"A detention in the Forbidden Forest at night?!" Ron exclaimed, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "ARE THEY INSANE?!"
"It's completely irresponsible," protested Hermione, adjusting her scarf. "Who allows this as a school punishment? What's next? Elective dueling class?"
"I volunteered for that, but they said not yet," Kronk commented, appearing behind them with his unmistakable grin.
And with him… came the team.
Kronk wore a perfectly pressed khaki explorer shirt, packed with spiral-patterned merit badges, an elaborately tied neckerchief, and a backpack that looked enchanted to hold half a mountain cabin. From it emerged:
A compass spinning suspiciously.
A brass spyglass.
A massive machete, a meter and a half long, strapped to his side with a leather belt.
Reinforced exploration boots with studded soles.
And most unsettling of all, a perfectly sealed pot hanging from a rear hook.
"What is that?!" Draco Malfoy exclaimed with pure disdain, pointing at the machete.
"This? It's for gathering firewood, cutting through brush… or defending myself from a particularly aggressive blackberry bush," said Kronk, drawing it and swinging it with alarming skill, making everyone instinctively step back at the sound of air being sliced.
"Right, because hostile shrubbery is the biggest threat in the forest," Ron muttered, paling as he remembered the school rumors about car-sized spiders lurking within.
"Never underestimate a territorial holly," Kronk replied gravely.
Hagrid arrived with Fang and split the group.
"Alright, Harry's with me. Kronk, you go with Malfoy and Fang," he said, ignoring Draco's strangled gasp. "Hermione and Ron, stay near the edge in case there's trouble."
Hermione and Ron sighed in secret relief—keeping watch was better than going in.
"Me? With this giant and the slobbering dog?!" Draco shrieked, horrified.
"Relax, I brought anti-drool repellent," Kronk answered, shaking a little vial that smelled of eucalyptus.
The entrance to the Forbidden Forest was a dark throat between ancient trees, as if nature itself warned the reckless not to enter. The branches intertwined above like skeletal fingers, blocking even the moonlight. Hagrid led the way with his lantern and Fang, followed by the students in single file.
"Right then," he said in a deep voice. "We know something's been hurtin' unicorns. I've been followin' clues for weeks. If you see one, let me know. If you see anything weird—let me know. If you get scared—also let me know." He figured a little extra caution wouldn't hurt tonight. "You all know how to send sparks with your wands, yeah? Good."
…
Once away from the group, Kronk consulted his compass.
"According to this, we're heading north along the mossy path, which means we should find a patch with broken branches—signs of a wounded creature."
Draco scoffed.
"You really think your toy compass is useful here?"
"It's not a toy. It was enchanted last week by a cheerful little old man with a bird's nest in his beard," Kronk explained, giving it a shake to confirm the direction. "He's got a sled pulled by the fastest rabbits I've ever seen. Very impressive."
"And what's it pointing to now?"
Kronk glanced at it.
"Fang's collar," he replied. "He probably hid a sausage there when no one was looking."
Fang looked away guiltily.
Could he really be blamed for taking precautions?
Ever since that little lizard showed up at the cabin, his meat portions had dropped by 5%!
At this rate, he'd be skin and bones.
They continued deeper into the forest, winding through warped trees and snaking roots. As the night thickened, the air grew heavier, like it weighed on their shoulders. Draco, clearly frightened, stuck close to Kronk as fear started to seep into his voice.
"Shouldn't we… go back already? We've searched enough," he said, glancing around warily. "That unicorn's probably… you know, dead."
"Don't say that," Kronk scolded. "Unicorns are noble creatures. They have emotional resilience and excellent magical circulation. Sometimes all they need is a little help—that's why we're here," he said seriously, scanning the surroundings.
"Magical circulation?" Draco gave Kronk a bewildered look, then bristled with anger. "That's not even a real term!"
He came from a prestigious pure-blood family! He should not be treated like some ignorant mudblood!
"Of course it is! I read it in a magazine for centaurs."
Do centaurs even have printing presses in this forest?
Well, getting paper wouldn't be hard, but ink…
No, what was he thinking?!
Draco was already teetering on the edge. Then, Fang suddenly froze, sniffed something, and darted off to the left.
"Fang!" Draco shouted, running after him.
If that cowardly dog was fleeing, better to follow and avoid danger.
He was sure Kronk wouldn't mind sacrificing himself to preserve the Malfoy bloodline.
"Don't split up!" Kronk called, but it was too late.
Kronk hesitated a moment, then checked the compass (which now spun wildly) and sighed.
He drew his machete.
"Alright, buddy, looks like we're on our own," he muttered, kneeling to smear damp earth on his cheeks. "Lone Scout Protocol: activated."
He moved forward with firm steps as the underbrush thickened. But he cut through it with smooth, practiced motions. Every so often, he murmured:
"Hmm… fresh marl… recent passage."
"Crushed leaves, southeast direction."
"Strands of silver hair…" He licked one. "Definitely unicorn. It's close."
And then he heard it.
A gasp, followed by a soft moan.
He took a few more steps and pushed aside some branches, revealing a chilling scene: a white unicorn, lying on its side, breathing heavily. And beside it, a hooded figure crouched over the body, drinking something… something glowing.
Kronk frowned—he hadn't recognized the attacker yet. All he saw was a black-caped, hooded figure with a hidden face, committing what looked like unlicensed vampirism.
"Hey, buddy!" he called in a deep tone.
The figure turned abruptly, visibly startled.
"What?!" The figure stepped back into the shadows of the trees, making it impossible to see clearly.
Kronk took a step forward as the unicorn whimpered in pain.
Then the figure muttered something softly, as if talking to themselves… or to someone else.
"We can't risk it now… not yet."
And with a sudden motion, it vanished into the shadows.
"Hey!" Kronk shouted. "How rude…" he grumbled, now focusing on the unicorn.
He approached the wounded magical creature. Its eyes were wide, frightened, glinting in the gloom.
"I think I'm gonna faint!" the little angel brought the back of his hand to his forehead, overwhelmed by the unicorn's state.
"Tch, even demons wouldn't stoop so low as to hurt a creature like this…" the devil muttered, fanning the angel with a palm leaf.
"Guys, do you mind?" Kronk asked them to quiet down as he gently stroked the unicorn. "It's okay, you're safe. I'm Kronk, and I don't hurt beautiful creatures."
The unicorn whimpered, as if responding.
Then Kronk carefully opened a compartment in his backpack. He took out a bottle of dittany essence, shook it, and poured it over the wound. The liquid sparkled, the unicorn flinched in pain, and the wound slowly began to close.
"That should help. Eat and rest well for a few days, and you'll be good as new," he said. "Oh, and steer clear of anyone with vampiric tendencies."
The unicorn blinked.
Did this human think he'd let someone drink his blood for fun?
Kronk figured he should cheer the creature up. So he pulled a small golden medal from another pocket and gently pinned it to the unicorn's mane.
"Congratulations, buddy," he said, patting its neck. "You're now an honorary member of the Scout Squad. Don't worry—no fees or subscriptions."
He'd tell him later about the annual pie-making contest.
Kronk was curious what kind of pie a unicorn would make—though he was still confident he'd win, like every year.