Scrapcooking, or an Adventure in the Divestiture of Germ-Awareness
written by Espin Sinclaire
The recollections of a bumbling first year as she traipses through cooking and magical cookery; written solely for the MCOOK class.
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
7
Reads
465
Chapter 1 – The Heart of the Castle
Chapter 1
1.1 Into the Kitchens!
The moment I stepped through the painting and into the kitchens, the hair on my arms stood up, my chest tightened, and I was sure I was going to be the first student in Hogwarts history to vomit within the first five seconds of Magical Cookery. It wasn’t that it smelt terribly bad. The sweet, buttery smell of caramelizing sugar normally would have made my mouth water. It was that I’m germophobic.
I don’t like the term “germophobic” – I’m simply germ-aware. You see, I adamantly believe that anyone aware of all those microscopic, disease-ridden bacteria colonizing and plotting on every deceptively clean surface would want to avoid them at any and all cost. And it wasn’t that the kitchens were particularly dirty, per se, it’s just that, well…
They’re in the basement.
There. I said it. The kitchens are in the basement of an old, molding castle in damp, damp Scotland, and said castle is chocked full of creatures. It’s nothing against Alphy and the other House-elves; they seemed pretty clean as far as House-elves go, thanks to the advent of laundry, and speaking to bubbly, little Alphy was positively delightful. My concerns flow more precisely from the giant, slimy, filthy basilisks known to have frolicked in the castle’s plumbing, the slobbering, flea-infested, three-headed dog rumoured to have once inhabited the third-floor corridor, the centaurs that are, to this day, allowed to just waltz right into the castle with nary a brush to their flanks. All the bacterial residents of these creatures like to migrate, as all bacteria are want to do, and the basement of an old, molding castle in damp, damp Scotland is just the perfect destination to set up a more permanent camp. At any moment, I was utterly surrounded by them, chittering and laughing at me, I just knew it.
The whole time Professor Dalloway as lecturing, I had to resist the urge to cast Scourgify on the whole room, though I’m suspicious of the effectiveness of that particular spell. I was driven to the point of total and complete distraction, scanning around helplessly for signs that the kitchens were kept to a higher standard of clean – brooms, mops, sponges, anything – but I would be disappointed. I’ve come to the conclusion that the kitchens must be cleaned solely by magic, likely courtesy of the House-elves, but the problem magic shares with bacteria, at least to First Year me, is that neither leaves an obvious nor comforting trace.
1.2 Mind Reader
I enrolled in Magical Cookery hoping to combat my germ-awareness. Err. Well, at least if I cook my own food I know precisely how devoid of germs and bacteria it is. The chef can’t spit in your dinner if you’re the chef, you know? That said, I was somewhat disappointed that I cut not a single carrot all evening. Professor Dalloway made up for this in part by being so charmingly funny and contemporary.
On the other hand, I’m an avid follower of history. The one thing that did pull me fully from my bacteria-fuelled daze was learning about all the gossip and rumours surrounding the Hufflepuff Common Room and its potential secret passageways. That the Chamber of Secrets and its secret passageways exist is, I think, enough to lend credit to the theory, especially if Salazar Slytherin was involved. I’d love the opportunity to scour the Common Room, but (and I can’t believe I’m saying this), alas, I am not a Hufflepuff. The idea that more history might abound both in the class and in the kitchens excites me, almost enough to explore every inch, nook, and cranny of the rooms, but I think I’ll have to speak to Alphy first, to determine how clean the inches, nooks, and crannies are. I’m not so stupid as to risk my wellbeing for the sake of a little excitement.
Oh, I’m buzzing with energy now though, just in the recollection. I hope there are more mysteries abound in the course, and more history still to learn. That will make the experience so much more bearable.
The moment I stepped through the painting and into the kitchens, the hair on my arms stood up, my chest tightened, and I was sure I was going to be the first student in Hogwarts history to vomit within the first five seconds of Magical Cookery. It wasn’t that it smelt terribly bad. The sweet, buttery smell of caramelizing sugar normally would have made my mouth water. It was that I’m germophobic.
I don’t like the term “germophobic” – I’m simply germ-aware. You see, I adamantly believe that anyone aware of all those microscopic, disease-ridden bacteria colonizing and plotting on every deceptively clean surface would want to avoid them at any and all cost. And it wasn’t that the kitchens were particularly dirty, per se, it’s just that, well…
They’re in the basement.
There. I said it. The kitchens are in the basement of an old, molding castle in damp, damp Scotland, and said castle is chocked full of creatures. It’s nothing against Alphy and the other House-elves; they seemed pretty clean as far as House-elves go, thanks to the advent of laundry, and speaking to bubbly, little Alphy was positively delightful. My concerns flow more precisely from the giant, slimy, filthy basilisks known to have frolicked in the castle’s plumbing, the slobbering, flea-infested, three-headed dog rumoured to have once inhabited the third-floor corridor, the centaurs that are, to this day, allowed to just waltz right into the castle with nary a brush to their flanks. All the bacterial residents of these creatures like to migrate, as all bacteria are want to do, and the basement of an old, molding castle in damp, damp Scotland is just the perfect destination to set up a more permanent camp. At any moment, I was utterly surrounded by them, chittering and laughing at me, I just knew it.
The whole time Professor Dalloway as lecturing, I had to resist the urge to cast Scourgify on the whole room, though I’m suspicious of the effectiveness of that particular spell. I was driven to the point of total and complete distraction, scanning around helplessly for signs that the kitchens were kept to a higher standard of clean – brooms, mops, sponges, anything – but I would be disappointed. I’ve come to the conclusion that the kitchens must be cleaned solely by magic, likely courtesy of the House-elves, but the problem magic shares with bacteria, at least to First Year me, is that neither leaves an obvious nor comforting trace.
1.2 Mind Reader
I enrolled in Magical Cookery hoping to combat my germ-awareness. Err. Well, at least if I cook my own food I know precisely how devoid of germs and bacteria it is. The chef can’t spit in your dinner if you’re the chef, you know? That said, I was somewhat disappointed that I cut not a single carrot all evening. Professor Dalloway made up for this in part by being so charmingly funny and contemporary.
On the other hand, I’m an avid follower of history. The one thing that did pull me fully from my bacteria-fuelled daze was learning about all the gossip and rumours surrounding the Hufflepuff Common Room and its potential secret passageways. That the Chamber of Secrets and its secret passageways exist is, I think, enough to lend credit to the theory, especially if Salazar Slytherin was involved. I’d love the opportunity to scour the Common Room, but (and I can’t believe I’m saying this), alas, I am not a Hufflepuff. The idea that more history might abound both in the class and in the kitchens excites me, almost enough to explore every inch, nook, and cranny of the rooms, but I think I’ll have to speak to Alphy first, to determine how clean the inches, nooks, and crannies are. I’m not so stupid as to risk my wellbeing for the sake of a little excitement.
Oh, I’m buzzing with energy now though, just in the recollection. I hope there are more mysteries abound in the course, and more history still to learn. That will make the experience so much more bearable.
