Chapter 15: Centaurs and Charlatans
He didn't find Hermione immediately. She wasn't in the Great Hall at breakfast or lunch, nor was she in any of her usual spots in the library. He looked for her in the corridors between every lesson-which seemed to race by at an unbelievable pace, so that each time a new lesson began, Draco scarcely remembered the previous one. The environment in the Slytherin common room that evening was unusually boisterous; overnight, Gryffindor had lost a hundred points, securing the House Cup for Slytherin for the seventh year in a row. With his anxiety over the morning's meeting with Snape and the prospect of what, he was sure, would be a very unpleasant evening ahead of him, Draco didn't feel much like celebrating. It was almost a relief when eleven o'clock approached and he could slip out into the quiet of the dungeon corridors.
The relief ended at once when he reached the Entrance Hall. Filch was already there, as were the other two. Hermione caught his eye and he could tell she was dreading the evening as much as he was.
We need to talk, he mouthed. She frowned slightly, but gave a short nod.
"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside. "I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering down at them as he led the way across the grounds. "Oh yes...hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me...it's just a pity they let the old punishments die out...hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days. I've got the chains still in my office. Keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed…" Draco let the old man's voice fade into the background. The moon was bright and high in the sky, bathing the dark grounds in a cool, white light. Above them, tree branches swayed in the breeze and cast long, eerie shadows that moved around them like creatures with minds of their own. When Draco was six, he'd read a passing mention of Dememtors in a book and asked his mother what they were. She'd never been very expansive, but on that afternoon she'd gone into great detail about the way they forced a person to relive their darkest memories, wallow in their deepest shame and pain, and the crushing, inexorable cold and despair that hung about them. That description had stuck with him so strongly that, even five years later, he often couldn't help reliving it when he closed his eyes to sleep. Draco had never seen a Dementor, of course, but these shadows were very like what he'd always pictured.
Beside him, Hermione gave a soft sigh of relief. Looking ahead, Draco understood; they were headed toward Hagrid's hut. He felt his chest tighten. After Snape's interrogation this morning, seeing Hagrid was the very last thing he needed.
"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started." Up ahead, Potter gave a short laugh, which caused Filch to turn abruptly to face them, eyes bulging unpleasantly.
"Think you'll be having fun with that oaf, do you? Well, think again, boy. It's into the forest you're going, and I'm much mistaken if you all come out in one piece." Draco stopped dead and grabbed Hermione's wrist.
"The forest?" he hissed. "Did he say, the forest?" Hermione gave a short whimper and nodded slightly, eyes wide with terror but jaw set in determination. Draco turned to Filch.
"I'm not going in there," he said flatly. "It's supposed to be forbidden, isn't it? And there's all sorts of things in there. Werewolves, I heard, and-" as if to prove his point, a loud howl sounded from somewhere in the trees beyond Hagrid's hut. Draco stopped cold, feeling as if whatever had howled had also stolen his breath. Filch, on the other hand, looked delighted.
"That's your problem, isn't it?" he said nastily. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got into trouble, shouldn't you?"
At that moment Hagrid came striding toward them out of the darkness, a large crossbow slung over his shoulder and Fang the boarhound plodding along behind him.
"About time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer a half hour already. All righ', Harry?"
"I wouldn't be too friendly with them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly. "They're here to be punished, after all."
"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."
"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle.
"Right then," said Hagrid matter-of-factly. "Now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don't want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."
He led them to the very edge of the forest. Draco hung back slightly, eyes drawn to the tops of the dark trees as if hypnotized, willing the terror to release its cold iron grip on his lungs.
"Look here," Hagrid was saying, holding his lantern up high. "See that stuff shinin' on the ground? That silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor creature. Might have ter put it out of its misery."
"And what if whatever hurt it finds us first?" Draco tried to snap, but he couldn't keep the fear entirely out of his voice.
"Draco!" hissed Hermione. She was trying to sound stern, but he had the impression she was more upset about him putting this idea into her head than talking back to Hagrid.
"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yeh're with me or Fang," said Hagrid shortly. "Now, let's go. Stick close now, don't want ter get separated."
They walked into the forest. Even with the light from the moon, it was darker than Draco had ever imagined. The darkness seemed to possess physical form, and Hagrid's lantern, which had seemed so large a moment ago on the grounds, was now feeble and pathetic against the suffocating arms and tendrils of the dark. They'd gone scarcely twenty feet when Hagrid stopped again, and Draco could see more patches of silvery unicorn blood along the path. In the distance, another howl split the air.
"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" asked Potter, with the air of one discussing the weather. Draco felt the violent, insatiable urge to do something, anything to shake that casual tone of his and make him sound as terrified as Draco felt.
"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one to be hurt before." And then, he stopped cold. "Get behind that tree," he said firmly. All three of them obeyed without a second thought as Hagrid raised his crossbow. Something was slithering over the dead leaves nearby, something that sounded like a snake, or perhaps a cloak dragging over the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the path ahead of them.
"I knew it," he muttered. "There's summat in there that shouldn' be."
"A werewolf?" suggested Potter, sticking his head out from behind the tree.
"Oh, say 'werewolf' one more time, Potter, I dare you," snapped Draco, before he could stop himself.
"You're the one who mentioned them in the first place!" Potter retorted angrily.
"Shh!" hissed Hermione, looking horrified. Ahead of them, Hagrid was aiming his crossbow.
"Show yerself! I'm armed!" There was a great clattering of hooves, and then a centaur bounded into the clearing. It was fully twelve feet tall and had a gleaming chestnut body and a long red beard.
"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid, sounding relieved. "How are yeh?"
"Good evening to you, Hagrid," replied the centaur in a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"
"Can't be too careful, Ronan. There's summat bad on the loose in this forest. These are a few o' the students from up at the school," he added, gesturing behind him. "This is Ronan, you three. He's a centaur."
"We'd noticed," said Hermione weakly.
"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"
"Er-a bit," said Hermione timidly. Draco felt as though his tongue had swollen to twice its normal size.
"A bit. Well, that's something." He gazed up at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."
"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing upward as well. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt-you seen anythin'?"
Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward for what felt like a year, then gave a deep sigh.
"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, and so it is now."
"Yeah," said Hagrid impatiently. "But have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"
"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated. "Unusually bright." In spite of the situation, Draco nearly laughed.
"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home," said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"
Ronan stared skyward again. At long last, he turned back to Hagrid with a deep, mournful stare.
"The forest hides many secrets." Hagrid looked furious. Hermione caught Draco's eye, and he could tell she was thinking the same thing he was: under different circumstances, this would've been quite enjoyable.
A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, this one black-haired and larger than Ronan.
"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid grimly. "All right?"
"Good evening, Hagrid. I hope you are well?"
"Well enough. Look, I've 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 and stood next to Ronan. He, too, turned his gaze skyward and considered for a very long time.
"Mars is bright tonight," he said finally. This time, Draco and Hermione exchanged a slight smile, and for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, he felt something like warmth somewhere deep inside him. Hagrid, on the other hand, looked very grumpy indeed.
"Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then." They followed Hagrid out of the clearing and walked in silence until Bane and Ronan had disappeared from view.
"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers, not interested in anythin-" he froze. There it was again, that slithering sound, this time accompanied by footsteps and the cracking of twigs. "Righ' then, don' move," Hagrid told them, raising his crossbow once again. "Yeh're teh stay here with Fang, and if anythin' happens, send up red sparks with yer wand and I'll come and find yeh." And, before they could say anything, he was gone, and with him, the feeble light his lantern had provided. One by one they lit their wands, but even so, the darkness smothered them more oppressively than ever. The minutes dragged excruciatingly by. Draco felt as if his senses were sharper than usual; he could hear every breath of wind against the trees, every cracking twig, every slither of an animal over the dead leaves on the ground-wait a moment. Hagrid had gone after whatever was stalking through the forest making those sounds, but he'd gone the wrong way. Suddenly, Draco had the nasty feeling he was being watched-a feeling shared by the others, he realized, as they turned to face one another, eyes wide in identical expressions of horror.
"Look!" hissed Potter suddenly, pointing off into the trees. Perhaps twenty feet away, something was giving off a strange, silvery light. Moving slowly as if hypnotized, Potter started to walk toward it.
"Harry, you mustn't!" exclaimed Hermione, her voice much higher than normal. He didn't turn or give any sign that he'd heard, and after a moment, Hermione gave a great sigh and turned to Draco.
"C'mon," she said, scarcely above a whisper. Draco froze, then shook his head.
"We can't get separated, you heard Hagrid," she hissed. Draco couldn't speak. Terror had frozen his throat and stolen his tongue. Hermione gave him a look he couldn't quite read. Then, very slowly, she took his hand in hers and squeezed.
"C'mon," she repeated. He had no choice. If he lost the warmth of her hand, there was no way he'd get out of the forest alive.
As they saw what had been giving off the silvery light, Hermione gasped aloud. It was a unicorn, and it was unmistakably dead. Potter was staring intently at it and seemed frozen in awe, and Draco understood. It was beautiful, but at the same time, his throat ached and his chest felt tight as if he were about to cry.
The slithering sound was back, closer than ever, and before they could react, a hooded figure came crawling through the trees, low to the ground and moving in an eerie, inhuman way toward the unicorn. Instinctively they huddled together, no longer thinking or feeling anything other than abject horror at whatever this thing was and hoping against hope that it wouldn't notice them.
It bent before the unicorn, and then, with a sickening wet, ripping sound, bit savagely into the creature's flesh and began to drink its blood. Vomit rose in Draco's throat and it took everything in him to push it down. Beside him, Hermione let out a high-pitched shriek. The figure raised its head and looked directly at them. On Draco's other side, Potter dropped to his knees with a terrible scream, clutching frantically at his forehead. Draco, meanwhile, couldn't move, for he recognized the face under the hood. It was the one he'd seen on the back of Quirrell's head that day in the staffroom. So he hadn't been imagining things.
Beside him, Hermione sent up red sparks, but she'd no sooner lowered her wand than hoofbeats approached them again, and another centaur galloped past them at high speed and charged at the cloaked figure. There was a great flurry of hooves and fabric, a strangled howl, and then the figure was gone and the centaur stood over them. It wasn't Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger, and had white-blond hair and a palomino body.
"You are the Potter boy," said the centaur, ignoring Hermione and Draco. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe for humans at this time."
"W-who are you?" stammered Potter, getting to his feet again.
"My name is Firenze," said the centaur solemnly. Like Bane and Ronan, he gazed up at the sky for what seemed an eternity. "Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?" Draco froze. Potter looked confused, but Hermione gave a soft whimper.
"It saves you from death," said Draco quietly, startled by the sound of his own voice. "It'll keep you alive no matter what, but…" he trailed off, searching for the right words, and the centaur nodded.
"Your friend speaks the truth, Harry Potter," he said, in his sorrowful voice. Draco and Harry looked at one another, then quickly away, shaking their heads in disgust. Hermione giggled to herself. The centaur took notice of none of this. "Yes, unicorn blood will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. It is a monstrous thing to slay a unicorn, something so pure and defenseless, simply to save yourself. From the moment the blood touches your lips, you will have but a half-life, a cursed life." Draco shivered.
"But why would anyone choose that?" Potter asked, still looking puzzled. Firenze turned his gaze skyward again.
"Mars is bright tonight," he said at length.
"Er-what Harry means is, who'd be that desperate?" Hermione asked, her voice slightly higher than normal. "If you're going to be cursed forever, surely death is better, isn't it?" Firenze regarded her as though she were an object of scientific observation for several long moments.
"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power? Who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?" Hermione gave a small shriek and fell silent. Draco felt as if a cold, iron fist had clenched around his heart. It was Potter who voiced what they were all thinking.
"Do you mean," he choked, "that was Vol-"
"There yeh are!" came Hagrid's voice through the trees, and he appeared before them a moment later.
"This is where I leave you," said Firenze solemnly. "Good luck, Harry Potter. The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times." With that, he turned and cantered back into the trees, leaving Hagrid to usher them out of the forest, thundering about staying put and doing as they were told.
As they crossed the grounds back up to the castle, Draco seized Hermione by the elbow and pulled her behind a tree.
"D'you remember when I asked you whether you'd heard of someone having a face on the back of their head?" he hissed, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard. She looked exhausted.
"Er-yes, but what-"
"That...thing we saw in the forest? I recognize it. It's living on the back of Professor Quirrell's head." Hermione looked at him as though he were speaking a language she couldn't understand.
"Draco, I-listen, it's after midnight, and we're all very tired, and we were all very frightened, and-"
"No, you listen! Last term, Blaise and I were fooling around and we got the idea to steal Quirrell's turban, all right? And-"
"Hurry up, boy! We haven't got all night!" Filch, who had seemed very disappointed to find them all alive as they left the forest, was glowering at them from the glow of the Entrance Hall. Hermione gestured toward him.
"Look, we'll talk tomorrow," she said firmly. "Now c'mon." With that, she turned and started toward Filch. Draco didn't move.
"Hermione!"
"Tomorrow," she repeated, without turning around. Draco stood rooted to the spot for another moment, but it was no use. She was gone. Sighing, he made his way past Filch and through the oak front doors. He scarcely heard the caretaker muttering to himself about students as he crossed the Entrance Hall and walked the familiar path down to the Slytherin common room, knowing full well he wouldn't sleep a wink for a week. When he reached the common room, Theo was sitting by the fire with two mugs of hot chocolate.
"I overheard Fred and George Weasley telling their friends they'd found out how to get into the kitchens," he explained, with a grin. "But I'm not telling you, so don't ask."
At that moment, Draco didn't think he'd ever been quite so glad to see anyone in his life.