As the painful battle against the soft and sticky Flobberworms dragged on, afternoon arrived in no time.
...
Legend has it that Baba Yaga's chicken-legged cottage forever wanders within a shroud of mist. Sometimes, when lost children wander helplessly through the forest, they will part a thorny bush and suddenly see a distant, warm yellow light—along with a small wooden house standing on chicken legs.
The little house, aged and weathered, appeared tattered, its exterior covered in climbing moss. But peering through the window, one could see the fireplace casting a warm glow over a tidy room—a plush carpet, a sofa draped in handwoven covers, and a clean wooden table and chairs.
Everything exuded warmth and tranquility.
This afternoon, Baba Yaga's cottage looked much the same.
Only, the warm red flames in the fireplace suddenly flickered and shifted color, turning green. Within seconds, the fire roared higher, and out from the flames was spat—
Viktor.
He patted the dust off his robes. The problem with Floo Powder, he mused, was that no matter how careful one was, it was impossible to emerge from a fireplace without collecting a bit of soot.
The living room was empty, save for a large cauldron hanging over the fire, bubbling ominously. The automatic stirring rod Viktor had bought last time was still tirelessly whirring inside, turning the already-purple liquid into something even more dubious.
"Watch out."
As the flames flickered again, Viktor swiftly extended a hand, guiding a dizzy Harry aside just in time to prevent him from crashing into the cauldron.
"Oh, thanks, Professor."
Harry stood still for a moment, trying to regain his balance from his first experience with Floo travel.
"Move aside, move aside."
Behind him came Fred's voice, followed quickly by George and Ron. One by one, they stumbled out of the fireplace, and soon, the cramped space was too crowded, forcing them to jostle apart.
Fred and George had just finished dealing with the Flobberworms in the Divination classroom. Having completed their task swiftly and efficiently, they had managed—after much pleading—to secure a second opportunity to work at Viktor's home. Now, as they pushed past Harry, their curiosity was piqued, and they eagerly took in their surroundings.
They first noticed the sink near the window, the tall standing mirror beside it, and the lush blue nightshade flowers growing just outside. Their faces immediately lit up with excitement, as if thinking, This detention was totally worth it.
"What's this?" Ron asked from behind, pointing at the cauldron.
"Your dinner," Viktor replied lightly.
"Bat-wing stew with moonlit snails—a classic dish."
"...Uh, Professor, do you happen to have any of that potato and beef stew from last time?" Harry asked hopefully.
"No, of course not. How could we possibly eat something so ordinary during a holiday?"
Harry sank into despair.
But before they could continue chatting, the flames in the fireplace flared green once more, this time expanding to nearly three meters high. A massive, broad figure emerged into the room—
Hagrid.
His wild, bushy head inevitably smacked against the ceiling with a dull thud, and his massive frame barely fit through the narrow fireplace. As he squeezed through, his shoulder bumped directly into the bubbling cauldron—
It tipped.
In that split second, Viktor raised a hand and made a subtle motion.
A flicker of silver light appeared beneath the cauldron. Before anyone could fully register what had happened, the tipping cauldron halted mid-air as if held by an invisible force.
Then, as if time were rewinding, the spilled stew flowed backward into the cauldron, which righted itself and settled back onto its iron stand above the fire.
It all happened in an instant.
Seeing the cauldron safely restored, the four students couldn't help but display a collective look of disappointment.
Hagrid, meanwhile, took a few seconds to realize he had knocked something over. Scratching his head, he bent down and said, "Oh—sorry, Professor Viktor. I think I might've—uh? Did I knock something over? I could've sworn I felt it."
Turning around, all he saw was the perfectly intact cauldron and fireplace.
"It's fine. Everything's sorted," Viktor said calmly, paying no mind to the minor mishap.
"Oh—well, that's good then," Hagrid said, still looking puzzled.
He set down the gifts he had brought—a large sack of rock cakes and some special fertilizer for magical herbs—before settling onto the couch beside Harry and the others. Despite his rugged, bearded face, there was a visible trace of unease and caution in his expression.
As a guest, Hagrid wasn't as rough and carefree as he seemed.
"Tea?" Viktor asked.
"Oh, sure, but if you've got any beer, that'd be even better—though tea's fine too," Hagrid rumbled.
"Alright."
Viktor reached under a cabinet on his left and pulled out a large wooden mug—clearly designed for beer. He gave it a light shake, and golden liquid started flowing into it from seemingly nowhere.
Once it was nearly full, Viktor handed it to Hagrid before turning to Harry and the others.
"Harry, Fred, you two need to head down to the woods and gather some spices for me—and while you're at it, deal with some pests."
"Pests?"
Harry looked puzzled.
"A group of gnomes," Viktor explained, nodding toward the window.
"Apparently, when the house moved last time, it must have wandered too close to a wizarding settlement, and these gnomes snuck in. I didn't expect those tiny brains of theirs to have such stubborn determination—to the point they even managed to slip through the magical mist and invade the garden."
"I've already set up an enclosure. Just toss them in there, and I'll take care of the rest."
As he spoke, Harry curiously followed his gaze out the window.
The view outside was still shrouded in mist, unchanged from the last time he was here. Looking down, he could make out the twisted branches of trees and, below that, grayish shrubs. However, amidst the shrubbery, there were occasional clusters of particularly distinctive plants.
Just as Harry was observing, a small, round creature emerged from one of the bushes.
It had a tiny body, rough and leathery skin, and a dirt-brown color. Paired with its bald, oversized head, it looked uncannily like a potato.
A gnome.