It was incredibly dark before the flash. Harry just barely saw a skeletally thin hand raising a long wand. Someone was laughing. It was a high, cold laugh. Cruel. Then there was a surge of green, bright as a bolt of lightning, and he saw a woman silhouetted in the glow. The laughter became louder, and the light brighter, blinding, as the woman fell...

Harry woke up gasping for breath. His scar was aflame, and he was covered in sweat that stuck him to his sheets. This was happening all too often now, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to the hospital wing for something he was used to walking off, or curling-up-in-the-cupboard-under-the-sta irsing off. Pain was an old companion, and one he was used to dealing with. But now his scar burned almost constantly - he could no longer remember when the pain hadn’t been there; nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

Suddenly, someone threw open his bed curtains. It was still dark, so he wouldn’t have known who it was if he couldn’t feel her psionically.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” she asked, sounding panicked.

That was when he realised that the pain in his scar wasn’t dying down as it usually did. It was getting worse. He tried to reach out to Ginny, but the pain was too great, and he curled into foetal position reflexively.

“Neville!” Ginny hissed. He could hear her shaking him violently.

“Whu-? What? What?” Neville gasped.

Harry gritted his teeth to stop himself moaning in pain. ‘What... what is this?!’

“Neville, get Ron up and go get help!” Ginny said urgently. “Harry’s in pain. I think it’s his scar.”

“I... Got it,” Neville replied.

“I’m here, Harry,” Ginny said soothingly, brushing the hair out of his face. “It’ll be okay.”

“Nnnngh,” Harry replied through clenched teeth.

“Bloody hell!” Ron cried. He’d only just been released from the hospital wing himself.

“Ron, come on, I’ll explain on the way,” Neville urged. Their footsteps died away as they ran down the stone steps to the common room.

“It is your scar, isn’t it, Harry?” Ginny asked softly.

“Nngh-nnngh,” Harry agreed. He could hardly even see now, but he could feel Ginny warm and bright beside him; with that to hold onto he found that he could bear the pain.

Then her finger was on his scar, and the world exploded.

When Harry opened his eyes, he found that it wasn’t dark anymore. He wasn’t in his bed either. He was lying beneath a high, white ceiling, and as he tried to sit up he noticed that his bed was one of many, covered in white sheets. He also noticed that there was someone holding his hand.

“Harry, I’m so sorry!” Ginny whispered. “I thought...”

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Harry replied. ‘I know you were only trying to help.’

“But still, I felt your pain, Harry,” Ginny persisted, horrified. It was only then that Harry noticed there were tear tracks running down her cheeks.

“Ginny, you’re crying,” Harry stated. As his mind got back up to speed he kicked himself.

“I’m fine, don’t be stupid,” Ginny sniffed. “I can’t believe I did that to you.”

“It wasn’t you, it was my scar,” Harry said firmly.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey arrived with a vial full of some orange liquid.

“I suppose I should thank you, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey sighed.

“But I didn’t do anything, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry insisted. The ritual which had restored his body, and somehow Madam Pomfrey’s youth, was as much a mystery to him as to her. He’d just sat there and let her do her thing.

“Well, neither I nor any of my peers can work out what it was that you did,” Madam Pomfrey confided as she cast a series of charms on him. “There wasn’t the slightest trace of spellwork on me besides that of the ritual I performed on you.”

“I’d say magic, but...”

Madam Pomfrey gave him a tired smile. “Yes, well, drink this Mr. Potter. There is more than one mystery to be solved here.”

“Why my scar did that,” Harry offered, taking the potion. It tasted like very, very old milk.

Madam Pomfrey seemed to notice his displeasure. “I know it’s foul, but you need to drink all of that. It’ll help with the nerve damage. You had quite the shock to your system.”

“Harry, Professor McGonagall went to get Professor Dumbledore,” Ginny explained. “He’s not on school grounds, so it might be a while.”

“I thought Apparating was instant,” Harry frowned.

“Sure, but they need to find him,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “Besides, he might be in the middle of something, like an ICW gathering. Although, the next one of those is at the summer solstice...”

“Regardless, there’s nothing that I can find wrong with the scar,” Madam Pomfrey frowned. “It seems to be a curse scar just like any other. The lingering traces of Dark magic interfere with any attempts to heal it, but I can’t find even a whisper of what caused this attack.”

“I was having a nightmare,” Harry recalled suddenly. Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow slightly. “It was about Voldemort.”

“Please, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey whispered, closing her eyes. “Please, do not say the name.”

“Um, alright,” Harry said awkwardly. “Well, I was having a nightmare about him before I woke up. I’ve been having nightmares like that more and more lately, and my scar, well...”

“It’s been flaring up, has it?” Madam Pomfrey asked. “You should have come straight to me, Mr. Potter. Keep this incident in mind the next time you want to keep your problems to yourself.”

Harry sighed. She was right, he knew, but it wasn’t as if she could have done that much to help. Perhaps she knew that too, and it wounded her pride to know that this was beyond her skill and knowledge.

“Hermione’s taking your homework,” Ginny smiled.

Harry couldn’t help laughing. It felt indescribably good to laugh now, as if dark clouds were parting overhead. Madam Pomfrey was running her wand over him again, and Ginny was holding his hand tightly as if frightened that he might drift away out the window.

‘Ginny, it isn’t that I don’t appreciate this,’ Harry began.

‘My class today is with McGonagall, genius,’ said Ginny, smiling tightly.

‘Well, how about I fill in?’ Harry asked, a grin spreading across his face.

‘What are we going to do today, Professor Potter?’ Ginny smirked.

‘Turn...’

“Well, the Neural Regenerator has started to take effect,” Madam Pomfrey said. “You may notice random discomfort and headaches. Just ignore it, and Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey?”

“The same as last time,” she said firmly. “No strenuous activity at all for at least a week. You’ll be staying here for the next two nights, and you will avoid doing anything that excites or stresses you. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry sighed. “Ginny, you’d probably better leave.”

She turned a distressed, mutinous look on him that made him regret saying it. Madam Pomfrey seemed to have realised that he was joking though, clucking her tongue disapprovingly and heading off.

“Anything that excites or stresses me?” Harry grinned. “I’ll be gone before dinner.”

Ginny’s expression hardened into fury. “Don’t joke like that, Harry! You have no idea what it was like! You seized up like you were having a fit or something, and then you went totally still. If you didn’t have a pulse I’d have totally freaked out, I mean...”

“Ginny, I’m sorry,” Harry grimaced. ‘Way to go, genius.’ “Thanks for being here. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t found me last night.”

“You’re not off the hook, Harry,” she said angrily. “If I wasn’t terrified of all that happening again, I’d bloody well pummel you.”

“Hey, it won’t,” Harry said firmly. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Ginny flinched, jerking her hand away as if burned, but Harry held fast.

“Harry why is this happening?” Ginny cried out, exasperated.

“A very good question, Miss Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said. “How do you feel, Mr. Potter?”

“I’ve been worse, professor,” Harry replied.

Professor McGonagall’s lips thinned. “Professor Dumbledore is on his way. We shall see what he has to make of this,” she said flatly. Then, in a softer tone, she added, “Potter... next time, do be sure to tell someone about it. We won’t share what you tell us if you don’t want us to. If you’re uncomfortable talking to me or Madam Pomfrey, any professor... or your new family...”

“Yes, professor,” Harry replied.

Professor McGonagall sighed. “It’s my job to make sure that you’re safe and happy here, Potter. To become the best that you can be. But I can’t do that without your help.”

“I am certain that young Harry will keep that in mind from now on, Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore said as he strode in.

Professor Dumbledore was an incredibly tall man, standing at about six foot five, and his white hair and beard were so long that he could tuck them into his belt. In fact, he did just that with his beard. His sparkling blue eyes were like the most crystalline gems, clear and sharp as they looked upon him - into him.

“Harry, I need you to recount the events of last night with all the detail you can muster. Any one point may be far more important than at first it seems.”

And so Harry related his story, starting with the nightmare and ending with the all-encompassing pain of Ginny’s fingers on his scar.

When he was done, Dumbledore simply looked at him, making not a sound. Just as Harry started to feel uncomfortable, Dumbledore took a deep breath.

“Miss Weasley,” he said softly, “would you do me the kindness of raising your hand toward Harry’s forehead.” Ginny opened her mouth to protest. “I assure you that he will not be harmed. Please raise your hand.”

Ginny did as she was told, and Harry offered her a reassuring smile. When he felt her skin on his, warm and soft, he saw that Ginny was trembling and took both of her hands in his.

“Harry...” Ginny breathed.

“Hmm,” Dumbledore said. He moved from the foot of Harry’s bed to his side, peering down at him through his half-moon spectacles.

“Sir?” Harry asked.

“This is a most interesting development,” Dumbledore said in a less than happy tone. “I will need time to think on this. For now, I ask that you keep Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey fully informed, Harry.”

“Okay, sir,” Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded, and swept out of the hospital wing without another word. Just then, Madam Pomfrey reappeared from her office, tucking her wand away inside her robes.

“Mum was here earlier,” Ginny told him, “but she had to get back to the house. With nobody there to take care of things...”

“Who was there at Christmas?” Harry asked.

“The Diggorys offered to have their house-elf take care of the animals,” she explained.

“... Nice of them,” Harry muttered, imagining the Dursleys lending him out to the neighbours. He had seen first-hand just how much house-elves enjoyed servitude, but it was still a difficult concept for him to grasp.

“If there is nothing either of you wish to discuss with me, I have work to do,” Professor McGonagall said.

“We’re fine, thanks, professor,” said Harry.

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly and left, stopping by Madam Pomfrey to whisper something in her ear.

“I’ve run tests on your blood as well, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said, “and apart from a considerable immune response, there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I don’t...?”

“In other words,” Madam Pomfrey interrupted him, “your body was readying itself to fight an infection.”

“My scar...?” Harry asked disbelievingly.

“An infection in your scar would explain the white blood cells,” Madam Pomfrey sighed. “But there was no infection. It makes no sense, Mr. Potter.”

As the healer left, Ginny turned to Harry with a deadly serious look on her face.

“Harry, your dream, your scar... What do they have in common?”

Harry stared at her. “Ginny...”

“Snape’s a dickhead, and he probably does want to steal the Stone. But who would want it even more?”

“You can’t be suggesting that...?”

“When he took you to Diagon Alley to get your stuff, Hagrid told you that You-Know-Who wasn’t dead,” Ginny said through gritted teeth.

Harry stared at the ceiling. Hagrid had told him that, but he didn’t have any proof – just his and Dumbledore’s hunches. Which was more just Dumbledore’s hunch, really, since Hagrid probably hadn’t disagreed with the headmaster since his own school days.

Ginny reached up and stroked his scar gently, wincing as she made contact but persisting regardless. “I’ve got your back, Harry,” she said. “We all do.”

She had to leave then, as she did still have lessons to go to, but she promised to be back at lunchtime. Just then, Mrs Weasley burst in looking like death warmed over.

“Oh, Harry!” she cried. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”

“I’m fine, thanks, Mum,” said Harry, flushing in embarrassment. It wasn’t reflexive yet, to call her that, but he felt he owed it to her.

She embraced him tightly, and Harry flinched slightly, but relaxed into it. It seemed like the only person who could hold him without consequence was Ginny. Mrs Weasley sat on the side of his bed, and brushed his hair away from his scar, her eyes filled with concern.

“Do they know what happened?” she asked.

Harry shook his head. “Professor Dumbledore said he’d need time to think about it.”

“He’ll find the answer,” Mrs Weasley said softly. “He always does.”

Wednesday morning found Harry sitting in the common room with Hermione, working feverishly through the piles of homework that had built up while he lay in the hospital wing. Most of the professors had extended his deadlines, but he wasn’t surprised by those who didn’t. At least he’d gotten today’s assignment for Professor Snape done.

He was distracted by a loudly yawning Ginny, who smirked at him when she finally shut her mouth. “There’s a practical side to the exams as well ,you know, Harry.”

Harry made a face at her.

“He is well aware of that,” said Hermione. ‘You can say that again,’ Harry thought wryly. Hermione had been going on about the exams for weeks now.

“Let’s put that to the test,” Ginny grinned. “Transfiguration, Harry. Turn this into a needle.”

She hurled a matchstick across the room. Harry tugged his wand free of his robes, tracking the matchstick instinctively as he chanted. He just saw its silvery glint, before it embedded itself in a seat cushion.

“Wingardium leviosa,” Hermione incanted.

The two inch long steel spike came free slowly and steadily, and a passing fourth-year gave a low whistle.

“Hope you’re not planning on using any of us for target practice,” he said, half joking. At the predatory grin Ginny gave him, the mirth left his expression and he hurried on his way.

“Not bad, Harry,” Ginny commended him.

“Thanks,” he grinned. If only the whole exam would be that easy…

“It’s very sharp,” Hermione gasped. Harry turned to notice that she was closely examining the needle, and had pricked her finger on the end.

“Hermione!” said Ginny. She walked over and took Hermione’s finger in her hand, closing her eyes. When she stepped back, Hermione wiped the small bead of blood off, revealing that her finger was completely unblemished.

“Thanks, Ginny…” said Hermione.

“You’re welcome,” Ginny replied brightly. “Okay… Now switch the needle for something.”

Before Hermione had a chance to protest, the needle had been replaced by firewood from the basket. Harry couldn’t help but laugh, but he levitated the log back into the basket for her.

“You’d better know a good cleaning spell,” Hermione said, as she brushed the debris off her robes.

“Scourgify,” Ginny smirked with a wave of her hand. Almost instantaneously, she lurched forwards as if unable to support herself. They soon realised why. It was as if the room was under attack by a wave of invisible cleaners. Even the ash and embers disappeared from the fireplace.

“When I said a good cleaning spell,” said Hermione, “I meant for my robes, not the whole castle.”

“In for a sickle, in for a galleon,” Ginny muttered.

“You’ll get a hang of it,” Harry assured her. “You’re doing pretty well already.”

“Thanks, Harry,” said Ginny flatly.

“Come on,” he grinned, taking her by the arm and dragging her out of the common room.

“Where we going?” Ginny asked. She got no answer though.

“Where are they going?” Ron asked as they left through the portrait hole.

Although not extensive by any means, Harry’s knowledge of the secret passages within Hogwarts soon had them far away from the Gryffindor common room. When they emerged out on the Transfiguration Courtyard, Ginny finally stopped him, grinning.

“Seriously, Harry, where the hell are we going?”

Deciding honesty was the best policy, Harry admitted, “I have no idea.”

“What are we doing, then?” she asked, exasperated.

“You were feeling down, so I thought I’d do something for you,” Harry said. “Only problem is, I haven’t figured out what to do yet.”

“You’re such an idiot sometimes,” she laughed.

“Hey, you’re feeling better, aren’t you?” he asked.

She shoved him playfully backwards.

“Mission accomplished,” he smiled.

“When did you and Hermione get up, anyway?” Ginny asked.

“Don’t even ask,” Harry groaned, picking up a stray Exploding Snap card someone had left in the grass. It didn’t have any identifying features that he could see, so he figured he’d just let Percy handle it. It’d give him something vaguely prefect-y to work on, at least.

“Aww, is she working you too hard?” Ginny mocked. “Do you want me to talk to her for you, Harry?”

“How would you like me to switch your ears with a rabbit’s?” Harry griped.

“Hey, that’d be pretty funny actually,” she laughed. “I can just imagine them... so soft and furry.”

They sat together on a bench, facing the armillary sphere at the centre of the courtyard. He’d heard that you could tell the time using it, but Harry didn’t have the faintest idea where to start.

“I’ve been thinking, Harry,” said Ginny suddenly.

Harry jolted out of his reverie to turn and face her. “What about?”

“Your cloak,” she said. “Why would they have sent it to you at Christmas? If they were keeping it for your Dad, why not send it to you as soon as you got to Hogwarts?”

Harry shrugged. “So I could have a chance to get used to everything before another weird and wonderful thing got shoved in my face?”

“Maybe,” Ginny said, though she didn’t seem to think so. “But as soon as it became common knowledge that you were at Hogwarts, which was on the day you turned up at Hogwarts, they were holding on to something they had no right to.”

“You’re being kind of harsh, Ginny,” Harry said. “I mean, they did give it back.”

“That’s not the point,” she frowned. “Anyway, I was looking around for records of who your dad used to hang around with, because I remembered Mum and Dad saying he had a group of famous troublemakers all through school...”

Harry grinned at that thought.

“One’s dead,” Ginny said softly. “Peter Pettigrew. Killed by one of the others...”

“Sirius Black,” Harry snarled. “Who’s rotting in Azkaban.”

Ginny looked a little taken aback at the venom in his voice. If he was honest, he was more than a little surprised himself. He didn’t think he was that angry.

“Yeah,” Ginny agreed. “But one’s still alive. Remus Lupin.”

“Never heard of him,” Harry said honestly. “Who was he?”

“Bookish, quiet type,” said Ginny. “Got eleven passes at OWL, nothing below an E.”

At Harry’s confused look, she explained.

“Ordinary Wizarding Levels are the basic exams in Britain,” she said. “We take them at the end of fifth year. Usually people will only take nine classes, and maybe pass seven or eight. The best score is outstanding, then there’s exceeds expectations, acceptable, poor, dreadful and troll.”

“Ouch,” Harry winced. “Well, he sounds a bit like Hermione. And he’s still around, you say?”

“Actually, I don’t know,” Ginny replied. “I mean, I think so, but he might just have disappeared. I haven’t heard anything about him dying or getting locked up or anything. There’s nothing on him since the end of the war.”

Harry sighed softly. “Would explain why I never heard from him. Pity.”

“Yeah,” Ginny said. “Well, that kind of kills my theory.”

“There’s still Dumbledore,” Harry grinned.

“Yes, there is,” Ginny snorted. “Come on, let’s go get breakfast.”

“Hey, guess what I just heard,” said Neville.

“What?” Harry asked.

They were all lounging about in the Gryffindor common room. Even Hermione was relaxing for once, although she was relaxing with a book, so they didn’t feel the need to take her to see Madam Pomfrey.

“Professor McGonagall gave Malfoy detention for being out of bed past curfew that night,” Neville said.

“We’re dying of suspense,” Ginny grinned.

“She gave him detention with Hagrid,” Neville enthused.

Harry and Ginny chuckled to themselves at that. Hermione, on the other hand, looked terrified. Hagrid was the man who’d called a full-grown cerberus ‘Fluffy’.

“What happened?”

“They went into the Forest,” said Neville.

That got their attention. The Forbidden Forest was off-limits even for the head boy and girl. People told stories about the kinds of creatures that lived in there — werewolves, trolls and kelpies (shape-shifting, minor water demons).

“When was this?” Harry asked.

“Just this afternoon, after classes,” Neville continued. “He wasn’t too happy about it.”

“I’ll bet,” Ginny murmured.

“Hey, where’s Ron?” Neville asked.

“No idea,” said Harry. “Haven’t seen him since History of Magic.”

“Well, I was thinking we could go down and visit Hagrid,” said Neville, smirking. “You know, find out how much Malfoy wet himself.”

“What about Ron?” asked Ginny.

“Ron!” Harry called. “Anybody seen Ron?”

Those who bothered to respond shook their heads.

“Pff, his loss,” Ginny said. “Let’s go.”

After Harry grabbed his cloak from his dormitory, they headed out, donning it in a secret passageway on their way down.

“So Alicia was complaining about the braking charms on her broom playing up,” said Harry as they went through a door pretending to be a wall.

“And Fred said, ‘Why not ride mine?’” Ginny added, facepalming.

“So Alicia says, ‘Sorry Fred, it’s not big enough,’” Harry laughed.

Too late, they noticed a couple of Hufflepuff prefects rounding a corner on patrol. Harry and Hermione pulled everyone back through the secret mirror entrance and into the smallest excuse for an alcove ever created.

“I swear I heard laughing,” the boy said.

“What’s that spell to find people again?” the girl asked.

“Shit,” Ginny whispered. Harry made a face at her, and she drew a line across her throat. ‘No point even running now.’

‘Why not?’

They could just see the prefects now, for the entrance to the secret passageway was only a one-way mirror, and offered a blurry view of the corridor beyond.

“I never learned it,” the boy laughed. “You and your extra classes.”

‘It shows people like ghosts through walls, water, whatever,’ Ginny explained. ‘Dad told me about it.’

“I didn’t get it from an extra class, I heard the head boy talking about it,” she complained. “Homenum Revelio!”

Harry held his breath. The girl on the other side of the mirror was panning her wand slowly around.

“Dammit, Aaron, I take those classes because I’m shite at charms and you know it!” she cursed. “Not even you’re showing up! Homenum Revelio!”

“Come on, you’ll do yourself an injury,” Aaron chuckled. “Let the kids have their fun.”

“Sometimes I wonder why you’re even a prefect in the first place,” the girl grumbled as they headed off.

“It’s my easy charm and dashing good looks,” Aaron laughed.

“Volnusempra!”

“Ow, fuck!” Aaron cursed. “No magic in the hallways, Natalia!”

“You are so in for...” Natalia’s voice faded away.

“That’s got to be the luckiest escape we’ve ever had,” Ginny sniggered.

“Luckier than Fluffy?” Neville asked.

“I had that all under control,” Ginny said dismissively.

“Let’s get going before the next patrol arrives,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

They didn’t hit any more patrols at all on their way to the clock tower. It provided the easiest way to Hagrid’s hut at night, for there were no large doors to bar their way. The only real disadvantage was the amount of time spent in open corridors, although that wasn’t a problem with the invisibility cloak at hand. The walk was incredibly boring, as they had to keep quiet while out in the open lest they attract unwanted attention. Still, they didn’t encounter a single other patrol as they rushed down the steps of the clock tower and out into the courtyard.

The night sky was perfectly clear tonight, although a chill wind was picking up and making them all shiver, even under the cloak and their school robes. They hurried across the covered bridge, holding tightly to the cloak to keep the wind from whipping it off them. It was churning up the river something fierce in the ravine a hundred metres below them. Bursting out onto the dirt path, they slowed their frantic pace for the treacherous route down towards Hagrid’s hut.

Harry pulled the cloak off them as they came up to Hagrid’s door, folding the material and stuffing it into a cavernous inside pocket of his robes. Neville rapped loudly on the door, which was answered almost instantly.

“Hey Hagr...” Harry trailed off at the sight of the huge crossbow in Hagrid’s hand. “What?”

“It’s a bad time,” said Hagrid.

“We can tell,” Hermione said faintly.

“What’s going on, Hagrid?” Ginny asked.

Hagrid let out a massive breath that made everyone’s hair flutter. “It’s the unicorns. Summat’s bin killin’ ‘em.”

“What?!” Ginny exclaimed.

“I know,” Hagrid said sadly. “Professor Dumbledore gave me leave ter investigate.”

“Hagrid, you can’t go in alone!” Ginny cried. “If whatever it is has killed unicorns...”

“I can ‘andle meself,” Hagrid reassured her, patting his crossbow. Ginny still looked frantic, though. When she turned her terrified eyes on him, Harry immediately knew why.

“Crap,” he muttered under his breath. Raising his voice, he asked, “Hagrid, what would kill a unicorn?”

“A dragon, maybe, or a demon of some sort...”

“Why would something kill one, though?” Harry pressed.

Hagrid stopped and looked him in the eye. “Demons kill whatever gets in their way. Dragons kill fer food, or if summat threatens their young. Bu’ not a one makes a bit o’ sense ‘ere.”

“So what’s left?” Neville asked.

“Hagrid, this is crazy!” Ginny cried. “You can’t fight something as powerful as a demon or a dragon on your own!”

“I’m not going ter fight it,” he said. “I’m just tracking the unicorn’s body.”

“It might not give you a choice,” Ginny insisted.

“Then I’ll feed it some enchanted silver and get out o’ there,” Hagrid said, exasperated. “Now stop worrying and get back to bed, the lot of yeh. Here, Fang.”

Harry pulled everyone to him before throwing the cloak over them, hiding them from sight. Hagrid stared at the spot where they’d disappeared for a few seconds, before turning and heading into the forest.

“We’re going to follow him,” Harry said matter-of-factly.

“How did I know you were going to say that?” Neville asked miserably.

“You’d rather just sit around and let him get killed?” Ginny accused.

“You really think you’re a better fighter than Hagrid?” Neville shot back.

“Well...” Ginny faltered.

“Me and Hermione will go find McGonagall,” Neville said. “You two can go play hero, that’s fine, but you’d better stay under that bloody cloak, okay?”

“Good luck,” Hermione whispered, and the two of them ran off towards the castle.

“Let’s go,” Harry muttered.

They soon found Hagrid, kneeling over a small pool of something silvery and viscous. He dipped a finger in it, and it slid off in a slow, smooth stream. Fang approached slowly, sniffing, but when he got close to the blood he scampered backwards and hid his head under his paws, whining piteously.

“Come on, Fang, ye dozy dog,” Hagrid grumbled. Fang made his displeasure quite clear, but got hesitantly back on his paws and padded after Hagrid.

If it had been dark outside, the forest itself was where light came to die. It was only thanks to Hagrid’s lamp that they could see at all, and that was but a vague cone in front of their massive friend. Still, that wasn’t the worst thing. It was the complete and utter silence that made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Every sound was amplified a hundred times, so that a twig snapping underfoot was like a bone breaking. Harry found himself twitching and looking around nervously at the slightest rustle of a bird moving in the trees.

They followed Hagrid through a series of forks and junctions that Harry was sure he’d already lost track of. It was hard to tell how many paths met at each junction, because Hagrid didn’t bother to cast his lamplight everywhere. Somehow managing to break through the canopy, the occasional ray of moonlight would shine ten times brighter off a spot of silver-blue blood spattered on the undergrowth.

They had only walked for a few minutes when Ginny gripped Harry’s hand tightly enough to make him gasp aloud.

‘Over there!’

Harry raised his wand, and gripped the cloak in his left hand. Ginny pulled them slowly, quietly to the side, her hand ablaze and tracking unseen enemies.

Hagrid seemed to have noticed something too, for he had unshouldered his crossbow and was sweeping it around him looking for whatever was... slithering. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby. ‘A cloak?’ Just then, Harry’s forehead started to itch insistently. Not just his forehead — it was his scar. He gritted his teeth and forced his eyes to stay focused and his wand arm steady.

For a terrible moment, Harry thought Hagrid was going to fire right at them. He kept the crossbow trained on them, or rather, through them, for an inordinate amount of time and they crouched slowly so as not to spook him into loosing a bolt. But the slithering faded away into the distance, leaving them with only the ambient sound of running water, and Hagrid gradually lowered the weapon.

“Knew it,” Hagrid muttered. “Summat’s here as shouldn’ be.”

Harry and Ginny shared a look. He took heart at the steel in her eyes. Even though he was terrified, he knew that Ginny wouldn’t and couldn’t cower in the corner; he felt honour-bound to ensure she wasn’t alone.

‘Neville and Hermione are getting help,’ Ginny said silently, ‘it won’t come to that.’

‘Reading my mind as always,’ Harry grinned to himself. They would be alright. They had to be.

They came upon a clearing then, and something definitely moved ahead.

“Who’s there?” Hagrid called. “Show yerself! I’m armed!”

And into the clearing came... something. At first it seemed to be a tall man, and it was, to the waist at least. Below that, however, was a horse’s gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry felt his jaw go slack.

‘A centaur!’ Ginny cried mentally. ‘I’ve never seen one before!’

Harry winced at the volume, wishing Ginny wasn’t quite so excitable.

“Oh, it’s you, Ronan,” said Hagrid in relief. “How are yeh?”

He walked forward and shook the centaur’s hand.

“Good evening to you, Hagrid,” said Ronan. He had a deep, slow, sorrowful voice. “Were you going to shoot me?”

“Can’ be too careful, Ronan,” said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. “There’s summat bad in this forest.”

Ronan considered Hagrid momentarily, before flinging his head back and staring at the sky. “Mars is bright tonight.”

“Yeah,” said Hagrid, glancing up too. “Listen, I’m glad ter run inter yeh, Ronan, ‘cause there’s a unicorn bin ‘urt. Yeh seen anythin’?”

Ronan didn’t answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

“Always the innocent are the first victims,” he said. “So it has been for ages past, so it is now.”

“Yeah,” Hagrid agreed. He seemed to shake himself. “Have yeh seen anythin’ though, Ronan? Anythin’ unusual?”

“Mars is bright tonight,” Ronan repeated patiently, while Hagrid rapidly became less so. “Unusually bright.”

“Yeah, but I was meanin’ anythin’ unusual... a bit nearer ‘ome?” Hagrid asked hopelessly. “So yeh haven’ noticed anythin’ strange?”

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, “The forest hides many secrets.”

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur. Black of skin and hair, this one seemed more wild and powerful than Ronan.

“Hullo, Bane,” said Hagrid. “All right?”

“Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?” Bane’s voice was gruffer and faster than Ronan’s, though he seemed perfectly cordial with Hagrid as well.

“Well enough. Look, I jus’ bin askin’ Ronan, you seen anythin’ odd in here lately? There’s a unicorn bin injured – would yeh know anythin’ about it?”

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. “Mars is bright tonight,” he said simply.

“We’ve heard,” said Hagrid grumpily. Fang nuzzled Hagrid’s ankle, as if sharing the sentiment. “Well, if either of you do see anythin’, let me know, won’t yeh? We’ll be off, then.”

“Ruddy stargazers,” Hagrid muttered once they were out of earshot. “Never interested in anythin’ closer’n the moon.”

They’d only walked for a couple more minutes when Fang started whining.

“What is it, Fang?” Hagrid asked, lowering the lamp slightly. There was no more blood on the path. “Scared off the path...” Hagrid muttered. “Yeh got its scent?”

Fang sniffed around, leading them off to the right into denser and denser woodland. It was only seconds before they saw the next patch of blood.

“Good boy,” Hagrid said affectionately, scratching behind Fang’s ear. Fang perked up slightly, having been miserable for the whole expedition. They made good time after that, but Harry couldn’t help noting that the faster they were moving, the longer it would take for help from the castle to arrive.

It had been about fifteen minutes since they left the beaten path, and the blood was definitely getting thicker now, with big splashes here and there as if the poor thing had been thrashing around in pain. There was a great amount of it over the roots of a tree, and Harry knew that it couldn’t be much further. The unicorn had almost given up here. Looking at the spot, Harry could almost feel its pain and fear.

“Ohh,” Hagrid breathed.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground in a clearing just ahead. Ginny gripped Harry’s forearm, and he could just see her biting her lip in her anguish, tears glistening in her eyes. It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead.

Harry had never seen something so beautiful and sad. 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.

Hagrid had taken one step forward when a slithering sound made them all freeze where they stood. Harry’s scar was itching terribly again, and he was just reaching up to scratch it when a bush at the edge of the clearing quivered.

They hardly dared to breathe. Hagrid raised his crossbow, silent but true. Fang slipped quietly backwards, hiding behind Hagrid’s massive form.

Out of the shadows, a hooded figure glided across the ground like something out of a nightmare. They all stood transfixed as it descended on its prey, lowered its head over the open wound in the creature’s side, and began to drink the shining blood.

Everything happened at once.

A terrible pain erupted in Harry’s forehead. As he staggered free of the cloak, a maelstrom erupted around him.

“BEAST!” Hagrid roared, firing his crossbow. Spells started flying everywhere.

“Fiend!”

“Abomination!”

Hooves, pounding the earth with great fury, were charging straight towards... whatever it was.

“Harry!” Ginny hissed.

Harry was in too much pain. He clutched at his forehead and groaned. He couldn’t see; he couldn’t hear past his own frantic, ragged breathing, and all he could hear was a rushing and a ringing in his ears.

Finally, mercifully, it began to fade. The spellfire was gone, as was Hagrid’s crossbow.

“Are you all right?”

Harry forced his eyes open. The pain was leaving him now, and he was looking into the face of a new centaur. This one was much younger than the others, with pale skin and hair, and sapphire blue eyes which lingered on the scar on Harry’s forehead.

“Yes, thanks,” Harry replied. “Um... Who are you?”

“You are the Potter boy,” he said.

Harry nodded, although the centaur did not seem to need his confirmation. He was looking around for Hagrid and the sources of the other two voices. He thought one was McGonagall, and the other had to have been Professor Flitwick, their diminutive Charms teacher. They were nowhere to be found.

“The humans chased after it,” the centaur told him. “Hagrid too.”

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

“Firenze!” Bane thundered. “What are you doing? We are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?”

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. “I’m sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best,” he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

“For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!”

Firenze suddenly reared onto his hind legs in anger.

“Do you not see that unicorn?” Firenze bellowed at Bane. “Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must.”

The two centaurs stared each other down. Harry didn’t need to be told that Bane wasn’t going to give in.

“Come, Harry Potter,” Firenze said quietly.

They walked away, following in the footsteps of Hagrid, Flitwick and McGonagall, leaving the other two centaurs behind.

“Why’s Bane so angry?” Harry asked. “And what was that thing, anyway?”

Firenze did not answer for a little while. Only when they were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees did Firenze suddenly stop.

“Your friend treads heavier than she thinks,” he commented lightly.

Ginny’s muffled curse made Harry smile even in this dark hour.

“Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

“No,” Harry said, startled. “We’ve only used the horn and tail hair in Potions class.”

Ginny sniffled lightly. Firenze spared her a quick glance in spite of her invisibility, before turning back to Harry. “That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

“But who’d be that desperate?” Harry wondered aloud. “If you’re going to be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Firenze agreed, “unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else – something that will bring you back to full strength and power – something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?”

“The Philosopher’s Stone!” Harry cried, feeling ice water pool in his guts. They hadn’t been paranoid. The Stone was in terrible, terrible danger. “Of course – the Elixir of Life! But I don’t understand who –”

“Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?”

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry’s heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met:

“Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die.”

“Do you mean,” Harry croaked, “that was Vol-”

“Potter!”

It was Professor McGonagall.

“From the moment Granger and Longbottom came to me I had my suspicions... Where are the Weasleys?”

“Professor, they’re not here,” Harry lied. “Ginny’s back at the Tower, and I don’t even know where Ron is.”

“Harry!” Hagrid called. “I thought I told yeh ter get back ter Gryffindor Tower.”

“I couldn’t let you do this alone,” Harry explained. “Neville and Hermione went to get help, but I knew that would take time. So I followed you.”

Hagrid made an exasperated noise.

“I’ll be taking ten points from you for breaking curfew with such abandon,” McGonagall said furiously. “But for this! Potter, there is a reason why we don’t allow students to wander the forest. There are worse things than trolls wandering these woods!”

“Which is why I couldn’t stand to watch Hagrid go in alone!” Harry protested.

“Don’t talk back to me, Potter, you’re in enough trouble as it is,” McGonagall snapped. “Hagrid had a boarhound and a crossbow.”

“To defend himself against something that was killing unicorns!” Harry pressed.

“And what exactly were you planning to do, Potter?” McGonagall asked. “Flipendo this assailant into the abyss?”

“Probably, Professor,” Harry admitted, his cheeks reddening in the darkness. “If it gave Hagrid a better chance.”

“Such bravery is not admirable, Potter, it is foolish,” McGonagall said sternly. “You must learn to draw the line. If and when you become a skilled combatant, such actions might be appropriate, but you are a first year student, Potter. Remember that. Forty points from Gryffindor for this sheer stupidity. You will serve detention with me both nights of the coming weekend, from six thirty in my classroom.”

Harry gaped at her. Forty points in one hit was devastating. Even Snape was never that harsh.

“Close your mouth, Potter, you’ll start catching flies,” McGonagall said sharply. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Professor McGonagall,” Harry said sullenly.

“Professor McGonagall isn’t doing this for fun, Potter,” said Flitwick. “She’s trying to keep you from throwing yourself in harm’s way next time, because she wants to keep you safe.”

Harry nodded, and Firenze, who’d been watching silently the whole time, finally addressed the others.

“While I would like to stay and chat,” he said in an ambiguous tone, “I think it best if Harry Potter leaves the forest as soon as possible.”

“Yes, of course,” McGonagall agreed. “I’m sorry, but I never caught your name.”

“I am Firenze, Minerva McGonagall,” he said, already heading off into the darkness. “They call me Firenze.”

“I’ve never known a centaur to volunteer to help humans,” Professor McGonagall mused.

“I think he was more interested in fighting that thing off than helping us, professor,” Harry suggested.

“Our enemy was certainly an expert at running away,” Professor Flitwick squeaked. “Feeding on unicorn blood... Of all the depraved things...”

“Professor Dumbledore must be informed,” McGonagall frowned. “I shall leave that to you, Professor Flitwick. Hagrid can make a full report after he finishes with the unicorn.”

“O’ course, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid answered, heading back towards the clearing.

“You shall come with me, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall. “We’re going straight back to Gryffindor Tower, in case you decide to wander. And we can see whether the Weasleys are indeed in their beds.”

Harry cast about with his feelings, noting Ginny’s presence just a few feet away. ‘Better safe than sorry,’ Harry thought wryly to himself.

The walk back grated on Harry’s nerves. If it was possible, he was jumpier than on the way in. They found their way out quite quickly though, and even Professor McGonagall seemed to relax as the trees gave way to starry sky.

Of course, as soon as they were out of the forest, Ginny bolted towards the castle. After only a couple of minutes, Harry found that he couldn’t get an accurate lock on her position. While he trusted that Ginny could get back in time, Harry did his best to slow Professor McGonagall down without arousing her suspicions. The harsh wind almost made Harry wish he was back in the forest. By the time they reached the main doors, he was so cold he could barely even flex his hands.

Professor McGonagall remained ominously silent as she led him up the Grand Staircase and through the seventh floor to Gryffindor Tower.

“Good evening, Fat Lady,” said Professor McGonagall.

“Good evening Professor McGonagall,” the Fat Lady replied tiredly. Harry wondered for a moment how Ginny had managed to get past the portrait, but realised that Neville or Hermione must have been waiting on the other side.

“Have you seen anyone coming or going from the common room in the past hour or so?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“The Longbottom boy and the Granger girl came through about half an hour ago,” the Fat Lady offered. “I can’t say that I’ve seen anything else, Professor.”

Professor McGonagall gave the Fat Lady a curt nod. Then she turned to Harry, and gave him a long, hard stare. “Mr. Potter, why is it that you have no regard for your own welfare?”

Harry looked blankly back at her.

“Just get yourself and the others to bed now,” Professor McGonagall said, sounding slightly vexed. “I won’t be so lenient next time.”

When Harry went through the portrait hole, the others were indeed sitting around waiting for him. Ginny was flushed and panting in an armchair by the fire, and Ron was sitting on the floor playing with his wand.

“Ginny told us about it,” Hermione said.

“Forty points,” Ron winced. “That’s pretty rough.”

“Tell that to the unicorn,” Harry said darkly. Ginny’s breath hitched audibly. “Where were you anyway?”

“I was hanging out with Dean and Seamus,” Ron said defensively. “It’s not my fault nobody warned me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Harry. It would have helped if Ron was there to warn, but it wasn’t worth starting a fight over now. “Look, guys, we need to talk.”

“About why your scar started hurting when you saw the unicorn?” Hermione asked.

“Not the unicorn,” Harry corrected, “the thing that was feeding on it.”

Neville made a face and muttered something under his breath.

“Feeding on it?” Ron asked, sounding both horrified and fascinated at the same time.

“Something under a dark cloak killed that unicorn,” Harry explained. “And when we got to the unicorn… It was drinking its blood.”

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed.

“Anyway, Ginny and I have had a theory since this thing landed me in the hospital wing,” said Harry. He gestured vaguely towards his forehead. “We reckon that since I was having a nightmare about Voldemort at the time…”

The others all twitched or winced at the name.

“Harry!” Hermione hissed.

“Oh, come on, Hermione,” Harry complained, “why are you upset about it?”

“It’s not right,” said Hermione. “You should respect that.”

“I’m the one whose parents he killed,” Harry argued. “Anyway, we think that my scar is some kind of link to him. Dumbledore and Hagrid say that Voldemort didn’t die. And there was a centaur, in the Forest.”

Ginny turned to face him. A tear was rolling down her cheek, glistening in the low light. “It can’t be true, Harry.”

“Are you with me?” Harry asked. Ron nodded, not realising that the question wasn’t directed towards him.

“Always,” Ginny promised.

“You’re saying that was You-Know-Who?!” Hermione exclaimed.

“And he’s the one after the Stone,” Harry agreed. “Most of the centaurs want to stand by and watch, but Firenze has decided to fight against Lord Voldemort himself.”

“If he’s back,” Ron ventured, “d’you think he’s going to try and kill you?”

Everyone turned to give him incredulous looks.

Ron let out a long breath. “And to think, I was worrying about my end of year in Potions.”

“Well,” Neville said, “whoever said school wasn’t interesting?”

“What’s stopping him from going after the Stone already?” Harry asked.

“Not Fluffy, surely,” Hermione grimaced. “He’s intimidating, but a Dark wizard would probably just blast him into the next century.”

“There’ll be plenty of wards and stuff,” Ron offered. “But if it’s really You-Know-Who...”

“Look at us,” Ginny giggled. “We’re talking like we can do something about it!”

Harry gave her a significant look.

“No,” Ginny said vehemently. “We can’t get involved.”

“She’s right,” Neville said, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “The professors already knew it was at risk, and now they know that there’s something in the Forest that can kill unicorns. They’ll be dealing with it.”

“I borrowed a book on unicorns from a sixth year when I got back,” said Hermione. “They can move faster than thought. What could we do? We’d just get ourselves killed, Harry.”

“Well, I reckon Harry’s right,” Ron said, standing up. “Whatever we can do, we have to do it.”

“And what’s that, Ron?” Ginny asked. “Go charging down there and duel You-Know-Who?”

The tips of Ron’s ears went bright red.

“Look,” said Harry. “If Voldemort gets a hold of that Stone, we’re all finished.”

“It’s not that simple,” Hermione argued. “What if we trip some of the professor’s traps and get ourselves killed? We could end up just making things easier for him!”

“Except we won’t be going down that trapdoor,” Harry grinned.

“What?” Ron whirled around to stare at him.

“We have an invisibility cloak, remember?” Harry laughed. “We’re just going to watch that corridor.”

“They’ll already be doing that,” said Neville.

“They weren’t the last time we were there,” Ron said darkly.

“They hadn’t seen something drinking unicorn blood,” Hermione pointed out.

“We’re going in circles!” Ginny cried. “Are we going to do something or not?”

Harry stared at her. He was forgetting something...

“What, Harry, what is it?” Ginny asked, blushing.

“My scar...” Harry whispered. He fancied that it twinged slightly. “It hurt in the Forest when that thing went past us, and it hurt again when it was feeding on the unicorn blood. I think it’s more than just a link between me and Voldemort. I reckon it hurts...”

“When he’s nearby!” Hermione almost shrieked, her eyes full of terror. “Harry, when you had that nightmare, could that have been...?”

“When Voldemort killed the other unicorn,” Harry said grimly. “And it’s been hurting more all year because he’s getting stronger.”

“So we don’t need to do anything,” Ginny said. “When he comes, Harry will know.”

“And when he does...”

“We’ll tell Dumbledore,” Hermione interrupted Harry, giving him a hard look.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed grudgingly, tasting bile in his mouth. “We’ll tell Dumbledore.”

“Anyway, you’re all forgetting something,” Hermione said. “Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. As long as he’s here, You-Know-Who isn’t coming anywhere near the castle.”

It was a comforting thought, and Harry held onto it as he lay down in bed. Finding sleep was difficult when you half-expected the man who murdered your parents to attack your school, but in the end, the darkness claimed him.