HP: The Boy who Mastered Lightning Chapter 11: 11 - Hagrid

Alan had perford nearly a thousand similar spell-casting exercises in the past month, practicing every day until his magic and physical strength were exhausted.

In terms of defense, Alan could accurately position a solidified invisible wall at any precise location, and he had beco skillful at casting low-density, slowing versions of the Impedint Jinx. He even developed an Impedint Shield—a transparent barrier about one ter in diater centered on his wand. This ensured a degree of defense even while moving, and he could summon or dismiss it at will without having to wait for the spell to expire naturally.

"Phew, that's enough for today. After practicing this jinx a while longer, I'll have it fully grasped. I have a feeling it won't be long before I can perform it wandlessly." Alan wiped the sweat from his forehead, satisfied with his progress.

As he began to tidy up the courtyard, the brick wall suddenly cracked open. Soone had activated the entrance to Diagon Alley. A burly man over three ters tall erged, wearing a dusty fur coat. His dark hair and beard were long and tangled, reaching his shoulders. Each step he took was heavy, carrying an oppressive presence.

"Mr. Hagrid, long ti no see. Coming from the Alley?"

Although the Leaky Cauldron's business was slow, a few custors still trickled in daily, and patrolling Aurors often stopped for a drink after their shifts. Having spent his recent afternoons practicing in the courtyard, Alan had t several regulars.

Hagrid was one of them. According to Tom, Hagrid was the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts and the gakeeper of the Forbidden Forest. He occasionally ca to the pub for a drink or to purchase supplies for the school—at least, that was the official version.

"Oh, Mr. Wilson! Still staying in the courtyard, I see? I was originally ant to escort a new student to buy school supplies, but it turns out the family wasn't entirely Muggle. The boy's father was a Squib, you see, so he was quite familiar with the way to Diagon Alley. There was no need for after all."

Alan looked at Hagrid, montarily speechless. He had asked how Hagrid had ended up coming from the Alley, not for a full report on his day. Alan had been in the courtyard all afternoon and hadn't seen a single soul pass through the wall until now. If Hagrid wasn't needed, how had he been inside for so long?

Alan didn't press the point. "Is that so? Are you preparing to head back to Hogwarts then?"

"Haha! I accompanied them to the entrance early this morning. When I found they didn't need my help, I just went for a stroll through Knockturn Alley. Who knew I'd be wandering until evening? I haven't even had lunch yet. I think I'll stay here for a bite and a drink."

In Alan's opinion, Hagrid was overly simple and honest. After only a couple of sentences, the man was ready to share his entire life story.

Alan finished packing his gear and chatted idly with Hagrid as they entered the pub through the back door. "Hagrid, what did you find during your stroll? That's a massive bag you've got there."

"This? Dragon liver! I got a huge bargain today. Guess how much this whole pound cost? You'll never guess! You won't find a deal this good anywhere else, haha!" Hagrid boasted happily, and Alan's interest piqued.

"Dragon liver? Is that actually from a dragon? I've never seen it. Can I take a look?"

"Of course, my friend!" Hagrid generously opened the package.

"It looks incredibly fresh. How do you plan to use it? Potions?" Alan noted that even though it had been sliced, the color was remarkably vibrant.

"Haha, I was planning to mash it into a paste when I got back and try it that way," Hagrid laughed.

"Can you even eat that?" Alan poked the at; it was as firm as if it had just been harvested.

Hagrid chuckled. "Of course! I've even eaten dragon at before, though things are so chaotic now that not many people sell it. And even if they do, not many are brave enough to buy it."

Alan considered it. Biologically, he figured it couldn't be that different from calf or pig liver.

"Making it into a paste is a waste of a rare ingredient," Alan suggested. "Why not try sothing with more flavor? I'll show you what I can do. I can stir-fry so of this with scallions for you."

"You're only eleven, aren't you? You know how to cook?"

"Alan's cooking is excellent," Tom, the landlord, chid in from behind the bar. "I've been eating with him for the past two weeks, and I'm tempted to ask for lessons. If he ever wrote a magical cookbook, it would be a bestseller."

Since Alan moved in, Tom hadn't charged him for als on the condition that Alan did the cooking. Alan had looked through so of Tom's own cookbooks, but they were mostly a collection of household spells—Stirring Charms and Timing Charms—that prioritized convenience over actual taste.

"Is that so? Well, go ahead and give it a try then, Alan," Hagrid said, indifferent to the outco since it had been such a bargain anyway.

Alan took the liver into the kitchen. Handling it, he realized its uniqueness. According to Hagrid, it was old stock from a vendor in Knockturn Alley, yet it still held a faint, residual warmth and a sharp, wild scent.

Alan went to his room to gather the scallions he had grown on his windowsill. He prepped the dish with onions, ginger, soy sauce, and cooking wine, marinating the sliced liver before tossing it into a hot pan. Considering Hagrid's size, he whipped up several other side dishes as well.

Hagrid and Tom, lured by the aroma, watched intently as Alan brought the plates to the table.

After the first bite, Hagrid's eyes widened. "Delicious!" Alan took a taste himself. It was richer than any liver he had ever had—llow on the palate with a surprisingly crisp texture.

The mood in the pub lifted instantly. Tom even brought out a bottle of redcurrant rum to share with Hagrid. Before long, both n were pleasantly tipsy, with Hagrid loudly praising Alan's skills to anyone within earshot.