The classroom was impeccably tidy, with rows of polished desks and a charmed blackboard that wrote on its own in perfect cursive: "Basic Transfiguration: Matches to Needles."
Kronk settled into his chair, which gave a timid creak under his size.
Next to him, a Ravenclaw student eyed him with mild discomfort as Kronk carefully arranged his supplies: scrolls tied with colorful ribbons, a giant bird feather quill that looked like it came from a pheasant, and a squirrel-shaped lunchbox. The lid read "Kuzco's Canteen."
Just in case he got hungry between lessons.
"Do you really need to bring all that stuff with you?" the boy whispered.
"It's always good to have backup," Kronk replied seriously.
Then the door opened with the precision of a broken Swiss clock, as Harry and Ron entered the classroom, relieved to see that the professor hadn't arrived yet—completely unaware of the death glare the cat on the desk was giving them.
Minerva McGonagall leapt and shifted back into her human form, as upright as a Scottish lamppost, her scrutinizing gaze sweeping the room. Most of all, it settled on the two troublemakers who had arrived late to their very first magic lesson.
The audacity of these little lions knew no bounds.
After chastising them, she instructed them to take their seats and officially began the first Transfiguration lesson.
"Silence," she said softly, but with the kind of authority that could have silenced a tantrum-throwing dragon.
Everyone straightened up. So did Kronk—although he was already sitting upright, so he just puffed out his chest like he was about to sing the national anthem.
Minerva silently prayed he wouldn't start singing. Better to wait for Flitwick's class for that.
"Today, you'll learn to transfigure an ordinary matchstick into a sewing needle. Do not attempt it yet. Watch first."
With an elegant wave of her wand, the professor transformed her matchstick into a perfect, gleaming needle. She explained the method, the wand movements, and all the necessary theory with a clarity that only comes from years of teaching experience.
"Now, your turn," said McGonagall, and everyone got to work.
Kronk pulled out his wand and whispered,
"Alright, buddy. You and me, just like when we made flan in the Cauldron."
He aimed. The wand hummed in a circular motion like it was about to whip eggs. A blue flash… and the matchstick vanished.
In its place appeared a silver dessert fork, delicately engraved with autumn leaves, shiny and decorated like something straight out of a goblin wedding.
McGonagall approached, silent as a blinking barn owl, observing the result produced by the tallest student in class.
"Is that supposed to be a needle?"
"From a certain perspective, it's four needles fused together. Better balance. And look how pretty it is!" Kronk said enthusiastically, showing it to his classmate, who just stared wide-eyed.
"Mr. Kronk," she said, examining the fork. "Did you read the instructions properly?"
"Yes, of course! Transfigure into something thin and pointy. I just thought… why settle for a needle when you could have... cutlery?" he explained, wearing a proud "I'm a genius" expression.
McGonagall took the fork, turned it in her hand with her usual neutral expression, and finally nodded, reluctantly.
"Technically, you have altered the object's shape, material, and purpose. Although… not to the intended result. I'll give you five points for the successful transfiguration and… ten more to Hufflepuff for creativity."
"This is the first time I've earned points," Kronk beamed.
He didn't know what the points were for, but surely it was good to have them, right?
Oh! Maybe if he got enough, they'd give him a shirt!
Now he really wanted that shirt.
"Would you mind if I kept the fork, Mr. Kronk?" McGonagall asked. "I like to collect student successes—especially the more… unique ones."
She had been about to say talented, but hesitated on the word.
"The match was yours, so it makes sense the fork would be too," Kronk reasoned, unconcerned.
McGonagall's lips threatened to curve into a smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Kronk."
…
The Hogwarts dungeons were wrapped in a thick, damp silence. Students' footsteps echoed dimly, as if even the castle itself didn't want to disturb the most irritable Potions Master in history and sworn enemy of hair shampoo.
Kronk entered the potions classroom with a huge smile.
"Good morning!" he greeted cheerfully as he settled at his workstation, which he had already customized: a non-slip mat with smiling sunflowers and a small scroll-holder carved in the shape of a bear.
Before anyone could answer, the door slammed shut.
Severus Snape floated (he literally seemed to float) into the center of the room like a bottled storm, his cloak billowing despite the lack of any draft.
Kronk glanced up, confused. Shouldn't this place have better ventilation with all the potion fumes? Yzma's lab had proper vents.
"Silence."
No one had dared speak, but the message was clear.
"Today, you will brew a Calming Valerian Infusion. Page 127. Additional details are on the board. Begin. Now."
Snape moved through the rows with his hands clasped behind his back, his cloak dragging with a sinister whisper. Students retrieved ingredients with trembling fingers, some of which trembled back as they realized what was about to happen to them.
Kronk, on the other hand, had everything neatly laid out. Jars sorted by size, a wooden ladle with his name engraved, and an hourglass spinning in a crystal sphere he had accidentally enchanted while trying to make jelly.
Turns out, making jelly while sleep-deprived from too much reading is a bad idea—especially with magic involved. At least this one didn't grow teeth. His butt still ached from the last jelly that had developed a taste for biting.
"Alright," he murmured as he poured water into the cauldron. "A little valerian root… a dash of rosehip extract for the scent…"
He frowned at the color.
"Sky blue? Nah… Yzma wouldn't approve. What if I balance it with a bit of beetroot powder? I mean, if it soothes the stomach, it should calm the mind too!"
The cauldron bubbled. A purple mist rose with a harmless poof. Kronk sniffed the air appreciatively.
"Mmm… like a grape giving you a gentle hug. Nice."
A moment later, Snape appeared beside him without a sound.
"And what in the name of Merlin are you doing?"
"Hi, Professor! I was brewing the infusion. I followed the recipe… more or less. I added a personal twist," Kronk said, spinning his ladle with professional chef flair. "Want to try it?"
Snape looked down. Kronk's potion was bubbling softly, glowing with a deep amethyst hue like liquid gemstone. He leaned in, sniffed the vapor. His frown deepened—it seemed functional in every way except for the color.
"Purple?" he whispered with glacial disapproval. "This potion should be sky blue. Clear, transparent, without unnecessary aromas. What exactly did you do, Mr. Kronk?" A hint of academic curiosity crept into his voice.
Kronk raised his hands as if surrendering.
"Look, Professor… this might be Yzma's fault."
Snape blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"She used to make lots of potions. Let me help—though not too much. One time she had me grinding Silent Eternity Flower petals with a moonstone… but I think she made it all up just to distract me while she tried to turn someone into an animal to steal their empire."
Snape blinked again. Not because he was surprised, but because for a moment, his brain refused to process that last sentence.
"Yzma?"
"My boss—former boss," he corrected. "I don't know if she's a witch or just really persistent. Anyway, maybe I picked up her style. But I can fix this! I just need to neutralize the magic tint spectrum with a few drops of essence of—"
"Don't touch anything else!" Snape barked, raising a hand. He eyed the bubbling potion, then Kronk. "No explosive ingredients… but this smells like… sweet breakfast."
Kronk smiled.
"Did you catch the maple syrup hint? It relaxes the mood. Pairs well with the valerian, and the beet adds a touch of—"
Snape raised one eyebrow, slowly.
"—creativity. Yep. Yzma thought so too."
Until she blew up an entire basement, but that was a story for another day.
Snape pursed his lips and turned sharply. He walked to his desk and conjured a label on an empty vial. Without saying anything, he flicked his wand and siphoned a small sample of Kronk's potion for future analysis.
"So… did I pass?" Kronk asked, hopeful.
Snape froze, choosing his words carefully.
"You passed… the creation of something that is not entirely wrong, but completely unacceptable. Do not repeat it. Five points to Hufflepuff for not causing an explosion."
As Snape walked away, Kronk pulled out his notebook, the cover of which read in big letters: "Potions and Recipes: Magic and Jam, by Kronk", and began writing:
Kronk's Version of Valerian Infusion:
Color: Purple
Aroma: "Like grapes giving you a hug"
Side effects: Probably relaxing, or hopefully mood-transforming.
To be tested on frogs first.
P.S.: Get frogs.
P.S. #2: If I can't get frogs, ask the Gryffindor kid if I can borrow his.