Hagrid led Alan on a tour of the gardens surrounding his hut, where a massive variety of vegetables flourished. According to Hagrid, only a portion of his harvest was required by the school kitchens. Professor Sprout managed several large greenhouses closer to the castle that were enchanted with Traceless Stretching Spells, providing more than enough produce to keep the Great Hall supplied for daily consumption.
"Every year, I plant a sea of pumpkins before Halloween. Professor Sprout comes down to cast Engorgement Charms on them for the feast. And look at these—lovely broccoli, tomatoes, potatoes, ginger, and cabbage. Aren't they coming along well?" Hagrid beamed, showing off his work like a proud parent.
To Alan's eyes, the garden was dominated by typical Western staples; he couldn't even spot a single head of bok choy. He wasn't particularly interested in the greens, so he steered the conversation toward his true objective.
"Don't you grow any herbs here?" Alan had come to the hut with a secondary motive: he needed a steady, discreet source of potion ingredients. Finding a fixed channel for herbs would be a major step toward his financial goals.
"Herbs? Aren't there plenty in the greenhouses? You have to be careful with those, Alan. Many magical herbs are temperamental—deadly, even, if you aren't a professional," Hagrid replied honestly, clearly confused by the question.
"I see. What about the Forbidden Forest then? Surely there are wild herbs in there?" Alan looked toward the tree line. The dark, dense edge of the forest loomed just past the garden.
"There are plenty of herbs in there, for certain. I even saw a patch of Mandrakes nearing ripeness a while back. But the deep forest is full of dangerous creatures. The school keeps colonies in there—Hippogriffs and the like. It's no place for a student to go wandering," Hagrid warned kindly.
"Understood, Hagrid. Just a bit of curiosity. Let's head back in; we should grab some tomatoes, ginger, and those potatoes. I'll show you what I can do with those ribs. It's been far too long since I had a proper meal."
As they gathered the vegetables, Alan's mind was already working. He planned to cross-reference his new potion books with a list of simple, high-demand drafts and see which ingredients he might be able to "forage" from the edge of the forest.
Back inside, Alan prepared for a feast. Fortunately, while the Tebo Warthog ribs were massive, Hagrid's cookware was scaled to match. Alan prodded the slab of meat; it was tough and lean, similar to the dragon meat he had sampled before. Even though it had been frozen, he could still see traces of dark blood between the bones.
"I can't just stir-fry these; they're too thick. Getting the flavor into the center is going to be the challenge," Alan mused.
The slab contained eight long ribs, far more than the two of them could finish. Alan asked Hagrid to help him hack off two. He then used a precision Severing Charm to chop the bones into manageable chunks. After washing them, he tossed the meat into a large basin and mixed a potent marinade of the spices he had brought.
Once the meat had soaked, he lit the fire under a heavy iron pot that resembled a cauldron without legs. He rendered the fat, tossed in the ginger and garlic, and seared the ribs until they were fragrant and browned. He added water to cover the meat, clamped on the lid, and settled in to wait.
Hagrid watched the process with wide-eyed anticipation. When the aroma of the searing meat hit the air, the large man's mouth began to water uncontrollably. He sat nearby, happily peeling potatoes while Alan came over to chat.
"Hagrid, would you mind if I took over a small plot of land next to your garden? I'd like to try planting a few things of my own," Alan asked with a smile.
"Of course! No problem at all. I can help you with the digging, too. Just come by whenever you're free." Hagrid agreed instantly, already imagining the future meals this partnership would yield.
The pot emitted a rich, savory steam that filled the hut. After an hour of simmering, Alan tested the meat. Once it was tender, he added the potatoes and onions, topped off the water, and let it braise for another thirty minutes.
When the lid finally came off, the bubbling sauce had thickened into a rich glaze. Alan and Hagrid didn't waste another second, serving themselves massive portions and eating heartily.
"Now that's better..." Alan sighed, leaning back and patting his stomach. Hogwarts food was fine, but it lacked the depth and variety he craved.
Hagrid was still eating, punctuating every bite with a muffled compliment. Alan watched him with satisfaction; he had always found a quiet joy in seeing people enjoy his cooking.
As Hagrid finished up, Alan borrowed a quill and parchment to sketch out a few designs. By the time the last of the stew was gone, they were sitting at the table, talking about life at the castle. Eventually, Alan noticed the sky had turned pitch black. Checking the time, he realized he had to hurry to make it back before curfew.
"Hagrid, are you heading to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley anytime soon?" Alan asked as he gathered his things.
"I'll be in Hogsmeade in a few days to pick up some supplies. Why?"
"I have a favor to ask. Could you check the current market prices for finished potions and the going rate for raw herbs? Also, could you see if a blacksmith or a craftsman could make this for me?" Alan handed over the parchment he had just finished.
It was a detailed drawing of a large, heavy-bottomed wok and a sturdy spatula, complete with diameter and thickness specifications.
"What is it exactly?" Hagrid asked, squinting at the drawing.
"It's a specialized cooking tool. With this, I can make even better dishes for us next time," Alan explained.
Hagrid didn't need any more convincing than that. He tucked the paper away and promised to get the information Alan needed.