The golden afternoon light filtered through the tall windows of the Hogwarts library, casting long shadows across the endless aisles of shelves. A solemn silence reigned, broken only by the occasional page turning, the scratching of a quill, or the soft clearing of Madam Pince's throat whenever someone dared to breathe too loudly.
At the large table in the east wing, one figure stood out due to sheer size.
"I can't watch this anymore!" Hermione exclaimed, exhausted, letting her quill fall with a frustrated sigh. "Kronk, you should stop before you hurt yourself!"
The sound was enough to make Madam Pince whip her head around with the offended look of a startled raven, causing Hermione to shrink down and mumble an apology before turning back to her friend.
In front of her, Kronk stood firm... albeit a bit shaky. The veins in his arms bulged, and his brow was furrowed in a mix of concentration and pain.
"I... can... take it," he said through gritted teeth, his forehead beaded with sweat.
Hermione blinked, clearly worried.
"Kronk, you don't have to push yourself like this! It's too much, can't you see?" she whispered urgently. "Put that book down before you injure your arm!"
Kronk, sweating profusely, barely turned his neck to look at her.
"I've done balance training with lead trays in marble-floored hallways greased with butter on a slope to earn my delivery license… this won't stop me…"
Hermione stood up, fed up, and yanked the massive tome out of his arms with a stern expression—though it was far from intimidating, since she barely managed to lift the book and ended up crashing to the floor under its weight.
Madam Pince nearly leapt over the counter when she saw a delicate thirty-kilo book hit the ground.
The volume was titled The Evolution of Experimental Herbology Branches from the Pictish Era to Modern Migratory Crops: Volume I of XXVI.
"That's what the tables are for!" she scolded in a low voice, struggling to get her hands out from under the book, now stuck in a crouched position. "You can't study while holding a botanical history book like you're lifting weights! The sweat will get in your eyes!"
It was an utterly inefficient way to study!
Kronk rubbed his biceps in relief.
"I thought if I held it long enough, I'd learn through osmosis…"
Hermione raised an impressed eyebrow—she hadn't expected Kronk to even know what osmosis was.
"That's not how reading works," she protested, still trying to free her hands from under the book, finally managing it by using her feet as leverage to lift it slightly.
Now her feet hurt too, and her hands were bright red.
"No, sure, I just meant it as motivation," he replied, sheepishly picking the heavy book back up with one hand and opening it to his page. "Besides, there's magic and all that. Never hurts to try!"
"At least your enthusiasm is admirable," Hermione sighed with a half-smile, rubbing her sore hands.
At that moment, hurried and clumsy footsteps echoed among the tables.
Ron and Harry rushed over, wearing the desperate look of students in academic peril and breathing heavily—as if they had run all the way from the Great Hall.
Judging by the tomato and sauce stains around their mouths, that seemed likely.
After all, today was spaghetti day!
And apparently, napkins were either out of stock or beyond their comprehension...
"Hermione, you've got to help us study!" Ron pleaded, dropping his backpack full of books on several subjects. "Snape just announced a surprise quiz this afternoon on potion ingredients, and Harry keeps mixing up newt eyes with salamander eyes."
"And Ron wrote down that the cure for minor poisoning is drinking lots of water!" added Harry with exasperation. "Obviously you're supposed to eat oranges and soak your feet in warm water, but he won't accept it."
"I only had twenty meat pies this morning—don't judge me!" Ron said, rubbing his stomach as if his brilliant mind was burning through all his calories.
Hermione opened her mouth to say something between outrage and resignation—neither of them was right to begin with!
But Kronk raised his hand, and Hermione gave him the floor, though she wasn't quite sure why.
"Isn't it just… swallow a bezoar?" he asked cautiously. "And both eyes have similar effects… unless they're rotten, in which case maybe it's better to use a Brazilian toad eye. That's the recipe for success!"
"It's not a recipe!" Hermione burst out, barely keeping her voice down.
Now she had a vivid mental image of a potion with eyes floating in it… staring at her.
Madam Pince cleared her throat so loudly a book fell off a shelf by itself—horrifying her because she had broken the silence!
"Sorry!" they all whispered in unison.
The tension eased for a moment, and the four students began reviewing their notes quietly.
Harry was trying to figure out whether belladonna roots were supposed to be chopped before or after boiling. Ron was more focused on drawing little chocolate cauldrons. Hermione mentally reviewed each chapter for the third time to memorize everything.
Kronk… just watched them all wide-eyed, as if he expected knowledge to float toward him like a delicious aroma.
Also, he had the vague feeling he'd read these books as bedtime stories once.
He was ready.
Then the library door creaked open unmistakably, and Hagrid walked in. Madam Pince made a mental note to oil the hinges.
The gamekeeper walked slowly, on tiptoe, almost as if he thought he could go unnoticed. He was wearing his coat (completely unnecessary indoors) and under his arm he carried something barely concealed by fabric: a large leather-bound volume strapped shut with a metal buckle.
Kronk noticed him first.
His eyes locked onto the book, then Hagrid, then back to the book.
The corner of the cover peeking out from the cloth had an image of an egg on it.
A big one. A dragon egg.
Kronk swallowed audibly.
Hermione narrowed her eyes immediately.
"What is it?"
"P-p-passing? Me? No, nothing's happening. I'm just... looking at the title of that book. Very... interesting."
Harry and Ron turned to Hagrid as well.
"Hey, Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"
"Eh? Me?" Hagrid turned around with the expression of a child caught stealing pastries. "Nothing! Just… looking up some… gardening stuff. Yep! Plants that… breathe fire and that sort of totally normal thing."
Hermione arched an eyebrow, and Kronk began sweating again.
"Plants that breathe fire?" she repeated slowly.
"And... fly," Kronk added awkwardly.
"WHAT?"
Madam Pince pointed her wand at her, and the fire in her gaze almost became literal.
Last warning.
"Yes! Of course!" Kronk nodded. "Plants from the… uh… Volatile Volcano Region of the Far East! Very rare, you wouldn't know them."
Silence.
Everyone stared at him.
Kronk suddenly stood up and stretched as if nothing had happened.
"I'm gonna head out. I feel like if I keep absorbing this much knowledge, I'll gain weight," he patted his stomach. "I'll go… uh… check my cauldron," he added. "Pretty sure I left it… on."
"On? Where?" Harry asked, confused.
"In my room!" Kronk replied confidently. "I was doing… laundry."
He quickly walked off between the shelves, though every attempt at stealth was undone by the creaking of his clothes and the soft jingling of pots and ladles hanging from his backpack…
…leaving behind the faint sound of a ladle slowly hitting the ground.
Clink.
Hermione watched him go, then turned to see Hagrid quickly leaving, and finally looked at the book.
"Something weird is going on here," she muttered to herself.
"About the fire-spitting plants?" Ron asked.
"No, about Kronk and Hagrid," Hermione rolled her eyes. "And I will figure it out sooner or later."
Given the chance to avoid study time for a perfectly valid reason…
"Want us to help?" x2
That afternoon, both of them failed Snape's quiz—to absolutely no one's surprise.
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