The long-tailed monkey, imprisoned for life due to repeated theft, had failed to escape yet again. Ted had fed it water he conjured using the Conjure Water—spell from Azeroth that replenish magical energy.
How should one put it? Well, it was... decent. Drinkable, even.
In fact, the monkey didn't die, and the water seemed to have actual mana-restoring effects.
Ted was finally beginning to understand.
The reason most of the mice he'd experimented on before had died wasn't the water itself.
It was that they weren't magical creatures—they lacked inherent magical energy.
Their non-magical bodies simply couldn't adapt to the sudden influx of magic.
The magic power surged through their systems in chaotic, unpredictable ways, wreaking havoc until they couldn't cope anymore.
But then came that one lucky mouse.
It survived five rounds of testing and even seemed more energetic afterward.
It was a statistical fluke—but an important one.
Somehow, the mouse had adapted to the magic and even thrived.
After being fed several times, something changed.
A benign mutation occurred, and the mouse had essentially become a magical creature.
That's right—Ted could sense a faint magical aura coming from it.
This wasn't just residual magic from the spring water.
That would have faded quickly.
No, based on what Ted had learned from Professor Quirrell's lessons on magical creature physiology and bloodline transformations, this mouse had generated its own magic.
Accidental magical evolution?
Yes, please.
Quirrell had only managed to create his first magical animal seven years after graduating, after hundreds of experiments.
And Ted?
He'd pulled it off just by feeding a mouse magical water.
He took the mouse to the windowsill.
"You're lucky, little one. I hope you continue to thrive. You're free now." And with that, he tossed the mouse out the window gently.
"Have many babies, okay?" Ted added as he watched the mouse ran off towards the forest.
The long-tailed monkey gripped the iron bars of its cage, staring wistfully out the window.
Then it turned to Ted, eyes filled with desperate hope.
Ted grinned, "Don't worry, you've still got work to do."
The monkey: 'Just finish me already!'
What Ted didn't expect, though, was that the magic mouse returned the next day, after spending the night outside.
...Was it addicted to him?
...
After days of failing to make progress with food conjuration, Ted decided it was time for a break.
As the magical author Calvin once said: 'When inspiration dries up, go out and gather stories—or better yet, get something to eat!'
Ted figured: Why not treat himself to a good meal?
He didn't need to force things.
There was always time to revisit food creation once he had deeper knowledge in multiple magical disciplines.
After all, he had successfully created magical water.
That was a major breakthrough.
So he decided to head down to the kitchen—and sent enchanted paper cranes fluttering off to invite Hermione.
When she arrived at the common room, she looked at him, puzzled. "What's got you running off to the kitchen all of a sudden?"
Ted replied, "I've been on break, and I came across some recipes—handed down from magical cultures around the world. Some of them are incredible. I thought we could ask the house-elves to try recreating a few."
The two hurried down to the underground kitchen.
Ted scratched the portrait of the fruit bowl, and the door swung open.
The moment the house-elves saw Ted, they swarmed him in joy, forming a tearful little crowd.
Ted laughed. "Hey there, little guys~ No need to stop working, I just came to try out a new recipe. Anyone not too busy want to lend a hand?"
"Me! Me! Me!" came a chorus of eager voices.
Several house elves quickly raised their hands.
Ted smiled and motioned them to a quieter corner.
"Alright," he said, "which one of you is good at drinks? Could I get a glass of mint lemonade?"
"I can do that! I make the best drinks!" one elf squeaked proudly.
Ted had experimented with some recipes last year, including the refreshing mint lemonade.
A few clever elves had mastered it quickly.
Back then, it was late spring and exam season was brutal, so he hadn't had much time to continue.
Soon enough, two glasses of light green lemonade—garnished with mint leaves and lemon slices—were placed before Ted and Hermione.
Hermione lifted hers curiously and took a sip. "Oh—this is amazing!" she exclaimed.
Ted grinned. "Gives you a little spark, huh?"
Hermione felt it immediately. A sudden clarity washed over her—as if she'd just cast Arcane Intellect on herself.
She'd spent months learning that spell.
Boosting intelligence and mental clarity was no small feat.
And yet... this drink gave her a similar effect.
If she had an RPG-style status panel, it would've flashed "+1 Intelligence."
Since last year, Ted's culinary knowledge had only grown—and now he was applying everything he'd learned.
He clapped his hands excitedly. "Let's try something else! Our first dish! Scrambled eggs with tomatoes. Ever done a stir-fry?"
He and Hermione spent more than three hours in the kitchen, re-creating five different magical dishes.
Then Ted took things a step further.
He pulled out his Azeroth Cookbook and attempted Redridge Stew, a hearty dish from the World of Warcraft.
The result?
Half success.
Taste-wise, it passed—it was just like a normal stew.
Magically, it gave a minor buff: "+1 Constitution."
Not quite the full result he'd hoped for, but it was progress.
Ted had entrusted the house-elves to continue experimenting. Hogwarts had no shortage of ingredients, after all. "Use whatever you need—and use plenty!" he told them with a grin.
Over the next few days, Ted and the elves recreated dozens of magical recipes inspired by ancient wizarding cuisines and enchanted feasts recorded in long-lost tomes.
To his delight, several of the dishes turned out to have real magical effects.
No, nothing quite exploded in a blaze of glory upon being eaten yet—but when the lid of one dish was lifted, it emitted a burst of light!
"Perfect," Ted grinned. "I slipped a Luminous Charm in there~ Maybe next time, I'll enchant a few miniature dragons to fly out too."
Even the much-hyped Monster Omelette had been successfully recreated. The Cat Food was another hit—Ted had made several portions, and it was an instant favorite with Hermione, the house elves, and even Mrs. Norris.
Each magical meal had its own effect—keeping your body warm, restoring stamina, and calming frayed nerves.
Of course, Ted made a firm point during testing:
"Owls are our friends. Please don't eat the chubby round-faced ones."
During his work with the house-elves, Ted had a sudden realization—one that completely shifted his thinking.
There were whole systems of magic outside the traditional wizarding structure.
House-elves and goblins weren't permitted to use wands—but that didn't stop them from using magic.
Their abilities didn't follow the same rules.
Take Apparition, for example.
Hogwarts had enchantments to block magical teleportation, but the elves could still pop in and out effortlessly.
That's because their form of magic worked differently—wizards' Anti-Apparition Wards simply didn't apply to them.
Even goblins had their own kind of magic, and the centaurs were well-versed in celestial and natural magic.
Astrology and druidic enchantments were their bread and butter.
Ted began wondering—if he was struggling with conjuration magic through the standard wizard path, could he explore another magical system instead?
House-elves, for instance, were masters of domestic magic. Cooking, cleaning, enchanting furniture—it was all second nature to them.
And when it came to magical food, they were incredible.
Ted's enchanted recipes were cracked and replicated in a matter of days.
The results were better than anything he could've managed alone.
So, he started asking the elves for help understanding their way of making food…
"Excellent! Five hours in, and all five mice are alive and well!" Ted beamed with joy.
Then he glanced toward the long-tailed monkey in the cage.
The monkey clutched the bars, staring at him in horror.
'Don't come near me!' Its wide eyes seemed to scream.
In fact, the monkey had grown noticeably rounder during this period.
'Please, I'm begging you. I can't eat any more!'
...
That evening at dinner, Jerry was sharing a story with his friends about something that had happened to him and Neville the night before.
They'd gone to the kitchens to grab a snack and bumped into Nearly Headless Nick on the way back.
As Gryffindor's resident ghost, Nick was quite familiar with the students—especially ones like Jerry and Neville, who were frequent nighttime wanderers.
He didn't mind catching them sneaking around and often even helped them find their way.
Nick had been in high spirits and invited them to his 500th Deathday Party, which was to be held the following night.
Thankfully, Jerry had been with Neville.
Otherwise, poor Neville—who wasn't great at saying no—probably would've agreed out of politeness.
Instead, Jerry kindly declined, saying they already had plans for the Halloween Feast.
"I've been starving myself for two days just to prepare for this meal," Jerry said proudly. "There's no way I'm leaving the Great Hall tomorrow."
Harley, always curious, looked intrigued. "I don't know… It might be interesting to see what a Deathday Party is like. I've never been to one before."
Ted raised an eyebrow. "Relax, Harley. There'll be time for ghost banquets after you die. Then you can throw one every year."
At that moment, Hermione glanced at Ted.
"Halloween again tomorrow," she said softly.
She remembered what Ted had told her last year—how strange things will always to happen at Hogwarts on Halloween.
Ted gave her a wink. "Go on, tempt fate."