After the dragon incident, nothing in my life changed. I wondered if the prefects might scold me over the points deduction, but I'd earned many times that in class, so no one said a word. In Slytherin, plenty of students don't hesitate to wander at night. Getting caught only proves you're inexperienced; whether the act itself is right or wrong isn't the point. Most students in other houses probably didn't even know I'd lost points—if they did, they likely didn't care.
Harry Potter's situation was the exact opposite. He was suddenly living under a thousand needles. Losing a hundred and fifty points overnight was unheard of, and his popularity only made it worse. Rumors spread in a heartbeat; students from his own house, from Hufflepuff, even Ravenclaw, gave him a wide berth and gossiped loudly behind his back.
The next morning in the Great Hall, Ron Weasley—apparently discharged from the hospital wing—spotted me and charged over, face blazing with fury. Before he reached the Slytherin table, the other two grabbed him and hauled him back. Through it all, Harry and Granger kept their eyes down and never looked my way. Both were pale. It was still early, yet the weight of every stare already seemed to crush them.
So I really had made a mess of things. If I'd done nothing, it might have been little more than a one-night adventure. Because I chose to run to a teacher, the protagonist of the story had become the most hated boy in his first year. It wouldn't just damage his friendships; the mistake was far too costly.
I couldn't leave it like this. After classes that day, I hurried to Professor McGonagall. I couldn't spare a thought for the slight friction between us. I only wanted to set my own wrong, and in front of the professor—who once again seemed unsure what brought me there—I pleaded for Harry and the others.
"Professor, please—could you lighten their punishment, even now? You know they, especially Granger, aren't the sort to involve themselves with a dragon by choice. They probably stumbled onto it by accident and couldn't bring themselves to abandon Hagrid, so they protected him. They've been at school less than a year—there's a psychological barrier to reporting someone in a staff position. For the sake of fairness, I'm asking for leniency…"
"That is why it's one hundred and fifty points, Malfoy."
Her tone was iron: no room for negotiation.
"But… because of me, they're the most despised students in the castle. I might have cost them the friends they were about to make. They haven't even been at Hogwarts a full year!"
Without meaning to, my voice rose. Having blurted it out, I regained a little calm and searched her face. Her lips were pressed in a hard line—but in her eyes, I thought I saw a glimmer I'd noticed long ago.
Though I'd practically shouted at her, Professor McGonagall's voice softened a fraction, without becoming soothing.
"In that case, why don't you befriend them, Malfoy?"
"…I don't think that's what we're discussing. This isn't the time for jokes."
"No, that is precisely what you're discussing."
This time, the corner of her mouth twitched—just barely—and she ended the conversation.
"Since you were out as well, you can share their punishment. I'll inform Mr. Filch. You'll have a chance to speak with them there."
—
A few nights later, at eleven o'clock, we gathered in the deserted entrance hall for detention. Normally I'd grumble about the double standard of punishing students for being out late by making them go out late again, or about how keeping children awake at night as punishment seems ripe for abuse—but with Weasley burning with anger, Granger sunk in misery, and Harry wearing that clenched expression, I had no room for stray thoughts. Under the heavy silence, I began to regret coming at all.
The caretaker, Mr. Filch, was going to march us outside. I wanted to protest that it was dangerous, but in this mood—and with Weasley's glare telling me to shut up—I held my tongue.
It was the end of May, but the night air still bit at the skin. Wordless, we crossed the pitch-black grounds toward the Forbidden Forest. Did Dumbledore know about this detention? In other words, was the protagonist's safety guaranteed? My usual worries stirred, but I had no strength left to stop them. I stared at the ground and walked, letting Filch's muttered, child-hating threats slide past my ears.
Worse, we halted by a hut—where the giant of a man stood waiting. Hagrid, the culprit this time, gave the three a weak but friendly greeting, then shot me a look as if I were something unclean before speaking with Filch. It seemed Hagrid would be leading the detention. I hadn't expected that, and it gave me a headache. Perhaps Professor McGonagall didn't know what our task would be. If the four of us were scrubbing toilets, we could have managed, but like this there would be no conversation at all…
Filch went back to the castle, and at last we were headed into the forest. I wanted to understand what we were doing, so I asked Hagrid as neutrally as I could manage:
"Does Headmaster Dumbledore know we're entering the Forbidden Forest at night?"
I felt Hagrid's massive frame swell with anger and instantly regretted opening my mouth.
"Tryin' to throw Professor Dumbledore's name about, are yeh? Eh? That's how Hogwarts works, is it? Move it, or yeh'll be expelled. If yer dad thinks yeh're better off tossed out, march back and pack your things. Now!"
He was livid. I'd phrased it badly—or rather, speaking to him at all had been a mistake. I wished I'd asked Professor McGonagall what had become of the dragon. Then, unexpectedly, help arrived.
"Hagrid… let's go," Granger said, stepping to his side and tugging him on so he wouldn't have to look at me. I said nothing more and followed in silence.
At the forest's edge, Hagrid turned and explained. Our task was to split up and search for an injured unicorn. If a seasoned poacher had slipped into the forest, I had the feeling we'd be helplessly killed—was that really acceptable? I wanted to take the children back at once, but if I said as much, Hagrid would probably turn the informant into compost. So I obeyed and set off over roots and rocks with his dog and Harry, along the uneven trails.
Feeling Harry's gaze on my back, I kept to the animal path without a word. After a while, as if he could no longer bear the silence, he spoke almost to himself.
"Do werewolves really exist?"
So he didn't resent me as much as I'd imagined. The guileless question loosened the tension strung tight inside me.
"I don't know. It would be a serious problem if they did—but even then, we'd be fine. It isn't a full moon. Werewolves only transform on full-moon nights."
"So what Filch said was a lie?"
It felt like reassuring a little brother there was no such thing as ghosts. I slowed my pace and walked beside him.
"He seems to have a nasty habit of scaring children."
Silence returned, until Harry broke it again.
"…Why did you tell Professor McGonagall? I wish you'd left me alone."
Because it was so simple, it was hard to answer. I chose my words carefully, searching for something he could accept.
"…Maybe that would have been better. But dragons are terribly dangerous. The Weasley brothers were supposed to take that one, but I think that was purely luck. If luck had run the other way, a deadly creature might have grown up and eaten a child. If Hagrid were a man who could handle that sort of thing alone, perhaps it would be safe—but I don't know him at all."
Harry started to say something, then closed his mouth. After a moment he murmured, very softly, "He's usually kind…"
A pause, and then he spoke again.
"You weren't trying to catch us, were you?"
"I had no idea you'd be there. Weasley's letter didn't mention you. Carrying a dragon at midnight would draw every eye in the castle—someone was bound to see. I assumed only Hagrid, who can excuse anything, would leave the hut and go to the delivery tower."
"I see… that makes sense."
"Then why were you there? It's not like you could have done much by showing up at the handoff."
"We were supposed to carry the dragon."
"How?"
Harry's face said he'd let something slip, and I couldn't help a laugh. There must have been a plan. Silence fell again, but the gloom had lightened.
Harry changed the subject to unicorns. "What does the thing attacking the unicorn want?"
"I don't know… it could be an animal. If it's human, that's worse—poachers. If you see even the hint of a human shape, run at once."
"…Is there any point to catching a unicorn?"
Maybe it was his upbringing among Muggles; he was full of questions.
"You've used the horn and tail hair in Potions, haven't you? They fetch a high price. The blood can be used too, but—"
Harry stopped dead. "Look…"
I peered where he pointed and saw a thinly wooded clearing ahead. Lying there, shining silver-white in the moonlight, was a unicorn.
Harry took a step toward it—then a dragging sound came from somewhere, and the grass at the clearing's edge stirred as if something brushed through it.
Something was there, its head completely hidden by a hood.
The black figure slid across the ground and crouched by the unicorn. Before our frozen eyes, it began to drink, making wet, sucking sounds. Terror stole my voice. But I couldn't do anything. I had to act. Sneak away unseen? With the dog? That would make too much noise. Better to call for help—hands shaking, I lifted my wand and sent up a firework. The loud crack sent Hagrid's dog yelping away. Red light washed the clearing, throwing the thing by the unicorn into sharper relief—human, probably. Adult-sized. Of course, the fireworks gave away our position. The hooded head lifted and turned toward us. Silver unicorn blood gleamed obscenely beneath the hood. The shadow slid in our direction—not fast, but steady. If I ran, could I escape?
Backing up, I finally noticed Harry crouched and clutching his scar. I dropped beside him; pain twisted his face. What happened? A Silencing Charm?
While I fussed over him, I felt that presence closing in behind me. Run! Run! Run! But I couldn't leave Harry.
He was here tonight because of me. He wasn't meant to meet this thing here. He must not die here.
My breath came faster and faster. I needed to decide, but every choice was locked up.
Raise my wand and fight? I couldn't possibly win. Nothing I knew would scratch a Dark wizard. But was that better than trying to drag Harry and sprint over this treacherous ground?
And if the shadow was truly Him? If He read what I was thinking here? If He decided I didn't belong to the Dark? Not just me—my parents would live in hell from now on. If they lived at all. If He returned, we might be the first to be erased—
My chest tightened; I couldn't draw breath. My vision tunneled. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. My thoughts spun in circles, walled in on every side.
I tried to yank Harry to his feet, tangled my legs, and fell in front of him. Thought failed; instinct took over. I shoved him behind my back.
Suddenly something burst into view from the edge of my sight. Something large, hooves clattering, leapt between us and the shadow. It charged the figure and sent it flying. The shape slammed into the ground, then crawled away, vanishing into the deeper forest.
Were we…saved? I couldn't grasp it, but the fact that the danger had ebbed drained my strength at once. My breathing still ragged, my thoughts and sight crept back into place. As I struggled upright, the shape—peering after the fleeing shadow—turned toward us. Our savior was a beautiful palomino centaur.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, pulling us to our feet. Harry, apparently recovered already, answered him.
"I'm fine… thank you… What was that?"
The centaur didn't reply, only tried to guide us to safety—but he didn't need to. We could already hear Hagrid and the others crashing through the trees toward us, drawn by the firework.
Before we went back into the forest, Harry asked the centaur what unicorn blood was used for. Cursed life-extension, he said—something Harry immediately connected to the Dark Lord.
I'd only been listening at the side when a line from the centaur hit me like a blow:
—The Philosopher's Stone is hidden at Hogwarts?
Unicorn blood. The Philosopher's Stone hidden in the castle. And the Dark Lord himself. In the most unexpected place, I'd found the pieces I needed to solve my mystery.
✨ Hey Reader!
If you're enjoying this story and want to read more chapters right now, consider supporting me on Patreon.
Your support inspires me to create even better stories and reach my full potential!
👉 https://patreon.com/Writer4u
⭐10 Advanced Chapters Available on my Patreon!