Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

After a brief discussion, Dylan and his group reached a consensus to find a restaurant nearby for lunch first. As for the subsequent sightseeing route, they would focus on planning it later after they had filled their stomachs. Perhaps the experience of riding the Muggle plane was too novel and left a very good impression on everyone. Not only Harry and Ron, but even Sirius Black and the Longbottoms were no longer very interested in traditional attractions such as wizarding ruins. Instead, they wanted to experience more of the new things in the Muggle world and feel a different atmosphere.

Seeing that everyone was inclined to try the Muggle restaurant, Fleur Delacour didn't hesitate any longer and actually found a nearby restaurant near the Ministry of Magic. She led the group along a path paved with smooth cobblestones, with unknown green plants growing on both sides of the path, their branches and leaves swaying gently in the breeze. When they reached the corner of the path, Fleur stopped and pointed ahead: "This is it."

Following her gaze, everyone saw a small restaurant nestled between an art gallery filled with paintings and a secondhand bookstore filled with old books. The storefront was inconspicuous, with a thin layer of dust covering the window, making it seem rather unremarkable. However, through the glass, one could vaguely see the warm yellow light shining from inside, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Ron looked at the slightly worn-out little shop and couldn't help but shudder. His face showed a look of resistance, and his tone was full of unease: "Oh... I have a bad feeling that the food here might be as bad as the food we've had before."

Surprisingly, Fred and George, who are usually fond of joking around, did not refute Ron this time. Instead, they nodded in unison, their faces unusually serious, agreeing with Ron's words: "To be honest, we also feel that something is a bit off. This store looks almost the same as the previous one."

Ginny stood to the side, a troubled look on her face, clearly recalling some unpleasant memories. Seeing this, Luna couldn't help but walk over curiously and asked softly, "Ginny, why do you all look like that? Is there something wrong with this restaurant?"

“It’s like this…” Ginny’s voice was a little weak, and there was a hint of lingering fear in her eyes. “Not long ago, when we were in England, we went to a Muggle restaurant. The restaurant looked similar to this one, small and inconspicuous. But the food that the Muggles served… I really didn’t expect that Muggles usually eat so poorly.”

“You have no idea how awful it was!” Ron said in a low voice, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to suppress the urge to vomit. “One of the dishes was called eel jelly. The texture and the taste were even more unbearable than the worst potion Professor Snape ever concocted.”

He paused, as if recalling an even more terrifying scene, "The moment I put it in my mouth, I even had a hallucination and saw the big spider that I used to hold in my arms when I was a child. I was so scared that I almost spat out what was in my mouth."

“Uh…” Harry stood next to Ginny, listening to Ron’s description. He touched his nose awkwardly and said softly, “Actually, I think it’s fine. It’s not as exaggerated as you guys say. Maybe you’re just not used to Muggle tastes.”

“Harry makes a good point.” Hermione pushed up her glasses and analyzed objectively, “It’s mainly because the hogwarts elves are so skilled, and Mrs. Weasley’s cooking tastes familiar to us, which is why we find Muggle food hard to accept. Actually, many Muggle dishes are quite unique; we just haven’t gotten used to them yet.”

Fleur Delacour glanced at Ron, Fred, and George's tense expressions and couldn't help but chuckle. She said with a touch of pride, "This is France, not England!" She emphasized the word "France." "Please don't judge French cuisine by the standards of your terrible experience in an English Muggle restaurant. French cooking is world-renowned; every dish is meticulously prepared, and you will absolutely not be disappointed."

She paused, looked at everyone, and added in a calm tone, "Of course, Bill specifically asked me to take you to experience the Muggle restaurant this time. Mr. Hawkwood has also helped me a lot in the past, taking care of a lot of things in the itinerary arrangements. I will definitely make sure you are satisfied with your meal. If you really mind the appearance of this restaurant and don't want to try it, we can also go to a restaurant further away with a better environment. It is up to you to choose."

Just as everyone was still hesitating, the restaurant door was suddenly pushed open, and a diner who had just finished eating came out. As he left, a rich and tempting aroma of food wafted out through the crack in the door—the wheaty smell of toasted bread, the milky aroma of butter, and the charred aroma of some kind of meat, all mixed together, making one's mouth water.

Ron instinctively sniffed, the enticing aroma instantly dispelling his terrible memories of Muggle food. His eyes lit up, and his stomach rumbled loudly enough for everyone present to hear.

"Let's eat here then!" Harry smelled the aroma and immediately changed his attitude, his face showing anticipation.

Fred and George exchanged a glance and nodded in agreement. Their earlier resistance had vanished. Fleur de la Cour noticed the change in everyone's expressions and said with a smile, "Since everyone agrees, let's go in. However, there are quite a few of us, so the space inside might be a bit cramped. We'll probably only be able to have a simple meal to tide us over. We'll take you to try a more authentic French meal tonight."

After speaking, she pushed open the restaurant door first, followed closely by Dylan and his entourage, who filed in one after another. The welcoming bell hanging at the door rang out a series of crisp and melodious "ding-a-ling" sounds, breaking the tranquility of the restaurant. The hostess of the restaurant was squatting in the corner clearing the tableware. Upon hearing the bell, she immediately put down what she was doing, stood up, and looked in the direction of the sound. When she saw so many guests rushing in all at once, a clear expression of surprise instantly appeared on her face, and she subconsciously let out a series of exclamations.

Harry was stunned for a moment, completely not understanding what the other person was saying. He turned to Dylan beside him and asked blankly, "What did she just say? Was she welcoming us?"

Seeing Harry's bewildered expression, Dylan couldn't help but laugh and patiently explained, "This is a way the French express strong emotion, roughly similar to our common saying 'Merlin's beard!'" He paused, then added, "She said this mainly to express how many of us there are. Usually, they would only say this, and the more 'la's' follow it, the more surprised she is."

Harry nodded in understanding. The group found seats in the restaurant, and the already cramped space was instantly filled. Tables and chairs were packed tightly together; there were indeed no empty seats left. The restaurant owner quickly realized this and warmly greeted them, asking about their needs in heavily accented French English. Fleur Delacour immediately stepped forward and began speaking fluent French with the owner. The owner's gaze lingered on Fleur for a long time, her eyes filled with a mixture of amazement and scrutiny. As if suddenly recovering from her initial surprise, she let out a series of exclamations, her admiration even stronger than when she first saw the group, before finally calming down and turning to fetch the menu to begin ordering.

"Dylan just said that the more interjections a person uses, the more emotional they are?" Ron stroked his chin, thoughtfully watching Fleur's retreating figure. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, as if he had discovered something. "She saw Fleur just now and said so much... Okay, okay, I get it! She must be praising Fleur for being beautiful!"

Everyone in the restaurant couldn't help but laugh at the sight. Fred laughed especially heartily, slapping the table and saying, "Ronald, you should be shouting 'ohlala' a few times right now!"

“That’s right, that’s right!” George immediately chimed in, a mischievous grin on his face. “And you need to add a few more ‘la’s to show how much pain you’re in right now, and to echo the lady’s earlier remarks!”

The commotion was quite loud and immediately attracted the attention of the restaurant's hostess. She walked over with the menu, curiously peeked in the direction Ron was, and then turned to ask Fleur a few questions in French, her eyes full of concern.

Fleur Delacour shook her head at the hostess and whispered a few words of explanation, roughly saying that Ron had just accidentally bumped into the table and was fine. After hearing this, the hostess's face showed a sigh, her tone became low, and she let out a soft sigh. Harry noticed that the hostess's eyes seemed to be red and was a little puzzled, so he turned to Dylan sitting diagonally opposite him and asked in a low voice, "Dylan, can you understand what they're saying? The hostess seems to be in a bad mood."

"I don't know." Dylan was too lazy to translate.

Soon, steaming dishes were served, their rich aromas instantly dispelling the previous gloom. The country-style meat sauce terrine was creamy and smooth, paired with a special sauce for a rich flavor. The onion soup was simmered until tender, topped with a layer of golden cheese, and served with slices of freshly baked French baguette—crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, especially delicious when dipped in the soup. The Burgundy beef stew was a vibrant red, the beef melting in your mouth, the aroma of the red wine perfectly blending with the meat's flavor. There was also a cheese and fruit platter, with various flavors of cheese paired with fresh strawberries, blueberries, and grapes—a sweet and sour treat that cut through the richness and offered a satisfying texture. Every dish was exquisitely prepared and delicious. Everyone was instantly drawn to the food, forgetting everything else, and began to devour it with knives and forks, uttering satisfied exclamations from time to time.

“Indeed, there is a difference between restaurants!” Fleur de la Cour put down her knife and fork, raised her neck, and spoke with the haughtiness of a swan holding its head high, her tone filled with undisguised pride. “Especially English restaurants and our French restaurants, there is simply no comparison!”

“You’re wrong about that!” Ginny immediately put down her bread and retorted, “You’ve definitely never tasted my mother’s cooking! And the food made by the Hogwarts elves is so varied and delicious, it’s just as good as this! I think you should add the prefix ‘Muggle’ before ‘dining house’ to make it more appropriate!”

“Alright, since you put it that way, I’m willing to accept your correction.” Fleur Delacour shrugged indifferently, her tone casual. “I’ve heard about the food at Hogwarts, and it’s indeed very good. As for Mrs. Weasley’s cooking… I think I’ll have the chance to taste it someday.”

Upon hearing Fleur Delacour's words, Ginny immediately raised her eyebrows, her eyes instantly becoming wary, as if she were on guard against something. She stared intently at Fleur, seemingly trying to decipher the deeper meaning behind her words.

Fleur de la Kurle clearly noticed Ginny's change in expression. Instead of paying attention, she found it quite amusing, a faint smile playing on her lips and a hint of teasing in her eyes. The atmosphere around the table suddenly became somewhat subtle. Everyone else noticed the tension between the two, but they all tacitly remained silent, simply lowering their heads to continue enjoying their food.

Just then, the restaurant door was pushed open again, a crisp bell rang, and two men in woolen robes stepped in. Their steps were steady, and their expressions were serious. They were clearly not ordinary diners. Everyone's attention was drawn to the robes they wore—these woolen robes were the standard robes of the French Ministry of Magic, exactly the same as those worn by the staff they had seen at the Ministry of Magic before.

After entering the restaurant, the two did not look around, but went straight to the hostess and asked a few simple questions. The hostess became nervous and answered quickly, occasionally wiping the corner of her eye.

A moment later, one of the men lightly waved his wand at the restaurant owner, clearly casting a forgetting spell. The two did not linger and turned to leave the restaurant, their eyes sweeping over Dylan and his group with a sharp, scrutinizing gaze.

“One of the gentlemen… has a very strong Auror aura.” Frank Longbottom, with his years of experience as an Auror, keenly sensed something. He turned to Fleur and asked with certainty, “Miss Delacour, you must have understood their conversation, right? Can you tell us what they were saying?”

“Mr. Longbottom, your judgment is correct.” Fleur Delacour nodded and explained earnestly, “One of the gentlemen is indeed an Auror from the French Ministry of Magic, and the other gentleman, judging from his badge, should be an employee of the Department of Magical Creature Management and Control.” (End of Chapter)