All throughout the day and into the next morning most of Harry's friends were very subdued. Even Tracey and Hannah, the most talkative of their group, remained mostly silent, speaking only when spoken to, and even then, it was with one word answers. Harry wasn't sure if it was because of his speech yesterday morning on how governments around the world, be they magical or not, worked, or if there was some other reason they were all so quiet.
Logic would indicate it was the former.
After laying in his bed last night, Harry had realized that his words had probably not been the best thing to say to his friends. They were all so young, and he didn't mean in the physical sense. Much like his friend Lisa Crawft, the friends he had here at Hogwarts were innocent, for lack of a better term. They had the naivety only innocence can bring, and while a few of them had led somewhat difficult lives, such as Susan's case of living with an aunt she rarely got to see growing up, it did not change the fact that they had never really been exposed to harsh realities of life like he had.
Knowing that he may have just shattered some of their common misconceptions about how real life worked was enough to make him cringe. He tried consoling himself by stating that it's better to have the veil of illusions pulled from your eyes early, but it didn't really help. In fact, it only made him feel worse, especially when he remembered that old saying 'ignorance is bliss.' The entire fiasco had left his mind in an internal debate that lasted all night, until he had actually passed out from mental exhaustion.
What's worse was that his mind had been so busy berating itself that he had fallen asleep before he could clear it. This had led to him having another nightmare. While he got them often enough, they were usually sporadically mixed in with dreams of better times. That he not only dreamt about one of the lowest points in his life, but the point where he had truly begun realizing how harsh the world really was, merely served to confirm the fact that he was troubled by what happened yesterday.
He shuddered for a moment, wondering what was worse; watching as Voldemort killed his mother and than set his sights on him, or the abuse he had suffered from his relatives.
A hand laid itself on his. Harry blinked, then looked down to see a delicate porcelain hand and graceful fingers settled over his own. He followed the hand to the equally feminine wrist, up the arm, and soon found himself staring into the warm blue eyes of Daphne Greengrass.
“Are you alright?” she asked in a hushed whisper so that no one else could hear. “You look tired.”
“I'm fine,” Harry reassured her, or at least tried to. She didn't seem very reassured. He grimaced, remembering how he had seen bags under his eyes this morning. She no doubt saw them as well. “I just had a bad dream last night is all.”
Daphne looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. There were no words of comfort, no sympathy or pity, just an understanding nod. She gave his hand a small squeeze, then began daintily eating her breakfast, before anyone could notice the small moment that had taken place between them.
Harry focused on his food, hoping that by doing so, he could keep himself occupied until he had time to clear his mind. The warm ceylon tea helped him a little, and Harry made himself a note to thank the house elves for getting it so expediently when he saw them again.
He spent a moment observing his friends as he sipped at his tea, hoping to god the caffeine would wake him up. It was a vain hope. Stimulants, be they natural or otherwise, never affected his physiology.
Blaise was silent, not surprising as he was usually silent, but he seemed even quieter than usual. Terry as well, neither had done much speaking or even glanced at anyone during breakfast. On the other hand, Lisa, Hannah and Susan had been shooting worried glances at him all throughout their meal. He wondered what they were thinking. Hermione had a thoughtful frown on her face, no doubt thinking about what he said last night. She was always the most learned of their little group besides him. He didn't doubt that she was trying to discern if what he said was true. Neville, likewise, looked silently contemplative. He was probably the hardest for Harry to judge, just because it was difficult to determine whether the boy was taking his words to heart, or if they had disturbed him the most.
Perhaps the most unusual reaction from the group was the last member of the Slytherin Trio. Tracey Davis ate her meal slowly, her eyes slightly glazed as she went through the motions of chewing her food. It was abnormal to see her so quiet and not saying something that would inadvertently insult someone.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed, wondering if perhaps he had screwed up his friendship with these people. The thought made him nauseous.
“Oh, for Merlin's sake,” Daphne muttered next to him. Harry opened his eyes and looked at her, but she was not looking at him. Her eyes, normally icy cold or luke-warm, now burned with a determined fire as she stared at her best friend. “Tracey, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Tracey blinked several times as the rest of their friends turned to stare at the normally stoic and sarcastic blond in shock.
“E-excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Daphne rolled her eyes. “You look like someone broke your broom. I know that not even you are normally this dead in the morning, so why don't you wake up, you bloody broom fanatic.”
“Broom fanatic,” Tracey's right eye gained a slight twitch. “Now listen here, just because I happen to like knowing what good brooms are out there, doesn't mean I'm obsessed.”
“You are as obsessed with brooms as Wood is with Quidditch,” Daphne told her. Tracey gaped.
“You take that back!”
“No, I don't think I will.”
Tracey's face scrunched up, her nose wrinkling. She reminded Harry of an angry cat.
“You... you...”
Harry snorted into his cup, making the brunette switch her ire from Daphne to her.
“Don't you start laughing at me, too! You are the last person who has the right to make fun of me!”
Harry held up his hands in a gesture of defense.
“I never said anything.”
“No, but I'm sure you were thinking it.”
Daphne's sarcastic taunting and Tracey's outraged words knocked the others out of their stupor. It started slowly at first, but soon everyone was talking again, and though a little subdued, laughter soon permeated the group.
Harry looked over at Daphne, who caught his eyes with her own. He smiled at her, speaking to her through his eyes.
Thank you.
Daphne's lips twitched into a small half-smile. Her normally icy blues were currently warm and inviting. She really did have beautiful eyes, and Harry could read the message within them as clearly as she could read his.
You're welcome.
XoX
Thursday brought with it an interesting event. School had not really changed much since Harry taught Malfoy his 'lesson.' Harry was still popular among his peers. In fact, in some ways, he was more popular now than he had been before. It seemed a number of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had also been bullied by him and his two Gorilla-like henchmen.
Harry was surprised he had never heard of this until now. He was sure that with how the Hogwarts rumor-mill worked, he would have heard about it a while ago.
Then again, he would also admit that he had not been spending much time paying attention to rumors. Most of Harry's focus was on his studies and his friends.
In either event, the 'prank' Harry had pulled on Malfoy earned him more favor with a majority of students. Even a few Slytherins seemed to appreciate him putting the pureblood boy down a few pegs. He must not have been well-liked in his own House, just as Tracey said, and the only reason people followed him was because of their fear of his father.
That thought almost made Harry frown. Malfoy's father was a rather interesting subject of study. Generally speaking, the man was not all that powerful. He was wealthy, but there were people out there who had accrued far more money than Lucius had. In fact, after the Potters and Blacks, which were currently the wealthiest families, the next family in line was the Zabinis, followed by the Longbottoms, and then the Malfoys. Lucius was, in truth, only the fifth wealthiest person in magical Britain. Granted, neither the Longbottom, Potter or Black fortunes could be used right now, which meant only the Zabini's could compete with him. But while that may have had something to do with Lucius' current power, it did not answer all of Harry's questions.
He also had influence, but if people like Celestina Zabini truly cared to do anything, his influence in the Ministry could have been, if not neutralized, then at least downsized. That left the question of how Lucius Malfoy had managed to gain so much power in so short a time. Bribes could only take one so far, after all.
Harry had a few theories as to how Lucius had managed to become such a large political powerhouse, despite his families assets actually being worth less than a few other houses.
Thoughts on Lucius aside, Harry put his mind to other subjects.
The twins had been particularly ecstatic about his prank. Even now, he could hear the near drunken sounding cheers and prayers he had received from them upon entering the Gryffindor common room the night after his prank. They had been rather ecstatic to see someone else taking up the 'noble' duty of pranking.
Too bad Harry had no intention of doing anymore pranks unless it served a purpose like with Malfoy.
There were a few, like Hermione, who did not approve of what he did, but Harry wasn't sure he really cared about what they thought. If anything, he found himself caring less and less for the thoughts of people he only knew in passing. Sheep would always be sheep, and they would always follow the people who had the most power, be it politically or otherwise.
Harry looked up from where he was helping Fey Dunbar with the Switching Spell, she was very near to completing it, and observed the rest of the Transfiguration class. Most of the students were working diligently. Dean and Seamus waving their wands, attempting to cast the Switching Spell, though they were not having much success. Dean was having more success than Seamus though, who was on his fourth apple and jar, having made the last three burst into flames.
Just how it was Seamus could actually set a glass jar on fire was something not even Harry could figure out.
Ron Weasley and Zacharis Smith were also working together. Neither one was having much luck. They didn't seem to have as much aptitude for Transfiguration as some of the other students did. Not surprising, Transfiguration was one of the hardest subjects of study here. Once he finished helping Fey, he would see if he couldn't walk them through the process.
Hermione was actually helping Sally-Ann Perks with her Transfiguration. The bushy-haired witch was getting much better at making her teaching style more original. Before, all she would do was paraphrase the books, which was why no one wanted to listen to her. Harry had told her as much, and it seemed she had taken his words to heart.
Harry was also very pleased to see that Susan was actually helping students out as well. She was one of the few in class who had a natural aptitude for Transfiguration. The demure and soft-spoken girl was currently helping Neville and Hannah, neither of whom were very good at this particular branch of magic.
After making his rounds and doing what he could to help out as many students as possible, Harry ended up back in his original seat next to Susan and Neville just as class ended.
“Remember, next week we will be having a test to see how well you can perform the Switching Spell,” Professor McGonagall told them as the bell rang. Several groans met her pronouncement, but she ignored them. “If any of you need help, be sure to come to me after class. I have also given Mr. Potter permission to oversee people when they practice as well.”
As Harry picked up his bag, he turned to his friends, about to suggest they meet up with the others since they had a free period now, when he stopped.
Neville was nowhere near them.
Blinking several times, Harry began his search for the round-faced boy. He was talking to Professor McGonagall. Curious, Harry walked over to his friend and Transfiguration teacher, the three girls following him, to hear what must have been the end of their conversation.
“So you see,” Neville was saying, “I deserve to be punished just as much as Harry for what happened to Malfoy.”
Curiosity was replaced by shock as he easily picked up Neville's last few words. All Harry could do now was wonder why. Why was Neville doing this? Why tell Professor McGonagall about the small part he played in Malfoy's prank when he could have gotten away Scott free?
Professor McGonagall looked at Neville for several seconds before a tight smile lined her face.
“I do not know whether to commend you for sticking with your friend, or berate you for your stupidity, Mr. Longbottom.” She sighed. “Since you have decided to come clean of your own free will, I will not be taking any points off. However,” the stern woman gave him an even sterner glare. “You will be serving detention with Hagrid this Friday with Mr. Potter.”
“That's fine, Professor,” Neville said before turning around and walking towards Harry, Hannah, Hermione, and Susan.
Harry turned to look at the three girls he was with. They were looking just as shocked as Harry felt, and he wondered if he would have the same open mouth and wide-eyed look as them if he weren't currently using his Occlumency lessons to keep calm.
“I can't believe you just did that,” Hannah said as they walked down the corridor after leaving the Transfiguration classroom. Neville shrugged.
“Part of the reason Harry got into trouble was because of me. Had I been able to defend myself from Malfoy, had I just brought my wand with me, none of this would have happened. I'm not going to let Harry take all the blame for something that was also my fault.”
Hannah looked down at the ground in shame, no doubt remembering that it was also her fault Neville had gotten hurt protecting her from Draco Malfoy's spell.
“But it's not like you made Harry do that to Malfoy,” Hermione pointed out.
“Maybe, but he did that to warn Malfoy off for messing with me and Hannah,” Neville shrugged, “The least I can do is stick with him when he gets in trouble for helping me.”
Hermione went silent after that, her mind turning inward as she contemplated his words. Susan and Hannah both looked surprised, but the redhead wore a soft smile at the show of loyalty Neville displayed toward Harry.
And Harry? Well, he was feeling kind of strange. It was different than the butterflies in his stomach that he felt around Daphne Greengrass and Lisa Crawft. If he had to describe the feeling, he would have to say it felt 'warm.'
“Thank you,” Harry said softly, causing the other four to look at him. “It's nice to have someone who's willing to watch my back.” He smiled at Neville. “I really appreciate it.”
Neville grinned at him, and for just a second, Harry thought he saw a glimpse of what Neville would one day become.
“It's nothing,” Neville said, “I was just doing what any good friend would do, right?”
Harry chuckled.
“Right.”
XoX
At eleven o'clock on Friday night, Harry and Neville found themselves standing in the entrance hall where the met Filch, the crotchety old care taker technically in charge of making the students abide by the rules, but was often considered a joke. None of the children ever listened to him, and most made fun of him because he was a squib.
The man stood next to a boy Harry recognized very well. After all, he had just made the blond suffer quite the humiliation a few days ago. Malfoy noticed him as well, it seemed, because the boy paled and hid behind Filch.
Harry was actually confused about Malfoy's presence. For a moment, he wondered why the boy was here, but soon reasoned that McGonagall must have decided to punish Malfoy for what he did to Neville and Hannah, despite the humiliation he had already suffered at Harry's hands.
Personally, Harry thought his punishment for the boy was much worse than anything the teachers could do.
Filch was a very gangly man, with ragged, ratty hair and an unclean face. He always stood stooped over, as if he suffered from some kind of back disease. His clothing consisted of dirty gray robes, and his slightly rotten teeth gleamed darkly as he gave the two a gleeful smile.
"Follow me.”
Filch lit the lamp in his hand and led the boys outside.
“I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes... hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me.... It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed.... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."
“You think they actually did punishments like that?” Neville asked quietly. Though he tried to mask it, Harry could hear the fear in his voice plain as day.
“Doubtful,” Harry said with a smile, “children in the magical world are very important, because there are so few of us. Torture and anything that can damage a witch or wizards magical core, including physical torture, is one of the most extreme offenses in our society.”
It often left Harry wondering about how Daphne's father had gotten away with abusing his daughter without getting caught. Of course, there was no evidence of his abuse from what Harry saw, but psychological abuse could be even more damaging than the kind that left physical evidence.
Granted, it was very hard to judge when a child was suffered from mental or emotional abuse. Most times, people wouldn't even realize a child had suffered under that kind of pressure until it was too late. Thinking along those lines, it stood to reason that no one had recognized the signs of a girl suffering under the yoke of her father's harsh demands and punishments.
And of course, there was Daphne herself. That girl was very strong, both mentally and physically. She was cold to most people, but that was simply her acting as her father expected her to act. Her base personality, the one she hid from everyone, was incredibly kind and caring. So perhaps the reason he had never been caught was because Daphne showed no signs of abuse, much like Harry himself showed no signs of what he suffered at his relatives hands.
Neville breathed a sigh of relief at the words he was obviously hoping to hear, and Harry chuckled, before patting the boy's shoulder.
With nothing left to be said, the group of four marched across the cold grounds. The moon shone brightly overhead, though the cloud covering would occasionally block out the moonbeams shining down on them, leaving the group in darkness for several seconds. Several meters ahead, Harry could see the light from Hagrid's hut.
"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."
Everyone turned to see Hagrid coming out of the darkness, Fang at his heels. Harry immediately took notice of the cross bow the giant of a man carried, as well as the quiver full of arrows slung over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed.
“Bout time you showed up,” Hagrid said as soon as he was near them, “been waitin for yeh. Alright there, Harry, Neville?”
Harry breathed a slight sigh of relief, the tension in his back easing. He was very glad that Hagrid was not upset at him for essentially browbeating the man into giving up his pet dragon. It would not be good to have detention with a man who was upset with him, especially since said man was currently carrying a weapon.
“I wouldn't get too friendly with them if I were you, Hagrid,” Filch said in his crotchety voice. “This is supposed to be punishment.”
“Ah, poppycock,” Hagrid waved off the man's words, “It's punishment enough to be goin' inter the Forbidden Forest.”
“The Forbidden Forest?” Neville's face suddenly paled, causing Harry to frown and put a supportive hand on the boy's shoulder.
“I thought the Forbidden Forest was off limits,” he said, directing his question toward Hagrid, since the giant man was infinitely more pleasant than the disgusting Filch any day. “Why are we going in there when it's not allowed?”
“They've made an exception for you three,” Filch cackled, his voice harsh and grating. “That's what happens when you break the rules like you did.”
“Put a sock in it, Filch,” Hagrid grunted, making the caretaker scowl at him. “Yer bein' allowed inter the forest because I need help with somethin'.”
“Well then,” Harry stated, as if the man's words answered all of his questions. “What are we waiting for?”
"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.
Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.
"I'm not going in that forest,” he said with a quiver in his voice. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. The boy was not only a bully, but like all bullies, he was also a coward. He never did anything unless he was secure in the knowledge no one would harm him.
"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."
"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this—”
“He'd tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or Yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on.”
Malfoy stood there for a good few seconds, looking at Hagrid with a furious expression. It didn't last long, and a few moments later, he dropped his face to the ground.
"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."
Harry narrowed his eyes at the man's words. If what Hagrid was doing was so dangerous, why were they allowing three first years to accompany him?
He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.
"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."
"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" asked Malfoy, his voice shaking. Harry could hear the fear in it. A part of him couldn't help but relish in the boy's fear, while another part was disgusted with himself for taking joy in another's fear.
"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."
“Are you sure splitting up is the best idea?” asked Harry, forestalling anyone else from speaking. “I mean, if there is something dangerous in the forest, then splitting up is probably the worst thing we could do.”
Hagrid actually looked surprised for a moment. It didn't last, and the giant man dismissed Harry's words.
“This is the best way. We need ter split up so we can follow each trail.”
“In that case, I'll go with Fang and Draco, while Neville goes with you,” Harry determined. Draco paled.
“I don't want to go anywhere with you,” the boy said, his pitch a decimal higher than normal. Harry gave him a bone chilling smile.
“Well, that's too bad, Draco,” Harry said in a pleasant voice that made the blond Slytherin shudder. “Because I want to go with you and make sure you don't run out on us... or hex someone in the back.”
“Yeh sure yeh want Fang, Harry?” asked Hagrid, “He's a bleedin' coward.”
Draco went significantly paler, a feat Harry had not thought possible. He just smiled.
“I'm sure we'll be fine,” Harry reassured the man.
“Right then. So me an' Neville'll go one way, an' Draco, Harry, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now—that's it—an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh—so, be careful—let's go."
The Forbidden Forest was incredibly dark and ominously silent. Harry was not sure what he should have expected, but he had not been expecting it to be so quiet. There were always animals in the forest, at night there were Owls and small mammals, bats and bugs, more than enough animals to create a symphony of nature. Here there was nothing, almost like they all knew something dangerous lurked about and had cleared out.
Several meters after they entered the forest the group split up. Hagrid and Neville went one way, Harry and Malfoy the other.
They walked mostly in silence. Harry kept one eye on Malfoy at all times and the other on the area ahead. The ground around them was sparsely lit as the moon's rays shone through the dense canopy of trees, creating strangely organic pattern on the ground. Harry could see glints of silvery liquid splattered across various parts of the earth. Unicorn blood, he realized.
“Hold up,” Harry ordered, making Draco stop as he knelt down to inspect the blood. The blond Slytherin looked frightened, but tried to hide it behind a sneer.
“Listen you, I don't take orders from—“
“Malfoy,” Harry spoke in a calm, soft tone that was even more frightening than his angry hiss. Draco Malfoy shuddered. “You will do as I tell you or I will ensure that the next 'lesson' I teach will be much more painful than your last one.”
“You can't do that,” Malfoy squeaked, his voice cracking, “If you do, I'll tell my father and you'll be expelled.”
“Only if I leave evidence that I was the one doing it.” Harry smiled coldly. “Last time I got caught on purpose. The next time I decide you need more education there will be no evidence, and you can't convict someone without evidence. Now do me a favor and shut up.”
Malfoy looked like read to complain some more, but a cold glare with a lethal smile from Harry had the boy snapping his mouth closed almost painfully.
With the boy now silent, Harry turned his attention back to the Unicorn blood. He dipped two fingers into it, taking quick note as to how sticky the substance was. As he stretched his fingers, the blood stretched with it, much different from human blood, thicker.
Standing beside him, Draco crinkled his nose. Harry ignored him.
“This blood is fresh,” Harry said with a frown. “At least I think it's fresh. It's not dried and not yet coagulated, meaning this blood was spilled recently. Within the last hour at least.” He stood up. “That means we're on the right path.”
Just then, Harry heard something rustling near them. It sounded like some kind of fabric trailing across the ground. A cloak perhaps?
“Get down!” Harry hissed towards Draco, who heeded his warning and crouched down. Fang cowered beside them both.
“What? What it is?” Draco's fear was an almost palpable thing. While Harry could not see the boy very well, he could almost imagine the pale face and wide, frightened eyes the blond boy sported.
“I heard something,” Harry looked around with narrowed eyes. “Over by those trees. Follow me and keep quiet.”
He began walking toward the area he'd heard the noise, his feet making nary a sound. Behind him, Malfoy walked along with no sense of subtlety or grace at all. If something came after them, it would be the boy's fault.
Harry frowned as he strained his ears in the hopes of hearing something. He thought about reinforcing them, but decided it wasn't worth the risk of possibly blowing out his eardrums.
He wished he had mastered his animagus form for this. If he could do a partial transformation for at least his eyes so he could see in the dark things would be much easier. He thought about casting lumos, but decided that if there was something dangerous out there, giving away his position anymore than Draco already had would be a bad idea.
Roving beside him on all fours, Fang whined softly, and Harry patted him on the head to keep him quiet.
He heard the rustling again, and this time Draco must have heard it as well, because the boy whimpered. Harry ignored the blond for now, and instead focused on where the sound was coming from. The rustling was getting louder now, and it was accompanied by another sound, a pained whine that Harry recognized as a horse. It looked like they had found their Unicorn, and whatever was after the Unicorn had found it.
With a quick gesture behind him, Harry ordered Malfoy to stop. The boy did so, too afraid to do anything else, and Harry silently crept up to the nearest tree.
Pressing his back against the bark, he peeked out from around the trunk.
There, in a very small clearing among the trees, was the Unicorn. It lay on its side, still alive if the soft whinnying noise and shuddering was any indication. Silver blood leaked from wounds on its hide, creating a thick puddle on the forest floor.
And crouched down next to it was the... thing that had injured it. Harry could not even begin to guess as to the creature's origins. Covered in a long, black cloak, a large hood pulled up over its head, Harry could make nothing of its face or features.
Not that he would be able to see its face anyway. Currently, the thing's face was buried into the hide of the Unicorn, sucking up its blood with loud, lewd slurping noises.
Harry felt a moment of intense nausea well up inside of him. There was something unnatural about the scene before him. He knew that death was a part of life, and he knew it was in the nature of predators to hunt prey, but this... this was not a part of the natural world. Whatever this creature was, it was doing something that it had no right doing.
It was enough to make him sick.
A crunch sounded beside him. Harry whirled around, his wand out and a curse on his lips, only for it to die out when he saw Draco and Fang standing beside him.
“What the hell are you two doing?” he hissed, angry that this brat decided to ignore his orders to stay put.
“You're not the boss of me,” Draco said much more loudly than he probably intended. The thing that had been feasting on the Unicorn must have heard him as well, for the loud slurping noises abruptly ceased.
Harry paled.
“Cast the sparks,” Harry ordered, “Cast the sparks now and then get as far away from here as possible. Find Hagrid.”
“What?”
“Just do it!”
Harry didn't bother to see if Draco listened to him. Already he could hear the rustling of fabric getting closer to their location. The creature, whatever it was, was coming for them.
Pressing his back against the tree, Harry did his best to calm his breathing. He needed a clear head. He needed to be able to think, and come up with some kind of plan to stall this thing until Hagrid arrived.
Harry quickly formulated a plan within his mind. He could run, of course, but there was no guarantee it wouldn't catch him. It had caught a Unicorn, after all.
That left just one option. Strike hard, strike fast. It was really the only thing he could think of doing; he had no information on what he was dealing with. With this in mind, Harry sprang out from behind the tree, the creature much closer now, only about two meters or so Harry judged, and slashed his wand down in a vicious stroke.
“Diffindo!”
The cutting curse launched itself from his wand, traveling toward the creature with pinpoint accuracy. Harry put a good bit of power into that curse. While he wasn't sure it would kill the thing, he was at least positive it would do a good deal of damage.
It probably would have done a good deal of damage had it hit. Barely a foot from where the creature stood, a blue barrier of arcane energy was erected. A Protego, Harry recognized. His spell splashed against the shield, causing small tendrils of magic to jump and sizzle along its surface like an electric current. The shield held.
Harry's eyes widened. This wasn't some kind of animalistic beast! This was a wizard!
Pain erupted in Harry's scar at the same time a bright yellow light shot from a wand the wizard now held in their hand. Harry ignored the pain, having dealt with much worse before, and dodged the attack by sidestepping it. The spell, a spell he did not recognize, flew passed and splashed against the tree, where it began to sizzle and hiss as the bark literally melted off like wax.
Harry made a note not to get hit by that spell.
The battle continued; Harry dodged another spell, the same one as last time. It was difficult to think and act with the building pressure in his head. His scar was burning hot, messing with his concentration.
He rolled along the ground as a bright blue blast of energy was launched at him. It exploded on a tree several feet away, blowing out large chunks of bark. As Harry got to his feet, he jabbed his wand at the wizard and launched his own spell.
“Reducto!”
A blue ball of condensed energy blasted from the tip of his wand. It careened toward the figure who brought up another Protego to block the spell. Harry's wand was already moving again as he performed the only spell chain he currently knew.
“Tarantellegra! Expelliamus! Locomotor mortis! Reducto!”
The chain was actually one Harry had created himself. The first spell was designed to make his opponent underestimate him. The second would disarm him of his wand. The third would immobolize him. And the fourth, depending on how much energy Harry put into the spell, would either blast his enemy backwards or turn them into a fine paste.
Harry had put quite a bit of energy into his reducto.
Unfortunately, none of the spells got through. The first was swatted away with ease. The second was blocked with a protego. The third did not even hit, as a large stone rose to intercept the attack, and the fourth was blocked by another application of the shield charm. None of Harry's attacks made it through.
A curse escaped Harry's lips as he realized this person was a lot better than him. He may not be more powerful than Harry, though Harry had no way of knowing for sure, but he certainly knew his spells better than Harry did, and could use them to much greater effect.
Harry was beginning to wish he had managed to learn how to nonverbalize his offensive spells.
Another yellow curse was launched at Harry, who ducked behind a tree, wincing as the bark fizzled and spit from the damage done to it. The spell must create some kind of acid, he realized as he saw the effects of the curse up close. The bark was literally being eaten through.
Harry took a deep breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he prepared his next move. This cover wouldn't last much longer if the wizard continued throwing spells like that. He needed to make a dash for more cover, maybe see if he couldn't find some higher ground, a hill or something. Perhaps he could even find a way to utilize the terrain to his advantage. He would need to be quick and move constantly so as to present a harder target to hit.
Before Harry could so much as move an inch from his spot, the tree he was hiding behind exploded violently. Harry was flung away like a rag doll caught in a maelstrom. He hit the ground hard, the impact jarring his bones with incredible force. He began to roll along the ground, his robes catching and tearing on some of the sharper branches and rocks dotting the forest floor.
Moving with the tumble Harry tried to minimize the damage when his left shoulder smacked against the root of a tree. He stifled back a scream of pain as joint dislocated. Not that he would have been able to scream, for a second later his back hit a large tree, hard.
Harry felt all of the breath leave his lungs in a loud 'whoosh' of air. Spots appeared before his eyes. His head was ringing. It hurt, maybe not as much as when the troll crushed him, but it was enough to leave him disoriented.
As Harry tried to catch his breath, the sound of rustling and footsteps reached his ears. Looking up, Harry felt all of the blood drain from his face as the wizard coming toward him. Unicorn blood dribbled down its front, staining the ground as it dripped off its robes, creating a ghastly image like something out of one of those horror movies Lisa made him watch on occasion.
He could see now why she crawled into his bed every time they watched one.
The pain that erupted in his scar was nothing compared to the fear he felt at this being who had so thoroughly defeated him. For the first time since he was a young boy, Harry found himself afraid.
He tried to push through his fear. Tried to push it to the side, knowing that if he did not, this monster in wizard's robes would surely kill him. Snatching his wand from where it lay by his head, Harry scrambled to his feet and prepared once more to fight.
The wizard paused in its walk, head tilting to the side. Harry could see nothing beyond the hood, and could not even begin to figure out what his opponent was thinking, but it almost looked curious. Not that he cared. If it was distracted, then maybe he would get lucky and hit it with a spell before it could retaliate.
Before Harry could do anything, something else burst into the clearing. Something Harry never thought he would see. The bottom half was that of a palomino horse with four strong, hoofed legs, and a tail swaying from its hind end. The upper half was human. He had white blond hair and bright blue eyes. A centaur.
Before the wizard Harry faced could even begin to turn, the centaur had galloped over to them quicker than the wind. It reared up on its hind legs, attacking with its front. The wizard raised an arm to protect itself, a reflexive gesture, and if the loud cracking was any indication, received a broken arm for their troubles. Harry thought he heard a cry of pain from the wizard, but with the blood pounding in his ears it was hard to tell.
The wizard fled then, disappearing into the night, and the centaur moved to stand beside him.
“Are you alright?” the centaur asked.
“I—yes,” Harry answered, “I'm fine. Thank you for, well, you know.”
What Harry wanted to say was 'thank you for saving me,' however, for some reason he couldn't. It may have had something to do with the shame he felt. Harry always prided himself on being strong, on being independent, and most of all, on being able to take care of himself. That he had needed someone to rescue him was galling, and he couldn't help but feel pathetic and weak.
Harry promised himself that the next time he was in danger like this, he would not be so helpless.
And then all thoughts fled him as his mind registered the fact that he and the centaur were not the only creature's here.
“The Unicorn!”
Despite the exhaustion he felt from the adrenaline leaving his body, Harry sped toward the small clearing where the Unicorn lay. It did not take long to reach, despite having been distracted by the battle, he remembered where it was. All he had to do was follow the path of destruction.
The Unicorn was still there, only it wasn't moving. Harry knelt down, unsure of what to do. He put a hand to its neck to see if it was still breathing. It wasn't.
“No,” Harry whispered as he felt a sense of despondency enter his soul. “No, no, no, no!”
Harry pointed his wand at the Unicorn, the tip glowing green. He didn't know any healing spells aside from basic first aid. Instead, Harry simply infused his will to heal the Unicorn into his wand. He pushed his desire to see the Unicorn alive and healthy into his magic.
Nothing happened. The Unicorn remained dead.
“No, oh god, no.”
Harry felt an ache within his chest, something he had never felt before. It was as if someone had taken a hammer to his heart and crushed it. It was a horrible feeling, and he couldn't even begin to understand why he felt this way.
“Come on, dammit!”
Headless of the tears beginning to sting his eyes, Harry continued trying to heal the dead Unicorn. He pushed more and more magic into his wand. The runes running along the shaft glowed brilliantly within the darkness of the forest.
“There is nothing you can do, Harry Potter,” the centaur said from behind him. “Her death was written in the stars.”
“Shut up!” Harry snarled, not turning from his self appointed task. “You don't know anything! I'm not going to let her die!”
The centaur just looked at him sadly, not saying anything. Harry ignored him, focusing everything he had on the task of healing the Unicorn. It was a task that was done in vain, the Unicorn was dead, had been since sometime during his fight with the strange wizard. Despite this, Harry pushed more and more magic until the tip of his wand sparked with bursts of arcane energy.
And then the glow began to die down. Harry Potter felt himself grow weaker as he spent what was left of his magic attempting to do the impossible.
Tired, spent magically, physically and emotionally, Harry collapsed against the Unicorn, trying vainly to keep himself from crying.
“Why does it hurt so much?” he asked, not actually expecting an answer. He received one, however, from the centaur who stood beside him.
“Unicorns are the purest creature's in existence,” the centaur told him, “When one of them dies, those who are pure of heart feel that death within their very souls.”
If Harry were not so drained he would have snorted. Him? Pure? Harry was many things, but pure of heart was not one of them. He knew his own short comings better than anyone. He was prideful, and some would even call him vain. On occasion he could also be ruthless and cold, as was the case with Draco Malfoy. And while he showed kindness, compassion and understanding to his friends, he had no trouble using others for his own gains, as shown by how he treated the vast majority of his peers. No, Harry was not pure, not in the least.
So then, why did the Unicorns death hurt so much?
He did not ask the centaur. He suspected the horse man did not have the answers he sought.
“I'm sorry,” he said instead, pushing himself off the white main of the deathly still Unicorn. He wiped his eyes with his sleeves and used what little magic he had left to dry and clean his face. Harry had already shown enough weakness today; he would not show any more. “I didn't mean to snap at you.”
“It is alright,” the centaur said, “I understand how difficult it is for one so young to witness the death of something so beautiful.”
Harry felt a stab in his chest, but ignored it in favor of changing the subject. He had no wish to stay on the topic of the unicorn's death.
“Do you know who that was? The... the thing that was drinking the Unicorn's blood?”
The centaur regarded him silently for a moment, and Harry couldn't help but feel that he was being judged.
"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn's blood is used for?"
“No,” Harry frowned, “I've not found any references on the use of Unicorn's blood in my studies. And the only thing I've dealt with in potions is unicorn hair and ground unicorn horn.”
"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said the centaur. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."
“But, surely no one can be that desperate?” Harry felt something constricting his chest. “Who would possibly want to live such a life? Death would be preferable! Unless...” Harry trailed off, his eyes widening. “Unless whoever it is, is after the Philosophers Stone. With the elixir of live they could undo any damage they suffered from drinking unicorn's blood.” His expression turned pensive. “But that still doesn't explain who would do such a thing.”
"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"
The constricting feeling around his heart tightened, and suddenly, everything made sense. The way his scar burned when he faced the person under the robes, the troll that had been released in the castle, the break in at Gringotts, and the reason the Philosopher's Stone had been moved here in the first place. It all made sense.
“Voldemort,” Harry breathed, “But he's dead, isn't he?”
He had to be dead. There was no way he could have survived having the killing curse launched back at him.
Or had it? Harry did not know what happened after the green killing curse struck him. He had passed out from the pain moments after it happened. Was it possible that the curse had not killed Voldemort, but merely left him significantly weakened, to the point where he would need a powerful artifact like the Philosopher's Stone to bring him back?
The centaur looked like he was about to answer, but before he could a shout of, “Harry!” caused their attention to turn.
Hagrid and Neville were running toward him, both looking like they were out of breath.
“Harry! Are you—Merlin!”
Neville took one look at the dead unicorn laying on the ground, and proceeded to lose whatever was left of his dinner. Hagrid looked on the verge of tears as he saw the once pure creature lying still, dead to the world. Of course a man who loved magical creatures would be affected by the death of a unicorn.
As Hagrid hurried over to examine the unicorn and Neville dry heaved on the ground, the centaur turned to Harry.
“This is where I leave you, Harry Potter,” he said as Hagrid bent down to examine the unicorn's wounds, “You are safe now.”
“I didn't get your name,” Harry said before the centaur could leave.
“It's Firenze.”
“Firenze,” Harry tested the word before offering the centaur a small bow of gratitude, “It was nice to meet you.”
“And you as well, Harry Potter,” Firenze nodded to him before he turned and trotted off into the forest.
As Firenze disappeared into the darkness of the forest, Harry turned to the scene around him, Hagrid examining the unicorn, Neville now longer dry heaving but shivering instead. Harry couldn't blame him; it wasn't a very pretty sight.
Draco Malfoy and Fang were nowhere to be seen.
He walked over and placed a hand on the round-faced boy's shoulder.
“You alright, Neville?” he asked.
“Not... particularly,” Neville gasped out, and Harry couldn't help but nod.
“It's not a very pretty site, is it?” Harry asked softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself.
Neville didn't say anything, just nodding in agreement. Over by the unicorn, Hagrid stood and made his way over to Harry and Neville and, after asking Harry about what happened, the raven-haired boy was forced to give the two a recounting of his encounter with the wizard he'd fought, the one who'd been drinking unicorn's blood.
He did not tell them that Voldemort was the one he fought. Nor did he make any hint of the Philosopher's Stone being the reason for the Dark Lord's presence here. Harry was still reeling from the knowledge, and he could only imagine the kind of panic such knowledge would insight. Besides, the centaurs would probably tell Hagrid, or at least, Firenze would. And there was no need to inform Neville that the darkest wizard in the world was currently hiding within the forbidden forest.
Later that night, as Harry lay in bed, his mind wandered back to his encounter with Voldemort. For a man who was supposed to be half-dead, he had been awfully good at dueling. And that man was after the Philsopher's Stone. The thought of Voldemort rising again was not a pleasant one.
And yet, despite his worry about the man who had taken his parents from him rising again, Harry could not help but wonder if there was some way he could turn this situation to his advantage.