A Life at Hogwarts
Chapter 12 - Part 2
They made it to the top without running into anyone. Harry pushed open the heavy door to the Astronomy Tower platform with his shoulder. The cold night air hit them like a slap in the face. February wind whipped across the open stone, cutting straight through their cloaks. Stars glittered sharp and bright overhead, the Black Lake a dark mirror far below. The wind howled around the tower, tugging at the Invisibility Cloak and making it flap noisily.
"Set him down gently," Hermione whispered, teeth chattering hard now. She helped guide the crate onto the stone floor near one of the big telescopes. "Charlie's people should be here any minute on brooms. They said they'd signal with green sparks."
Ron eased his end down with obvious relief, shaking out his aching arms. "Finally. My shoulders feel like they're about to fall off." He crouched beside the crate and peered through the slats. "Alright, little monster. Time to go live with the professionals."
Norbert poked his snout through the gaps, sniffing curiously at the cold air. For a second he almost looked cute—bright eyes, tiny horns just starting to show, scales gleaming faintly in the starlight. Then, without warning, he let out an excited little roar and spat a burst of flame straight at Ron's sleeve.
"Ow! You little—!" Ron yelped, jumping back and frantically patting at the smoking fabric.
"Shh!" Harry hissed, lunging forward to clamp a hand over Ron's mouth. "Quiet!"
Too late.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the spiral staircase below. Slow. Deliberate. Accompanied by the faint jingle of keys and the soft padding of paws.
"Students out of bed…" Filch's voice drifted up the stairs, raspy and gleeful. "Sneaking around after hours… I knew it this time. I just knew it…"
The Invisibility Cloak wasn't big enough for all three of them plus the crate. Panic flashed across their faces. Harry and Ron barely had time to shove the crate behind the widest telescope, crouching down with it while Hermione tried to pull the cloak over as much as she could.
Filch rounded the corner a moment later, lantern held high, Mrs. Norris slinking at his heels. The cat's yellow eyes glowed in the torchlight, fixed directly on their hiding spot.
"Well, well," Filch wheezed, a nasty grin splitting his face as he took in the three students standing there exposed. "Potter. Weasley. Granger. Out after curfew. With contraband, by the looks of it."
***
Detention was set for the next night. The five of them—Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Draco—stood shivering at the edge of the Forbidden Forest as the last light faded from the sky. Hagrid met them there, looking as miserable as Harry had ever seen him. His massive shoulders were slumped, and he kept tugging at his bushy beard with one enormous hand. In the other he carried a couple of old lanterns that cast weak, flickering pools of light, and a crossbow slung over his back that looked older than the castle itself, its wood cracked and weathered.
"Can't believe I got yeh lot in trouble," Hagrid muttered, his voice a low rumble of guilt. "Should've known better than ter keep Norbert. He were a beauty though, weren't he? All them little spikes and them bright eyes. Never thought he'd get yeh caught like that."
Harry shifted his feet on the damp grass. The air already felt colder and heavier near the trees. "It's not your fault, Hagrid. We helped."
"Still," Hagrid said, shaking his head. "Should've listened when yeh said it were too risky. Now look at us. Detention in the Forest at night. Not safe, this place. Not safe at all lately."
Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around herself. "What exactly are we doing out here, Hagrid?"
Hagrid glanced around nervously before answering. "Somethin's bin attackin' the unicorns. Found a couple already. Dead. Silver blood everywhere. Dumbledore wants us ter patrol a bit, see if we can find anythin' out. Keep our eyes open and stay close."
Neville, who had been caught out after hours for the third time that month trying to return a borrowed book to the library, looked positively terrified. His round face was pale, and he clutched his wand so tightly his knuckles were white. "Unicorns? But… they're supposed to be really rare and protected. What could even kill one?"
Draco Malfoy stood a little apart from the group, arms crossed, sneering down at the mud already caking his expensive dragon-hide boots. "This is ridiculous. My father will hear about this. Dragging pure-blood students into the Forbidden Forest for some half-giant's mistake. Typical."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron snapped. He was cradling his still-bandaged hand against his chest, the pus finally dried but the swelling still obvious. "You're only here because you got caught sneaking around after hours too. At least the rest of us weren't trying to spy on Gryffindor practice."
Draco's lip curled. "Please. As if I'd waste my time watching you lot fumble around on brooms. I have better things to do."
Hagrid sighed heavily. "Enough o' that. Stick together, keep the lanterns lit, and don' wander off. Yeh hear anythin' strange, yeh tell me straight away."
They trudged after him into the trees. The Forest closed around them almost immediately, darker and thicker than Harry remembered from their earlier trips. Ancient oaks loomed overhead, their branches twisting together to block out most of the starlight. Low bushes snagged at their robes, and every few steps something small rustled in the undergrowth. Strange eyes glowed between the trunks—yellow, green, sometimes red—watching them pass before vanishing again.
Hagrid led the way, his huge frame pushing through the foliage like a living battering ram. "Keep close now," he called back softly. "There's been weird goings-on. Thestrals bin restless. Acromantulas gone quiet. Somethin' bad's stirrin'."
Neville stumbled over a root and nearly dropped his lantern. "H-Hagrid, are you sure this is safe? I mean, for detention?"
"Safer than arguin' with Filch," Hagrid replied. "Besides, yeh might learn somethin'. Nature's full o' lessons if yeh know where ter look."
Draco snorted from behind them. "Wonderful. A nature walk with the oaf. My father will be thrilled when I tell him how the great Hogwarts is treating its students these days."
"Will you shut it about your father already?" Ron growled. "You act like he's going to storm the castle because you got mud on your boots."
"He might," Draco shot back. "The Malfoy name carries weight. Unlike some blood-traitor families who—"
"Oi!" Hagrid rumbled, turning around with a warning look. "None o' that talk in my detention. We're here ter do a job, not fight."
They walked on in tense silence for another twenty minutes. The air grew colder and damper. A light mist started to rise from the ground, swirling around their ankles. Harry's scar gave a faint, warning throb, but he said nothing. Hermione stayed close to him, wand out and glowing with a soft Lumos. Neville kept glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.
Hagrid suddenly stopped, holding up a massive hand. "There," he whispered, pointing ahead. "Look."
They stepped into a small clearing. The sight hit them all at once.
A unicorn lay on the grass, its pure white coat stained with streaks of shimmering silver blood. Its legs were sprawled at unnatural angles, like it had tried to run and been dragged down. The wound in its side was ragged and deep. And bent over it, hood pulled low, was a figure. It was drinking—face buried in the wound, making wet, slurping sounds as it sucked at the silver blood.
Harry's scar exploded with pain, sharp and burning like a hot poker pressed to his forehead. He gasped, clutching his head. The figure froze. Slowly, it lifted its head. For a split second, red eyes gleamed from under the hood—cold, inhuman, filled with hunger—before the figure turned and fled into the trees with unnatural speed.
"What the—!" Hagrid roared, raising his crossbow. "Get back here, yeh—"
But before he could take more than two steps, the undergrowth exploded. A centaur burst into the clearing—Firenze, his pale body gleaming in the lantern light, long silver-blond hair streaming behind him like a banner. His hooves thundered against the earth as he skidded to a halt between them and the direction the hooded figure had fled.
"You must leave this place," Firenze said urgently, his voice deep and melodic but edged with warning. His blue eyes locked straight onto Harry. "It is not safe for you here, Harry Potter. The Forest is full of dangers tonight."
Hagrid lowered his crossbow slightly. "Firenze. What's goin' on? That thing were drinkin' unicorn blood—"
"The blood can keep someone alive even if they are cursed and half-dead," Firenze replied, still looking at Harry. "But the cost is terrible. You drink it and you will live a cursed half-life. A life not worth living. Whoever did this is desperate. Dangerous. You must go. Now."
Harry's scar was still burning, but the pain was starting to fade. "What was that thing?"
Firenze shook his head. "Not something you should face tonight. Come. I will take you back to the edge of the Forest."
He knelt gracefully on his front legs, offering his back. Harry hesitated for only a second before climbing on, gripping the centaur's shoulders. Firenze rose smoothly and turned toward the path they had come from.
The other centaurs weren't happy. Angry shouts and the thunder of hooves echoed through the trees behind them.
"Bane! Ronan!" Firenze called back. "The boy is in danger. I will not let him die here tonight!"
"You bring shame on us all, Firenze!" a deep voice bellowed. "Carrying a human on your back like a common mule!"
More voices joined in, furious and disapproving. Harry clung tighter as Firenze broke into a gallop, weaving between trees with surprising speed. Branches whipped past his face. The lantern light disappeared behind them. Harry's head spun from the motion and the lingering pain in his scar.
By the time they reached the edge of the Forest, Harry was dizzy and breathless. Firenze stopped and knelt again so he could slide off.
"You are safe now," the centaur said quietly. "But be careful, Harry Potter. The stars speak of dark times ahead."
With that, Firenze turned and vanished back into the trees.
A few minutes later the rest of the group stumbled out—Hermione looking badly shaken, her face pale and eyes wide. Ron was even whiter than usual, still clutching his bad hand. Neville looked like he might faint at any moment, his eyes darting everywhere. Draco tried to look unbothered, but his usual sneer was gone, replaced by genuine unease as he brushed leaves and dirt from his robes.
They were all heading back toward the castle in exhausted silence, boots dragging on the damp grass. The Forest had left its mark on everyone. Hermione's face was still pale, her bushy hair tangled with twigs. Ron looked like he might be sick, still cradling his bandaged hand. Neville kept glancing back over his shoulder like he expected something to lunge out of the trees. Even Draco had dropped most of his sneer, though he tried to hide it by brushing dirt off his robes with sharp, angry movements.
A familiar voice cut through the quiet night.
"Well, well. Good timing."
Roland Greengrass stepped out from the shadows near the greenhouses, his black robes perfectly neat and untouched by the Forest's mess. He clapped his hands once, slow and deliberate, a faint, satisfied smile curving his lips.
"Miss Granger," he said smoothly, voice carrying easily across the grass, "a word. The rest of you—straight back to your common rooms. It's late."
Hermione's entire face lit up in an instant. The exhaustion from the Forest melted away as she straightened, a bright spark of excitement flashing in her eyes. She didn't hesitate for even a second. "Yes, Professor."
Ron blinked, still half-dazed and clearly not processing much beyond the relief of being out of the trees. "Uh… alright then. See you tomorrow, Hermione."
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