All of Hogwarts seemed wrapped in an especially quiet night, and the wind beat against the windows of the forbidden third-floor corridor, as if trying to warn that something important was about to happen.
From a dimly lit corner, Filch poked his nose out suspiciously, but got distracted when he heard Peeves unclogging second-floor toilets to the tune of a Christmas carol. Muttering to himself, he wandered off with Mrs. Norris at his heels.
So, no one saw it.
No one witnessed the enormous, muscular silhouette that slipped stealthily through the door leading to the forbidden trapdoor. No one, except the creature guarding the place: Fluffy, the massive three-headed dog, with more muscle than patience and more hunger than mercy.
All three heads lifted their muzzles almost at the same time, sniffing the air with a furious expression.
And then… they saw him.
A student far too big for his year, with no backup accompanying him to such a dangerous place, carrying a metal basket hanging from one arm and wearing a smile that felt very out of place.
All three of Fluffy's heads growled in unison.
It was the kind of sound that would make any sensible student sprint toward the nearest common room, sobbing while remembering the reflection of their terrified face in the Cerberus's massive teeth.
And secretly wondering with envy what brand of toothpaste he used to keep them so white...
But Kronk didn't run. He simply raised a hand and whispered:
"Shh... easy, boy… or, uh... boys?"
Fluffy took a step forward, claws scraping against the stone floor, while one of the heads let a string of drool fall — thick as a curtain.
Kronk took a deep breath, opened the basket… and the whole room seemed to freeze as Fluffy's pupils shrank to the size of needles.
It was meat. Perfectly cooked, juicy, precisely seasoned meat, wrapped in wax paper, labeled with tags that read "Juicy," "Extra Juicy," and "Tender Supreme Level: Kronk Brand."
All three of Fluffy's heads froze.
"Let's see… you look like someone who enjoys red-center cuts," said Kronk, pointing at the left head and tossing a steak the size of a backpack.
The middle head sniffed and barked.
"Ah, picky, huh? You look like someone who appreciates a cut with rosemary and... black garlic?" —he tossed another steak, which the middle head caught with delight— "Yep, definitely black garlic."
The right head gave a small whimper.
"No salt?" Kronk nodded understandingly. "You're the one on a diet, huh? I get it. Here you go—marinated in vegetable broth with a touch of chicken essence. Mild, but with personality."
And so, the fearsome three-headed guardian went from savage beast to three cuddly fang-faced pets in one body, all happily chewing while their wagging tail caused miniature earthquakes.
Once the feast was done, Kronk calmly sat down and pulled a telescopic garden leaf-rake from his backpack.
"Time for belly rubs, champ."
He approached with the rake fully extended and began to scratch the underside of Fluffy's massive belly. All three heads sighed in unison, their eyes closing in bliss as they flopped onto their side to make room for more affection.
"Yes, yes, right there... that's the spot. You guys need more group cuddles," Kronk said while whistling a lullaby.
After a while of pampering and cleaning with damp cloths (no one knew where he got them from), he stood up, closed the stainless steel basket, and murmured:
"I should wash the bucket before returning it," he noted, spotting a small streak of grime inside. "Well, see you next week!"
Fluffy let out a noise of satisfaction that, if it hadn't shaken the ceiling, might have been mistaken for a purr.
"Good boy," Kronk nodded, slipping out with the same snake-like agility he had entered with, heading toward the outskirts of the castle, beyond the reach of the portraits' watchful eyes.
The secret? Spin around the same spot more than twenty times — really disorients the portraits!
Kronk's elusive destination?
The Hogwarts gamekeeper's hut.
Hagrid received him with squinted eyes, peeking through the door's crack to make sure no one had followed him — after all, he technically wasn't allowed to ask a student to help care for Fluffy.
"So... you did it?"
Kronk nodded and handed him the empty basket.
"Clean as a holiday plate."
"And you still got all your arms?" the half-giant half-joked.
"The usual, the ones I like," Kronk replied, flexing his biceps.
Hagrid let out a hearty laugh, though he was secretly relieved.
"Bless Merlin!" he sighed with admiration. "Not even I ever managed to rub Fluffy's belly without him trying to rip my leg off first — he's just so playful…"
Kronk raised an eyebrow, proud.
"The key is to scratch with the fur, never against it," he shared his secret generously and without hesitation.
He could tell Hagrid was like him — an animal lover.
Sure, the little angel on his shoulder questioned (a lot, actually) Hagrid's tendency to crossbreed species... but hey, everyone has hobbies, right?
Then he saw it.
On the rustic table inside the hut, wrapped in a blanket, was an oval object, shining with glossy scales and a faint orange glow reflecting the firelight.
Kronk's eyes lit up.
"Is that... an egg?" —after his Ashwinder egg incident, he had tried to learn more about local eggs— "Like... a dragon egg?"
"Uh-huh," Hagrid nodded, puffing his chest with pride. "Won it in a card game from a real shady fella, but hey — look at this beauty!"
Kronk stepped closer, excited.
"Do you realize how many recipes we could make with an egg that size?" he said, eyes fixed on it, already estimating yolk-to-white ratio.
"Forget deviled eggs, I want dragon eggs with ham!" the little devil was equally (if not more) thrilled by the idea. "Oh, and don't forget the cheese! The good stuff — aged sheep cheese cured in olive oil for at least six months, mmm…" He was already tying a napkin around his neck in a hurry.
"No, Kronk!" the little angel interrupted them both. "What if it's fertilized?"
Kronk and the devil stared at him, confused.
That was his concern?
So, if it wasn't fertilized, was he in on the feast?
"What? If it's not fertilized, it's food." The angel shrugged. "Maybe we could make some cordon bleu?"
Kronk and the devil looked at each other.
That… sounded pretty great.
And there was enough egg for both ideas!
Hagrid looked horrified — whether from watching him talk to his shoulders or from the idea of cooking the egg, no one could tell.
"It's not for cooking, Kronk!" Hagrid hugged the egg protectively.
Ah, so it was about the egg...
Kronk paused, hands still raised, fingers twitching as if visualizing egg-based dishes.
"No?" Kronk wanted to be completely sure. "I'm really good with egg recipes. I promise it'll be delicious," he tried to tempt him.
"Absolutely not!" Hagrid didn't budge an inch. "That's a baby dragon! A majestic creature — and a magical animal on the brink of extinction!"
"Are we sure he's not just pulling our leg to eat the egg himself?" the devil muttered, eyeing Hagrid with deep suspicion. He could've sworn you could buy things like dragon blood, dragon hide, and dragon liver in Diagon Alley.
How could you market stuff from an endangered species?
Not that he minded the idea… it was capitalism at its finest.
"Kronk, for Dumbledore's beard, promise me you won't take it to the kitchen!" Hagrid begged. "I've always wanted a dragon — ever since I was as small as you!"
The angel glanced sideways at Kronk.
Someone calling this guy small? That was new!
"Promise," Kronk said, hands on his hips, sighing at the thought of not getting to cook dragon egg. "I'll leave it alone. But... can I knit it a little blanket?"
"...Yeah." Hagrid considered it for a moment and decided that seemed safe enough.
"Done." At some point, Kronk had put on half-moon glasses and was already working with a large pink yarn ball and comically oversized knitting needles.
Fang looked back and forth between Kronk and Hagrid, confused.
Where was the steak they promised him for dinner?