12. The Forbidden Forest
Things couldn't have been worse.
Filch's grip was tight as he led them down to Professor McGonagall's office on the first floor. The air was thick with silence. Hermione was trembling beside Harry, her face pale with anxiety. Hope, on the other hand, had her eyes squeezed shut, a sense of déjà vu settling over her like a heavy blanket. This wasn't the first time they'd found themselves in this kind of mess.
Harry, his mind racing, couldn't stop glancing around. He was trying to think of any excuse, any alibi that could pull them out of this disaster. But there was nothing. Nothing at all. How could they have been so foolish as to forget the Cloak?
The Astronomy Tower—out of bounds—and Norbert? They might as well pack their bags and leave Hogwarts now.
And just when they thought things couldn't get worse, they did.
Professor McGonagall appeared at the door, leading Neville by the arm.
"Harry!" Neville's voice broke through the tension, his eyes wide with panic. "I was trying to find you to warn you. I heard Malfoy say he was going to catch you—he said you had a drag—"
Harry shook his head violently, his eyes darting toward McGonagall, but it was too late. She'd already seen.
Her eyes, sharp and cold, were locked onto them, and her stance was rigid. She looked more like she could breathe fire than Norbert ever could.
"I would never have believed it of any of you," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Mr. Filch says you were up in the Astronomy Tower at one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."
Hermione, usually quick to answer, was utterly still. She stared at her slippers, as if the floor could swallow her whole.
Professor McGonagall continued, her tone tinged with disbelief. "I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on. It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. You thought it was funny, didn't you?"
Harry caught Neville's eye, silently trying to communicate that this wasn't the truth. But Neville's eyes were wide, confused, and hurt.
Poor, blundering Neville. Harry knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them, only to end up here, too.
"I'm disgusted," McGonagall said, her nostrils flaring. "Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this."
The words hit Harry like a physical blow, but it was Hope who felt her stomach twist. She could feel the weight of her actions—how much she'd let Gryffindor down—and it felt as if it might swallow her whole.
All three of them would receive detentions. Professor McGonagall continued, her voice filled with anger.
"Yes, Mr. Longbottom, you too. Nothing gives you the right to walk around the school at night, especially with all that's been happening. It's dangerous. And you, Miss Lupin. I see that our previous discussion did little to teach you any better."
Hope dropped her gaze, suddenly feeling very small.
"Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor," McGonagall said, her words deliberate, each one a weight that threatened to crush them.
"Fifty?" Harry gasped, his heart sinking in his chest. He could practically feel the House Cup slipping through his fingers.
"Fifty points each," McGonagall confirmed, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.
Hope let out a groan, closing her eyes in frustration. With that, her personal tally of lost House points shot up to 130.
"Professor, please—" Hermione began, her voice shaky.
"You can't—" Harry said urgently, but McGonagall cut him off.
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now, get back to your beds, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."
As they trudged back to Gryffindor Tower, Hope felt the weight of the punishment settle.
A 200-point loss. Gryffindor was now at the bottom of the House standings. Hope's stomach churned with guilt, especially since she was responsible for so much of the point loss. She couldn't imagine how they'd make up for this.
That night, she tossed and turned unable to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the images of McGonagall's disappointed face swirled in her mind. Hermione's soft sniffles drifted through the curtains around her bed. Harry and Neville, she was sure, weren't sleeping any better. They all shared the same dread. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done?
The next morning, as the students passed the giant hourglasses recording the house points, they thought it was a mistake. How could Gryffindor suddenly be two hundred points behind? But soon, the rumors started. The story spread like wildfire: Harry Potter, their hero, the boy who'd won them Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points. And it wasn't just him—it was Hope, too. She'd become the latest target for the whispers and stares.
Everyone had been rooting for Slytherin to lose the House Cup, but now? Now, it felt like everyone had turned against them. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked at them with disdain. The Slytherins, of course, were the only ones who clapped as Harry and Hope passed by, whistling and cheering.
"Thanks, Potter! We owe you one!" they'd jeer. "Good going, Lupin!"
Peeves floated through the halls, chanting, "Loony, Loopy, Lousy, Lupin, loves to lose!"
Hermione and Neville didn't fare much better, though at least they weren't as well-known as Harry and Hope. Hermione kept her head down in class, avoiding attention. Neville was his usual, well-meaning self, but no one wanted to be seen with him, either.
Hope was thankful for one thing, though. The upcoming exams kept her mind occupied. Late nights spent memorizing complicated potion ingredients, practicing charms and spells, and cramming magical history helped keep her thoughts from spiraling.
Still, the tension in the air never went away.
One day, as Hope tried to shrink into the shadows to avoid being seen, she accidentally bumped into Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff in her year.
"Watch it, Lousy Lupin," he sneered.
Hope's shoulders slumped, the words stinging more than they should.
But then a voice cut through the tension. "Hey."
Hope looked up in surprise, seeing Cedric Diggory standing in front of Zacharias.
"Apologize," Cedric said firmly, crossing his arms.
"But she bumped into me—" Zacharias began, his voice defensive, but Cedric didn't move an inch.
"I said apologize," Cedric repeated, his voice brooking no argument.
Zacharias huffed, throwing Hope a bitter glance over his shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered, his words lacking any sincerity as he walked off, shooting a glare at Cedric.
Hope looked at Cedric, her voice barely a whisper. "Thanks."
Cedric gave her a small smile. "Sorry about your House points," he said, his tone gentle, his words soft as if trying to cushion the sting of her frustration.
"Not as sorry as I am," Hope muttered, looking down at the floor, her hands fiddling with the edge of her robe.
Cedric stepped closer, giving her a brief, encouraging smile, though it seemed like he, too, was struggling to find the right words.
"Don't worry about them," he said, his voice low but firm. "They'll get over it."
Hope's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Thanks, Cedric," she said again, this time with more conviction, even if she didn't fully believe it. It felt nice, hearing someone be understanding, even if it didn't change the situation.
Cedric nodded, giving her a final, reassuring smile before turning away, disappearing down the corridor. Hope stood still for a moment, letting the quiet settle around her before she made her decision. She didn't want to face anyone—not the glares, not the whispers. Not today.
Without another thought, Hope turned on her heel and made her way through the halls, bypassing the classrooms she should have been in. Her steps were slow, each one feeling heavier than the last, until she found herself in the second-floor girls' bathroom. It was an oddly peaceful place—usually avoided by most students due to Moaning Myrtle's presence—but today, that was exactly what she needed. She could already hear Myrtle's distant wails echoing in the hall, and though Hope wasn't in the mood to deal with the ghost, it felt like the only place where she might find some peace.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the worn, tiled floors. The air was cool, the faint scent of damp stone lingering in the air. Hope leaned against one of the sinks, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror.
Footsteps echoed against the stone corridor outside, stopping just beyond the bathroom door. A second later, she heard it creak open.
"Hope?"
She flinched in surprise at the familiar voice and turned to see George Weasley standing in the doorway. His expression was softer than usual, though the ever-present mischievous glint in his eyes remained.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Looking for you," George replied with a half-shrug, stepping inside.
Hope frowned. "How'd you know I was here?"
George's grin widened, though it wasn't quite as cocky as usual. "Just had a feeling," he said, his tone casual but knowing.
She raised an eyebrow. "You always seem to know where I am."
He gave her a mischievous smile, as he leaned against the wall next to her, crossing his arms. "So why're you hiding out, Little Lupin?"
Hope stared down at the tiled floor. "Because everyone hates Harry and me."
"Not everyone," George quipped with a shrug. "Just... mostly everyone."
Hope shot him a look, and he held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, bad joke. But seriously, not everyone, Hope."
She let out a humorless laugh. "Feels like it."
George tilted his head, watching her for a moment before he pushed off the wall and stood in front of her. "Listen, people can be a bit thick. And, yeah, the whole school's got their knickers in a twist about this, but they'll get over it soon enough."
George's smile faded slightly, seeing her mood wasn't lifting. Then, without warning, he reached out and tugged on the sleeve of her robe.
"C'mon," he said.
Hope blinked at him. "What?"
"C'mon," he repeated, giving her sleeve another playful tug. "I'm not letting you mope in a bathroom all day. It's very tragic-heroine of you, and frankly, it's making me sad."
Despite herself, Hope let out a small, genuine laugh.
George grinned, seeing her smile. "I say we ditch this depressing hideout and go steal some food from the kitchens. What do you say?"
Hope hesitated, but standing here, looking at George—his easy grin, his warm eyes, the way he was trying to make things just a little bit lighter—she felt something shift inside her, her stomach now twisting in a way that felt almost pleasant.
"...Fine," she relented, rolling her eyes with a small smile.
"That's the spirit!" George beamed, looping an arm around her shoulders as he steered her toward the door. "Now, let's go before Myrtle starts crying about how we're 'trespassing' in her bathroom or something."
Hope shook her head, laughing as the two left.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Hope was sitting in the library with Ron and Hermione, watching as Hermione tested Ron on Astronomy. Ron groaned, struggling to remember the names of Jupiter's moons, when Harry suddenly burst in, out of breath and wide-eyed.
He hurriedly told them about the conversation he had overheard—Snape had threatened Quirrell.
"Snape's done it, then!" Ron exclaimed. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell—"
"There's still Fluffy, though," Hermione said hopefully.
Hope frowned. "Hagrid's not exactly tight-lipped, is he? Especially if he thinks he can trust Snape, that he's protecting the Stone."
"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," Ron muttered, glancing up at the towering bookshelves around them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here that tells you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"
The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry could.
"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves, we'll be thrown out for sure."
Hope let out a long sigh, nodding. "I practically have detention every day of the week at this point," she groaned.
"But we've got no proof!" Harry argued. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape only has to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Hallowe'en and that he was nowhere near the third floor—who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him. Dumbledore will think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it—he's too friendly with Snape. And the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think.
"And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."
Hermione looked convinced, but Ron hesitated. "If we just do a bit of poking around—"
"No," Harry said firmly. "We've done enough poking around."
He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and stared at the page, trying to focus on memorizing its moons.
The following morning, notes were delivered to Hope, Harry, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:
"Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the Entrance Hall.
Prof. M. McGonagall"
Harry had nearly forgotten about their detentions amidst the uproar over the points they'd lost. Hope hadn't—she was already stacking this one on top of others she owed. He half expected Hermione to complain about losing a night of revision, but she didn't say a word. Like the others, she felt they deserved it.
At eleven o'clock that night, they said goodbye to Ron in the common room and headed down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there—so was Malfoy. Harry had forgotten he had detention too.
"Follow me," Filch ordered, lighting a lamp and leading them outside. He leered at them. "Bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh? Oh yes... hard work and pain are the best teachers, if you ask me. Pity they let the old punishments die out... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days—still got the chains in my office, keep 'em well-oiled in case they're ever needed. Right, off we go. And don't think of running off—it'll be worse if you do."
They marched across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Harry wondered what their punishment would be. It had to be something truly awful, or Filch wouldn't sound so gleeful.
The moon shone brightly, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Harry saw the warm glow of Hagrid's hut. Then a distant voice called out.
"That you, Filch? Hurry up, I wanna get started."
Harry's heart lifted. Hermione's tense shoulders relaxed a little. Hope let out an inaudible sigh of relief, and Neville's sniffles quieted. If they were working with Hagrid, it wouldn't be so bad.
Their relief must have shown, because Filch sneered. "Think you'll enjoy yourself with that oaf? Think again! You're heading into the Forest, and I'll be surprised if you all come out in one piece."
Neville let out a whimper. Malfoy stopped dead.
"The Forest?" His usual cool tone wavered. "We can't go in there at night—there's all sorts of things—werewolves, I heard."
Hope rolled her eyes. "There aren't any werewolves," she muttered under her breath, though her grip tightened on her robes.
Neville clutched Harry's sleeve, choking on a whimper.
"That's your problem, isn't it?" Filch cackled. "Should've thought of those werewolves before you got in trouble!"
"There aren't any werewolves." Hope mumbled again
Hagrid strode toward them, Fang at his heels, a large crossbow slung over his shoulder and a quiver of arrows at his side.
"'Bout time," he grumbled. "Bin waitin' half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione, Hope?"
"I wouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," Filch said coldly. "They're here for punishment."
"That why yer late?" Hagrid frowned. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over now."
Filch smirked. "I'll be back at dawn—for what's left of them."
He turned and stalked back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.
Malfoy rounded on Hagrid. "I'm not going in that Forest."
Hagrid glared. "Yeh are if yeh wanna stay at Hogwarts. Yeh broke the rules, now yeh've got ter pay fer it."
Draco scoffed. "This is servant work! I thought we'd be writing lines or something. If my father knew I was doing this, he'd—"
"—tell yeh that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid snapped. "Writin' lines? What good's that? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll pack yer bags. If yeh think yer father'd rather yeh were expelled, off yeh go."
Malfoy didn't move. He scowled, but his gaze dropped.
"Right then," Hagrid said. "Listen up, 'cause this is dangerous. Follow me."
He led them to the edge of the Forest, holding his lamp high and pointing down a narrow, winding path. A faint breeze stirred their hair as they peered into the trees.
"See that?" Hagrid pointed to the shimmering substance on the ground. "That's unicorn blood. There's one in there, hurt bad. Second time this week. Found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing—might have ter put it out of its misery."
"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Malfoy asked, failing to hide the tremor in his voice.
"Nothin' in the Forest'll hurt yeh if yeh stick with me or Fang," Hagrid assured them. "And keep to the path. We're splittin' into two groups. Blood's everywhere, must've been staggerin' 'round since last night."
"I want Fang," Malfoy said quickly, eyeing the dog's sharp teeth.
"Fine, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," Hagrid shrugged. "Me, Hope, Harry'n, Hermione'll go one way. Draco, Neville, and Fang'll take the other. If yeh find the unicorn, send up green sparks. If there's trouble, red sparks—an' we'll come find yeh. Got it? Good. Let's go."
The Forest was dark and silent. They reached a fork, and Hope, Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right.
They moved cautiously, eyes on the ground. Occasionally, moonlight filtered through the branches, illuminating splatters of silvery blue blood.
Harry noticed Hagrid looked worried. "Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?"
"No," Hope answered before Hagrid could. "Werewolves are large, and their bites are distinct—Hagrid would know if it was one. Plus, they attack whatever's in their path. If a werewolf was on the loose, it wouldn't just be unicorns dying. There'd be multiple diferent animals."
Hagrid nodded. "She's righ'." Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised looks at Hope's werewolf knowledge.
"Not fast enough, either," Hagrid added. "Unicorns are powerful magical creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."
They passed a mossy tree stump. The distant sound of running water reached their ears—there must be a stream nearby. The blood trail continued in scattered droplets.
"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt. We'll be able ter—GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"
Hagrid yanked them off the path, shoving them behind a towering oak. He fitted an arrow into his crossbow, raising it, eyes scanning the dark trail. A faint slithering sound rustled through the leaves, like a cloak trailing along the ground. They held their breath.
After a few tense seconds, the sound faded away.
"Knew it," Hagrid muttered. "Summat's in here that shouldn't be."
"A werewolf?" Harry asked.
"Not a werewolf," Hope murmured with a sigh.
"An' it weren't no unicorn, neither," Hagrid said grimly. "Right, follow me—careful, now."
They crept forward. In a clearing ahead, something moved.
"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself—I'm armed!"
And into the clearing came a centaur.
Hope blinked, taken aback—she had never seen one in person before. He had red hair and a beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped.
"Oh, it's you, Ronan," Hagrid said in relief, lowering his crossbow, which had been pointed in the centaur's direction. "How are yeh?"
He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.
"Good evening to you, Hagrid," Ronan said, his deep voice carrying a sorrowful weight. "Were you going to shoot me?"
"Can't be too careful, Ronan," Hagrid replied, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this Forest." He gestured to the students. "This is Hope Lupin, Harry Potter, an' Hermione Granger. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you three. He's a centaur."
"We'd noticed," Hermione said faintly.
Hope gave Ronan a small timid wave.
"Good evening," Ronan greeted. "Students, are you? And do you learn much up at the school?"
"Erm—" Harry started.
"A bit," Hermione answered timidly.
"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed, flinging back his head to stare at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."
"Yeah," Hagrid muttered, glancing up as well. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt—you seen anythin'?"
Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upwards, then sighed again. "Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."
"Yeah," Hagrid said, shifting impatiently. "But have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"
"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated.
Hagrid let out a frustrated breath. "Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home. So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"
Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The Forest hides many secrets."
A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur—black-haired, black-bodied, and wilder-looking than Ronan.
"Hullo, Bane," Hagrid greeted. "All right?"
"Good evening, Hagrid. I hope you are well?"
"Well enough." Hagrid got straight to the point. "Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan—you seen anythin' odd in here lately? Only there's a unicorn bin injured. Would yeh know anythin' about it?"
Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan and looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight."
"We've heard," Hagrid grumbled. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."
Harry, Hope, and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, glancing over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees swallowed them from view.
"Never," Hagrid muttered irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy star-gazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."
"Are there many of them in here?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, a fair few... Keep to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs... they know things... jus' don' let on much," Hagrid answered.
"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" Harry asked.
Hagrid shook his head, "Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns – never heard anythin' like it before."
They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept glancing over his shoulder, a nasty feeling creeping up his spine. He couldn't shake the sensation that they were being watched, glad that at least they had Hagrid and his crossbow.
"You alright, Harry?" Hope asked, her voice tinged with concern as she followed his gaze, seeing nothing.
Harry cast one last glance behind him before turning back to her. "Yeah, fine."
They had just rounded a bend when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.
"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks—the others are in trouble!"
"You three wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"
They watched him crash through the undergrowth, leaving them alone in the eerie silence.
"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" Hermione whispered.
Harry turned to her with a panicked expression. "I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Neville... It's our fault he's here in the first place."
"Neville will be fine. Fang's with him, and Hagrid said nothing will hurt us if we're with him or Fang," Hope said, more to reassure herself than the others.
The minutes dragged by. Every sound seemed magnified—the sigh of the wind, the snap of a twig. Hope and Hermione clutched each other's robes, eyes darting around nervously.
At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Neville, and Fang trailed behind him. Hagrid was fuming. Malfoy, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Neville as a joke. Neville had panicked and sent up the sparks.
"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups—Neville, you stay with me and Hermione. Harry, Hope, you go with Fang and this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid whispered to Hope and Harry, leaning down, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done."
So Harry and Hope set off deeper into the Forest with Malfoy and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, the path becoming harder to follow as the trees thickened. Blood splatters glistened on the roots of an ancient oak.
"Look—" Harry murmured, throwing out an arm to stop Malfoy.
Something bright white gleamed ahead. They inched closer.
It was the unicorn, and it was dead.
Hope frowned at the sight. Harry squeezed her arm gently in comfort. They had never seen anything so beautiful yet so tragic. The unicorn's slender legs stuck out at odd angles, its pearly mane splayed across the dark leaves.
Harry had taken a step forward when a slithering noise made him freeze.
"Harry," Hope whispered, motioning for him to step back.
A bush quivered at the edge of the clearing... Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure emerged, crawling across the ground like a stalking beast. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head, and began to drink its blood.
"AAAAAAAAAAARGH!" Malfoy shrieked, bolting. Fang followed suit.
The hooded figure slowly raised its head, blood dripping from its mouth. It locked eyes with Harry and glided toward him.
Harry couldn't move. Terror rooted him in place.
Hope grabbed his arm, yanking him back and stepping protectively in front of him, tears welling in her eyes.
Pain exploded in Harry's scar. He groaned, clutching his forehead, feeling as though it were on fire. Half-blinded, he staggered. Hope's head snapped between him and the advancing figure, panic rising in her chest.
The pounding of hooves echoed behind them. Something leapt clean over them, charging at the cloaked figure.
Harry collapsed to his knees. Hope dropped beside him, frantic. "Harry! Are you okay?"
The pain gradually faded. When he looked up, the figure was gone. A centaur stood over them—not Ronan or Bane, but a younger one with white-blond hair and a palomino body.
"Are you all right?" the centaur asked, helping Harry to his feet, then Hope.
Hope nodded wordlessly, her eyes still damp as she stared at the empty spot where the cloaked figure had been.
"Yes—thank you—what was that?" Harry asked.
The centaur didn't answer. His pale sapphire eyes studied Harry, lingering on the scar.
"You are the Potter boy," he murmured. "You should return to Hagrid. The Forest is not safe—especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker."
Hope shook her head, but it seemed they had no choice.
"My name is Firenze," the centaur said, lowering himself so Harry could climb onto his back. Harry grabbed Hope's hand, helping her up behind him.
A sudden thunder of hooves approached. Ronan and Bane burst through the trees, their flanks heaving.
"Firenze!" Bane roared. "You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"
"Do you realize who this is?" Firenze retorted. "This is the Potter boy. The sooner he leaves this Forest, the better."
"What have you told him?" Bane growled. "We are sworn not to interfere! Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"
Ronan pawed at the ground. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best."
Bane kicked out angrily. "For the best? It is not our place to run after stray humans in our Forest!"
Firenze reared onto his hind legs in fury. Harry gripped his shoulders, and Hope clung tightly to Harry.
"Do you not see that unicorn? Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I stand against what lurks in this Forest, Bane, even if it means fighting alongside humans."
Without another word, Firenze turned, galloping away with Harry and Hope clinging to him.
"Why's Bane so angry?" Harry asked. "What was that thing?"
Firenze slowed. "Keep your heads down."
They rode in silence until Firenze abruptly halted. "Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"
"No," Harry said, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail-hair in Potions."
"That is because it is a monstrous thing to slay a unicorn," Firenze replied. "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 from the moment the blood touches your lips, you will have but a half-life... a cursed life."
Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, dappled silver in the moonlight.
"That's horrible." Hope shuddered. "Who could be that desperate? If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"
"It is," Firenze agreed. "Unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else—something that will bring you back to full strength and power. Something that will mean you can never die." His gaze shifted to Harry. "Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"
Harry's eyes widened. "The Philosopher's Stone! Of course—the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who—"
"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power? Someone who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"
Hope paled, dreading the answer. She prayed he didn't mean who she thought he did.
Harry was thinking the same thing. It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around his heart.
"Do you mean," he croaked, "that was Vol—"
"Harry! Hope! Are you all right?" Hermione came running toward them, Hagrid puffing along behind her.
"I'm fine," Harry muttered, hardly aware of what he was saying. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid. It's in that clearing back there."
Hope's brow furrowed as she thought back to the sight of the unicorn, the image burned into her mind.
"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off toward the clearing. "You are safe now."
Harry and Hope slid off his back.
"Good luck," Firenze said, offering a small bow, his eyes lingering on Harry. "The planets have been read wrongly before, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."
With that, he turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry and Hope shivering in the darkness.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. Hope roughly shook him awake, and he mumbled something about Quidditch fouls before jerking his head up. In a matter of seconds, though, his eyes were wide open as Harry began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the Forest.
"It was awful," Hope said, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she recounted the sight of the dead unicorn. Her voice wavered as she described the cloaked figure of You-Know-Who, his snarling mouth dripping with the unicorn's blood.
Harry couldn't sit still. He paced up and down in front of the fire, his body still trembling. "Snape wants the Stone for Voldemort... and Voldemort's waiting in the Forest. All this time, we thought Snape just wanted to get rich..."
"Stop saying the name!" Ron whispered, his voice trembling as though he feared Voldemort might hear them.
Harry wasn't listening.
"Firenze saved me," he continued, his words rushed, "but he shouldn't have. Bane was furious. He kept talking about how the planets are supposed to be telling the future, how they show that Voldemort's coming back. Bane thinks Firenze should've let Voldemort kill me... I guess that's what the stars say is meant to happen."
"Will you stop saying the name?!" Ron hissed again, his face pale.
Harry shook his head. "So now all I've got to wait for is Snape to steal the Stone... then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off. I suppose Bane'll be happy."
Hermione, who had been quiet up until now, looked frightened, but she managed to offer some comfort. "Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one Voldemort was ever afraid of. As long as Dumbledore's here, Voldemort won't be able to touch you. Besides, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall always says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."
The sky was just starting to lighten when they finally stopped talking. They went to bed, exhausted, their throats sore from the long conversation. But the night's surprises weren't over.
When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his Invisibility Cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:
Just in case.