Great Hall, the morning after the troll attack.
The story of how Kronk slammed a pumpkin onto the troll's head like an NBA star spread like wildfire through the castle, causing the chatter in the Great Hall to reach deafening levels.
"He hit it with a floating pumpkin!" said a second-year student, enthusiastically mimicking the fall.
"I heard he rode it like a hippogriff and spun it around until it got dizzy," added a Ravenclaw girl, spreading her arms as if flying.
"No, no, no!" interrupted Fred Weasley, standing on a bench to grab everyone's attention. "What really happened is that Kronk swung from a chandelier, leapt off shouting 'To the Kronk!' and knocked the troll out with a professional wrestler's hold. I saw it with my own eyes! …Well, almost."
George held up a slice of toast covered in orange marmalade like a trophy.
"To the Kronk!" several students repeated between laughs, mimicking the war cry with glee.
Kronk, who had sat down quietly at the Hufflepuff table (as quietly as someone his size could), smiled bashfully while pouring himself more apple juice and pushing the pumpkin juice as far away from him as possible.
He wouldn't be eating pumpkin for a long while.
Just then, Hermione appeared with determined steps and a stern expression, arms crossed and brows furrowed.
"Ah, Kronk!" she pointed an accusing finger at him. "There you are!"
Nearby students exchanged glances, silently puzzled.
Why was the small witch acting like it was hard to find the student taller than most seventh-years?
"Oh! Hi, Hermione," Kronk waved back without realizing her tone. "Want some toast? This one looks like a cat, see?"
"I don't want toast!" she replied, half-indignant, half-worried. "I want you to understand that what you did was completely irresponsible! You could've gotten hurt! Or worse… expelled!"
Kronk blinked, surprised.
The tiny angel and devil on his shoulders exchanged speechless looks as one of them gave a thumb gesture, clearly baffled.
Was expulsion really worse than getting hurt?
Seriously, this little witch needed to sort out her life priorities.
"But... the troll was heading straight for Justin and Ernie..."
Hermione looked at him as if she couldn't decide whether to scold him further or give him a hug.
"That's not an official protocol, Kronk."
"It's not? Oh! Then I should write it down." He cleared his throat and switched to an impressive voice-over: "Stealth mode: only use when being attacked by a troll in dark, narrow corridors, and pumpkins are available." Then he went back to his normal voice. "Does that sound more official?"
If the students hadn't already gotten a feel for Kronk, they might have thought he was being sarcastic.
Hermione placed a hand on her forehead, but seeing his genuinely sweet smile, her expression inevitably softened.
"Just… promise me you'll tell a teacher next time before doing something like that. Deal?"
Kronk nodded eagerly.
"I promise!" Then he paused. "Unless there's no time, or pumpkins, or I'm hanging from a lamp and about to fall."
"Then I'll improvise."
Hermione sighed, but couldn't help smiling as she sat next to him and began serving herself one of those cat-shaped toasts.
She liked cats.
Professors McGonagall and Sprout approached the staff table, their expressions serious. At the center, Dumbledore rose slowly, tapping his golden goblet inlaid with twenty rubies with a silver spoon.
Ting, ting!
Silence fell like an enchanted blanket over the Great Hall, and everyone turned to look at the Headmaster.
"Good morning, dear students," said Dumbledore, in that calm voice that seemed to fill every corner of the room. "As you know, a troubling incident occurred last night: a troll managed to enter the corridors of Hogwarts during the Halloween feast."
Yes, everyone knew. Secrets didn't last long at this school.
"Fortunately," he continued with a slight smile, "the situation was handled… in a manner none of us could have expected."
Nor had they expected a bloody troll to break into the school. It had been a PR nightmare for the board. McGonagall was on her sixth coffee.
Dumbledore paused for dramatic effect—one of his secret techniques.
"A student who didn't hesitate to act to protect his classmates, expecting no glory or reward. A student who, though new to the magical world, has shown a heart as big as..." —he seemed to search for the right word— "well, as his biceps!"
Laughter rippled through the tables and countless eyes turned in a very specific direction. Kronk tensed slightly, glancing around cautiously, until Hermione nudged him gently with her elbow and whispered:
"Kronk, he's talking about you!"
"Me?" he whispered, eyes wide as saucers, dropping his fork into the mashed potatoes he'd just started on. "Oh, heavens!" Horror crossed his face. "Did the troll report me for aggression and now I'm getting expelled?!"
Students and faculty: ????
"What? No!" Hermione ran a hand down her face. She was pretty sure the troll couldn't file a complaint… probably. "They're praising you!"
Dumbledore raised a hand.
"Kronk, for your bravery, determination, and creative use of seasonal decorative resources, I award your house the modest sum of twenty points."
Kronk felt a déjà vu. Hadn't he already been given twenty points for that?
Were those points even legal?
He should talk to Professor Sprout. Maybe he'd have to return them if the Headmaster turned out to be forgetful.
The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers and excited shouts—not for the points, but for the reason behind them.
Hannah Abbott, among others, bounced with joy, and even Sprout applauded with a handkerchief lightly stained with dirt in hand.
"And," Dumbledore added with a wink visible from the far end of the hall, "for reminding us that heroic acts don't always come from the power of wands, but from the heart, Hogwarts awards you a special medal for Practical Ingenuity and Solidarity, to be presented at the end of the term."
Something that, until now, only existed in very dusty rulebook drafts.
The reason for the delay in the ceremony?
The medal wasn't even made yet.
"Dumbledore, you can't do that!" Minerva whispered. "It's not in the school budget!"
"Minerva, I'm the Headmaster!" said Dumbledore boldly, with a grand open-handed gesture.
"You'll regret this, Dumbledore!" McGonagall muttered as she turned away.
She was going to sneak lime candies into his beloved lemon drops.
Kronk froze.
"I'm getting a medal?!"
Dumbledore simply smiled, with that sparkle in his eyes he reserved for unexpectedly magical moments.
Hermione, giggling, told him:
"You're going to need a notebook for all your new fans."
Kronk nodded thoughtfully as he stroked his chin.
"A notebook… of course…"