Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter. But one day I will! Yes, my day will come!

Chapter 12: The Wraith in the Woods

At dinner, they received notices that their detention would take place at eight o’clock, and that they were to go to Filch’s office. After dinner, Harry and Draco headed over. Malfoy was furious with Harry, but just refused to speak with him. Harry was fine with that. When they arrived at Filch’s office, Hermione and Neville were already there.

“Late, are we?” Filch said, leering disturbingly at them. “I miss the old days. No detention, no…we’d hang them up upside down by the rafters until they passed out. That’s the way to punish students…I’ve still got the chains…”

“Shouldn’t we get going?” Harry asked. Filch glared at him. “Quiet, Potter. But yes, let’s go. You have a real treat waiting for you.”

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. He’d figured they’d be performing disgusting chores without magic. However, it appeared that whatever they were being asked to do, there was a potential for bodily harm. What else could excite Filch that much? Harry already knew the man was a Squib, and Harry figured that he was bitter that the same students that he cleaned up after had an ability he did not.

He soon realized Filch was leading them to the castle doors. He followed, still lost in his thoughts, over the bridge and down to Hagrid’s hut, which was lit brightly. Standing in the open door was the large figure of the man that lived there. At his feet was his harmless boarhound, Fang. Hagrid carried a large lantern, a crossbow, his umbrella (inside of which Harry was certain were the pieces of Hagrid’s wand), and a grim expression. “Yeh got ‘em Filch? Hope yeh haven’t been scaring ‘em with those stories.” He laughed. “Hey there, ‘Arry, ‘Ermione.”

They waved weakly back at him, and Filch scowled. “This is supposed to be a punishment, Hagrid. No socializing with the condemned.”

“Ah stuff it yeh dirty Squib! Get out ‘o here!” Filch sneered and left.

“All right then, we’re going into the Forbidden Forest…”

“The forest?” Malfoy said incredulously, “but it’s forbidden, Dumbledore said so! I though we’d be copying lines or something, this…this is servant work! There are…werewolves in there!” he yelled loudly. Harry did his best not to snort, but Hermione’s intelligence was offended by Malfoy’s last remark.

“Don’t be stupid, Malfoy,” she said in her bossiest know-it-all voice (intentionally), “werewolves are normal people except at Full Moon, and it isn’t even close.”

“What are we doing in there, Hagrid?” Harry interrupted the budding argument.

“Well, yeh see, there are unicorns in the forest. Wonderful creatures, unicorns. But sommat’s been hurtin’ them. Not very much that can do that. I found one dead the other day. There’s another one, ‘e’s hurt. We’re gonna find the poor creature and put ‘im out ‘o his misery.” Hermione gasped.

“But unicorns are so pure and quick! Most creatures aren’t Dark enough to attack them, and the ones that are can’t catch them! What are we supposed to do?” she said worriedly. Hagrid shrugged.

“I don’t plan teh have yeh stoppin’ the creature, just findin’ the unicorn. We better get goin’, c’mon boys.”

They entered the Forbidden Forest. As far as the eye could see were tall trees, the ground below them misty and dark. The moonlight cast eerie shadows, and gave the woods a sense of danger. Hagrid led the group, his lantern illuminating the path they took deeper into the forest. Beside him was Fang, with Neville close behind. Draco followed a few feet further back, while Harry and Hermione brought up the rear. Harry had his wand in his hand, glancing nervously about for any sign of trouble. His scar twinged occasionally. A sudden cold wind blew through the trees, and Hermione shivered. Harry gave her his cloak, which she wrapped around her shoulders.

They reached a part of the forest where the trees thickened, and stopped. Hagrid turned around, and drew two more lanterns from his overcoat, lighting them with the one he carried. He handed one to Neville, and walked back to give the other to Hermione.

“We split up ‘ere. ‘Ermione, Harry, yeh take Fang and go off ter the right. Malfoy, Longbottom, yeh stay with me. Keep close. Yeh two,” he said, addressing Harry and Hermione, “send up red sparks with yer wands if yeh run inter trouble. Don’t try and fight, yeh don’t want ter get hurt.”

They had not proceeded five minutes into the forest when then heard a yelp and saw red sparks shoot up from someone’s wand. Harry and Hermione raced toward the sight, and found Neville embarrassedly trying to explain his situation. After he did, Hagrid was yelling at the Malfoy heir. Apparently, Draco had gotten ahead of Hagrid, hidden behind a tree, and startled Neville. After Hagrid finished telling him off for fooling around, he turned to Harry and Hermione.

“That’s that. Harry and Malfoy, yer together…”

“No…” Harry said.

“What?” Hagrid asked, not having heard him.

“I said no. I’m will not go off on my own with Malfoy. I will not trust him with Hermione either. Keep a closer eye on Malfoy and Neville, but trust me, if you put us together, one of us at most will come out.” Hermione spared Harry a disapproving glance. Hagrid looked surprised.

“Alright, ‘Arry, yeh made yer point. Anymore fooling around, Malfoy, and yeh got detention with Filch fer a month. Now GO!”

As with that, they separated again. Harry and Hermione began walking away from the others, Fang nervously leading. Hermione now had her wand out as well, and they proceeded deeper into the forest. They soon had absolutely no idea where they were, only that they were far from Hogwarts. When Harry brought this up, Hermione showed him the Navigation Charm, which pointed a wizard’s wand in the direction of where they desired to travel. Confident they could find their way out, Harry and Hermione proceeded deeper.

The tall trees of the outer forest had changed into knarled and rotten stumps along with twisted tree limbs that climbed high into the sky, moonlight peeking down only occasionally. They saw no signs of life, though every snap of a twig, distant howl, or whistling gust of wind caused the two best friends to jump in surprise. They reached a dark pond, and Harry decided that Navigation Charm or not, he didn’t want to proceed any farther.

“Hermione, we’ve got to go back,” he said, the first time either of them had spoken in fifteen minutes.

“Harry, we’ll be able to find our way back,” she insisted, taking another step forward, extending the lantern to reveal yet another rotting tree root.

“Hermione! That’s not the point. We’ve been walking for over an hour. I have no idea if we’re even on Hogwarts Grounds any more. It’s almost eleven o’clock, if we want to get back before midnight, we leave now.”

“Alright, why don’t we use the Navigation Spell. We might cover more ground that way.”

Harry extended his wand, then laid it flat in his hand. “Point me,” he commanded. The wand swung back slightly to the right of the path they had been traveling on. They started back. Hermione was quiet again, and appeared to be somewhat frightened. Harry would have held her hand if he could have, but she carried both a lantern and her wand. Instead, he moved over and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. She looked up at him in surprise, then smiled. “Thanks, Harry.”

They proceeded over a downed tree, and into large indent in the ground, surrounded by gnarled roots. They descended the hill, and froze at the sight before them.

The unicorn they had been searching for lay dead near a large tree. Even in death, its silvery coat shined brightly. But standing over it was a wraith-like figure. As Harry and Hermione watched in silent horror, the figure lowered its head to a large wound in the unicorn’s side, and began to drink the silvery blood. Hermione let out a whimper, alerting the wraith to their presence. Harry suddenly cried out as his scar burned fiercely, and he struggled to stay on his feet.

The wraith raised its head, unicorn blood dribbling down its front. It turned to face the two terrified and frozen students. With a wave of its hand, Hermione let out a whimper, then collapsed in a heap, unconscious. Harry didn’t even register this, as his scar flared. He let out another cry and dropped to his knees. It felt like someone had stabbed a burning knife into his forehead. His eyes watered from the pain, and a scream of agony escaped him.

The wraith advanced on him, slithering along the ground in a manner that resembled a snake more than a man. As it approached, the pain multiplied. Harry fell forward, and was on his hands and knees. The wraith moved inexorably towards him, and Harry looked at Hermione, and knew he would never see her again.

He would never see Daphne again.

As that thought passed through his mind, he barely noticed a field of red-tinged magical energy emerge from his very skin. He suddenly felt exhausted as the field extended towards the oncoming wraith. His scar split open, and as blood trailed down his face, the red field expanded, and made contact with the black figure.

It let out a scream of agony and flailed backwards. It advanced again, and Harry felt his strength leaving him. He crumpled to the ground, but as he did so, an image of his mother and father standing behind him, an image ripped from the Mirror of Erised, flooded his thoughts. Harry was then blinded by the red light, which blasted out of his bleeding scar and shot forward, connecting with the wraith. It screamed again as it was knocked backwards. With one final malevolent glance, it fled.

The power of Lily Potter’s magic began to bleed back into her own flesh and blood, and Harry’s vision began to narrow. He tried to sit up, but fell back to the ground as his strength and consciousness finally deserted him.

Harry

She stumbled back down the hill, and ran over to her fallen friend. He was face-down in a puddle of something, and was out cold. She crawled over to him, and sitting up, she turned him over. She nearly screamed when she saw his face was covered in blood. At first, she thought he was dead, but then she noticed the faint rise and fall of his chest.

He was still breathing.

Fumbling around with her robes, she tried to wipe the blood of her unconscious friend’s face so that she could examine him more closely. She did an incomplete job, but it was enough to see that he was deathly pale and sweating profusely. His scar, which appeared to be scabbed over, was surrounded by red inflammation.

She looked around, and fired red sparks into the air. She knew they were deep in the forest, and she might attract the wrong kind of attention, but her friend might not make it without some medical attention. She stumbled to her feet, and tried to haul Harry upright, so that she could carry him out of the forest. She failed miserably, as she was far too exhausted to lift him, and she collapsed on top of him. Tears began to fill her eyes at the prospect of Harry dying in her arms. He wouldn’t survive the night, and who knew when someone would reach them.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she passed out from magical and physical exhaustion.

Harry lay on his back, and the only sign he was still alive was his shallow breathing. His skin was deathly pale, and he was sweating heavily. His forehead was covered in blood, and his scar appeared to have scabbed over. Hermione lay on top of him, face down in the dirt. Her breathing was also shallow, and she had a nasty looking cut on her stomach.

Hagrid let loose a string of curses when he saw the two students, and even Draco let loose a ‘bloody hell,’ unable to make a smart remark about the fact that Potter had a girl draped over him. The boy looked too dead to make snarky comments. Hagrid came down the hill and picked up the two small children, cradling their unconscious bodies in his arms. Then they set off for Hogwarts. They found Fang, who had apparently run off when whatever had attacked Harry and killed the unicorn had appeared.

As they headed for the entrance of the forest, a familiar sight presented itself for Hagrid. A creature with the upper body and torso of a man and the body of a horse. A centaur. More specifically, a centaur that Hagrid knew well, and one that wasn’t unwilling to help humans. He stood silently as he watched them approach. Hagrid saw him frown at the presence of Harry in his arm.

“The Potter Child should not be in this forest. Not at this time. A Dark presence looms…” the centaur said cryptically. Hagrid nodded.

“I think that ‘Arry and ‘Ermione ran into that dark presence,” Hagrid said darkly, glancing down at Harry’s blood-stained face. “Don’t know what it was, though.”

The centaur nodded. “Mars is bright tonight. Always innocent are the first victims.” At the moment, Hagrid was unsure whether or not the innocent was the two unconscious students he carried or the dead unicorn he had found lying across the clearing from them.

Hermione stirred in his arms, and started when she found herself off the ground. Hagrid tried to grab her, but the small girl fell out of his arms and landed hard on the ground. She groaned before she started glancing around for Harry. She saw him in Hagrid’s arms, and relaxed. “Sorry Hagrid,” she replied embarrassedly, pulling herself to her feet, where she began to sway, before collapsing back to the ground. Neville hurried over and turned her over.

“I could carry the girl,” Firenze said. Hagrid stared. A centaur offering to lend direct aid to a human was almost unheard of. But as he said this, he trotted over to where Hermione lay, and bent down.
Neville helped her onto the creature’s back, and Hermione tiredly grasped around its neck. “We must depart. The Potter child is fading.”

That got everyone’s attention. They proceeded for fifteen minutes before they ran into a very livid centaur.

“Firenze!” Bane cried angrily. “What are you doing, carrying that girl like some common mule?”

“She is the companion of the Potter child. He is in Hagrid’s arms, and the life will fade from him unless he is healed soon,” Firenze said. “I will aid men against the Darkness, will you?”

“What have you been telling them? You know we cannot reveal our secrets to lower beings!” Bane cried. Draco snorted.

“Inferior beings? Humans are vastly superior to- OW!” he yelled at Neville punched him in the gut.

“Shut up you stupid git! Don’t insult them when they’re helping us! Do you want to die?”

That shut Malfoy up. Bane had heard the first, however. “It is you who are inferior, arrogant son of the Darkness. You do not see the future when it lies in plain sight. You wage war on one another to simply prove yourself in the right. Human kind is forever cursed with arrogance and stupidity,” Bane said, glaring daggers at Malfoy, who gulped and walked back.

“We must depart,” Firenze said again.

“I shall not forget this, Firenze. We will have words in the future. Now go, before the life fades from the youth.” Bane trotted into the darkness, and they set off.

At the edge of the forest, they met a frantic-looking McGonagall and a concerned-looking Snape. Both paled when they saw Harry and Hermione unconscious.

“What is wrong with Potter, Hagrid? What happened?” Snape demanded.

“Dunno, Professor. Ran inter whatever was killin’ the unicorns, sommat Dark. Found these two unconscious near the dead unicorn.”

McGonagall, if it was possible, paled further. “Dead unicorn? Something had been killing the unicorns? And you sent students after it? Hagrid, are you mad!”

“Obviously,” Snape replied, though his voice lacked the usual malice as his eyes locked onto the unconscious form of the spawn of the woman he loved and the man he despised. A strange emotion passed in his eyes. At the moment, the boy was his charge, his Slytherin.

“Let’s get them to the Hospital Wing.” He eyed the centaur. “All-Seeing Centaur, please relinquish your rider,” he said politely. The centaur looked surprised at being addressed in such a way, and bowed to let the girl off. She exhaustedly pulled herself off, patting the creature’s flanks in thanks. Minerva hurried forward and picked up her student.

They hurried up to the Hospital Wing. Severus told Draco to get to bed, and Hagrid took the Longbottom boy, the bane of his existence in Potions, to his own dormitory. Severus accompanied Minerva to the Infirmary with the two students. Granger was fading in and out of consciousness, and appeared to be unnaturally exhausted, as if she hadn’t slept in days, something that obviously wasn’t the case. Potter was still out cold, and his skin was pale and pallid. His body temperature was alarmingly low, though he was still breathing, the only thing separating him from a corpse.

They awoke the Hogwarts Matron, who immediately got the two into hospital beds. Remarking something like, “Third time’s the charm,” she set to work healing the two students. She immediately diagnosed Hermione with severe magical and physical exhaustion. A check of her wand by Minerva showed she hadn’t used anything more strenuous than a Lighting Charm, complicating the mystery.

Potter was more of an enigma. Like his friend, he had severe magical and physical exhaustion, but something else was wrong. It was like the life was seeping slowly from his body. Pomfrey dumped a half-dozen potions down his throat and prayed to Merlin that he would recover. There wasn’t much else to be done. Granger finally succumbed to the Sleeping Potion, while Minerva buried her nose in several books on Magical exhaustion, trying to determine what had happened to her prize students.

Dumbledore finally showed up with his phoenix. Severus watched in astonishment as the bird flew over to Potter, landing on the pillow beside his head. With a talon, it gently brushed the hair away from Potter’s forehead, revealing a blood-crusted scar that made Severus shiver at the sight for some reason. Fawkes laid its beautiful head on the scar, and a pair of pearly, thick tears landed on the wound, which hissed and smoked. Potter stirred in his sleep. When the hissing faded, Potter’s forehead was back to normal, the scar only faintly visible. His color began to improve almost immediately. Severus shook his head.

“It appears your Phoenix may help the Golden Boy survive the night,” Severus commented, falling back into his role of cold and sarcastic Potions master.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling with bemusement. “Do you really believe that will fool me, Severus? You showed genuine care for the boy. Perhaps you have begun to see that outside of his flying abilities and his courage, the boy is his mother’s son?”

“He looks just like Potter,” Snape said, spitting the last word as if it was a curse.

“Except his eyes,” Dumbledore said, “Lily’s eyes. Of course, the person he resembles the most is neither of his parents.”

“The boy screams Dressler, from the emotional mask he wears to his fierce loyalty to those close to him. To his intelligence and academic drive,” Snape admitted his eyes still on the boy.

“Indeed. I was unsure of how Harry would come out after being raised by Daphne. I feared he would return with a large head and an advanced knowledge of curses. It seems Daphne did indeed know what was best for him after all.”

“He doesn’t know the Prophecy. The Prophecy that I am certain you possess the full contents of.” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling.

“You know I cannot tell you that, Severus. Suffice to say that I recommend you never mention your role in the entire affair.”

Severus stiffened as he remembered that night. The night he had been eavesdropping outside the door of a private room in the Hog’s Head. A night where he had overheard the only genuine prophecy that Sybil Trelawney had ever made in her entire life. He had been ejected from the bar by the owner before he heard the full contents. He had reported to his master, who after brief consideration, had determined that a one-year old baby boy was all that stood between himself and immortality.

He had signed the death warrant of the woman he loved. It was on his information that Voldemort traveled to Godric’s Hollow and murdered the Potters. He had lost the woman he loved, and the master he served. And that was how he came to be in Dumbledore’s service.

“I shudder to think of what Daphne would do to me if she knew,” Severus said after a long pause.” Dumbledore nodded.

“As cool and collected as she can be, she spares no expense in defending her friends and family. I doubt she would allow you to live. And I doubt that I could stop her.”

Snape looked upon the unconscious form of Daphne’s ward again. He hated the boy, because of who he came from. His very existence was a slight to Severus Snape. And yet…

“He is of your own House after all, Severus. Perhaps you should seek to discover who he is, rather than where he came from.” And with that, Dumbledore left the room, leaving Severus Snape standing alone with only the two unconscious students for company.

Hermione was restricted to her bed for several days, and spent most of the time catching up on schoolwork. Harry finally awoke four days after he was found in the forest, and was able to give a rather disturbing account to the Headmaster.

Albus sat at his desk, a dozen different magical instruments in front of him, trying to uncover what had happened to Harry and his friend. Harry had described a wraith-like creature, one that seemed to resemble a Dementor. But Dementors didn’t consume unicorn blood, nor did they have the capacity to knock an eleven year old girl unconscious by draining their magic with a wave of a hand. Only an extremely powerful Dark wizard could do such a thing. This brought Albus back to where he had begun. Voldemort. The ramifications of such a possibility were not lost on him.

That Voldemort was in the Forbidden Forest, and had an opportunity to strike at the eventual savior of the wizarding world was disturbing to say the least. More disturbing was that Albus had not detected it sooner. A Lord of Voldemort’s power normally had an aura of darkness that someone of comparable power, himself, should be able to detect without difficulty. The fact that Albus detected no such presence meant that the Dark Lord had not returned to body. He still existed in the sprit-form, a condition made possible only by the countless Dark rituals Tom Marvolo Riddle had performed to strengthen his magic and life force. Albus was unsure of how far Tom had been on his road to immortality, but he could not be killed like a normal man. The fact that he had survived the Killing Curse proved this. And that a mere ten years after Halloween 1981, he had returned to Hogwarts, the Bastion of Light.

More disturbing was the behavior of Albus’s Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell. When Albus had first met him, the young man had been energetic and knowledgeable, a fearless man who had ambition and power. What had arrived at Hogwarts for the teacher orientation had been an entirely different creature. The man was terrified of his own shadow. Many attributed it to a run in with a vampire, but Albus suspected a darker reason. He believed that the man had had a run-in with Lord Voldemort, and he feared that the man was now serving him as a spy and agent. He did not know if he had taken the Dark Mark, not that it was necessary.

The man’s behavior had been suspicious to say the least. Severus felt a burning in his own Mark whenever he was near, and a presence that he associated with Lord Voldemort. He confirmed that Quirrell had not been among the ranks of the Death Eaters at the time of Voldemort’s fall, but that the vibes he detected from him could rival those of Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, two of Voldemort’s most senior Death Eaters, both of whom were incarcerated in Azkaban.

And then there was Snape’s insistence that the man had nearly killed Harry Potter twice. Once, by jinxing the boy’s broom with a Dark hex so powerful that Snape’s counter-spell had merely bought the boy time to decrease his altitude and avoid falling to his death. And also that the entrance of the troll into the dungeons on the night of Halloween had coincided with the night that Severus had discovered a hooded figure attempting to break through the defenses surrounding the Philosopher’s Stone. Professor Quirrell had a reputation of being very gifted with trolls, a fact that did not escape Albus. In any case, the troll had nearly killed young Harry Potter, who had happened upon it on the way back from the library. On the other hand, the event had solidified a friendship between him and Miss Granger, one that filled a gaping hole in the boy’s social life.

And now the events of the forest. The creature that Harry had seen and been attacked by had been drinking unicorn blood. Albus knew the ramifications of this as well as anyone. While drinking the blood of a unicorn could keep you alive even an inch from death, killing such an innocent creature resulted in the drinker being cursed with a half-life, vacant of purpose and full of pain. Of course, if Lord Voldemort really did seek to obtain the Philosopher’s Stone, such a problem would be a minor annoyance; Tom had been living a half-life for many years. The man wasn’t human anymore.