She walked over, placed the platter on the stone table, and began to enjoy her snacks.
She picked up a honey-flavored cake, took a bite, and squinted her eyes in satisfaction.
“Delicious,” she said in a muffled voice.
But her gaze never once left the shining trash can.
While nibbling on her cake, she slowly paced half a circle around the stone table, changing her angle to get a clearer view of the trash can, as if admiring a precious piece of art.
After finishing a small cake, she wiped her hands with a handkerchief.
Then she walked back to the trash can.
This time she didn’t reach out to touch it, but merely bent forward slightly, hands behind her back, her golden eyes reflecting the faint glimmer of the metal bin.
She stared at it for several seconds, then, in a voice that mixed sincere admiration with the realization of discovering a fundamental truth, she declared softly: “A perfect arc, a spotless surface…
a truly professional vessel.”