# Ron-Weasly book 1. V2. Interludia 1

Аноним Горный-Цветок

Aunt Petunia teaches Harry how to cook. The chatter of friends by the fireplace.

Interlude 1 Harry learns to cook.

The kitchen of the Dursleys' house on Privet Drive, early summer morning. Petunia stands at the stove, stirring oatmeal in milk. The favorite delicacy of an unloved nephew. Ten-year-old Harry is standing nearby, diligently cutting bread for toast. Dudley is still asleep, he only came back in the evening yesterday, after walking with friends. So he sleeps it off, and then goes for a walk again. And Harry gets up early in the morning with his aunt.

Petunia glances at her nephew, stirring the porridge, and says sternly, but not maliciously:

"Cut the bread more evenly, Harry. Toasts should be the same thickness, otherwise they will roast unevenly. And don't press the knife so hard against the board - you'll only get tired faster that way. Keep it steady, but easy."

Almost all of my aunt's attention is occupied with porridge, she also likes to eat it for breakfast. But Dudley, like her husband, prefers scrambled eggs and bacon. Although my aunt sometimes makes them omelets. Harry nods, trying to follow his aunt's movements. He learned to cook from the age of eight. His fingers are already deft, but he keeps a close eye on Aunt Petunia's hands. She promised that if he cooked well, she and Uncle Vernon would pay for him to attend a prestigious culinary college. Aunt Petunia told me that she learned to cook there herself, and then worked as a chef in a restaurant until Dudley was born.

Harry watches as his aunt stirs the porridge.

"Why doesn't the oatmeal stick to this pan? Mrs. Figg's always burns. We cooked together several times. She constantly grumbles that it's because she's not a magician. And she talks incessantly about the cats that used to live with her. Aunt Petunia, are you a witch?"

Petunia smiles a little.

"Because I stir it in time and keep the heat on medium. And I chose a saucepan with a thick bottom. Magic has nothing to do with it, Harry, it's just an experience. And don't you dare say something like that in front of Vernon, or he'll lock you in the closet again. You know how nervous he is about everything.

Ten minutes later, the porridge is almost ready.

"You will set the table. Dudley will be awake soon, and Vernon will be down in twenty minutes. Everything should be ready."

Harry nods and begins to arrange the plates, cups, and spoons. He already knows that Uncle Vernon drinks tea with two lumps of sugar, aunt - without sugar, and Dudley - with three spoons and milk. And don't forget a cup of tea.

Harry timidly asks

"Aunt, can I make an omelet with sausage or scrambled eggs with bacon for Uncle Vernon today?"

Petunia thinks about it, then nods to herself.

"Harry's scrambled eggs, take the sliced bacon out of the fridge."

They cook together. Petunia puts her favorite porridge on deep plates for Harry and herself, and the kid roasts bacon first, and then pours eggs into the pan.

Petunia puts porridge on plates and grumbles:

"Not bad. Your bacon is not too dry this time. It will be even better next time."

Harry smiles, which is almost a compliment.

"Today we will learn how to cook chicken soup with egg noodles."

"Aunt Petunia, will you teach me how to cook your signature meat pie? Well, the one you make for the holidays."

The boy asks timidly.

"Later, Harry. For now, let's learn how to cook simpler dishes properly."

***

Six months later, Petunia decided to teach Harry how to cook her signature meat pie. Six months later, Petunia decided to teach Harry how to cook her signature meat pie.

The woman washes her hands and takes out fresh chilled pork meat from the refrigerator.

"First we'll make minced meat. Put the meat through a meat grinder, but not too finely. We need a texture."

Harry cuts the meat into pieces and turns the handle of the meat grinder, trying to take his time. Young Harry is interested in everything, he really wants to repeat his aunt's pie.

"Why add onions and garlic to the meat? They will be felt." Harry wipes his tears with a napkin. Petunia, calms the kid down. She puts aside the peeled and finely chopped onion.

"They will, but not abruptly. They give a depth of taste. And don't forget to chop the garlic finely - large pieces will spoil the whole impression."

She shows you how to knead the dough, how to roll it out smoothly, and how to lay out the meat filling. Harry watches carefully, memorizing the movements.

"Now make incisions on top of the dough - shallow so that steam escapes. And brush with egg for a ruddy crust."

Harry breaks an egg to get the yolk and smears the top of the pie with a brush.

When the pie goes into the oven, Petunia says something like praise for the first time:

"You're doing great. You're attentive to details. This is important in cooking. You'll enjoy college, just like I did at the time."

Harry smiles. For him, these words mean more than any reward. Later, at Hogwarts, these skills helped Harry out more than once:

∙ He could make a simple breakfast in the common room by the fireplace while the rest of the students were still asleep and Ron was out jogging;

∙ I've shared food with Ron more than once, who sometimes forgot to eat because he was so engrossed in playing magic chess with set pieces in magical autonomy mode; The game sometimes dragged on, but dinner had already passed. And Hermione used to stay up late reading.

∙ In difficult times, he knew how to keep his strength up with simple but satisfying food.

One day, when Harry and Ron were sitting by the fireplace and eating a meat pie made by Harry, Ron said admiringly:

"Listen, you're a good cook. Where did you learn?"

Harry, smiling, replied

"Aunt Petunia taught me. She said that everyone should be able to take care of themselves. She even persuaded Uncle Vernon to pay for culinary college for me after graduation."

Hermione is trying a piece of Harry's pie in the kitchen on a cloudy November day.

"Really? I thought they... well... didn't treat you very well."

Harry shrugs his shoulders:

"They wanted me to grow up, as my aunt puts it, normal. And then I got a job, instead of sitting on their neck. Besides, my aunt likes to teach me how to cook. She's bored at home.

Ron takes another bite of the pie, licks his lips, and nods approvingly:

"Well, special thanks to her for that. Delicious! My mom doesn't let me cook at all. He says: girls should cook, and boys should provide for the family. And if the family is rich, house elves do everything around the house. Like Grandfather Ignotus and Grandmother Lucrezia. And the girls are learning how to arrange receptions."

Harry laughs, feeling his chest warm - not only from the food, but also from the realization that these lessons have become part of his strength.