Forbidden Forest
Chapter 13: Forbidden Forest
Draco almost felt bad for the Gryffindors. Almost. They had ended up losing 150 points from their house, and practically the whole school (minus Slytherin) gave them the cold shoulder. Draco was somewhat surprised to find that Longbottom had replaced Weasley in their trio for this round of scheming. The round-faced boy picked a poor time to try and join their little crew.
Granger even quit drawing attention to herself in classes, which was a relief at first, then slowly became unnerving. She started to look like only a shell of her usual self. Okay, so maybe Draco felt a little bad for her—they had never had much animosity between the two of them.
The rest of the Slytherins had no qualms about thanking Potter for losing such a large amount of points in one go—putting Slythin in a comfortable first place to win the House Cup. Every time Potter entered the Great Hall, the majority of the Slytherins would clap and whistle at him, shouting “Thanks, Potter, we owe you one!”, which mostly was egged on by Marcus Flint and his lackeys.
…
The final exams were ever approaching, and Draco and Blaise had taken to studying in an empty classroom near the library. It was getting too ferocious trying to fight for a table when the entire school was attempting to cram into the place.
Theo joined them for the first study session but quickly lost interest due to his lack of focus and scatterbrained tendencies. The other two boys were grateful to be rid of him and finally get some quiet.
Draco and Blaise shared very little more than the space they revised in and an occasional swapping of papers or texts. Both boys were very proficient in their studies and needed very little help from the other. It was on a day such as that, where nearly no words had been shared, and the only sound being the periodical flipping of a page or scratching of a quill, that a voice broke the silence.
It was a whisper of a voice.
Draco and Blaise paused their note-taking and eyed each other. Draco flicked his gaze over to the open doorway to the next classroom. It was empty…wasn’t it?
The two boys crept to the end of the room and Blaise peeked over the door frame, quickly pulling himself back into their room. He didn’t speak but made a halo type shape with his hands over his head. A turban.
“Quirrell” Draco silently mouthed, to which Blaise nodded vehemently.
They leaned against the shared wall, backs flat against the stone with their chests heaving from adrenaline.
Draco made a few hand motions while trying to mouth “who is he talking to?” to Blaise.
“No one.”
They tried to listen to the conversation, but it seemed to be only one-sided. They were missing something.
“Master, please, just another chance!”
Silence.
“No – no – not again, please –“
A shuffling came from outside the neighboring classroom’s door to the hall. Someone else is listening…I bet I can guess who.
“All right – all right –“ they heard Quirrell start sobbing.
Draco pointed to the table and he gathered their books and quills, quietly jamming them into Blaise’s bag—the sounds coming from Quirrell covering most of their noise. Just as they slid out of their own open doorway to the adjacent hall, Quirrell hurried out of the classroom heading in the opposite direction. The boys peeked around the corner and spotted a head of messy, black hair lean into the room just previously occupied.
I knew it. Guess we need to start tailing him again.
Once Potter was far out of earshot, Blaise grabbed Draco’s arm—“His turban was off! There was a FACE on the back of his head!”
Draco froze. They needed to see Snape now.
…
That evening Draco and Blaise waited outside of Professor Snape’s office doors until he appeared just before dinner. He wore a defeated look, but somehow still had a menacing feel to him. The boys followed him into the office and he closed the door behind them with a flick of his wandless hand. Draco raised an impressed eyebrow, but did not say a word until he was given the go-ahead. Snape settled into his large, black leather chair and folded his hands on his desk and Draco took that as his cue.
“Voldemort’s face is under the turban.” Blaise tried to be casual but the panic was somewhat leaching through.
“You were correct about the turban,” Draco shrugged.
Snape regarded them calmly. “Is that all you have to inform me of?”
The boys exchanged glances, and Draco continued. “Professor Quirrell was begging for another chance—to get the Philosopher’s Stone, I’d wager—then he just said ‘alright’ and left the room.”
What little color Snape’s pale face had contained was drained away at the news.
“I must speak to Professor Dumbledore immediately. You two would do best to get to dinner quickly, lest someone notice your absence.” Snape flew from the office, robes billowing wildly behind him.
Before he left, Draco looked down at the Potions Professors desk—there was a small bit of parchment with his name on it.
Draco Malfoy,
Your detention will take place at eleven o’clock tomorrow night. Meet Mr Filch in the Entrance Hall.
Prof. M. McGonagall
He grumbled and grabbed the parchment from the desk, shoving it deep into his robes pocket. He had forgotten about his detention. What could McGonagall possibly have him doing in the middle of the night anyway, catching a werewolf? He snorted a laugh at that last thought. It was highly unlikely good ole Minnie would have him doing anything dangerous or remotely interesting.
…
The following day, the hours ticked by much too quickly for Draco’s taste. He wasn’t looking forward to detention, especially if Filch was involved. The Squib smelled like musty old socks and looked like he rolled around in a greasy bucket of dirt, not to mention his dreadful personality. The man was a nightmare to be around even for brief interactions.
When Draco reached the Entrance Hall, Filch was waiting for him, hunched over talking to his scraggly cat, Mrs. Norris. Draco scowled at the older man, just ready to get his undeserved punishment over with.
“Alright you little rule breaker, just wait your turn. We’re waiting for three more, tonight,” Filch crooned creepily.
Draco held a look of disgust at the man. Luckily for both of them, Potter, Longbottom, and Granger clunked down the stone steps.
“Follow me,” said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside. “I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you, eh?” he continued, 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.”
Draco rolled his eyes at the imbecile. Everyone in the entire castle could tell he was so foul all the time to overcompensate for not having any magic. Most of the Slytherins were surprised he was even allowed on the grounds. Most pureblooded families would’ve given away a Squib child, or worse—not to say they deserved it, but they would no doubt be much happier in a home and life where they were equal to everyone around them.
The little band of delinquents marched off across the dark grounds. Longbottom kept sniffing like he was about to haul off any cry. Potter was oblivious to everyone around him, nearly bumping into Draco a few different times.
The moon shone brightly, nearly full overhead, but it was a cloudy night and the group was cast in shadows. Ahead, they could make out the lighted windows of Hagrid’s hut. Then they heard a distant shout.
“Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started.”
Draco laughed internally—if they were going to be working with Hagrid, this would be a breeze.
Potter’s matching relief must have shown on his face, because Filch said, “I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy – it’s into the Forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece.”
At this, Longbottom let out a little cowardly whimper and Draco stopped dead in his tracks.
“The Forest?’ he repeated, and he knew he didn’t sound quite as cool as usual. “We can’t go in there at night – there’s all sorts of things in there – werewolves, I heard.”
Longbottom clutched tightly into the sleeve of Potter’s robe and made a choking noise.
“That’s your lookout, isn’t it?” said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. “Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t you?”
Hagrid came toward them out of the dark, big large bloodhound, Fang, at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows was slung over his shoulder.
“Abou’ time,” the half-giant said. “I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione?”
“I shouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, “they’re here to be punished, after all.”
“That’s why yer late, is it?” said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’ them, eh? ’Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from here.”
“I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch, “for what’s left of them,” he added nastily, and he turned and started back towards the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.
Now that Filch had gone, Draco turned to Hagrid. He could do some manual labor work—hell, he’d do just about anything the large man asked at this point but—
“I’m not going in that Forest,” the blonde said, slightly panicked. He had heard plenty of stories about the beasts and monsters living in the Forbidden Forest. There was a reason it was, well, forbidden.
“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.”
Taken slightly aback at Hagrid’s piss poor mood. He had to recover his posh-bully image in front of the three lions, however, so he pushed again.
“But this is servant stuff, it’s not for students to do. I thought we’d be writing lines or something. If my father knew I was doing this, he’d –“
“– tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid growled. “Writin’ 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!”
Draco didn’t move. He looked up at Hagrid furiously but then dropped his gaze to appear defeated for now. All he was interested in now, was figuring out why the giant was so angry and riled up—he couldn’t still be on about that dragon. Could he?
“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.”
They small students followed him to the edge of the Forest. Holding his oil lamp up toward the entrance, he pointed down a tight, twisting earth trail that disappeared into the thick black wall of trees. A light breeze swirled around them 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?” Draco pointed out, unable to keep quiet as he realized what stakes they were playing at. Hagrid would undoubtedly protect the other three from any harm, but he had no reservations that Hagrid would leave him behind if need be.
“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.”
Knowing Hagrid’s loyalties, Draco quickly tried to think of a way to gain some protection from his ominous surroundings.
“I want Fang,” he said quickly, looking at Fang’s long teeth.
“All right, but I warn yeh, he’s a coward,” said Hagrid. “So me, Harry an’ Hermione’ll go one way an’ Draco, Neville 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’ practise 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 Forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path and Potter, Granger and Hagrid took the left path while Draco, Longbottom and Fang took the right.
They wandered slowly in silence—mostly silent—Longbottom whimpered at every sound or movement of leaves. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver blue blood on the fallen leaves.
The trail of unicorn blood was slowly diminishing. Draco was growing tired of this errand, however grateful he was to not see any monsters in the dark, he still had a feeling something was going to happen soon, something big.
Ready to reunite with the rest of the group, Draco decided to have some fun…at Longbottom’s expense. He slowed so that the round-faced boy was ahead of him on the path. Quietly, Draco snuck up on Longbottom and growled as low and deep as he could. The reaction he got was priceless. Longbottom not only squealed like a little girl, but he threw his hands up in the air and cast red sparks out of his wand.
Draco tried his best to keep from laughing, but he went ahead and let out a chuckle before the others would appear. Hagrid came racing down the path—crossbow loaded and aiming wildly around him looking for a threat. When he found none, he saw Longbottom cowering on the ground, behind Fang and Draco failing miserably at looking innocent.
“There wa’ nothin’ wrong, wa’ there!” Hagrid commanded turning to Longbottom, who shook his head, repenting.
Luckily for Draco he was more preoccupied with finding the source of the dead unicorns than dishing out more punishment.
“Follow me back, an’ not another toe outta line,” Hagrid boomed, aiming his frustration mostly toward him.
They followed him back up the twists and turns and found themselves back at the fork. They turned down the other path and were quickly reunited with the others. A small sigh of relief was shared among all the students, as there was much more comfort in a larger group.
“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 an’ Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an’ this idiot.” Hagrid whispered something else to Potter, who nodded vigorously with a small smile on his face and Draco was sure it was an insult pointed at him.
So Draco and Potter set off deeper into the forest with Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the Forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Potter insisted the blood was getting thicker and Draco didn’t disagree. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. They could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.
“Look –’ Potter murmured, holding out his arm to stop Draco’s movements.
Something was gleaming a brilliant white on the ground. They both inched closer.
It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Draco had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. It reminded him almost of his grandmother—Druella. She too had his blonde hair and was where his mother had gotten her flawless beauty from. In her old age, her hair had shone a brilliant white with streaks of glistening silver through it…
Draco snapped back to the image before him—his grandmother was no longer before him, but a unicorn. Its long slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly white on the dark leaves.
Potter had taken one step towards it when a slithering sound made them freeze in their tracks. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered ... Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some kind of stalking beast.
Harry, Malfoy and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, it lowered its head over the wound in the animal’s side, and began to drink its blood.
“AAAAAAAAAAARGH!”
Draco let out a terrible scream and bolted followed closely behind by Fang. The blonde made it over the next large knot of roots and dove behind them. He chanced a look over the root bundle and saw the hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Potter. Silvery unicorn blood was dripping down its front. It got to its feet and went swiftly towards the Boy Who Lived.
Potter didn’t move. Run you idiot!
Draco turned at the sound of hooves behind him. Two…two…centaurs? Came running toward where he lay concealed from the monster before him. One stopped near Draco while the other leapt ahead, scaring off whatever that thing was.
Seeing that the threat had dissipated, the first centaur left Draco on the ground and returned the way he had come. The second, was a younger-looking centaur with a palomino body. He leaned down toward Potter who was rubbing the scar on his forehead.
“Are you all right?” Draco heard the centaur ask, pulling Potter to his feet.
“Yes – thank you – what was that?” the dark haired boy replied.
The centaur didn’t answer. He appraised Potter for a moment.
“You are the Potter boy,” he said. “You had better get back to Hagrid. The Forest is not safe at this time – especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way. My name is Firenze,” he added, as he lowered himself onto his front legs so that Potter could clamber onto his back.
Draco, correctly assuming he would not be offered a ride back to the group, made a run for it back down the path, hoping he wouldn’t run into that thing himself.
It took the young Slytherin quite a while to get back to Hagrid and his classmates, but as he neared the clearing they were gathered in, he heard rustling and hushed voices behind him. She must’ve spotted Potter and the centaur he was riding. Granger took off in the direction of the voices and Draco casually followed along.
“Harry! Harry, are you all right?” She called with Hagrid puffing along behind her.
“I’m fine,’” said Potter automatically, “The unicorn’s dead, Hagrid, it’s in that clearing back there.”
“This is where I leave you,” Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. “You are safe now. Good luck, Harry Potter,” he Firenze. “The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.”
He turned and cantered back into the depths of the Forest, leaving them confused.
“Harry! What happened? Are you alright? You look terrible!” She launched into a long line of questioning.
“I’m fine, Hermione. Hagrid, it was Vol—You Know Who that killed the unicorn.”
“Don’ say ‘is name. I ha’ hoped it wasn’—oh, Harry! I’m sorry! I never woulda brough’ yeh out here if I knew!”
“It’s alright, Hagrid, I know.” Potter patted the giant oaf on the back.
Draco wished just a little that he was a part of their little family, but quickly shook the idea out of his head. If the monster was Voldemort, then he had been drinking unicorn blood…but why?
…
The moment Draco was devoid of his detention duties, he sprinted down to the dungeons, slowing only when he saw the light glowing from the crack under the door to Professor Snape’s office.
Hearing voices as he drew closer, he turned to knock on the door, hand raised, when Professor Dumbledore opened it from inside.
“Ah, Draco, perfect timing!” The old wizard smiled down at the young boy.
“Headmaster? Am I interrupting?” Draco asked, rather confused. He had never seen Dumbledore in the dungeons before. Draco just assumed that when he had a meeting with any of the professors, they occurred in the Headmaster’s office.
“Not at all! In fact, I was just telling Professor Snape, here, that I had further instructions for the both of you considering our little secret,” the man's eyes twinkled with mischief as he spoke and it unnerved Draco to no end.
This is all just a game to him. The rising of the darkest wizard of our time and the attempted murder of a student?! He’s sick in the head!
“Now, Draco, what brings you to Professor Snape’s office at this hour?”
“S-sir, I was just with Potter, Granger, Longbottom, and H-hagrid in the Forbidden Forest and saw Voldemort almost attack Potter! He-he killed a unicorn and was drinking its b-blood.” Draco hadn’t realized just how frazzled the experience had actually made him. He felt a slight shaking in his fingers, but did not dare acknowledge it in that moment.
“Unicorn blood…an unfortunate choice should he fail. The effects could be left in the current vessel, but I would assume he had taken full control for those events to occur…” Dumbledore rambled to himself momentarily.
Draco was shocked. The man didn’t seem to care at all about his “star” pupil nearly being attacked by the very man—thing—that was trying to kill him and become immortal! Draco felt complete disgust. The old wizard was only concerned with—well, what was he muttering about?
“So, he is using the unicorn blood to temporarily sustain what is left of him. I’m quite sure the Dark Lord is aware of the consequences of such an action, otherwise he would not have attempted it,” Snape slithered around the end of his desk, looking pointedly at Draco, as if he had only spoken for his benefit—as if answering Draco’s unspoken questions.
“What kind of consequences?” Draco quietly asked.
“He will live a cursed life in essence.” Dumbledore said somewhat sadly. Was he showing pity for Voldemort? Or perhaps Professor Quirrell, yes, that would make more sense.
“The properties of the blood itself, have shown potential for creating an entirely new vessel for a soul when used correctly in a potion, Headmaster, but there is very little research done on the topic for obvious reason,” Snape offered. “I fear the effects of the unicorn blood will be transferred to Professor Quirrell, but should the Dark Lord find another way to make his return, I believe he will still be affected by the curse.”
“I quite agree, Severus.” The Headmaster nodded solemnly. “Draco, I must ask something of you, now…”