Work Text:
Harry knew everything about cooking. Everything.
You just had to look at the evidence to know it was true. None of Harry's classmates could cook an egg, let alone cook a meal. Some couldn't even make toast!
Harry knew even more than Aunt Petunia. Why else would all the cooking fall to him? Thus, Harry knew everything about cooking.
That was why Harry was so confused as he watched the guest speaker cooking an omelette. She had a weird accent, but Harry was completely sure the word she was saying was ‘season’. And yet, Harry had never heard that word before.
“Can you see how it has gotten firm on the top, not so runny?” The cook, Mrs. Chopra, asked the school, tilting the pan to show the egg. The class murmured various forms of assent. “So we will fold it gently, and voila! You have a delicious omelette!”
Mr. Lewis, their principal, started clapping his hands and the rest of the school followed his example.
“Now,” Mrs. Chopra said, once the applause had died down. “I, along with my team, will be cooking an omelette for each of you. If any of you have any questions, come forward to the cooking station.”
There was a flurry of movement and sound as the students started chattering excitedly, moving away in groups. Harry watched some students go to the front, but most went towards the playground, determined to make the most of their unexpected break.
Harry bit his lip, and then after a moment of hesitation, jumped off his chair and made a beeline for Mrs. Chopra.
Mrs. Chopra had a stern face which made the curious children decide to speak with one of the other guests. Harry thought she had kind eyes, and was only too glad not to have to fight with the other children for his turn.
“Mrs. Chopra?”
“Yes?” Mrs. Chopra turned to him, her eyes crinkling around the edges. “Did you enjoy the presentation?”
Harry nodded solemnly. “But I didn't understand a word that kept coming up. What do you mean by ‘season your food’?”
“A very good question,” Mrs. Chopra said, deftly cracking an egg into a bowl. “Seasoning refers to the spices that go into your food, such as salt, pepper, chili, etc.”
“Oh! I didn't know it was called that! I never forget to season my food!” Harry said proudly. Then his face fell. “But I can't cook as well as you, Mrs. Chopra. You're so fast, and you haven't spilled anything!”
Mrs. Chopra's eyes danced with amusement. “I disagree. I couldn't even make tea at your age.”
“So can nobody in my class,” Harry said, brightening up, “but I cook every day! And season my food, even though I didn't know it was called that.”
“By the time you get to my age, you will be a professional cook,” Mrs. Chopra encouraged. She folded the egg and plated it, offering it to Harry. “Here is an omelette, especially for you. Come sit by me and tell me about the things you cook.”
Harry beamed, taking the egg and sitting on a chair nearby. He basked in the attention, chattering to Mrs. Chopra about roasts and pies and pudding.
Maybe Harry didn't know everything about cooking, but he knew enough.