Initus

Initus

(noun. an approach, arrival, or advent.)

A Harry Potter & Percy Jackson Crossover

Part 4 of the Amalgamation Series

by Tannin & Tele

Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan, voiding that of original content and characters.

. . .

Warnings: Chapter includes graphic descriptions of violence, character death, mentioned child abuse, child neglect and mild language.

The opinions expressed by characters may not reflect that of the author's.

Chapter Five

. . .

Early January, 1992

("Not Harry, not Harry, please, not Harry . . . " the red-haired lady pleaded desperately, the mirror glinting briefly to reveal a scared little boy with a scarred forehead. 

Hands pounded against glass as her executioner sneered nastily. "Stand aside, you silly girl. Stand aside, now . . ." 

"Not Harry, please no, kill me instead," she begged, body quivering all over. A baby was wailing, screaming, calling out for his mother.

Harry screamed back, silver tears dripping down his cheeks, cascading into his mouth and down his chin. He choked on the liquid, falling to his knees. 

The stranger's voice grew sharp with impatience as he raised a gnarled stick in his pale hand. "This is my last warning - " 

"Not Harry! Please, have mercy. Have mercy! Please, save my son!"  

Cruel green light flashed - the exact color of Harry's eyes - and Lily's body fell.

She crashed through the mirror, glass shattering as she landed beside him.

He reached towards her, gasping as her body erupted in black and purple flames.

Harry looked down and left in his hand was a glimmering stone, red as blood.

Red as the Dark Lord's cruel, laughing eyes.)   

. . .

Harry jolted out of bed, a long scream echoing in his ears. The dorms were filled with Blaise's heavy snores, and Harry closed his eyes in relief. His Silencing Charm had held.

He tasted tears, salty and bitter. Harry lifted a hand to his scar, wincing as it burned to touch. A faint trail of blood decorated his fingertips and Harry lurched out of the bed, stumbling to the ensuite loo. The boy dry-heaved, the harsh noises finally arousing one of his dorm mates.

Draco blinked awake, forehead crinkling in confusion. Tiredly smacking away the curtains, he watched Blaise's form turn restlessly until his wits caught up to him. "Oh, Harry," he groaned softly, sluggishly following the sound of retching. Nearly tripping over a discarded textbook, Draco swore loudly, causing Blaise to snort. 

Eyes glazed and fringe plastered with sweat, Harry looked up from the toilet bowl as a slim figure occupied the door frame. The stared at each other for a moment, Harry breaking the silence first. "I woke you? 'M sorry," the younger boy murmured, resting his head against the porcelain. Lips parting, Draco fell to his knees, enveloping the boy's still-trembling body into his tight grasp. 

Harry stiffened at first, before completely melting in Draco's arms. 

"'M sorry, 'm sorry, s . . . sorry - " Harry sobbed, burying his head in Draco's shoulder. The blonde's blue silk pajamas were completely ruined, but Draco merely pulled Harry closer. He could feel every rib, every bone sticking through what could only barely pass as pajamas; rags, more like. 

"It's fine, you're alright, you're safe . . . " Draco cooed, running a hand through long black hair - internally, he vowed to convince Pansy or maybe Daphne cut it in the morning. Draco wasn't quite sure he trusted Parkinson near Harry's neck with a pair of scissors. "Don't apologize for being sick. Or having bad dreams," he added swiftly. 

Muffled by fabric, the sobs were barely audible and Draco had a guess that Harry had experience in silencing his tears. After a few minutes, Harry's tension returned and Draco reluctantly pulled away. "Do you feel better?" Draco asked, tipping his head as a blush of embarrassment decorated Harry's pale cheeks.

The boy nodded slightly, shifting to pull the toilet's cord. The flush was loud, causing Harry to flinch slightly.

After helping him stand, Draco leaned against the wall as Harry scrubbed his hands and face. The sink became filled with pink while Harry washed away the blood, his motions becoming faster and harder as the damned scar remained red-tinted. As Harry's green eyes seemed to glow with frustration, Draco quickly grabbed his hands, yanking his friend away from the sink.

Harry was breathing heavily, his hands and face dripping with water. The blonde took a washcloth from the towel rack and wiped Harry's tears with the care of an elder sibling or the like. Nodding in satisfaction, Draco led his friend away from the restroom, not even bothering to turn off the light. 

Finding himself exhausted, Harry didn't protest when he was pushed into Draco's bed and covered by a soft green quilt. After shutting the curtains and casting a very familiar charm, a warm body settled beside him. A pointed nose and sharp grey eyes lay only inches from his own on their shared pillow.

Harry lowered his eyes, shaking fingers rising to touch the silver buttons on Draco's pajama shirt. The letters D.M. were engraved into the metal in a uniform, straight typeface, involuntarily causing Harry to relax. "Did you dream about the mirror again?" Draco asked quietly, stopping Harry's hand.

The boy paused, looking up through long eyelashes. "Yes," Harry said truthfully. 

"You aren't thinking of going back, are you?" Draco demanded, his voice an accusatory hiss. "Dumbledore told you it was dangerous, hell, I could've told you that - " 

"I know," Harry interrupted. "I know it's dangerous, but I just - " he finished lamely, turning on his back. "I'm fine now. Don't worry about it."  

Moments passed before a hand clasped onto Harry's shoulder. He was forcibly rolled back, Draco hovering above him, silver eyes solemn. "Don't tell me not to worry, Harry, because I will," he said quietly. Draco laid back down, pulling Harry's head onto his chest. "You're my best friend, Harry. I'll always worry." 

 Late March thru Early April, 1992

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill. Draco, who was helping Harry look up 'Dittany' in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, rolled his eyes. A few moments later, he looked up as he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

"The savage," Draco smirked. "I didn't even know he could read." Harry poked him in the side. 

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat, his head of bushy hair brushing against the ceiling. "Jus' lookin'," he said in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?"

Hermione huffed loudly, her tight bun the only thing peeking up over a textbook. "We're trying to study, if you don't mind," she told him impatiently. 

Hagrid looked startled before nodding in bemusement. "Alright, but listen, you four - come an' see me later, I've got something to show ya," he said swiftly, shuffling away. 

The library was quiet again. "How rude, Hermione!" Harry admonished, earning a slight blush from the girl. 

"I agree, very impolite, Granger," Draco said distractedly. "Although I am curious, what was that behind his back?"

Ron, who'd had enough of working, went to see what section Hagrid was in. He came back a minute later with a pile of books that he slammed down on the table. Madam Pince shot him a dirty look. 

"Dragons!" the redhead whispered, earning Draco's immediate attention. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him, " Harry said thoughtfully, eyeing the covers. 

"But it's against our laws," Ron said, flipping through A Dragon Keeper's Guide. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"Your brother works with dragons?!"  Draco asked, voice pitching in excitement. Ron nodded proudly.  

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain, right?" Harry interrupted, sounding a little nervous. 

"Of course there are," Draco scoffed, as though it was obvious. "Hebridean Blacks and Common Welsh Green are, well, common. Mother inherited a Summer home in Hebrides and I've spotted a few Hebrideans roaming about there on the MacFusty reserve. They are really quite fierce creatures, prone to burning down . . . you know, everything." 

"The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you," Ron added. "Our kind has to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

Draco nodded. "Despite that, I think I'd like a dragon," the blonde said softly, staring out the window.  

"Oh, so you'd like an early death, is that it?" Hermione asked breezily. The girl lifted her Potions tome, turning back to the correct chapter. "Well, whatever Hagrid's up too, it can't be good." she told them ominously.

"But failing our exams would be worse, so back to work, boys!" 

. . .

"Hagrid, what in the world that?" Harry asked several hours later, eyes going wide.

Their curiosity getting the better of them, Draco and Ron had dragged Hermione and Harry down to the half-giant's hut. They'd chatted amiably for a while until Hagrid went to make some tea. It was there in the fireplace, beneath the kettle that they could see a large, black egg.

"Ah," Hagrid hedged. "That's, er . . . about that -"

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" Ron said in awe, crouching over the fire to get a closer look. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," Hagrid coughed, fiddling nervously with his beard. "Las' night, I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" Hermione asked, sounding nervous. 

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'" Hagrid told them pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library, Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit. It's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here - this chapter's on how ter recognize diff'rent eggs - what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He acted very pleased with himself, although it was clear Hermione disagreed. "Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she told him, but her words went unheeded. 

. . .

"I'm very concerned about those three," Hermione said a few nights later, watching as Hagrid reverently stoked the flames. Ron and Draco were talking animatedly, hands waving as they spoke of likely dragon-related topics. 

Harry nodded in agreement, taking a tentative sip of his tea. It was mostly just hot water, and he choked upon seeing Draco leaned down to coo at the unhatched egg. "Very concerned," Harry rasped out, looking wary. Draco's attachment to the unborn creature was strange, almost as intense as Hagrid's. 

Sitting at the small dining table, Harry and Hermione conspired ways to talk their friends out of raising the illegal, deadly, fire-breathing, winged reptilian. "We might need some help," Hermione conceded, itching to follow her instincts and inform a reliable adult. 

The Slytherin wavered, noticing Hagrid's loving, maternal expression as he wiped a smudge off the eggshell.

"Let's just wait a bit," Harry told her reluctantly. "Eventually, they'll realize it's a bad idea, and we won't have two wand-wielding fanboys and a half-giant out for our blood." Hermione considered this, before sighing in acquiescence.

The fire suddenly roared, the egg rattling dangerously. Draco - who had been leaning a bit too close - yelped as his eyebrows were singed. Ron snickered loudly. "Whoa!" Hagrid laughed, nudging out an unnecessary log. "Little tyke's a feisty 'un, ain't they!" he said proudly. 

Hermione pressed her lips together. "Maybe in the meantime, we can look up some fire-resisting spells. If the dragon doesn't burn down this house, Hagrid will," she said sagely. At the thought of more time in the library, Harry's head fell onto the tabletop in aggravation. 

Late April thru Early May, 1992

One breakfast a week or so later, Hedwig emerged from the flock of messenger owls and landed imperiously next to Harry's plate. Grinning, he fed her a bit of bacon. He sucked the grease off his fingers (much to Draco's disgust) and removed the message tied to Hedwig's leg. 

Hagrid had written only two words, his writing hurried and sloppy. 'It's hatching.'

Draco grasped Harry's arm tightly, acting every bit the anxious father who had just been told his wife was in labor. Grabbing Ron and Hermione's attention, Harry made a show of cracking open a boiled egg with his fork, gaze meaningful.  

Ron looked confused, but Hermione nodded in understanding, expression grim. 

. . . 

The dragon had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils, little puffs of heat singing the walls and furniture.

Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor, as well as a patch of drying blood on the rug. The children learned quickly to avoid the dragon's pointed fangs. 

"I've decided to call him Norbert," Hagrid told them, looking at the dragon with misty eyes.

"I keep telling you she's a girl. The boys are immensely more sedate," Draco said sullenly, cradling a burnt hand. 

"He really knows me now, watch," Hagrid ignored the pureblood. "Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?" he made clucking noises, slowly inching forward. Norbert hissed vehemently, causing Harry to rub his ears at the somehow intelligible vulgarity. 

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," Harry laid a hand on his beefy arm, "Give it two weeks and Norberta - Norbert, sorry - is going to be as long as your house. We can't keep going on like this."

The half-giant bit his lip, sniffling. "I - I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Draco nodded vehemently, seeming to have forgotten all about his burns and other injuries.

Hermione threw her hands in the air. "I can't handle this," she grabbed her book bag, heading towards the door. "I refuse to fraternize with disorderly criminals as yourself. If someone dies, don't come crying to me." 

Feeling grim, Harry watched her leave before sharing a look with Ron. "We're completely doomed," the Gryffindor said quietly, one of his more accurate statements.

. . .

The following week dragged by, Wednesday night finding Hermione and Harry sitting alone in the Gryffindor common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed.

The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate. "It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby." 

Harry grimaced at the wound, the skin around it slowly turning green.

"I hope you didn't get blood on my Cloak," he murmured, meriting a shove towards the portrait entrance. 

"Budge off, Harry. You need to talk with Draco, get him to come around. Merlin knows you're the only one able to talk sense into him."

The Slytherin sighed, slipping on his Cloak. "I'll try," he promised, waving them goodnight. 

. . .

By this time, Harry and Draco were the only two willing to speak with Hagrid. The brunette was becoming more and more unnerved, knowing that if the dragon was found out, they'd be considered accomplices. The stress was getting to him, causing his appetite to wean and many restless nights, even with the Dreamless Sleep potion Draco stole from Snape's storage.  

Harry was currently resting on the ground beneath Hagrid's large recline, leaning his head back into Draco's lap. He watched with half-lidded eyes as Hagrid played with Norbert(a), conjuring small, poorly-made toys with his umbrella-wand. 

"Oh, he reminds me 'o Fluffy when he was jus' a pup!" Hagrid sniffled, bouncing a plastic ball to Norbert(a), who burnt it mid-air.

"Who's Fluffy?" Harry asked, glancing at Fang, who had suddenly began growling.

Despite being a rather lazy dog, he could be very jealous. Hagrid laughed, ruffling Fang's ears reassuringly. "Fluffy's my three-'eaded dog," he explained. "Bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. He's all grown now, I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the - " the man blinked dumbly. "I shouldn' a told you that. I should not have told you that." 

He busied himself with fixing Norbert(a)'s bed of blankets, which was mostly chewed through. 

Draco's mouth slammed shut before opening again, his cheeks flushing with disbelief. "That bloody beast is yours?!" he shrieked, moving to his feet. Harry pulled himself into the now-empty seat. "That thing nearly murdered us - nearly murdered Harry - and you have the gall to call it your pet!" 

Harry covered his face, blushing at his friend's outburst. "Draco, stop telling people I almost died," he said in embarrassment, voice muffled. 

"Well, you did!" the blonde snapped. 

"Murdered?" Hagrid gaped at them. "Nah, my Fluffy would never - say, what were you doin' up on the third floor corridor anyhow?" 

The Slytherin waved a dismissive hand. "It was a completely unintentional venture, I promise. Just blame the Gryffindorks, I always do," he assured. 

Hagrid was hardly mollified, but he dropped the subject. "Were you hurt badly, Harry?" the half-giant asked in concern. "I'm sure Fluffy didn' mean ta hurt ya . . ." 

Harry averted his eyes, giving a one-shoulder shrug. "It was just a scratch," he mumbled. 

"Just a scratch?" Draco slammed his hand onto the tabletop, voice simmering. "Remind me again, who dragged you to Severus when you were nearly unconscious and bleeding out from a Merlin-damned scratch? Who was the one to hold your hand while Severus pulled a bloody broken claw from within your arm, and who was the one to watch their best friend nearly die? Me! So don't sit there and try to diminish your injury, because you have no idea, Harry," he shook his head, pale face flushed. "No idea." 

Hagrid looked between the two as Harry turned away, eyes suspiciously wet. 

"I've had worse," he said quietly, wincing in immediate regret. The hut was silent for a beat.

"Worse?!" Draco hissed. "Broken arm aside, how could you possibly - " he paused, face twisting in realization. "Ugh, from those bloody Muggles, I suppose?" 

Harry crossed his arms, not speaking.

Hagrid narrowed his eyes as he remembered the Dursleys, gunshots firing and a horse-like woman screeching about her 'freak of a sister'. Now, Lily Evans-Potter was many things, and none of them was a freak. The half-giant didn't want to assume, but sensibilities be damned, if Lily and James' son was being hurt . . . those rotten Muggles would have a pretty big problem on their hands. 

Norbert(a) sneezed, breaking the silence and Hagrid cooed in adoration. Draco finally tore his gaze from Harry, eyes softening at his scaly namesake. 

Harry breathed out in relief, thinking crisis averted.  Despite the brief reprieve, Harry thoughts were still troubled; 

"Wait, so if you lent Fluffy to Dumbledore for the third-floor corridor, then you must know about the Philosopher's Stone!" he sat up quickly. 

Hagrid looked up in surprise. "How'd you find that out?" he asked, suspicious. 

"Well, we weren't positive, but you've just about confirmed it now," Draco said smugly.

Hagrid looked sheepish. "Anyways, it really wasn't that difficult," the blonde continued arrogantly. "After seeing Fluffy, I found the name Flamel in an old book and got a sudden hunch. We couldn't find Flamel anywhere in the library, and it was only thanks to Granger that we figured it out. She found mention of Nicholas Flamel in an old copy of A History of Magic  - " 

" - and well, you weren't very discrete retrieving that stone-sized package from Vault 713," Harry finished. "We just put two and two together, really."  

"Don't worry, we haven't told anyone else," Draco added, crossing his fingers behind his back. 

Hagrid seemed disgruntled, although oddly impressed. "I wasn' sure at first, but now I'm positive yer Slytherins."

Draco grinned, shrugging off the compliment. "Yes, well. Like I said, it wasn't difficult. Honestly, Dumbledore really ought to up the security around here if he doesn't want two first years unveiling all his secrets. My mother is very clever with protection spells, perhaps the headmaster should speak with her - " 

Harry leaned back and watched warily as Norbert(a) rested, rings of smoke erupting from it's nostrils as it snored. While he still wanted to ask Hagrid more about the Stone, for now, he had far bigger priorities.

About thirty-five feet bigger, to be exact.   

. . .

" - we can't just give Norberta away! She's getting so strong, soon she'll be learning how to fly. I could keep her, bring her home to Malfoy manor, she'll have lots of room to stretch her wings . . ."  

Harry took a deep breath and steadily bolstered himself. "Draco," he admonished. Harry took a cool cloth to press the burn on the blondes' hand, a sigh of relief slipping past Draco's lips. They had sequestered themselves in the bathroom later that night, Draco in near tears over the thought of 'his Dragon' leaving.  

"Firstly," Harry began. "How would you bring her home? Smuggle her onto the Hogwarts Express in two months? She'll be huge by then. She's huge now." 

Draco sniffed. "But - " 

"Besides, " Harry didn't like to play this card, but when needs must; "What would your father say?" he asked, voice echoing in the small chambers. "After all the work he's done to restore your 'family honor', what would Lucius say if he discovered - on top of all the detentions you've had so far - that you were willfully harboring an illegal animal? Endangering yourself, endangering your classmates and teachers, endangering . . .me?" Harry crossed his skinny arms, hating the manipulation and exploitation. 

"He'd be devastated." Draco admitted, looking rather devastated himself.

Harry nodded, applying a burn salve to the tender, pink skin. "Exactly. And, really, this whole ordeal has been terribly Gryffindorish, don't you think?" he added slyly. 

Convincing the pureblood was easy, after that. 

 May 26th, 1992

Despite eventually informing Professor Snape of Hagrid's 'big problem', Draco, Harry, Hermione and Ron were all given detentions for 'withholding information' and being 'accomplices in crime'. 

To be honest, they were lucky to still be in school after that. A hundred points were taken from both Gryffindor and Slytherin, putting them in last and second-to-last place for the House Cup, respectively. 

On the night of their detention, Ron, Draco and Harry chatted softly while Hermione stoutly ignored them. While feeling she deserved the punishment for not confessing earlier, she was still angry that she'd been dragged into it at all. At eleven o'clock, they were lead outside into the cool spring chill.

"Follow me," Filch rasped, lighting a lantern. "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."

Filch's steps were rather quick for his age, leaving Hermione - the shortest one, next to Harry - huffing to catch up. 

As the crossed the dark grounds, Harry looked up, smelling rain. The moon was bright, but the incoming storm clouds were thick. Ahead, he could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. A distant shout was heard, Hagrid's rumbling voice reaching them. "Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Their relief must have been imminent, because Filch was quick to comment.  "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again - it's into the forest you're going, and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Ron let out a moan, and Draco stopped dead in his tracks. "The forest?" he repeated in disbelief. "We can't go in there at night! There's all sorts of things in there -werewolves, I heard." Needless to say, the boy wasn't eager to wander into a dark forest, surrounded by unspeakable horrors and what-have-you. 

"That's your problem, isn't it?" Filch cackled. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he grumbled. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," Filch hissed. "They're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" Hagrid asked, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

Filch sniffed. "I'll be back at dawn . . . for what's left of them," he added mysteriously, and he turned back toward the castle.

"They can't possibly do this to us! It's called the forbidden forest for a reason!" Draco turned to Harry, who was standing very still. An ominous howl sounded from within the vast greenery, causing the brunette to flinch. "What was that?!" the blonde whispered, latching onto his friend's sleeve. 

Monsters, Harry's inner voice answered in cold fear. Flashing back on silver liquid and ruby eyes, his scar twinged slightly, and Harry knew to anticipate something much worse.

. . .

Thick trees blew about them, the moon just visible through the branches. Sticks and leaves crunched under their shoes as they followed the bright silver blood, which seemed to glow more brightly the farther they went.

"Draco . . . Draco, I don't think I can go any farther . . . " Harry breathed as something howled in the distance. Draco glanced over at his friend, the boy's pale face deathly white. A bead of nervous sweat was visible on his brow, green eyes darting about the treeline in obvious fear. Draco let out a long sigh, pushing away his own fear as he grabbed before the younger Slytherin's hand gently.

"We'll be fine, we'll be fine," Draco muttered, mostly in consolation to himself. A few moments later Harry looked up in surprise, the first to hear soft whimpers of pain. 

They were still holding hands when they saw the unicorn. Draco made a choked sound, hand rising to his mouth. The two boys inched forward, their breath taken. It was so beautiful, a blinding white color with slowly blinking silver-blue eyes. It's lithe legs were bent strangely, silver blood clotting on it's long mane.

"Who would try and kill -" Draco whispered, just as a dark cloaked creature came crawling out of the shadows.

Draco stumbled back, gaping in fear as the wraith bent over to drink the horse's blood. The unicorn choked silently before dying, it's glow dimming exponentially. 

Harry screamed, pain burning through his skull, like a dozen daggers tearing through his consciousness. He fell to his knees with a strangled cry, hitting his head on a hardened tree root. A number of forest creatures cawed at the disturbance, the wind blowing roughly as the creatures eyes seemed to glow with an eerie red light. The wraith rose suddenly, silver dripping down his mouth, crimson eyes glinting in anger. 

It jerked at the sound of hooves pounding against the forest floor, fleeing quickly. 

Moments passed before Draco's quivering face came into view above Harry, tears streaked on his cheeks as he shook Harry out of his stupor. "Harry . . . oh, Merlin, Harry,"  he whispered. As Harry blinked away the lingering pain, Draco pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, his warmth the only comfort in that damn forest. Realizing they had company, Draco protectively tugged Harry closer. 

Harry lifted a hand to the back of his skull, nausea rising as he felt a streak of blood dripping down his neck.

"Are you alright?" the centaur asked, pulling Harry and Draco to their feet. His blue eyes glinting kindly, Harry nodded his thanks. 

"Who'd be desperate enough to drink unicorn blood?" Draco muttered, remembering a distant Potions lesson. His eyes flickering to the motionless unicorn, the centaur didn't answer. The half-breed merely fixed his eyes onto the bleeding, puckered scar on Harry's forehead, his expression grim.

The Boy-Who-Lived leaned against his friend, feeling slightly faint. 

"I have an idea," Harry told Draco quietly. "But you won't like it." 

. . .

Harry couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire, still shaking.

"Someone wants the Stone for Voldemort, and Voldemort's waiting in the forest, trying to sustain his body with unicorn blood - "

"Calm down, Harry," Draco said half-heartedly, staring at the ceiling. He was lying back on the divan, flaxen hair in disarray. 

Harry wasn't listening. "Firenze saved us, but he shouldn't have done so; Bane was furious, he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen. Somehow, the centaurs must know that Voldemort's coming back - Bane even thinks Firenze should've let Voldemort kill me. Fucking hell, I suppose my death's written in the stars as well," he threw his hands up. 

"Now, I suppose all we can do is wait for the Stone to be stolen," Harry went on feverishly, "And then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off, and then I suppose Bane'll be happy," he ended bitterly, collapsing next to Draco. 

The blonde eyed him warily, nudging the boy's arm with his foot. "You aren't thinking straight, let's go through this like  - like a Slytherin would. Who says the centaurs are even right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Uncle Sev says it's a very imprecise branch of magic. His precise words were, I believe, 'a load of shite'." 

Harry rubbed at his eyes, feeling a bit better. "Right. I'm overreacting," he shook his head clear. They stayed awake for a bit longer, speaking in soft tones before falling into their beds, completely exhausted. Despite his burning eyes and tired limbs, Harry wasn't able to sleep much that night. 

Lightning crackled forebodingly in the distance. 

To be continued . . .