After stepping out of Nurmengard Castle, Wentworth briskly made his way into the nearby forest. Awaiting him there was a middle-aged wizard, already standing in the shade of the trees.
As Wentworth approached, the wizard bowed respectfully and said:
"Honoured young master, you may call me Muller. I currently serve as the Head Auror of the Austrian Ministry of Magic. This is the item you requested."
With that, Muller handed Wentworth a suitcase, clearly enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Wentworth raised an eyebrow in surprise at the man's self-introduction.
"Muller? As in the former Minister of Magic of Austria?"
Muller quickly replied, "That was my father, young master."
Realisation dawned on Wentworth. Accepting the suitcase, he offered a smile and said:
"I see. Please give him my regards, and tell him, my grandfather has never forgotten his comrades."
At those words, Muller's eyes grew misty with emotion.
After Wentworth departed, Muller took a few steps deeper into the forest. Behind a tall tree sat an elderly man in elegant robes, now weeping openly, dignity forgotten, tears streaming down his face.
Back in Nurmengard, Wentworth carried the suitcase into an empty chamber. With considerable effort, he pulled out a large object, astonishingly, a massive roasting oven.
He then began unpacking the rest of the items: three plucked ducks, a variety of bottles and jars, and an array of ingredients, all laid out meticulously before him.
Sniffing the familiar aroma, Wentworth sighed deeply.
"That's it. That's the smell! I never thought the skills I picked up working part-time at Quanjude (a restaurant in china known for its pecking duck) during university would still serve me... in another world."
And so, Wentworth set to work.
When Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald arrived at their usual dining hall, they were puzzled to find the table completely bare.
Before they could voice their confusion, both men twitched their noses simultaneously, as if catching a tantalising scent. Moments later, Wentworth appeared, pushing a two-tiered serving trolley.
Atop the cart sat three glistening golden roast ducks, the very sight of which could stir even the most modest appetite.
Dumbledore chuckled.
"Wentworth, do you really think two old men, nearly three centuries between us, can handle something so rich?"
Wentworth laughed in return.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, you're hardly an ordinary centenarian. Ordinary ones don't eat lemon sherbet, after all!"
"Besides, this duck isn't meant to be eaten as is."
Now intrigued, Dumbledore leaned closer. Grindelwald had already taken his seat at his usual spot, prompting Dumbledore to sit beside him.
Wentworth began setting the table. As he placed the roast duck in front of them, Dumbledore noticed the lower tier of the trolley was packed with various accompaniments.
Wentworth arranged dipping sauces, julienned scallions, cucumber sticks, and more in front of the two wizards.
Both men looked at the colourful spread, overwhelmed by the variety.
Then, donning a pair of plastic gloves, Wentworth drew a carving knife and set down two fine porcelain plates before them.
He lifted the duck in front of Grindelwald and, with practiced grace, began slicing it into perfect strips, each piece a balanced blend of crisp skin and tender meat. Every motion carried a quiet elegance.
Finally, Wentworth retrieved a steaming stack of flat wheat pancakes and placed them between Dumbledore and Grindelwald.
Dumbledore, curious, asked, "So, how does one eat this? No knife and fork?"
Wentworth grinned.
"No need. You eat it with your hands."
Grindelwald frowned.
"How uncivilised," he muttered.
But Wentworth was unfazed. With calm precision, he demonstrated: laying a pancake flat on his palm, he added a slice of duck, dabbed it in sauces, laid down the scallions and cucumbers, rolled it gently, and handed it to Grindelwald.
Having watched the entire process, Dumbledore remarked warmly:
"Gellert, for once, I must disagree with you. There's a unique elegance to this."
Grindelwald said nothing. He cautiously took a bite of the roll, and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
"Well?" Dumbledore urged, nearly bouncing in his seat. "Say something, Gellert!"
Without a word, Grindelwald finished the duck roll and, without waiting for help, reached for the pancakes and began assembling his own.
Dumbledore: "..."
As the two elderly wizards enjoyed their meal, Wentworth quietly resumed carving the remaining ducks.
Once both ducks had been sliced, Wentworth carefully took away the duck carcasses and returned to his oven, where he used them to brew a fragrant soup for the pair.
When the three of them had eaten and drunk their fill, Wentworth stood to clear the table. Dumbledore, slouched in his chair, sighed contentedly.
"Truly delicious, Wentworth. I'll miss this terribly."
Wentworth smiled.
"It's no trouble, Headmaster. Once we return to Hogwarts, I'll make it for you anytime you like."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"It's the thought that counts. I'm getting on in years, after all, too much rich food isn't ideal."
He paused. Then, with a sly smile, added:
"Besides… who said I was taking you back to Hogwarts?"
Wentworth froze mid-movement. His hand trembled, and the plate he was holding slipped from his fingers.
Fortunately, all three were wizards, and the plate was saved by a quick flick of a wand.
But Wentworth wasn't looking at the plate. He stared at Dumbledore, eyes wide with alarm.
"Headmaster… I came here to study magic. You were the one who sent me! You're not expelling me over this, are you?!"
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TN: This fanfic has been fully translated and is available on my Patreon —— patreon(.)com/PrimalDemon [remove the parentheses ( )]