Professor Sprout shot a guilty glance at Finlay McGregor, half-expecting the cranky old man to tear into her.
Luckily he was too busy brooding, quietly working on his strong black tea with the double shot of whiskey.
She relaxed a little and looked at Lucas, who was still waiting for her verdict.
It was real.
Lucas really knew how to cook.
Merlin’s beard—this eleven-year-old kid was a legit food genius!
“Lucas, your cooking is beyond anything I expected!
And that knife work… even magic couldn’t do it better!”
“It’s delicious, Lucas.
Best scone I’ve ever tasted!”
Lucas lit up with a bright smile and gave a small bow.
“Thank you, Professor Sprout.
Your praise means everything to me.”
He straightened, hazel eyes sparkling.
“I know you’re just being kind.
My skills are just regular techniques—nothing compared to real magic.
In the wizarding world there must be countless amazing dishes waiting for me to discover and master.”
“Professor Sprout, I can’t wait any longer.
How do I get to Hogwarts?”
Professor Sprout started to tell him he didn’t need to be modest, but Finlay McGregor slammed his fist on the table, rattling every cup and plate.
“No!
Lucas!
Some magic school I’ve never heard of?
What if it’s a cult scam?”
“Mr.
McGregor,” Professor Sprout said calmly, keeping her smile in place, “the wizarding world stays completely hidden from Muggles—sorry, that’s our word for non-magical people, no offense.
That’s why you’ve never heard of Hogwarts or believed in magic.” She drew her wand and gave it a small wave.
“Let me show you again.”
The dirty cutting board, plates, and knives that hadn’t been cleared yet floated up, hopped into the sink, and started washing themselves with dishcloths.
She waved her wand once more and spoke the spell out loud.
“Scourgify!”
Tea stains and scone crumbs vanished from the table.
“Mr.
McGregor, that’s magic.
Hogwarts teaches young witches and wizards how to use it—to protect themselves, explore the world, and chase their dreams.”
Chase their dreams!
Lucas stared at the spotless table, heart hammering.
In my last life… I screwed up big time.
I gave up on my dreams, wasted my talent, and buried my whole future.
Only when I was dying did I finally realize what I really loved, what I wanted to chase, and what kind of life I wanted.
Maybe whatever’s out there heard my regrets and gave me this second chance.
This time I swore I’d live in the moment and follow my passion.
I’ve been sharpening my cooking skills, dreaming of getting back on the food path and becoming the greatest chef and food expert in the world.
The Britain—Scotland—of 1991 is exactly like the late twentieth century I left behind: a total food desert.
I was planning to wait until I was older, travel the world, see if global cuisine was any different…
But now I’ve found magic!
This is a world with real magic, hiding an entire wizarding society!
And I’m a born wizard!
Just think what food could become with magic involved.
Wizarding dishes have to be completely different—way beyond anything Muggles could imagine!
What do wizards even eat?
I can’t wait to find out…
I have to go to Hogwarts.
My food journey starts right there!
“Grandpa!
Please let me go!” Lucas jumped in while his grandfather was still stunned by the magic.
“If I learn magic I could make crops ripen overnight, help the animals grow stronger, even change the flavor of our farm products!”
Finlay turned.
“Change the flavor?”
“Yeah!
Like chocolate milk or strawberry eggs—”
“Strawberry eggs?
That’s ridiculous!”
“People would love it!” Lucas grabbed his grandfather’s hand.
“Think about it, Grandpa—a magical farm!
The McGregor name would live on forever with this land!”
Professor Sprout opened her mouth.
She had been about to explain that the Statute of Secrecy and wizarding law strictly forbid using magic in front of Muggles.
Even after graduation, Lucas would have to shield the farm with spells to keep it separate from the non-magical world.
He definitely couldn’t shock the whole planet.
But Lucas gave her a quick, discreet wave of his hand.
Finlay looked into Lucas’s hopeful eyes, then at the kitchen tools still cleaning themselves.
“The whole world would know about McGregor Farm?”
“Of course, Grandpa,” Lucas said.
The old man pressed his lips together.
“You coming back?
Every year?”
“Every holiday.
I promise.”
Finlay McGregor went quiet.
The only sound was the kettle bubbling on the stove.
After a long pause he looked at Professor Sprout.
His voice was rough.
“Professor, Lucas lost his parents the day he was born.
I raised him myself.
As long as I’m breathing, nobody’s going to hurt him.”
“Unless I see Hogwarts with my own eyes and know there really is a magic school, I’m not agreeing to anything.”
Lucas jumped up, thrilled.
For his stubborn, slightly paranoid grandpa, that was already a huge win!
He turned excitedly to Professor Sprout.
All they needed now was for her to take them for a quick look at Hogwarts—
“I’m sorry,” Professor Sprout said, her smile freezing.
“I’m not sure… it might be difficult.”
Lucas froze.
Finlay’s face went dark.
“What?”
Professor Sprout spoke fast.
“The Statute of Secrecy forbids showing the wizarding world to any Muggle—even you, as Lucas’s guardian—”
“His only guardian!” Finlay slammed the table again.
“Yes, of course, we understand completely,” Professor Sprout said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Ministry rules let me take you with Lucas to Diagon Alley in London.
It’s the main wizarding shopping district where he’ll buy everything he needs for school.
But you cannot step foot inside Hogwarts itself.”
“I’m truly sorry.
In a thousand years there’s never been an exception.
Of course I’ll take your request to the headmaster…”
“Professor Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had.
He might agree, but it still needs Ministry approval.
I have to be honest—the chances aren’t great—”
“Then my answer is simple: No!” the old man roared, face flushed with anger.
“If I can’t even see the place, who knows what shady crap you’re pulling!”
Professor Sprout stood up in a panic.
She knew that if Finlay McGregor, as Lucas’s only guardian, refused to let him attend, there was only one result.
Both of them would have their memories of this conversation wiped, and they would lose the wizarding world forever.
“Grandpa, calm down,” Lucas said, patting his grandfather’s back.
He gave Professor Sprout a quick nod.
“Professor Sprout will fight for us.
Let’s wait and see what she can do, okay?”
Professor Sprout saw the desperate hope in Lucas’s eyes and sighed.
“Of course.
I’ll do everything I can.”
But honestly… I’m not optimistic.
It’s not Dumbledore I’m worried about—it’s those Ministry pencil-pushers.
They won’t make an exception for some unknown Muggle-born kid.
In Hogwarts’ thousand-year history, plenty of Muggle-born students never made it through the gates for one reason or another.
Merlin… will Lucas even get to go?
Just then a sharp, distant dog bark cut through the air.