Chapter 6: The Biting Rose
"I can tell," Russell said sincerely. "You must have an incredible gift for herbology, Mrs. Addams — it's no small feat to cultivate so many rare, mutant plants."
Morticia's pale lips curved in a faint, pleased smile. "Indeed. As for Gomez…" she added, her dark eyes softening with affection, "he graduated from Durmstrang."
"Ah, that explains a lot," Russell thought. Though Morticia's complexion was already alabaster-white, he couldn't help noticing how unnaturally bright the area around her eyes appeared — as if she were perpetually standing under a spotlight.
Before he could dwell on it, Morticia beckoned him over with a graceful wave of her hand.
"Russell, dear, come closer. There's something I need to tell you."
Puzzled but obedient, Russell stepped beside her.
"Fasher wanted me to apologize to you on its behalf," she said smoothly.
"Fasher?" Russell blinked. He mentally went through the names of everyone in the Addams household — Gomez, Morticia, Wednesday, Pugsley, Grandmama Esmeralda, Thing… no Fasher.
Then something patted his shoulder.
He turned — and found himself staring into a massive, toothy grin.
Rows of gleaming, ivory fangs filled a gaping maw the size of a dinner plate.
It was the man-eating plant.
"Ah," Morticia said serenely. "That's Fasher."
"Oh… well, apology accepted," Russell managed, forcing a smile. He gingerly reached out and patted its head. You probably just meant you like eating me, he thought nervously.
The plant gave a delighted rustle, wiggling its head like a happy dog being scratched behind the ears. Then it made a sound that could only be described as a cough.
Something fell into Russell's palm.
He looked down and found three delicate pink seeds, warm and faintly glowing, resting in his hand.
"This is quite a surprise," Morticia said, her dark brows arching slightly. "Fasher has never given seeds to anyone before — not even Gomez. It seems to be quite fond of you."
Russell looked between the seeds and the carnivorous flower. "You mean… if I plant these, I can grow another one like Fasher?"
"Precisely," she said with a graceful nod. "Though I should correct you — its proper name is the Biting Rose."
At that, Russell's grin widened. The idea of having one of these at Hogwarts thrilled him. Once grown, it could serve as the perfect defense — especially considering that at Hogwarts, casting petty jinxes on your classmates was practically a Slytherin tradition.
"Thank you," he said earnestly, tucking the seeds away. "Next time I visit, I'll bring Fasher a gift."
---
After a leisurely lunch at the Addams estate, Russell returned home.
And though their food looked… questionable, the Cornwall Pixie Stew had turned out surprisingly delicious.
He hadn't dared to taste it at first — not until Wednesday, with her unnervingly calm insistence, convinced him to take a bite.
He'd expected the worst.
Instead… his eyes widened.
It was delicious.
A little sweet, a little spicy — and undeniably magical.
"...I take it back," Russell murmured between bites that day. "Dark cuisine might actually be addictive."
Though it was technically a stew, the texture surprised Russell — crisp rather than tender, with a faint snap between his teeth. It tasted somewhat like frog legs, but firmer, meatier, and utterly free of any fishy smell.
What Russell didn't know was that Cornwall Pixies were a delicacy. Even dead, one fetched two Galleons on the open market; alive, they sold for three.
To put it in perspective — a decent wand only cost seven Galleons.
Three pixies could buy half of Ollivander's inventory.
But price aside, the dish had an unexpected effect.
The moment he finished eating, a faint golden shimmer flashed before his eyes.
His status panel updated.
[Status Effect: Triple Experience]
[Duration Remaining: 72:23]
The "buff," as Russell thought of it, allowed him to gain three times as much experience for any activity — at the cost of double stamina consumption.
It was brutal. Every day left him half-dead from exhaustion, but the grind efficiency was insane.
From that day on, Russell began visiting the Addams household for meals almost daily — shamelessly, perhaps, but always with offerings of his own cooking as thanks.
To his delight, the Addams family adored his food. Even Grandmama Esmeralda complimented his "beautifully poisoned flavors," which, in her vocabulary, was the highest praise imaginable.
Soon, Pugsley began showing up like clockwork at every mealtime, pounding on Russell's door.
"Dinner time, Russell! Bring dessert!"
Thanks to this daily exchange of culinary chaos, Russell's Cooking skill skyrocketed.
One morning, the panel flickered again — and the number next to "Cooking" finally hit Level 5.
[Name: Russell Fythorne]
[Status: Triple Experience — Active (72:23 remaining)]
[Occupation: Orphan]
[Magic: Lv. 2]
[Constitution: Lv. 2]
[Skills]
[Running (Lv. 6): 15 / 3200 — Epic Trait: Sprint**]
[Cooking (Lv. 5): 24 / 1600 — Epic Trait: Golden Legend**]
[Swimming (Lv. 2): 26 / 200]
…
When he saw the new Epic Trait, Russell went silent.
Golden Legend.
It made his dishes exponentially more delicious — and, inexplicably, caused them to emit a soft golden glow.
"...That's it?" he muttered. "I can make food that literally shines? Not exactly the deadliest ability."
He sighed, slightly disappointed. But then he chuckled to himself.
"Well, I guess that makes me the Little Master Chef of Britain. Could be worse."
---
Just as he began preparing lunch that day, a high-pitched but cheerful voice echoed from the front door:
"Mr. Fythorne, are you home? I'm Professor Filius Flitwick of Hogwarts!"
The sound reached him clearly despite the kitchen being at the back of the house — definitely magic at work.
Russell dried his hands, hurried to the door, and opened it.
Standing outside was a tiny man in a finely tailored robe. Even at eleven, Russell was nearly a head taller than him.
"Professor Flitwick! Welcome, please come in," Russell said warmly, not showing even a flicker of surprise.
Flitwick's eyes twinkled. "Ah, such a polite young man," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. Many Muggle-born families gawked when they saw him — not maliciously, but enough to make things awkward. Russell's calm composure was a pleasant change.
"I owe you an apology, Mr. Fythorne," the professor continued. "I should have come to fetch you sooner."
"I understand, Professor," Russell replied with an easy smile. "There must be plenty of children like me waiting for their letters. And if some of their parents don't take it well, that probably makes things even slower."
Flitwick blinked, clearly impressed. "Quite right, Mr. Fythorne. Very perceptive for someone your age."
"Please—just call me Russell," he said quickly, seizing the moment to close the distance between them.
"Well then, Russell," Flitwick said with a chuckle, "as Head of Ravenclaw, I do hope you'll join our House. I can already tell you're sharp and thoughtful — you'd fit right in."
"I'll do my best, Professor," Russell replied.
And he meant it.
He'd already thought through his choices carefully.
Slytherin was out of the question — a Muggle-born like him would be eaten alive in that snake pit.
Gryffindor was too exposed — too much trouble, too much fame.
That left Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
Hufflepuff meant easy access to the kitchen.
Ravenclaw had the best view in the castle.
Either way, both Houses were peaceful, quiet, and perfect for quietly "grinding experience" while avoiding drama.
For Russell Fythorne, that was reason enough.