Brook had originally planned to fry two steaks for dinner, but Hermione invited him to the Granger’s.
Mrs. Granger had already prepared a lavish dinner.
In short, it was a “Potato Extravaganza.”
Roasted potatoes, French fries, mashed potatoes.
Brook looked at the two dishes on the table that resembled chinese food and couldn't help but wince.
Kung Pao Chicken and Sweet and Sour Pork were both dishes he had taught Mrs. Granger previously.
But why were they only “resembling” chinese food?
Because Mrs. Granger had subjected them to barbaric modifications.
Kung Pao Chicken is one of the representative dishes of Sichuan cuisine, spicy and delicious.
But Mrs. Granger had added orange juice and various sweet sauces.
Not only was there no spiciness at all, but it also looked sticky.
As for Sweet and Sour Pork, although the cooking method hadn't changed much, almost no sugar was added.
The soul of Sweet and Sour Pork was gone.
It was truly Dark Arts cuisine.
During dinner, the conversation naturally revolved around Hogwarts and magic.
Hermione seemed exceptionally excited.
She chattered incessantly about her experiences in Diagon Alley.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger listened to their daughter’s narration with smiles, but their hearts were filled with worry.
Although they supported their daughter's decision, they were filled with fear about the unknown realm of magic.
Mr. Granger was silent for a long time before finally speaking.
“Brook, there’s something I want to ask of you.”
Brook looked up, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Hermione.”
“Who needs you to take care of them? I can take care of myself!”
Hermione lifted her little head high.
Mr. Granger looked at Hermione, his eyes full of doting affection and helplessness.
Then he turned back to Brook.
Brook gave him a reassuring look.
Hermione was a character who lived until the very end, so what could possibly happen to her at school?
Brook didn't eat particularly well during this meal, but he was definitely very full.
Full from eating gossip.
Although it wasn't his first time eating at the Granger’s.
But this was the first time Mr. Granger had drunk alcohol in front of him.
Evidently, Hermione's impending departure for Hogwarts had put no small amount of pressure on him.
So much so that he had a few extra drinks.
Then he started talking more.
He began recounting Hermione's “dark history” from when she was little.
“She loved fairies in fairy tales since she was a child. When she was five, she mixed all sorts of condiments and whatever else she could find at home to concoct ‘magic potions.’ The result was no fairy, but a stomachache for several days, and we had to take her to the hospital.”
Hermione covered her face with both hands, her voice muffled through her fingers: “Dad, please…”
But Mr. Granger was still immersed in his memories, showing no signs of stopping.
“She was particularly obsessed with fairy tales back then. Once, she wore a crown, used a bedsheet as a cape, held a magic wand, and ran around the house, muttering to herself about saving the world. She accidentally tripped on the carpet and fell flat on her face, her crown askew. But after she got up, she dusted herself off and continued her ‘adventure.’”
Hermione’s face was already as red as a ripe apple ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄.
“And another time, she covered the entire living room wall with crayons. She drew some strange patterns: talking radishes, winged skeleton horses, and a three-headed puppy. She stood there, beaming with pride, introducing her ‘masterpiece’ to us.”
Hermione cast a pleading look at her mother.
Mrs. Granger stood up, grabbed Mr. Granger's ear, and forcibly dragged him upstairs.
Mr. Granger was still muttering as he walked.
“Hermione was really cute when she was little…”
Brook really didn't want to laugh, unless he couldn't help it.
Hermione glared at him fiercely: “You’re still laughing? What’s so funny?”
Brook quickly waved his hand: “The fact that Mr. Granger remembers it so clearly shows that he truly loves you.”
“I know.” Hermione’s tone revealed a hint of sweet helplessness.
Brook didn't stay at the Granger’s for too long.
After all, the “gossip” was over, and it was time for him to go home.
After returning home, he took a shower and even washed his hands several times deliberately.
Although the system lottery only required a thought from him, not his hands.
But he wanted to show enough respect.
“Jade Emperor, Laozi, Buddha, Victorious Fighting Buddha, Thanos, bless me.”
As for why Jesus Christ wasn't included, his current identity was a Wizard.
Brook devoutly bowed in all four directions.
“System Lottery, five consecutive draws.”
The system’s prompt immediately sounded in his mind.
“Thank you for your patronage.”
“Congratulations, Host, you have won the First Prize: Occlumency.”
No one can peek into the Host’s thoughts.
“Congratulations, Host, you have won the Second Prize: ‘Asian Evil Art.’”
The Host can achieve a change of appearance through makeup skills.
“Thank you for your patronage.”
“Congratulations, Host, you have won the First Prize: Top Talent in Dark Arts.”
Any Dark Arts, the Host will automatically master upon seeing them.
Brook looked at the lottery results.
Three out of five, the probability wasn't low.
And he had also won two First Prizes.
Especially Occlumency, which he was quite satisfied with.
He had been troubled by this matter.
The memories of Harry Potter in his mind were a minor issue.
But the system was not.
An innocent man is guilty because of his treasure.
The next morning.
Brook’s door was knocked on again.
“Brook, open the door. Don’t hide inside and stay silent, I know you’re home. Open the door, open the door, open, open, open the door!”
Brook rolled his eyes.
Ever since he had deliberately hidden from Hermione once, pretending no one was home, only to be found out by her.
Hermione’s way of knocking on the door had changed to this.
“Coming, coming.”
He quickly put on his clothes and opened the door.
Brook then said irritably to Hermione: “Little girl, why are you looking for me so early?”
Hermione crouched down and slipped directly through the door.
Her first glance went to the plate on the coffee table, which was usually piled with candy.
“Brook, where’s the candy?”
“Dumbledore ate it all.”
“How is that possible? He’s so old, how could he love candy?”
Brook rolled his eyes.
Was there any necessary connection between being old and loving candy?
“It’s just… it’s just, if he really ate that much candy, he’d get diabetes.”
Hermione said, gesturing with both hands to indicate a large amount.
“You didn’t come just for the candy, did you!”
“How could that be? Of course, it’s to study with you.”
Hermione reluctantly pulled her gaze away from the coffee table.
Only then did Brook notice that Hermione was also carrying a small backpack.
He felt a headache coming on.
The last thing he wanted was to study with Hermione.
Anything else was fine.
This little girl had a peculiar habit when it came to studying.
If he didn't know something, Hermione would insist on teaching him.
And if Hermione didn't understand something, she would insist that he explain it clearly.
Even though he had returned much of his knowledge to his teachers.
But he lived in an era of information explosion, and his knowledge reserves were not comparable to an 11-year-old girl.
So he became a genius in Hermione’s eyes.
Those times of “don’t leave after school” were simply miserable.
However, facing such a cute little girl.
He couldn't bring himself to refuse and could only endure it.