Hagrid, having successfully performed his duty as a highly reluctant perimeter guide, was now mollified by Albert's sudden and genuine interest in foraging. Before they exited the Forbidden Forest for good, the gamekeeper used his massive hands and a sturdy spade to dig around the base of the yew tree again, unearthing a few more of the pale, prized matsutake fungi.
"That's all the easy ones there are, I reckon," Hagrid grumbled, wiping snow from his face. "This stuff is rare to find, and harder to get out once the ground freezes proper. They're a strange sort o' thing to want to go searching for, Albert."
"A quick plug for an app: Mimi Reading, an app that perfectly replicates the old version of the popular book-tracking app and allows you to switch sources," Albert noted, momentarily distracted by a thought that flew into his head, before shaking it away.
As soon as they reached the familiar, cozy clearing outside the gatekeeper's hut, Hagrid flung the door open. The enormous black hound, Toothtooth (or Yaya in the local dialect), bounded out, instantly ecstatic to see the group. It circled them with dizzying speed, tail thumping the snow and sniffing their boots and robes—especially where the faint, earthy scent of the forest still clung.
Albert knelt down immediately, offering a reassuring hand to pat the excited dog's shaggy head, calming its boisterous enthusiasm.
Inside the cabin, Hagrid carefully deposited all the matsutake mushrooms onto his sturdy wooden table. He picked one up, turning the thick cap over and over with a skeptical expression. "Right then, Albert. You sounded awfully confident back there. Are you absolutely certain this stuff is going to taste good grilled? I'm used to a hearty, meaty meal, not… a forest fungus."
"Leave it entirely to me, Hagrid!" Albert declared, his hands steady and his voice ringing with absolute certainty. He was outwardly calm and self-assured, projecting the image of a seasoned culinary wizard.
Hagrid, now thinking of the future fishing trip the boys had mentioned, pointed to a large, unmarked wooden barrel tucked into a shadowed corner. A distinct, metallic, bloody scent wafted from it. "If you lads are serious about going fishing, I've got some fresh bait that will do the trick. Help yerselves to the meat in that barrel."
Albert looked towards the barrel, raising a querying eyebrow at the reddish-brown hunks of raw flesh inside. "What exactly is this meat, Hagrid?"
"Food for the Thestrals, mostly," Hagrid explained easily, rubbing Toothtooth's head affectionately. "They have a hard time foraging when the snow is deep, so I make sure the youngsters in the herd get a good feed every few days. Keeps 'em healthy over the winter. The offcuts and scraps are just Toothtooth's dinner."
"Are you certain this fungi is genuinely edible, Albert?" Lee Jordan asked, staring at the matsutake mushrooms with deep skepticism, a distrust of anything found outside a proper kitchen now instilled in him.
"Completely safe," Hagrid confirmed, before shuffling over to the fireplace. He stirred the dying embers, coaxed them back to a glow, and placed a copper kettle above them to boil. Then, he fetched a bucket of fresh, cold well water from outside for Albert's preparation.
Albert retrieved a long, sharp knife from Hagrid's surprisingly tidy kitchen drawer. He carefully scraped the dirt and icy soil from the bases of the mushrooms, then rinsed them thoroughly under the cold well water. Once cleaned, he took out his wand and, with a complex, fluid gesture, pointed the tip at the fungi, softly chanting a Drying Charm. The excess moisture immediately lifted from the caps in a misty shimmer, leaving the matsutake perfectly dry and ready for the heat.
"You truly don't conduct yourself like a first-year, Albert," Hagrid observed with a quiet reverence, watching the effortless precision of the charm. "Your control over simple utility spells is far beyond anything I'd expect. It's still quite baffling to think you came from a Muggle background."
"Aye, it's a bit uncanny," George murmured to his twin. "I'd wager every single Sickle and Knut I own that he has mastered more charms than some of the third-years. The way he handles that wand is just wrong for a student who only learned to read a few months ago."
Albert ignored their low-toned commentary, his focus entirely on the task. "Hagrid, I require a small quantity of olive oil, if you have any available."
"There should be a bottle over there by the spices. Help yerself, lad."
Albert took the oil and then, with meticulous care, began to slice the matsutake. His sharp knife produced paper-thin, even slices.
"Honestly, Albert, you're treating this like a delicate flower!" Lee Jordan complained, picking up one of the gossamer-thin slices between his fingertips. "What kind of hearty experience are we going to get from something this thin? It'll evaporate on the tongue!"
"They must be sliced thinly, Lee, to ensure they cook through evenly and quickly on the open heat," Albert retorted, not looking up. He then used a pastry brush to apply a thin, shimmering layer of the olive oil to both sides of the slices.
Next, he took a sturdy piece of wood and, with a quick Vanishing Spell followed by a more complex Transfiguration, turned it into a small, makeshift grill. He used a pair of tongs to carefully lift a few pieces of still-glowing charcoal from the hearth and placed them in a small, copper brazier, then settled the grill on top. He stood back, nodding with genuine satisfaction. "Now this feels like cooking. An artisanal grilling experience, not just tossing things in a fire."
"I think you're expending far too much effort on presentation for a meal that will be consumed in approximately thirty seconds," Fred commented dryly, rolling his eyes at Albert's overly complex setup.
"Attention to detail is the secret to true excellence, Fred," Albert shot back.
The aroma, once the first slices hit the glowing embers, was instantly captivating: a rich, earthy, pine-like scent that was deeply savory and utterly unique.
"Hmm, that smells… powerful," Hagrid admitted, his skepticism visibly melting away. He watched the slices crisp up on the makeshift grill. With a slight flick of his fingers, he plucked one of the now golden-brown matsutake slices from the edge of the grill and popped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his eyes wide. "Well, I'll be… That's rich! Very good indeed, Albert. But the portion size… it's far too small, lad! Needs a proper side."
Fred and Lee Jordan, having watched Hagrid's delighted reaction, needed no further encouragement. They lunged forward simultaneously, snapping up the next batch of slices that Albert was attempting to season with a pinch of salt. They devoured the tender, crispy matsutake in a flurry of hungry haste.
"This texture is fantastic! That gentle chewiness is quite satisfying," Lee Jordan exclaimed, savoring the flavor.
"A bit of salt definitely makes it pop, but I think a strong, sweet dipping sauce would elevate it to true gourmet status," Fred mused, already searching the table for condiments.
"Damn you three! You've completely demolished my entire plate's worth!" Albert exclaimed, glaring at the trio when he saw the grill cleared.
"Your portion was strictly designated to George!" Fred and Lee Jordan declared in perfect unison, both pointing dramatically at the grinning twin.
"Ahem, there are still plenty of Hagrid's sausages on the table, I notice," George hedged, picking up a large, unappetizing homemade sausage. "Perhaps we should move on to grilling some proper meat now?"
"You'll wait until I finish preparing the few remaining mushrooms, you greedy pack of hounds," Albert retorted irritably, though his anger was quickly replaced by amusement as he went back to his work.
The "barbecue" was over all too quickly. There had been so few matsutake slices that each person had received a mere handful. However, everyone wholeheartedly agreed that the fungi had a truly sublime, lingering flavor.
Afterward, they put Hagrid's homemade sausages on the grill, which were much heartier but less refined. They washed everything down with several piping hot mugs of strong, black tea before reluctantly departing for the castle.
As for Hagrid's infamous homemade rock cakes—large, pale lumps resembling small stones—the group politely, but firmly, declined, citing a sudden, mysterious affliction of sensitive teeth.
When the four boys returned to the Gryffindor common room, the celebratory atmosphere for the Quidditch victory still lingered. However, the feast had long passed its peak; most of the fine cakes and meat pies had been consumed, leaving only sticky toffees, some slightly stale biscuits, and a few untouched vegetable puddings.
"Where did you four vanish off to?" Angelina asked, catching them as they came through the portrait hole.
"We had a private tour of the Forest perimeter, courtesy of Hagrid himself," George announced smugly.
"The gamekeeper actually consented to take you into the forbidden woods?" Angelina's surprise was palpable.
"Albert managed to convince him by appealing to Hagrid's sense of educational duty," Fred explained. "And we even learned that Professor Kettleburn, the eccentric Care of Magical Creatures teacher, actually lives out there near the boundary."
"Are you utterly serious?" Shanna asked, leaning in with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"It's the absolute truth," Lee Jordan confirmed, enjoying their shock. "We ran into a witch on the path who was going to visit Kettleburn, apparently to discuss something about Ornithopods."
"Ornithopods? What in Merlin's beard is that?" Shanna asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity.
Lee Jordan stalled, realizing he had heard the name but not the description, and looked helplessly to Albert for rescue.
Albert, having anticipated the question, offered a detailed explanation. "The Ornithopod, or Bird-Snake, is a winged, bipedal creature originating from Asia. Its most fascinating property is its ability to stretch or contract its body at will—meaning it can grow large enough to comfortably fill a cavern or shrink down to fit inside the smallest vial."
"I'm incredibly curious, Albert, how you happen to know the taxonomy and properties of every mythical beast," George joked, leaning closer. "Did you simply absorb the entirety of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by osmosis?"
"The Ornithopod is relevant because its eggs are a key ingredient in the brewing of Felix Felicis—Liquid Luck," Albert said, ignoring the teasing and hitting them with the information he knew would hook their attention. "So, yes, I researched it extensively when I became interested in advanced potions."
Albert paused, allowing his words to sink in.
"And here's a further detail you'll appreciate: the shell of an Ornithopod egg is said to be made of pure, ductile silver." Albert looked around at their shocked faces before delivering the final anecdote.
"It's rumoured that the once-famous writer, Gilderoy Lockhart, briefly used these eggs to develop a luxury product—a specialized Ornithopod-yolk shampoo. It genuinely had properties that could 'lock in the shine,' as the rumors claimed. However, due to the extreme price and, crucially, the inherent danger of harvesting the eggs, the shampoo could not be mass-produced and was only ever sold on the black market for a brief period before vanishing completely."
"Why would such a miraculous product disappear?" Shanna asked, perplexed.
"Because it was obscenely, prohibitively expensive," Albert stated matter-of-factly. "The cost of a single, harvested egg could easily buy a small cottage."
"No wonder Felix Felicis is spoken of as such a legend," Fred muttered, awestruck by the sheer cost of the components.
"It's not just that it's expensive, Fred," Albert corrected with a touch of exasperation. "It's that you simply cannot acquire the necessary ingredients through conventional means. Later, when I looked deeper into the complete recipe for Felix Felicis, I understood why almost no apothecary ever attempts to manufacture the stuff: the ingredients themselves are exponentially rare and costly, and if the extremely delicate manufacturing process fails—which it often does—it would result in a financial catastrophe that would bankrupt almost any small-scale potions master."
The realization of the sheer economic impossibility of the potion settled over the group, making the legendary brew seem less like a magical cure-all and more like a dangerous, forbidden relic. It made Albert's quiet pursuit of advanced knowledge seem less like fun and more like a potential obsession.
"So, what you're really saying," George summarized, his eyes wide, "is that you're studying creatures and potions that are either impossibly dangerous or impossibly expensive, or both?"