Deep within the centaur colony of the Forbidden Forest, a young centaur with platinum-blond hair woke from his slumber. He possessed the body of a silver-maned horse, while his torso, arms, and head were human.
Stepping out of his wooden hut, he looked up. The night sky above was densely dotted with stars.
Centaurs are uniquely gifted with the ability of foresight, reading the secrets of the future written in the starry sky. To this young centaur, the dark heavens looked like a pitch-black canvas pricked by a needle. Cosmic light bled through the tiny wounds, illuminating the darkness.
Through that filtering light, he could catch glimpses of the future. His talent for Divination was extraordinary; when he observed the stars, he saw the tapestry of fate far more clearly than the rest of his herd.
After a moment, a flicker of unease crossed his eyes, and he frowned. "The stars... they have shifted again. The path is clouded."
Movement at the edge of the clearing drew his attention. It was the herd's patrol returning. The Forbidden Forest had been restless lately, prompting the centaurs to organize scouting parties to protect their territory.
"Firenze, not resting yet?" called the lead centaur. He had red hair and a matching beard, blending into a shiny, chestnut-roan horse body with a long red tail.
"It's almost time for your shift," the red-haired centaur continued. "Keep your wits about you out there! I just ran into Hagrid; he says another unicorn has been slain."
"I only just woke, Ronan," Firenze replied softly. "I felt a shift... The stars have changed once more."
Ronan gave a harsh huff, his hooves stamping the dirt. "Of course they've changed. Another unicorn is dead. It is nothing but trouble brought by humans!"
Firenze frowned. That wasn't what he meant at all. He had long foreseen the slaying of a unicorn, but it wasn't supposed to happen this soon. Furthermore, on the night of the unicorn's death, he was destined to meet a boy marked by tragedy. Now, the threads of fate were completely tangled.
Centaur Divination cannot be summoned at will. They cannot simply demand answers from the sky; they only catch fragmented glimpses in fleeting, accidental moments.
Moreover, the stars do not hand out direct answers. Their signs must be carefully interpreted. The cosmos had been misread before, a mistake even the wisest centaurs could not entirely avoid.
Perhaps he had misread the celestial omens this time, too. Firenze gazed up into the vast blackness and murmured to himself, "But why... why do the heavens grow more clouded by the day?"
A few days later, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville sat huddled together in a corner, speaking in hushed, nervous tones.
Hermione spoke rapidly, a thick book resting on her lap. "I found it. Unicorn blood can sustain a life, even one inches from death. But killing something so pure comes at a terrible price—you will be cursed to live a half-life, a cursed existence, from the moment the blood touches your lips."
She looked at the boys intently. "The cloaked figure you all encountered must have killed the unicorn to drink its blood. I asked Hagrid, and he confirmed that the carcass had been drained."
Ron chewed nervously on his fingernail, his face contorting into a grimace. "Drinking unicorn blood just to stay alive? The price is way too high. If you're cursed for the rest of your life, wouldn't it be better to just die?"
Harry was distracted, his mind replaying the terrifying details of that night in the forest. When he had locked eyes with the hooded figure, the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead had seared with intense pain.
He rubbed the scar now, desperately trying to recall a fleeting, inexplicable image that had flashed across his mind during the encounter. It had been a vision of the Forbidden Forest, featuring three figures and a dog.
Was it a distorted memory of meeting the cloaked figure? But why hadn't the monster been in the vision? And where had the image even come from?
Harry couldn't make sense of it. Shaking his head, he tuned back into Ron's question.
"Being cursed forever is terrifying," Harry said slowly. "Unless... unless he has no other choice. Unless he needs the unicorn blood just to survive long enough to get something else."
In that instant, several disconnected puzzle pieces snapped together in Harry's mind.
He remembered the grubby little package Hagrid had emptied from the Gringotts vault before school started. He thought of the three-headed dog in the third-floor corridor, viciously guarding a trapdoor. And then, he remembered exactly what Hagrid had told him on the night they first met: 'Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die.'
A cold dread washed over Harry, gripping his heart like an icy hand. His breathing grew shallow and rapid.
"Vol—" Harry choked, then forced the name out. "Lord Voldemort!"
Ron, Hermione, and Neville all flinched violently. Seeing their terrified expressions, Harry remembered how deeply the wizarding world feared that name. He glanced around cautiously, but fortunately, the common room was mostly empty, and no one had overheard him.
Leaning in, Harry dropped his voice to a fierce whisper. "It's him! He's too weak to survive on his own, so he's killing the unicorns. He's drinking their blood to stay alive just long enough to steal the Philosopher's Stone!"
"Don't say the name!" Ron hissed in sheer terror. Beside him, Neville looked like he was about to faint. Coming from old wizarding families, they understood the true horror of the Dark Lord far better than muggle-raised students.
"It has to be Snape," Harry plowed on. "Snape is trying to steal the Stone for him..." He trailed off, suddenly frowning as a glaring contradiction hit him. "No... wait. That doesn't make sense. It shouldn't be Snape."
Hermione, though clearly unnerved by Ron and Neville's panic, forced herself to approach the problem logically. "You're right, Harry. It can't be Snape. If Snape were working for him, he would have helped him that night in the Forbidden Forest when you all fought."
"And have any of you noticed Professor Quirrell lately?" she continued. "He's been in a dreadful state. Ever since the incident in the forest, he's barely been around. He even took three days off classes. When he finally came back, he looked paler than a ghost, and the way he talks is... different."
Ron looked confused. "Didn't they just say he was sick? And he's always stuttered."
Hermione shook her head firmly. "No, it's not just the stuttering anymore. He sounds completely drained, like he can barely stand. The timing of his 'illness' is incredibly suspicious. He has to be the one helping him."
The three boys exchanged guilty looks. They had been so preoccupied with the forest attack that they hadn't been paying much attention in class lately, completely missing the changes in the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Harry racked his brain. He couldn't think of any other concrete clues pointing to Quirrell, but Hermione's logic was sound. Right now, Quirrell was the prime suspect.
Nodding in agreement, Harry's expression hardened with resolve. "At the very least," he said firmly, "we need to go to Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall immediately and tell them exactly what we suspect."
[75 STONES] - Unlock1 Bonus Chapter
[150 STONES] - Unlock 2 Bonus Chapters
[300 STONES] - Unlock 3 Bonus Chapters