The whole castle seemed to breathe tension after the events at the Whomping Willow.
Rumors ran wild like hippogriffs chasing a goat slathered in barbecue sauce: that a murderer was loose in the corridors, that a werewolf had been seen on the grounds, that someone had tried to rob the kitchens (that last one wasn't true—though Kronk had accidentally eaten an entire pack of butter cookies to calm his nerves after bumping into Lupin).
In the staff room, Snape paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back as if about to deliver a lecture to an audience he despised.
"Headmaster," he said in a low, icy voice, "last night I received direct information from a student. He claimed to have seen a black dog dragging another student toward the Whomping Willow."
The professors held their breath. Sprout was the first to speak:
"And who was the student, Severus?"
Snape turned dramatically, his cloak billowing as if it had its own wind source.
"Kronk."
There was an awkward silence. Flitwick coughed. McGonagall adjusted her glasses.
Sprout tilted her head, as if to say "And what's so unusual about that?"
"Do not misunderstand me," Snape continued. "I am not questioning that the boy saw something. What I find implausible is… the frequency with which he stumbles into the most significant events at this school. He's always in the middle of everything. Always!"
"Or perhaps," Dumbledore interjected calmly, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, "our Kronk simply has a very particular instinct for showing up in the wrong place at precisely the right time."
Snape clicked his tongue.
"Or for feigning naivety while hiding more than he lets on."
Sprout narrowed her eyes, staring at the Potions Master so intently that Snape felt a shiver crawl up his spine.
…
Far from suspicions and conspiracies, Kronk was happily at work in his food truck, peeling more pumpkins from Hagrid's patch. He hummed a made-up tune as the chunks dropped into a bucket.
This time he would use them to make… pumpkin gazpacho!
It would be a hit, no doubt.
"Nothing like the sound of a knife against fresh pumpkin… pure poetry!" he said cheerfully, unaware that his name now topped a blacklist in Snape's office.
…
In the Gryffindor common room, Hermione unrolled a giant parchment across the table.
In red ink, she had written the title:
List of Kronk's Mysterious Interventions
"Let's see…" she read, adjusting her quill between her fingers. "Last year: Cornish pixies. Then: food truck on the Quidditch pitch. After that: hippogriffs, dementors, a Firebolt, and now… a black dog at the Whomping Willow!"
Harry raised an eyebrow at her. He suspected his friend still had lingering traces of Kronk's coffee in her bloodstream.
"Hermione, are you saying Kronk is behind everything weird that happens at Hogwarts?"
"Not behind!" she clarified. "In the middle. Like he's… I don't know, a magnet for the improbable."
Ron, slouched in the armchair, snorted.
"Half the time, all he does is cook, read, or work out."
Hermione shot him such a sharp glare that for a split second, two streaks of light seemed to cut through the air.
"And the other half? Don't you find it suspicious he even has a Time-Turner like mine?" (that still stung more than she liked to admit). "I had to go through endless tests before they trusted me with one—Sprout just handed him his, just, just… just because!"
Harry tried to ease the tension.
"Well… Kronk doesn't seem dangerous. He's just… Kronk."
…
The scent of baked dough, cinnamon, and pumpkin filled the common room.
"Hey, guys!" Kronk walked in carrying a massive tray of cake, as if he were just another Gryffindor. "I was testing out a new recipe with some leftover pumpkin, and, well, I thought you could help me eat the results."
Harry eagerly accepted a slice.
"Delicious!"
Ron grabbed two portions without asking.
"Mmm… this is brilliant."
Hermione, on the other hand, took a piece cautiously, never taking her eyes off him.
"Thanks, Kronk…" she said slowly.
"Perfect!" Kronk grinned. "And the best part is, nothing exploded this time."
Harry frowned in confusion.
"Wait… food is supposed to explode?"
Kronk shrugged.
"Well, sometimes it happens."
Hermione nearly choked on her cake. Suddenly, she felt absolutely certain that Kronk would be the type to use gunpowder as a cooking ingredient.