Here is the second chapter of my first story, I hope you like it!

“Bonjour Monsieurs et Madames. Yesterday, we learned the correct way to boil water. Today, we will learn to crack an egg.” Head Chef Eggleston said. “The egg is not stone, nor is it wood, it is a living thing. It has a heart. So when you crack it we must not torment it. We must execute it swiftly, like the guillotine.” The chef picked up an egg and smartly cracked it against the side of a bowl. “You see, it’s all in the wrist. Now pick up an egg and try to crack it.”

The class room had to rows of counters. Each side had six muggle inspiring chefs. Sabrina was the farthest away from the head chef. She was wearing a new black dress, but also the same old apron. All twelve chefs picked up an egg and began to crack them.

“New egg. 1, 2, 3, crack” Chef Eggleston commanded.

“New egg. 1, 2, 3, crack.”

Eventually he came to Sabrina. Sabrina was not cracking eggs, and her arms were behind her back. The chef motioned for her to bring her hands forward. Timidly, Sabrina showed the chef her poorly cracked egg. The chef sighed, and picked up an egg.

“It’s all in the wrist, like a whip.” He said. He attempted to crack the egg on the side of the bowl with an exaggerated bend of his wrist. To his embarrassment, the entire egg fell into the bowl.

“Hey, there is a letter from Sabrina here!” Mother cried as she went through the mail.

“What’s she have to say?” asked Mrs. Napier, a maid.

“All right, hold your hippogriffs!” mother replied as she opened the letter. Sitting in the Black kitchen was the entire Black servant crew. There was Mr. Lamport, the gardener, Ms. Napier and Mrs. Dutton, the maids, and Mr. Tenbrook, the quiditch specialist.

Mother read:

Hello mum! Or bonjour maman, as they say here in Paris. Isn’t my French getting good! We are now starting fish, and I am so thankful because sauces nearly killed me. We had to make a merchand de vin sauce, but my was still very liquidly.

“She didn’t let it reduce long enough.” Interrupted mother.

“Does she say anything about Regulus?” asked Mrs. Dutton.

“Umm,” mother said looking though the long letter. “Here…’I don’t think about Regulus very much anymore,

“That’s good.” Mr. Lamport said,

Except at night.” Mother read on.

“That’s bad.” Mr. Tenbrook said, shaking his head.

However, I did something sensible last night. I ripped up his picture,

“Oh, that’s good.” Ms. Napier said.

So can you please send me some magic tape?

“That’s bad.” They all said in unison. Mother laughed as she put the letter away.

“And now Madams et Monsieurs, we shall see how you have done in the lesson of the soufflé.” Said Chef Eggleston.

All twelve chefs were lined up next to their ovens. They stood with towels hanging from their arms and stiff backs, like soldiers.

“The soufflé must be light and happy. Like two butterflies dancing in the summer breeze.” Eggleston gesticulated with his hands as if they too were butterflies. “You have five seconds… four seconds, three, two… one second! Now, go to your ovens and pull out your soufflés out.”

The chefs turned and pulled out their soufflés, and again lined up. Chef Eggleston went down the line to inspect.

“Too low.” He would say, or “too high.” Until he got to the man to Sabrina’s right. “Merveilleux Mounsieur Taite, you have not lost your touch.” He then went to Sabrina and look into her pan. “Much too low.”

Chef Eggleston walked away, and Sabrina put her dish sadly. “I don’t know what happened.” She said.

“I will tell you what happened.” Barron Taite replied. “You forgot to turn on the oven.”

“Oh no.” Sabrina said embarrassed.

“Your mind has not been on the cooking, it has been elsewhere. You are in love. I would guess that you are unhappily in love.” The Barron said knowingly.   

“Does it show?”

“It does. A woman happily in love, she burns the soufflé. A woman unhappily in love forgets to turn on the oven.

“Yes, but I’m trying to get over it.” She said to the kin man. “You see he doesn’t even know that I exist. I might as well be reaching for the moon.” Sabrina finished sadly.

“Well, to begin with, you must stop looking like a… a horse.”

“A horse?” Sabrina said, her hands moving to her hair. “Oh no.”

“Another letter from Sabrina!” Mother yelled.

“Well go on, read it!” Mrs. Dutton said.

I have met a man by the name of Barron Taite.

“A Barron?” Mr. Lamport said impressed.

He came to the cooking school to take a refresher course in soufflés, and he like me so much that he decided to stay for the pastries! The Barron is 74 years old, and is very sweet and very nice.

“Oh no.” Ms. Napier said shaking her head

He is taking me to a very fashionable charity ball, and I have an evening dress just for the occasion. If Regulus could just see me in it! I suppose he can see me in it soon, because I’m coming home next week.

Can’t wait to see you,


After mother finished reading the letter, Regulus walked into the kitchen. “What’s all this about?” He asked.

“It’s a letter from Sabrina. Would you like to read it?” asked Ms. Napier.

Regulus didn’t respond, but instead stormed out of the kitchen.

“Well, what is the matter with him?” asked Mr. Tembrook.

“He’s getting married, that’s what.” Answered Mrs. Dutton.

“Who says?”

“Don’t you people ever read the paper?” Mrs. Dutton said, pointing to the article in the paper.

“Poor Sabrina.”


Please rate even if you hate it! I thank you for taking the time to read my story. It would be very helpful to my writing if you tell me what you think. Also, I don't speak french, so if the french is wrong please tell me so I can fix it :) thanks.


Track This Story:    Feed


Get access to every new feature the moment it comes out.

Register Today!