Twilight was falling over the British countryside like a violet cloak when Kronk, dressed in the uniform he had sewn himself and brimming with optimism, turned the wheel of his repurposed bus with a soft creak. The food truck — a blend between a retired version of the Knight Bus and a rolling medieval dining hall — bounced along an increasingly narrow path.
"Uh, Kronk?" the little devil was holding a paper bag in both hands, his face turning a distinct shade of green. "When was the last time you renewed your license?"
The little angel looked at the devil with smug superiority. If someone could see him, they'd notice his feet hovered just inches above Kronk's shoulder, his wings flapping lightly to keep him aloft.
"Wait, you have to renew that?" Kronk said, eyes wide. "Hold on! I can't get distracted..." He didn't want to crash due to negligence.
The fact he hadn't turned something into a pancake with the speed of his new vehicle was already a miracle — almost as miraculous as his reflexes keeping up with it.
"I think I'm lost..." Kronk muttered, hitting the brakes and glancing at a crumpled scroll of directions he had written himself. "Left after the giant Ferris wheel… or was it the crêpe stand… hmm..."
The devil wanted to tell him the map was upside down, but he was too busy filling the bag…
"Ah! This must be the right path," Kronk said, slapping the scroll with the back of his hand and turning a crank that rang a cheerful bell.
Ding-ding-ding.
As they went on, the road became more elegant and well-kept.
The weeds vanished, the trees were pristinely trimmed, and the air smelled of old money and refined-accented threats. Until, without warning, the food truck screeched to a halt in front of tall, black wrought-iron gates adorned with intertwined silver snakes.
Kronk stepped down from the driver's seat, opened a side hatch, and squinted around.
"...Well, this definitely isn't Diagon Alley," he said seriously. "I don't see any flying toy brooms, bats, and more importantly — I don't smell suspiciously flavored ice cream."
Or maybe the place had undergone a massive renovation during his time away?
With magic involved, you never knew...
Concerned by the situation, he soon found a crucial clue to identify what kind of place he had arrived at.
A marble sign at the entrance read: Malfoy Manor.
"Oops."
But the gate, after magically analyzing the visitor for a few seconds, opened with a solemn groan, as if fate itself had resigned to letting him in.
"Thanks, Mister Gate!" Kronk shouted, giving a big thumbs-up.
With a metallic screech, the bus continued on a stone-paved driveway that looked more expensive than the truck's entire contents. In the rearview mirror, angel Kronk appeared.
"Are we sure we're supposed to be here, Kronk?" he asked.
"Of course! What if they're hungry?"
Devil Kronk popped into view with a floating plate of ribs.
"Just make sure they pay in cash," he warned.
"Weren't you puking a minute ago?" asked the angel.
"Yeah, I'm empty," the devil nodded while lifting the ribs. "So now I gotta refill what I lost!" he added with flawless demon logic.
The angel turned to Kronk.
"If he makes a mess, I'm not cleaning it up."
…
The manor's door opened with a faint shimmer, and Narcissa Malfoy appeared at the top of the steps, perfectly coiffed and dressed in a grey velvet robe that seemed to repel dirt through sheer aristocratic willpower.
Behind her, two house-elves shimmered uncomfortably.
The vehicle's cheerful background music halted, and an awning extended automatically. Kronk jumped out through the side door wearing a cooking apron embroidered with: "Season with love or don't season at all."
"Good evening! I'm Kronk," he greeted. "Care for something warm? I've got beautifying onion soup with perfectly juicy beef, two-headed goat milk fudge, and for refined gourmet palates: mandrake calzone with gouda, squeaky tomatoes, and glowing mushrooms." He kissed his fingers. "Pure edible art!"
Narcissa watched him with a glacial expression, speaking as if the air itself tasted sour.
"Who… are you?"
How had he bypassed the ancestral protections of the manor?
"Uh, Kronk?" He could've sworn he already said his name — maybe he needed to elaborate. "Cook, novice wizard, and entrepreneur. Oh, and Hufflepuff."
One of the elves whimpered.
"Are you one of Draco's classmates?" Narcissa was quietly shocked.
Had a first-year student just strolled into Malfoy Manor?
She needed to speak to Lucius urgently over dinner — a full protection audit was in order.
"Yup! He… once splashed me with ink."
Silence.
"By accident, I'm sure," Kronk added with a shrug.
"Hmph." She eyed the food truck and, for the first time, descended a couple of steps.
The scent wafting from the truck wasn't offensive — in fact… it was tempting.
"Do you have anything without… questionable ingredients?"
Was she asking for a vegetarian menu?
"Of course!" Kronk replied immediately. "I've got golden pumpkin croquettes, red spinach gnocchi (great for your skin), and sweet wormwood rolls with honey."
Finally, curiosity overcame arrogance, and Narcissa gestured.
"Bring me a selection."
Kronk activated his floating tray, which buzzed toward her with a soft whistle. Narcissa took it carefully. She bit into a gnocchi, frowned… then raised her eyebrows.
It was delicious.
"What the devil…" she murmured.
"Don't worry, no devils in it."
Devil Kronk glared at him through the window.
…
An hour later, Lucius Malfoy entered the dining room, his cape still billowing and his wand-concealing cane in hand, sighing in exhaustion.
Eliminating commercial rivals and making shady market deals was physically taxing. Emotionally? Not so much.
"I hope they made the lamb with truffle reduction today," he thought.
He wasn't usually picky with food — as long as it was expensive, delicious, and beneficial, he could live on it. Oh, seems his heir had already started dinner with his wife.
Lucius stopped upon seeing the silver plate with an unfamiliar dish. It was too… red.
"What are you eating?"
"Red spinach gnocchi," Draco replied after swallowing. "I'll admit I was skeptical, but they taste better than they look."
He definitely didn't sit down to try them just because his mother threatened to cut his allowance.
And who would've thought? For a dish that looked like it belonged to a vampire feast, it was delicious!
Narcissa, in contrast, ate with the elegance of a queen, hiding her enjoyment behind meticulously measured bites.
She hadn't felt spiritually satisfied like this in… ever. Not even Lucius could manage that.
Not once, in all their years of marriage…
"This was made by a friend of Draco's," she finally said. "Kronk, from Hufflepuff. He runs a little food business, and apparently, we're his first clients."
And if it were up to her, a regular VIP one.
That height, those muscles…
"Kronk?" Lucius let out a dry chuckle. "Is that a real name?"
"I think he's foreign," Draco commented absentmindedly, considering whether to approach Kronk. The guy was kind of stupid, in his opinion, but at least he could cook at a more-than-decent level.
And his two usual lackeys ate like pigs — they might get along.
Maybe he could hire him to work at the manor after graduation?
Lucius arched a brow and slowly sat down. He looked at his plate as if expecting it to attack him, then took the golden fork and tried a bite.
Silence.
"This is…"
"Delicious?" Narcissa asked with a faint smile.
"…Irritatingly competent," Lucius sighed deeply.
"That's the highest compliment you've ever given a dish since I've known you," Narcissa said with a soft laugh as she prepared to take another heavenly bite. "Oh — the house-elves tried to copy the recipe."
"And?" Lucius looked at her, intrigued.
No one at the table would complain about having more options — it had been years since anything surprised their palates.
"We need new house-elves."
…
Back in the food truck, Kronk hummed happily as he stored ingredients in magically preserved jars. Before he left, a small pouch of Galleons was placed on his counter by one of the elves.
Alongside it, a card: "Consider a catering offer for future receptions and private events. Discretion and seasoning are appreciated. – N. Malfoy."
Kronk read it, smiled, and murmured: "Receptions? Yeah, I think I can whip something up."
The floating map flickered again: Alternate destination suggested: Godric's Hollow.
"Why does that name sound so familiar?" Kronk tucked the money into his piggy bank, now enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
"That's your question?" the angel looked like he couldn't take it anymore. "You're not even a little curious about the lipstick mark on the card that came with the money?"
"Why should I worry?" Kronk asked, genuinely confused.
"Yes! Tell him why he should be worried," the devil said, barely containing the laughter threatening to burst out as he crossed his arms.
The angel raised his finger righteously… only to freeze the next second.
He had just walked into a trap — and only now realized the mess he was in.
"Oh…"
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If you like ATLA, keep an eye out for the new FF I just released.