Written for Hogwarts House Challenges: The Kitchen Challenge
W.C. 407
Lessons from the Elf
"Kreacher is old and Kreacher can die soon; Mistress Ginny needs to learn how to cook."
Ginny sighed and turned back to the counter, moping off the beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead with a towel. For the hundredth time, she cursed luck. Her mother was a pro at cooking everything, but Ginny was worse in kitchen than Tonks was on her legs. And right now, she was cooking a dish called Pani-Poori.
She moved over and dropped the spoon again; had Kreacher not levitated it using elf-magic, it would surely have cut her foot. She looked up at the tiny creature, only to meet a steely gaze. Though she was happy for him to be a free house-elf, sometimes she wished he wasn't—especially when he ordered her around in the kitchen. And she didn't even know how he kept up with all the muggle appliances Harry had bought.
Whipping the mixture, she turned to Kreacher. "What do I have to do next?"
"Kreacher shall not tell Mistress Ginny what to do. Kreacher told that to Mistress Ginny yesterday, and now Mistress Ginny should do the work herself."
Ginny swore under her breath. Why did Indians have to design such complicated dishes . . . and why her husband had to take a liking to the Indian food? Well, at least she did not have to feed Ron, or she would have been six feet under the grave by now.
'Is this even supposed to be so wet?' she thought to herself. Scanning through her memory, she came to the conclusion that the Poori part was to be made of dough, and the Pani part had to be a spicy, watery drink.
She looked down at the bowl in front of her. Inside was a sticky, batter-like substance—in a contrast of green and cream. Apparently, she had mixed the two halves of the dish, and everything was spoilt now.
Kreacher must have come to the same conclusion, because before Ginny could let out another sigh, he had vanished the gooey substance—the act reminding her of the old Slytherin bat.
"Master Ginny has failed again . . . Kreacher has some cake in the ref-re-fridge, but Kreacher worries what Master Harry and Mistress Ginny will do when Kreacher dies!"
Huffing, he went off, leaving Ginny standing in the kitchen, a dirty apron draped on her robes—looking like an over-sized house elf.