Great Hall, at dusk.
Kronk served himself a generous slice of pumpkin pie while the murmurs at the long, ancient wooden tables grew louder. Apparently, someone had done what could only be described as making history in Potions...
He was buried in his plate, muttering to himself:
"No whipped cream, no whipped cream..."
He'd realized the food here was delicious—and incredibly high in calories!
It was wreaking havoc on his diet, the one he followed to stay in shape, and despite all his wandering around the castle these past days, he hadn't managed to find the gym.
It was as if there wasn't one!
No, he was overthinking it. What kind of school wouldn't make its students exercise?
Suddenly, a pair of redheaded shadows sat down next to him with a movement as smooth as a routine rehearsed a thousand times—one on each side, identical smiles on their faces and eyes gleaming with curiosity.
The duo that made the school tremble had arrived—the ones who kept McGonagall busier than all the other years combined, and the greatest fear of the Gryffindor House points hourglass, which suffered massive losses with every one of their actions.
"So you're the legend!" one of them began.
"The reckless, daring, and inconceivable..." continued the other.
"...Hufflepuff who earned five points from Snape..."
"...for changing his potion recipe."
"Knowingly and on purpose!"
Kronk blinked with his mouth full, swallowed, and grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth before speaking—because manners make the man.
"Wait, what?" he asked, trying to catch up with the conversation. "I just added a touch of beetroot to balance out the bitterness of the wormwood. And Yzma always said potions only work if the ingredients taste like old socks."
He always wondered how Yzma knew that particular taste so well, but was too afraid to ask… or to learn the consequences.
The twins exchanged a knowing look.
One of them (Fred, maybe) said:
"Yzma was your professor abroad?"
The other (probably George) rubbed his chin.
"Or perhaps a very, very distant relative?"
Kronk solemnly nodded at both questions.
"She's... complicated."
"We're Fred and George Weasley, by the way," they said in unison, stretching out their hands simultaneously.
"I'm Kronk. But you already knew that," Kronk said as he shook both their hands at once.
Then, without taking his eyes off them, he asked:
"So, which one of you escaped from the mirror?"
Fred burst into laughter.
"George, I like this guy!"
"Look, let us tell you something: no one, no one, earns points from Snape by messing with his potions," George leaned toward Kronk. "Last year, his Slytherins had to write several feet of parchment just for implying such a thing."
"Once, Seamus Finnegan (that guy over there with the milk mustache) got confused and used Muggle granulated sugar instead of fairy dust," said Fred. "We lost ten points that day... and Seamus lost an eyebrow. Pomfrey's still working on that."
"But you come in, add beetroot powder, and bam! Five points."
"That's more than a feat. It's a milestone."
"It's a revolution."
"It's culinary art turned into potion-making!"
Kronk scratched the back of his neck, a little awkward.
"Honestly, I just wanted it to have the usual color. It was a habit from making potions with Yzma," he explained sheepishly. "Purple, fuchsia, deep pink... she had a very specific color palette for potions," he emphasized, pulling out a sample chart on paper to show them.
George placed a hand dramatically over his chest:
"Snape. Giving points. To Hufflepuff," he turned toward a tall window. "The world's changing too fast... and in a questionable direction."
Fred leaned back, pondering aloud with his twin:
"We'll have to write this on the walls."
From the staff table, McGonagall felt her Weasley sense tingling.
"Or engrave it onto the Fat Lady's portrait?"
McGonagall's trained gaze found the Weasley twins in under 0.3 seconds of scanning the Great Hall.
"We could carve the story onto the rump of a flying boar."
McGonagall narrowed her eyes.
"Or turn it into a talking cookie!"
"Yes! A cookie that says: 'Beetroot—Snape-approved!'"
Kronk looked at them, part impressed, part confused.
"Are you both in Potions too?" he asked.
Kronk didn't recall seeing them in class.
"Of course!" they replied in perfect unison.
Fred pointed to the inside pocket of his robe, from which sticky vials and singed quills poked out—a testament to their experiments for… purely academic purposes.
"We're not what you'd call model students."
"But we are creative!" George snapped his fingers.
"And you, our friend, are an inspiration."
"So we were wondering..."
"Would you like to help us with our project this weekend?"
Kronk tilted his head. He should have enough time to do his homework.
Maybe they know where the gym is!
"What's it abou—"
"Mr. Weasley!"Minerva appeared behind the twins with feline stealth at some point in their conversation. Her words made the brothers jump in perfect sync. "Are you trying to get Mr. Pepikro—Pekran—Pikron—sigh," she rubbed her face, trying to mask her embarrassment for failing to pronounce a student's last name properly. "Are you trying to get Mr. Kronk in trouble?"
Yes. That would be her go-to from now on.
"Professor, that is a true slander!" protested one of the redheads as he stood from the Hufflepuff table.
"We merely sought to help a first-year student deepen his understanding," said the other as he also stood.
"Our honor is wounded!"
"And so we shall leave!"
The two put on their best look of grave offense and linked arms dramatically as they walked away from McGonagall with their chins held high, leaving Kronk confused but politely smiling, glancing left and right as he tried to understand what had just happened—while taking another bite of pumpkin pie.
"Wish I had some whipped cream..." he lamented internally.