The air smelled of old parchment, fireplace smoke... and something else.
"Lavender? Smoked meat?" Kronk murmured, taking a deep breath as he looked around the bustling Diagon Alley. People passed by him as if he were some exotic creature freshly popped out of a bewitched suitcase.
It's not every day you see someone with arms the size of Greek columns—only on Sundays.
He wore his kitchen apron, still bearing a small cheese stain on the hem. In one hand, his trusty spatula. In the other, a bowl filled with half-whisked doughnut batter.
Kronk looked at the batter with concern.
"This dough has a thirty-minute window before it starts losing its perfect moment."
He turned toward a corner littered with abandoned items, between a shop selling self-stirring cauldrons and a stand offering self-fastening scarves. With quick, efficient movements, he grabbed a broken box to use as a table, flipped over a clean cauldron to use as a pan, and using a discarded sign ("Today: 20% off brooms!") and some dry wood he lit using his squirrel-scout skills, he made a makeshift canopy.
In five minutes, Diagon Alley had an extra doughnut stand.
"Fresh doughnuts!" he announced with a smile as he kept cooking. "Grab 'em before they fly away!"
A young wizard approached curiously.
"Do they really fly?"
Kronk raised the spatula to point at his freshly made doughnuts, which, for reasons unknown to him, seemed to ignore the laws of gravity.
"Only if you whisk them right," Kronk said, pouring all his effort into making them fluffy. But today, he had outdone himself and was proud of it. "Want one? They're fresh."
Within minutes, a small crowd had gathered, mesmerized by the warm scent of golden batter.
An old lady offered him a handful of Sickles.
"Is this enough for a dozen?"
"Sure is, ma'am," Kronk said with a smile as he placed the shiny coins into his trusty piggy bank sitting on the counter.
…
Tom was in a small crisis at the Leaky Cauldron.
His cook had quit to run off with his summer fling, he had two dozen wizards coming in an hour, and someone had enchanted the cutlery to dance salsa.
He was so nervous he forgot all his domestic charms!
"They're the best doughnuts I've ever had, I swear!" said a wizard holding a paper bag, exiting the Diagon Alley access.
"Albert, why am I seeing so many people with doughnuts today?" Tom asked, leaning on the bar, curiosity about the gossip getting the better of him.
"How do you not know?" Albert looked at him in surprise. "There's a guy who set up a doughnut stand right at the entrance to the alley—he's selling them like hotcakes!"
Tom heard Albert's words, but his brain processed something entirely different.
A talented cook has appeared—he must be hired before anyone else does!
Five minutes later.
"…and that's that, you're hired!" Tom told his new employee, Kronk, shaking his hand enthusiastically, while Kronk looked around, confused, as if he wasn't quite sure how he ended up taking a job here.
"This place needs some work," Kronk said, rubbing his chin and eyeing the establishment with an appraising look.
He couldn't serve food under these conditions!
He kicked Tom out of his own business and shut the door. By the time Tom came back in, he almost thought he'd stepped into the wrong place. The wood was gleaming, perfectly varnished, the ceiling lights were free of cobwebs, and the tables no longer wobbled.
"This is the list of ingredients I need for the kitchen," Kronk handed him a parchment written in unexpectedly beautiful and clear handwriting.
"Oh…"
Tom stumbled off to restock the kitchen pantry with the list in hand.
Are all cooks this dedicated nowadays?
He returned twenty minutes later and found Kronk sitting on a stool, polishing his tool and studying his cookbook.
He had forgotten he even had a cookbook.
"Is that a spatula?"
Kronk nodded proudly.
"Yamaflex Deluxe. Ergonomic handle, naturally non-stick."
"Oh…"
Tom had no idea the spatula market had grown so much.
"Anyway, get in the kitchen and start prepping everything—we have one hour to serve flaming pumpkin pie, hippogriff stew, poached dragon eggs, six cups of mandrake tea, and a full round of frothy butterbeer with nutmeg."
"Cream-filled pancakes with fresh fruit, triple omelet with wild mushrooms, toast with apple butter, and a sea of banana-cinnamon smoothies. Got it!"
Tom stared at his new employee.
"That's… none of what I said."
But Kronk was already whisking batter with his faithful spatula.
"Forget it. Honestly, it sounds better than the menu I had in mind…" Tom decided to give the guy a chance.
The kitchen of the Leaky Cauldron now steamed with a heavenly aroma.
The sound of whisking batter, the sizzle of an omelet on the pan, and a soft "fweeee!" from Tom's enchanted juicer filled the air. Kronk twirled a spatula with the grace of a professional dancer, humming a tune that made the enchanted dancing cutlery switch from salsa to his rhythm instead.
"Merlin help us…" Tom was sweating nervously.
Tonight's guests were picky witches and wizards, and a bad review could be a fatal blow to his business.
The fireplace lit up with green flames as the diners began to arrive.
Witches and wizards: ???
"Did we pronounce the name wrong?" murmured a stiff witch in a pointed hat, staring at the establishment so clean she could see the reflection of her wart on the polished wood of the tables.
"Welcome!" Tom hurried to greet them. "Right this way, your table is ready."
"Tom, what in the name of gargoyles happened to this place?" asked an elderly wizard with a thick beard.
"I've got a new cook and, uh, he had a few constructive criticisms."
He couldn't tell them he'd been kicked out of his own place, right?
The witches and wizards exchanged glances, secretly admiring the guy who had somehow made Tom clean this dump for the first time in sixty years.
They all sat down, waiting for the food to meet the high standards of their magically trained taste buds.
"Dinner is served!" Kronk approached with a cart full of steaming, mouthwatering food, tossing the flying plates like someone casually tossing frisbees—with sniper-level precision.
The diners paused for a second at Kronk's muscular arms, but soon their attention was drawn to the delicious smell.
The elderly wizard with the thick beard took a bite of the omelet.
He froze. Tears welled up in his eyes.
"It tastes… like my grandmother's breakfast back on the farm!" he said, trembling with emotion.
His foggy memory cleared with unprecedented speed. He saw himself as a child, entering a humble country home with torn clothes after a fight with another kid.
His grandmother welcomed him with a smile, healed him with a flick of her wand, and served him breakfast made with her own hands.
Each bite carried the warm, familiar love he hadn't felt since 1874.
The wizard crossed his arms on the table and bowed his head, beginning to cry with nostalgia.
The stiff witch with the pointed hat took a sip of the banana smoothie and frowned, as if analyzing the complexity of the flavor profile. After a few moments, her eyes shot open and she shouted:
"It has the perfect balance of sweet and spiced! How did you do it?! I DEMAND TO KNOW!"
As more food was tasted, the reactions became louder and louder.
"Another plate!"
"Pancakes for table 8!"
"You're out again?! Bring me my fourth omelet!"
Tom waved his wand frantically, serving and collecting dishes.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Kronk remained calm, moving so fast it looked like he had six arms and three heads. A customer tried to barge into the kitchen but fainted in fear after seeing the residual image of his movements.
Kronk didn't notice.
"That's strange. I've never seen this kind of egg. Ashwinder? Must be organic." Kronk held a pair of fire-red eggs in his gloved hand, rubbing his stomach with the other. "I'm starting to get hungry too."
"Don't eat something if you don't know what it is!" warned the little angel on his right shoulder.
"I don't know, they look pretty tasty," said the little devil on his left shoulder. "I say deviled eggs—with lots of spice!"
"I'm in the mood for fried eggs and fries."
The angel took a deep breath.
"You're skipping the diet!"
"Forget the diet, we're in another world!" protested the devil. "He's been through a lot—he deserves a treat."
"Well, seen that way…"
And so, Kronk decided it was a good idea to use Ashwinder eggs to treat himself—completely unaware of the consequences his actions would bring...