69 Food

Arth immediately turned his head to face the person who had just spoken.

The man had a gaunt, sunken face, waxy skin, yellow teeth, and long, matted hair. His expression was different from all he had seen so far. Not blank, not insane, not sorrowful, not fearful, nor dead. He looked as though he was bored.

The man threw his head at the body and sighed.

"He's been dead for a day. I think it was last night. The dementors are going to move him out tomorrow morning."

Arth sent a glance at the body with pity in his eyes.

"That's depressing."

"It is... you don't happen to have anything interesting do you?"

"Uhhh..."

Arth opened his bag and took out a book.

"This book is about the theory of elemental magic, it talks about how to cast spells by harnessing the elements of the old."

"Not interested in anything study related."

"Hmmm.... how about this one? It's a romance novel."

"Don't like sappy romance."

"Mmm... then perhaps a book about adventuring?"

"That's sounds good, hand it over boy. I've been dying of boredom for twelve years."

"Oooh, that's an awfully long period of time isn't it."

"It is."

Arth raised his eyebrows.

"I'm surprised that you lasted this long. Most of the people here seem to go insane the first year here. I read it in an article."

The man let out a laugh.

"Well you're right about that, most criminals can't stand the atmosphere. They either end up going quiet or just dying, as the case with that man over there."

"So why are you so different sir? Why is it that you seem sane?"

The man went quiet.

Seeing the change in the mood, Arth decided it was about time for him to go. He was pretty hungry after all. Plus, an hour had passed and dinner was probably ready to be served.

Arth went down the stairs and made it to the guest rooms. Hagrid was lying on one of the beds. His impressive stature made the sight almost comical as the bed furiously squeaked under the weight.

Arth couldn't help but laugh.

"Hagrid, I think you need a bigger bed."

Hagrid gave a wry smile.

"It's the biggest bed they have. Dinner is ready, go stuff Yerself up."

"Ok."

Arth made his way down to the kitchen, and a somewhat delectable smell made its way to his nose.

He started to pick up his pace.

The cafeteria was white in contrast to the rest of the prison. It was clean and tidy, although there was a little bit of dust here and there, overall it was pretty homely.

That is, only if you forgot the existence of black shadowy figures flying about just outside the door. And the bone chilling cold.

Fudge was sitting at the table looking a bit uncomfortable. The other seven wizards had the same expression.

"I hate it, I swear this place is not a place where a person can live."

"I know right... I constantly have these reoccurring memories... none are good."

Arth frowned.

He didn't experience any of that when he went near a dementor. He only the cold aspect of dementors but nothing else.

Arth made a mental note to research why this was so later.

Soon, the food was placed on the table. There was bread and soup, although they smelled ok, they looked very plain at first sight.

Arth picked up a spoon and took a dog into the soup.

He frowned.

Nasty.

Arth put down his spoon and picked up a bread and chewed on it.

Tastes like rubber.

Arth sighed and put down the bread.

Everyone else was following in suit, especially the Minister.

With a frowning face, Fudge got up and picked out four people.

"Us five will go back and return to the ministry, we will come and retrieve you two when matters have been cleared up."

The three wizards who had been chosen to stay reluctantly sent their fair wells. After the five people left, silence once more took a hold of the room. Everyone stared at each other awkwardly as their plates of food and bowls of soup lay untouched.

Arth got up.

"I can't have this. Where is the kitchen? I'm going to cook my own meals."

One of the wizards pointed to where the kitchen was at and Arth followed his directions and entered the kitchen.

There were three old witches silently stirring a bowl of soup.

Arth tried to get their attention.

"Um excuse me?"

"..."

"Can I use the kitchen to cook my own meal?"

"..."

"Hello?"

"..."

"I'm going to use the kitchen ok?"

Seeing that the ladies remained as unresponsive as ever, Arth decided to take it as a sign of yes.

Arth rolled up his sleeves and put on an apron. He walked towards the cubists where the ingredients were so placed and cracked his neck.

"Ok, shall we get started."