"Firenze was so rude," thought Kronk, rubbing the hoof-shaped dent on his butt.
The centaur had appeared out of nowhere and, upon seeing Kronk near the injured unicorn, had kicked him clean out of the Forbidden Forest!
Sure, he seemed to realize afterward that he had jumped to conclusions and misunderstood the human, but the centaur only spoke in riddles, and Kronk didn't hear a single apology before he retreated back into the woods.
Well, he definitely wasn't getting an invite to his birthday party! Hmph!
On the other hand, it was a shame Norberta had to go with Ron's brother. Kronk had grown quite fond of her, and even Hagrid looked a bit down about it.
Still, it was true that the half-giant's extremely flammable hut wasn't exactly a safe growth environment.
Sure, burning down the hut would probably be a blast for the little dragon.
But what would they give her to play with afterward?!
It was a serious concern, even though Hermione insisted their priorities were completely irrational.
So Charlie was going to take care of the little one at that dragon reserve in Romania.
"Maybe I could visit her after I graduate," Kronk considered seriously.
How far could Romania really be?
"While I support the idea of visiting a place full of brutal, meat-eating, fire-breathing lizards, I think you're forgetting one small detail," said the devil Kronk, turning his pockets inside out.
"We're broke!"
"Well, not completely broke," corrected the angel Kronk, using a tiny abacus, "but yes, even before planning a trip like that, we'd need to find a way to fill the piggy bank!"
Kronk took out his piggy-bank and shook it.
There were still a few coins rattling inside, but the echo made it very clear: it was sad and hollow.
"I think you're right… We need some money," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
His job with Tom at the Leaky Cauldron was probably gone by now. Surely the nice man had already found a replacement...
The Hufflepuff common room was unusually quiet that afternoon, most students outside enjoying the rare ray of sun crossing the gardens.
But Kronk was hunched over a long scroll of parchment spread out on the floor, tongue between his teeth, sketching in charcoal what looked like a cross between a food cart and a mobile kitchen.
"What are you doing?" asked Hannah Abbott, peeking over his shoulder.
Quite the feat, since even hunched over, Kronk was still taller than any other first-year.
"Innovation!" Kronk replied, flashing a dazzling smile "I'm designing... the very first Magical Food Truck!"
Complete with a salamander steam oven!
All he needed was the salamander—but knowing Hagrid, he probably had one lying around somewhere…
Hannah blinked, checked the parchment (which was shockingly detailed on a technical level), and after a few seconds, asked:
"Is that... even legal?"
Kronk raised a finger and opened his mouth, only to stop mid-breath.
"Well, technically, no one's banned it yet..." he argued.
His creation didn't count as a Muggle object, so it didn't violate any magical law—as far as the statute Madam Pince had helped him find was concerned.
There were some very silly laws, in his opinion, which was impressive in itself.
Besides, Kronk had a secret goal beyond making money.
Getting his own Chocolate Frog Card!
"Well... then you might want to check the ad section in the Prophet," said Hannah, handing him the newspaper she'd been carrying under her arm.
"There's a part for weird stuff, but sometimes there's something good."
Kronk flipped through the paper with a powerful wrist motion.
"Looking for a reliable vehicle with enough space for an industrial cauldron?" he read aloud, eyes widening.
"Get your very own 1937 Night Bus model! Pre-owned but with a 77% discount!"
Kronk leapt to his feet.
"It's destiny!"
A few days later, behind Greenhouse Three, Kronk stood before the skeleton of an abandoned Night Bus—covered in ivy, rust… and with a badger sleeping on the windshield.
McGonagall had refused to let that monstrosity inside the castle, but Professor Sprout insisted it would be a great year-long hands-on project.
"It's perfect," Kronk murmured, hands on his hips.
"It's an interesting restoration project," the angel mused, dressed in an English tweed suit and blowing soap bubbles from a pipe "It just needs, well…"
"Everything," the devil cut in "It needs everything. The real magic here is that it hasn't collapsed on its own."
"This hunk of junk doesn't even have working magical wheels!" he complained.
"That's fine! We'll fix it with perseverance and lots of duct tape!" Kronk declared, already in his mechanic's overalls, cap turned backward, toolbox in hand—full of different rolls of magical duct tape.
"Just like that book The Boy Who Wanted to Fly and Failed Fourteen Times Before Making History!"
"Didn't he break his legs each time?"
"Yup," Kronk nodded, "but then he sold cookies to pay for the hospital, and broke the record for most cookies ever sold inside a medical institution!"
The angel and devil were speechless.
So... the boy didn't go down in history for flying... but for selling cookies to pay for his shattered legs?
Inspiring.
In the weeks that followed, Kronk was obsessed.
Hermione once found him at six in the morning near the edge of the Black Lake.
"Can I ask why you've tied a rope to a trout?"
Kronk turned to look at her.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Uh, no, I think I'll pass this time..."
Hermione was far too busy with the discovery of the trapdoor beneath the three-headed dog to invest any mental energy in Kronk's eccentricities.
Finally, the structure was done (according to Kronk).
The bus had been cleaned until it sparkled, reinforced with greenhouse timber (generously donated by Professor Sprout), and the top half of the interior had been transformed into a state-of-the-art magical kitchen with enchanted preservation cupboards full of ingredients.
It had its own hand-painted sign:
Kronk's Kravings – The First Magical Food Truck
(Summons by call: Only appears when you're not looking)
Today's Special: Disillusionment Empanadas – You can't see them, but you'll feel them!
"Still needs a bit more love and elbow grease, but it'll do to open this summer," said Kronk, wearing welding goggles and speckled with golden paint.
Which was odd… because he hadn't even started painting it yet.