Something's Burning Solo Errand Done

Anastasia Beckett could not bake. Anastasia Beckett should not bake. So why, on that August afternoon, was Anastasia Beckett trying to bake?

To be perfectly honest, Ana herself had exactly zero ideas as to why she was baking. She had received an owl that had been rather persistent. She had ignored it and deposited the letter into her growing pile of unopened mail. The mail had been piling for almost a month, so why would that change? Her aunt apparently disagreed with her and had taken it upon herself to sort through Ana's mountain to see if there was anything important. The majority of it was letters from friends that she couldn't bring herself to open, for fear they would remind her of a time when her life hadn't been such a mess or worse, they would be full of pity and concern for her. Neither was good, so most of her letters continued to collect dust. However, her aunt had recognized one as from school (Ana still wasn't sure how exactly, whether it was the paper, or the owl or the seal), and had opened it. The baking had evidently sounded like an entertaining way to spend a day or allegedly a way to lift Ana's spirit slightly, so she had all but dragged Anastasia out of her room and down to the kitchen.

Ana could already tell this was a terrible idea. She had baked a handful of times in her life and vastly preferred eating sweets to making them. Additionally, her penchant for setting things on fire seemed like it would cause problems in an endeavor like this. None of her protests convinced her aunt, and so, with an apron that was far too big for her wrapped around, the pair set out.

Ana wanted to make macarons, as they were her favorite treat in the history of ever, and if she was going to make something, she might as well make something interesting. Her aunt was visibly skeptical but seemed wary of shooting down Ana's idea since it was the first thing she had taken much interest in since early July. Ana began to shift together almond flour and powdered sugar, covering herself, her aunt, the elves accompanying them, and the entire kitchen in the mixture. Looking rather like a ghost, Ana began violently whisking egg whites. As with the flour and sugar, the egg whites got all over everything, and the Gryffindor was so disgusted that she almost gave up. Still, she set about whisking again, a bit less viscously, and after what felt like an eternity, her eggs had what the recipe had referred to as "stiff peaks". At this point, Ana stirred in the vanilla and something called cream of tartar that Killsey insisted supported the egg whites or something. She wasn't listening and continued to violently beat the egg whites.

Her elf offered to finish for her, but Ana was committed to this now. She began to fold her in dry ingredients, probably a little more violently than was correct for the confection, but it was deeply satisfying for her. The mixture was gritty, but after a while, she tired of mixing it, and decided to pipe her creation and pop it in the oven. As they baked, she made a buttercream that consisted solely of butter, salt, and some random food coloring she found. Then, she smelled a burning smell, which she ignored as she continued to add salt to her frosting.

Obligatory Ana sets something on fire- That was a bad idea because the entire oven burst into flames. Apparently, 475 degrees Farghenight for half an hour was not the right way to bake the cookies. She and her aunt both shrieked and her aunt quickly extinguished the fire. They removed the charred treats from the oven, and Ana briefly considered disregarding them altogether. She decided against it since there was so much sugar in those treats that they had to still be good.

She didn't actually taste her salty food coloring filled butter icing before she piped it on her black macarons, but the black and melty hot pink looked nice together. Her aunt insisted that she needed to chill the treats before they could sample them or send them to the Groundskeeper. Ana sighed and began to sip a cup of coffee while she waited. After a bit, the elf came out of the kitchen with a tray of absolutely perfect chocolate smelling macarons. Ana munched the treats, uncharacteristically unskeptical of the unlikely leap in quality her task had taken.

Little did she know, the elf had made its own batch of cookies, which went to Ana, while her miserable charred melty mess was on its way to the Groundskeeper. While the Pureblood's gift might fall short of making anyone who ate it ill, it was far from edible.