He was a horse? No… He still had hands. A centaur then? But what's this on his forehead?
In which Harry really should stop with the ridiculousness of his life.
At eleven years old, in his first trek through a forbidden forest, Harry wasn't rescued by a centaur named Firenze. At eleven years old, Harry was rescued by unicorns. And that changes EVERYTHING. Doesn't it?
A/N: So anyways I couldn't help it. It's been simmering in the back of my head until I simply wrote it all down, reached out for a beta, somehow got one-thank you btw, I feel so lucky dear Beta-and just...spat out this Prologue for you dear readers. I hope you enjoy! I'd love to hear the opinions of you all. Fire and Ice and even the nice, yes?
Writing Notes: A group or herd of unicorns is apparently called a 'Blessing'.
Prologue: Ground turning Dark, Growing Cold
He was scared. So very scared. Scared so much he would have peed his pants if he hadn't already used the toilets before coming here. Draco had long since left, his screams attracting the attention of the grotesque being that now stood before him.
In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to send first-year kids in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. If only the Headmaster realised this.
'Too late to change now' were his thoughts as the creature had somehow gotten closer without his notice. He took a shaking step backwards, eyes briefly flickering to look at the twitching white body behind the bloodsucker(and this was a bloodsucker. It was drinking its blood for Pete's sake!). He didn't want to look, but he couldn't make himself look away. And if Harry looked any longer the monster would end up looking awfully similar to a human being, and he refused to believe that. No human could be as bad as this.
The creature took a step forward, a silver coated hand lifting up as if to touch him, and the growing headache in his mind grew louder, thudding in beat with his heart.
Wait.
That wasn't just his head, was it…? The monster paused, hand an inch away from his face. It looked up and the thudding got louder, slowly growing into a rumble, like the whole earth was against them all. The corner of his vision flashed white, an angry hissing and garbled words emanating from the hooded human, like some demented house elf decided to mate with a lizard and its offspring was that.
A spark of light appeared in his vision and it grew, becoming larger and larger until he realized that it wasn't a light. It was horses. Soft glowing that accumulated into a bright herd of silver shaded creatures. Topping it off with a curved, sharp, spiralled horn, it was the very definition of a unicorn in almost any fantasy book.
An angry snarl once again came from the disgusting thing before Harry, its sound giving the poor first year a stinging headache.
The monster withdrew, angry red eyes the last thing Harry saw before he was gone.
His eyes were caught back to the creature on the floor. He took a step forward, only to stumble, hands sinking into the moss and blood. He was shaking, that made sense, he'd almost died by the creepy monster and all-! But slowly he crawled— stumbled— stepped to the twitching creature, one that, in the back of his mind, he recognized as a young unicorn colt. Small hands were placed on the chest of the creature. Ragged breathing told him it was still alive. There was blood on its face, when did he-? No that was his own blood, dripping down his face and mixing with the already soaked fur.
Do something.
Something within the little wizard told him to help, to save the mystical creature, but he didn't know how.
Slippery fingers fumbled for his wand covering the wood in silver and red. With all the grace of an 11-year-old, he brought it down to aim at where he could see the giant gash in the colt's neck. He felt like vomiting; it was such a gruesome wound that he was a little glad that Draco wasn't here to witness it.
"Ep-" He stuttered, desperately trying to bring the warmth that his magic usually brought with it to the forefront, remembering belatedly how McGonagall had told them to use it.
"Episkey." The only healing spell taught to him as of yet.
Nothing happened.
No warmth, no light, no evidence that what he said had any impact to the creature. He dropped his wand. The silver colt— no not silver, white. Silver coloured by its own blood— gave a weak whinny and Harry's eyes snapped to the eyes of the unicorn. Something within them told him that it knew. It knew what he was doing, that he was trying to help and yet nothing was happening why wasn't itworkingnonono. He tried again, gripping its fur and closing his eyes searching, searching, searching for the feeling, for that spark.
Nothing happened.
Something in its eyes told him that it accepted death.
No.
With a strangled cry he reached forward, placing his hands on the wound, desperately reaching within— where was his magic— screaming the words out again.
"Episkey!"
A flicker of a flame, of warmth, of magic.
"Episkey!"
Over and over he repeated it, and that flame grew, wand forgotten in the dirt and blood.
"Episkey!"
He didn't even notice the blessing surrounding the two, a quiet thunder went round and round.
"Episkey!"
And finally, finally, it roared, pouring out of his hands in golden streams of light, his eyes glowing an ethereal forest green. Though he wouldn't notice any of this, too focused on trying to save this small innocence.
Too late. Too late, said the voice in his head.
Too late. Too late, said the quiet eyes, light long fading away.
Silence reigned in the forest once more, hooves going still. Magic going quiet.
And the boy was crying, crying because he tried and he still failed and maybe, maybe the world was wrong about him being so all-powerful, maybe he wasn't the boy saviour if he couldn't even save a single life.
...
Movement. Harry looked up, tears sliding down his face and hands still on the wound. The colt was moving. Feebly it lifted its head and the little wizard scrambled to move so that it laid in his lap. The horn, small that it is, was sparking, and the blessing grew restless. The silence broke and with it, soft thunder as every unicorn bowed its head towards Harry and the dying young.
Slowly, he looked up staring at the glowing horns shining brighter and brighter. Were they taking revenge? Punishing him for not saving their own? It didn't matter, he would probably do the same. "I'm sorry…" He whispered, not bothering with wiping away the tears. It would be over anyway. He stared down, looking to the small unicorn, to the fading light, to the sparks, to the magic that still swirled around him. Magic that now danced with the ancient forest.
Flickering sparks. His head was burning. His vision blurred.
The little life disappeared, and the forest breathed again.
I'm so sorry…
Harry's world turned dark.