The Great Hall had been transformed into a palace of crystal. The ceilings shimmered with enchanted ice that glowed like diamonds, and students paraded in their finest attire.
Kronk, however, looked more confused than dazzled.
He wore a perfectly pressed black suit with a red pocket square he'd made himself. Most impressive of all was the cape draped behind him — tailored to fit his size (though in truth, it had once been a Gryffindor dormitory curtain), neatly hemmed with gold thread and a bit of household magic.
As the students entered in pairs, Kronk watched the scene with a mix of admiration and bewilderment.
"So this is a party… with rules?" he muttered, eyeing a group of boys nervously trying to remember the basics of ballroom etiquette—or how to dance without crushing their partners' toes.
Fred Weasley passed by and clapped him on the arm.
"Pretty much, big guy. Just remember—don't step on your partner's dress and… don't drink the punch if you see us anywhere near it."
Kronk nodded. Punch gave him gas, and he had no intention of fumigating his date tonight.
That was when she appeared.
Angelina Johnson, dressed in a scarlet gown that gleamed like molten Gryffindor red, her hair braided with golden ribbons and a smile that could disarm a centaur.
"Kronk, I'm not late, am I?" she said, crossing her arms.
"No, not at all!" he replied with his usual enthusiasm. "Wow, you look ready for tonight's adventure!"
"Perfect," Angelina laughed. "I like dancing with someone who doesn't take things too seriously."
The news spread through the Great Hall like wildfire. "Angelina's going with Kronk?" Fred and George stared from across the room, exchanging a look that could only mean "we've got to see this."
…
When Dumbledore announced the official start of the ball, the first piece was slow and elegant. Kronk moved with surprising grace, leaving his partner pleasantly surprised.
At first, Angelina had tried to lead, assuming Kronk would be like most boys — stiff, nervous, and a little clumsy — but she quickly realized that wasn't necessary.
Kronk held her with such gentle confidence that it felt as though she were dancing on air.
"Where did you learn to dance like this?" she asked, genuinely impressed.
"Oh, you know—birthday parties, discos, graduation balls… stuff like that," he said casually as he executed a triple Jackson with an inverted Norwegian step.
Kronk thought it was a shame — if he'd known about the ball earlier, he would've brought his fifteen-foot disco ball.
Angelina burst out laughing, and the last bit of tension she'd been holding onto melted away.
The good-natured giant and the Gryffindor Chaser began to move with energy and freedom, and soon the entire dance floor cleared around them.
Kronk spun her with powerful but controlled movements. Every time he lifted Angelina, the crowd applauded, and when he set her down, she laughed like she'd just been flying.
The Durmstrang students stopped dancing to watch.
The Beauxbatons girls whispered to each other with curious smiles.
Even the professors watched, entertained.
Hagrid, in particular, wore a look of pure admiration.
"The lad moves like a thestral with the grace of a swan," he murmured, as Madame Maxime raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow beside him.
…
Later, when the music slowed to a softer tune, Kronk and Angelina stepped off the dance floor.
She handed him a glass of punch, which he eyed with visible suspicion.
"Fred said not to trust the punch…" he muttered.
"Don't worry," she said with a knowing smile, clearly aware of the twins' antics. "The glass is from the punch table, but it's filled with grape juice from the other table."
"In that case, cheers!" Kronk confirmed the contents with a sniff and clinked his glass against hers.
They drank while watching the others dance. Ron was stepping on his date's toes, Harry looked lost in thought, and the Weasley twins were arguing about… something Kronk decided he didn't want to know. No, tonight was for relaxing.
"You know, Kronk," Angelina said, leaning casually against the table, "I didn't think I'd enjoy the ball this much."
He shrugged.
"I guess it's not about where you dance, but who you dance with."
And he was an amazing partner.
For a moment, Angelina was speechless. It was hard to tell whether Kronk was a genius pretending to be clueless, or a clueless man with flashes of brilliance.
She sighed inwardly — maybe her friends would get "lucky" tonight, but looking at Kronk's cheerfully oblivious face beside her… this wasn't bad at all.
It would be a memory she'd treasure for a long, long time.
…
When the night came to an end and Dumbledore announced the closing of the ball, students began to leave in waves of laughter and chatter. Kronk and Angelina were the last to leave the dance floor, surrounded by spontaneous applause.
Fred and George caught up to them at the end of the corridor.
"Kronk, mate," George said with a mix of awe and respect, "you made a lot of 'admirers' tonight with those moves."
"Admirers?" Kronk asked, scratching his head.
"Yeah," Fred said with a crooked grin. "You made the rest of us look like tree stumps with feet in front of the girls. Not our finest hour, to be honest."
Angelina gave Kronk a friendly tap on the arm.
"And to think I almost came alone," she said with a satisfied smile.
Truth be told, she'd had other invitations — but the boys had been too nervous, too eager, too expectant. Kronk had promised a calm night with no hidden motives.
Kronk grinned from ear to ear.
"Well, if there's ever another ball, I know who I'm inviting."
She raised an amused, almost challenging eyebrow.
"And what if I beat you to it and invite you first?"
Kronk blinked, genuinely surprised.
"Oh… that works too, I guess," he said, shrugging.
Both of them laughed as the lights of the Great Hall dimmed one by one.