Cooking was a skill Cutty could value. Mostly because with it, he could lure a maaaa'aaaan. Or even an unsuspecting member of the board. This is how his thirteen year old brain figured it worked anyway as he'd seen by example of Adelaide Adams and her highly coveted brownies. So without hesitation, Cutty carried his pale little behind over to where the aprons where and fastened one onto his body. He looked it over and decided that it suited him. Maybe he'd even invest in one of them for future use.


He washed his hands next, careful to get beneath the fingernails and eager to work alone. He figured it was best this way. Cutty gathered the yeast, flour and sugar and combined them into a bowl very carefully. Yes, their Professor had said that it wasn't potions but what if something went wrong and he'd introduced the wrong ingredient at the wrong time and then had to start all over? Could that happen in muggle cooking? Were there ever ways to fix it? Why hadn't he paid attention when his own mother cooked their meals? They lived in a predominantly muggle building, but maybe she did use a bit of magic in the privacy of their own home whilst cooking for her and her boy. Cutty would pay closer attention next summer.

"Aquamenti." He said looking like an absurd fountain of a boy dressed in an apron as he held perfectly still to let the water flow into his mixture. Cutty was stirring his ingredients and looking around for texture, colour and clockwise or anti-clockwise stirring queues from his fellow classmates. He presumed a bisquey colour and that a smoother texture was what they were after. When he reached that texture he ceased stirring and withdrew the stirring instrument before hitting it with a cleansing charm.