A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 611 Lunchtime
"Pull ring".

"Harry Potter."

"I have admired you for a long time."

"Each each other."

Harry Potter replied, also observing the goblin he had met once before in Gringotts Hall.

The two unfortunate men tacitly avoided asking each other why they were in the kitchen of Azkaban, a prison feared by many, and also avoided sensitive questions such as Charles. A tacit understanding quickly developed between them, and they often chatted together.

"Would you like some chicken drumsticks?"

At lunchtime today, Harry pushed a plate of golden-brown, fragrant roasted chicken legs toward Pull-Up.

这些鸡腿是莫莉的家传做法，以鲜橙汁1个、橄榄油3匙、红甜椒粉2匙和干百里香、干牛至、蒜粉、洋葱粉、红糖、第戎芥末酱各1匙以及盐和黑胡椒适量做成酱汁；酱汁倒入4斤鸡腿后与洋葱片和碎大蒜拌匀，在烤盘里平铺成单层，表面撒上黄油片；大火炙烤15分钟使得鸡腿表面金黄后取出，盖上锡箔纸后大约120℃密封慢烤4个小时。

These chicken drumsticks are incredibly tender, with a rich and flavorful sauce. Large chunks of meat can be easily separated with a light touch of a fork. Ron even wanted to snatch Ginny's share when he saw it.

Thanks to the special collaboration between Dancing Grass Restaurant and Azkaban, and Dobby's relationship with the prison, it wasn't difficult to deliver such a meal as an extra one when delivering food to the prison.

Pull ring subconsciously swallowed.

Although fairies traditionally prefer raw meat, the enticing aroma of this plate of roasted chicken legs still strongly stimulated his appetite.

"Thank you." He accepted the kindness and politely pushed a small piece of cake in front of him towards her. "My wife made this. Please try it if you don't mind."

Fairies love to eat plant roots and stems. This carrot cake is made by incorporating fresh carrot shreds, raisins, and chopped nuts into a batter made with vegetable oil, adding a family-secret blend of spices to enhance the aroma, and then baking it slowly at a low temperature.

The cake is moist and fluffy, covered with a vanilla icing made from cream cheese, butter and powdered sugar. Every bite offers the natural sweetness of carrots and the crunchy texture of nuts.

In a place like Azkaban, it's really not easy to find someone you can have a normal conversation with.

At this moment, Harry and Griphook felt as if they had found a lifebuoy in the icy depths. Although their situation remained unchanged, they at least gained a temporary respite.

They didn't talk about unpleasant topics, but simply shared their food in silence, occasionally muttering complaints about their bosses or professors.

For Harry, the atmosphere was unusually peaceful.

After a pleasant lunch, an old alarm clock in the kitchen went off right on time.

Immediately afterwards, the huge sideboard against the wall made a dull sliding sound.

Harry stood up and said to Gripen, "I have to go to work."

Pull-Ring also got up and skillfully opened the cabinet door for Harry.

Inside, steaming hot lunches for the prisoners were neatly arranged.

Each lunchbox looked like a thick, heavy book. When Harry first saw it, he immediately thought of Hermione. The cover clearly showed the cell number, the prisoner's name, and today's menu.

Halil brought over a metal food cart, loaded all the lunch boxes onto it one by one, and finally, together with the pull ring, carried a large bucket of oatmeal and empty bowls onto it.

He took a deep breath, tried to concentrate, and used his brain-blocking technique to try to isolate himself from the pervasive negative emotions from the outside world. Only then did he push the food cart, leave the relatively safe kitchen, and enter the cold and gloomy prison corridor.

Azkaban remained as gloomy and damp as ever. The mold and moss in the corners had been cleaned by Harry and the bored Rapunzel just two days ago, but the bone-chilling cold and sense of despair could not be easily dispelled.

The wheels of the food cart made a rumbling sound on the stone corridor, which carried far and echoed back.

A tall, cloaked Dementor followed silently behind Harry, like a silent and terrifying overseer.

"Giddro Lockhart, dinner's ready."

Harry, expressionless, pushed open the iron door of a cell and placed a lunchbox on the cold floor. As the box opened, the interior space rapidly expanded, revealing a small table and chairs covered with an exquisite printed tablecloth.

The basket contained a long loaf of bread with a unique shape, resembling ears of wheat joined end to end.

The main course is French-style creamy mushroom stewed chicken. The creamy white sauce coats the golden-brown chicken, with brown mushrooms as garnish and a few sprinkling of bright green parsley. The aroma of butter and milk fills the air, followed by the fragrance of stewed chicken and a hint of wine, making it very tempting.

Beside the table was a candlestick emitting a soft candlelight, as well as a small bottle of wine and matching glasses.

Gilderoy Lockhart was very different from the other prisoners.

He looked exceptionally energetic today. Although his robe was very worn, it was neatly arranged, and his hair was carefully combed, as if he were preparing to attend a grand banquet.

“Oh my god! What a wonderful day!” he exclaimed excitedly to Harry, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s indifferent expression. “Hey, you know what? There are actually many kinds of baguettes! For example, this one shaped like a wheat stalk. In France, there’s also a thinner and shorter one called ‘Ficelle,’ which means ‘string’…”

“I think Hogwarts should really offer these courses,” he continued, his eyes gleaming with a strange light. “I’m going to formally request Professor Dumbledore to offer a bread-making art course. This should be a required subject for the regular wizarding exams and the ultimate wizarding exams. What do you think?”

Harry ignored the prisoner, who was clearly incoherent.

This guy said last time he dreamed that he was a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, defeating a basilisk and saving a double-yolk egg. Today he's changed careers and is making bread.

Harry closed the cell door expressionlessly, continued pushing the cart, and, escorted by the Dementors, headed to the next cell, intending to return later to collect the cutlery.

In the next cell, Harry simply placed a heavy wooden bowl on the ground and then scooped a full bowl of bland oatmeal porridge, seasoned only with a little oil and salt, from a large wooden bucket on the dining cart and poured it in.

This bowl of food meets the dining standards of the Hogwarts Headmaster, the President of the International Wizarding Union, and the Chief Wizard of Wizengamor.

However, when Harry arrived at the door of another cell and saw the prisoners inside, he was taken aback.

"It's you?!"

The cell contained a short, fat, and slovenly man who reeked of a mixture of smoke and alcohol.

He was Mundungus Fletcher, a man of many identities, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a thief and information broker, and a frequent short-stay guest in Azkaban.

Fletcher visibly relaxed when he saw Harry, and said urgently in a low voice, "Dumbledore is back! He was a little worried about you here, so... um... he arranged for me to come in."

"He made me deliberately stage a scene with Aberforth at the Pighead Bar so that I could be caught and brought in."

"How are you doing here? Is there anything I can do to help you?"

He was quickly drawn to the enticing aromas of the other foods wafting from the dining cart, then glanced at the bowl of oatmeal Harry had handed him—a bowl Black wouldn't eat even if he were an Animagus—and asked with disappointment and confusion, "You...you're going to eat this?"

Fletcher used to come here often, and the food was even worse back then than it is now.

If everyone is eating oatmeal, he won't say much.

However, it seems that some people can eat very well; you can tell from the aroma that there is fish, meat, and desserts.

People are more mad than people.

This differential treatment made him feel somewhat resentful, and he gestured with his eyes for Harry to give him some treats.

Harry remained calm and replied businesslike, "Thank you."

"I'm doing alright here for now; I haven't encountered any problems I can't solve."

"I can't talk to prisoners too much."

(End of this chapter)