It was the first weekend trip to Hogsmeade, and the excitement in the castle was as thick as a poorly baked treacle tart. Kronk wasn't planning on going. He didn't have a signed permission slip (even though he was technically an adult, his magical guardian was listed as "We assume Professor Sprout"), and he figured there wasn't much to do in a village whose main attraction seemed to be a candy store where the chewing gum screamed when you bit into it.
But then he received a note:
Kronk,
It would be very helpful if you could swing by Hogsmeade this weekend and pick up some violet mushrooms for potions. They're only sold in the back shop of Zonko's—the one that doesn't open for students.
– Prof. Sprout
P.S.: Do not accept duels, trades, or magical marriages.
"Hmm. That sounds reasonable. Shouldn't be too much trouble," Kronk said.
Wearing his wool cloak, backpack slung over one shoulder, and a hat knitted by a house-elf, Kronk set off toward the most charming (and disproportionately foggy) village in the wizarding world.
First Stop: Honeydukes
He knew he shouldn't get distracted… but the air smelled like strawberry caramel and freshly baked cookies sprinkled with cloud essence. Kronk entered, not out of weakness, but in the name of field research.
"Welcome to Honeydukes," said the shopkeeper—a short wizard who looked like he was made of mint and powdered sugar. "May I help you?"
"Yes, I'm looking for… a reason not to buy everything."
Three pumpkin turnovers filled with emotional surprises later, Kronk floated out the door. He had laughed, cried, and relived a forgotten memory of when he first learned to make garlic bread.
It was beautiful, but he still had a mission.
Second Stop: Zonko's Secret Back Shop
The rear entrance was mysterious. A goblin with an eye patch asked him for a password. Kronk, who didn't have one, improvised:
"Onion soup and shenanigans!"
The goblin stared at him in silence.
"…Go in."
Inside, the shop was basically a shelf full of items that were clearly banned by at least three departments of the Ministry. The clerk, a man with a hay beard, handed Kronk a bag of violet mushrooms and charged him in venomous tentacula leaves.
Everything was going smoothly… until Kronk noticed a cage in the corner.
"What's that?"
"Don't ask. It's weird."
"Can I adopt it?"
"No."
"What if I give you soup?"
The man narrowed his eyes seriously.
"…Maybe."
Kronk extended a thermos of soup and two minutes later...
"I'll call you Brothy!" declared Kronk, while the shopkeeper nodded in resignation.
Kronk didn't know he had just acquired the last Tupconopipalo in the world!
Third Stop: The Three Broomsticks
Kronk only meant to rest for a few minutes. But after ordering a licorice tea, he sat near an elderly witch who wouldn't stop staring at him from a moving portrait on the wall.
"You… have the elbows of a man who knows how to make a decent sauce," she said, squinting at him.
"Thanks… Mrs…?"
"Lady Filomena Butterwhip. Former duelist, current portrait, and still undefeated in the game of flirtation."
Kronk, a little flushed, tried to move to another table.
But the portrait followed him along the walls.
"You could be the ideal husband. Can you bake a plum tart?"
"Yes, but they come out sad if I'm not inspired."
"Romantic! Do you have an inheritance?"
"Culinary?"
"That'll do."
At some unclear point, the conversation escalated to the possibility of a symbolic wedding officiated by the portrait of a wizard who had once been a Wizengamot judge.
Only the sudden arrival of a young witch who accidentally spilled a splash of brandy on the portrait's frame saved Kronk from getting engaged.
Filomena, now drenched, bade him a dramatic farewell:
"YOU'LL REGRET THIS, KRONK OF THE SOUP!!"
Kronk trotted out of the tavern, followed by Brothy, who was now wearing a tiny tie.
Only after running several dozen meters did he stop and look back with dread.
"No wonder Professor Sprout warned me—this place is a danger to a golden bachelor like me!"
"Hey, you could've gone through with it and then divorced her to claim her assets," said the little devil on his shoulder. "That portrait sure talked a lot, but she didn't mention a prenuptial!"
"Don't listen to him, you did the right thing," said the angel popping up on the opposite shoulder. "Marriage is just one more step on the path of love, and that lady in the painting might feel things—but that definitely wasn't love!"
Kronk wiped the sweat from his brow.
"I think I'll be staying away from here for a while."