CHAPTER 32: DETENTION

A/N: Sorry for the break last week. I was on a vacation, of sorts.


A short journey and some healing salves to Malfoy's bottom later found the troupe in Dumbledore's office as mute spectators to Snape's epileptic tirade.

"Unforgivable! Arrogant! Just like his father!" featured prominently along with 'crucified' and 'expulsion'. It would be safe to say that Sparhawk was getting somewhat concerned. The man was a few words short of foaming at the mouth.

Dumbledore took advantage of a brief breathing pause that Snape provided to swiftly swoop in with all the grace of a pregnant cow and told the potions master to calm down, if for the sake of the children. This little suggestion left Snape astounded enough that they got a few seconds of reprieve in which Professor Sprout who'd been summoned, what with Sparhawk being a Hufflepuff and me not being JK Rowling, launched into a vehement defense of Sparhawk proclaiming the innocence of youth and the 'no harm no foul' nature of the incident. Malfoy junior was whole and hale, if a little sore and it had been nothing more than a children's game. Of course, Sparhawk must be punished, but perhaps a simple detention would suffice. She was sure the boy would reflect and grow. Before Snape could get his engine running once more, Dumbledore cut him off once again. And it was with something unexpected.

"I must say, I disagree with both of you. What young Sparhawk and young Malfoy here had was a wizard's duel, properly issued in front of witnesses. Why Sparhawk even showed great knowledge of Wizarding customs by throwing down his gauntlet!"

"He slapped my student in the face with a quidditch glove!" Snape roared.

"And then, he went on to win in spectacular fashion for an eleven-year-old! Congratulations on your win, my boy."

"I thought duelling in the hallways was illegal!" Snape screamed.

"Exactly, my dear professor!" Dumbledore cried excitedly now that Snape was catching on, "Duelling in the HALLWAYS is illegal!"

It took Snape a moment to process the implications of that statement and it seemed like the apoplectic fit would come after all. Mc Gonagall, who'd been a mute spectator till now, dived in to rescue Snape.

"Be that as it may, Headmaster, I still believe young Sparhawk should be reprimanded in some manner. It ill suits a child to think that violence is the first answer to every problem." Sparhawk was somewhat surprised at this turn of events. He thought that violence was the only answer to every problem, but perhaps keeping from voicing that thought would do him some good in the current circumstances.

Dumbledore seemed to stroke his long, twisty...beard for a few moments before he seemed to arrive at a conclusion. "Quite right, Minerva. Quite right. In that case, I believe something educational, say a detention, would be in order. Now with who, though?"

The old man stared back and forth between a murderous-looking Snape and a protective-looking Sprout.

"Hmmm, in the interests of fairness, we should assign a neutral third party" suggested McGonagall

Sprout nodded vigorously, while Snape looked like he'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And of course, young Draco here is also guilty of dueling, so he will be serving detention with Sparhawk."

Draco Malfoy grew even paler than before if such a thing was possible. Snape was building up steam.

"And they'll be having detention with Hagrid!" declared Dumbledore.

Snape exploded.


Pretty soon news of Sparhawk's rather violent tendencies had spread through the school and he was given a wide berth wherever he went. Not that he minded any of this. it was comforting in its familiarity. But what with that episode out of the way, he decided to find out what became of his recruitment into the quidditch team. Not that he was very interested or anything. It was just that Neville's nagging was becoming rather annoying.

But Supple, Rigid, and Oakstaff avoided Sparhawk religiously for the rest of the day. He tried to corner them, but they slipped away most ingeniously. One time, the three of them even exited via the nearest window. Apparently, Hogwarts had charms to keep students from falling to their deaths by defenestration.

"This is getting ridiculous" Sparhawk muttered to himself as the three floated serenely in the air, paddling their way to the nearest window a couple of stories down.

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport Father! Maybe they just want to surprise you."

Sparhawk shook his head and walked off to get his homework done. The sheer ridiculousness.

The next day, Monday dawned bright and clear and the three quidditch players were nowhere to be seen. Sparhawk decided to put it out of his mind and trudged down to breakfast with his friends after a nice shower. They entered the Great Hall, Sparhawk allowing the pleasant buzz of the school's population to wash over him.

As they sat at their table, eating once more truly humongous amounts of food, he was a growing child, after all, the post owls swooped through the windows. Sparhawk frowned. This was a near-daily occurrence, something he found very disturbing. Not to mention unsanitary. What was to stop one of the little devils from pooping on his plate, quite literally.

Sparhawk frowned even more. One of those was swooping towards him. as far as he knew, Dumbledore and Adelaide had agreed that it would be bad for her to send him owls while in school. Apparently, with a skilled enough wizard, there was a slight possibility of being tracked. And this one was also carrying a rather large, oblong, suspiciously familiar package. Whoever thought entrusting something so large to a bird so small was a good idea?

But it resolutely soldiered on, something he appreciated, to finally hover above him and drop the thing right onto their table. Some minor chaos ensued, what with soups and drinks flying everywhere. He reached out and gingerly lifted it up, using a few napkins to wipe the breakfast sludge off it. There was a note attached. It read, "This is your new broom. The seeker needs a fast one after all. Open it after breakfast. Love, P.S"

Sparhawk spied Neville struggling with the package and put out a hand to restrain him. The pudgy boy frowned but gave up when Sparhawk shoved the letter in his face. "Well," he shrugged, "It's not like you can hide it. If it's shaped like a broom, weighs like a broom, it probably is a broom"

"It's the thought that counts," he said and shoved it under the table. After a hasty breakfast, he and his mates retired hastily to the Hufflepuff common room to see what it was. Most predictably it turned out to be a broom.

"It's a Nimbus 2000!" squeaked Neville, reverent hands reaching out to gently stroke the long, thick shaft.

"Aren't first years not allowed their own brooms?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing.

Ever the stickler for rules. Sometimes she reminded him of Bevier.

Sparhawk flagged down a convenient Cedric who just happened to be passing by. "Hold onto this for me, will you?" he asked, pressing the hard brown shaft into the startled boy's hands.

"Sure," said a stunned Cedric, hands reverently stroking the...well, you get the drift.

"Can I try it out?" he asked.

"Sure" shrugged Sparhawk and he dragged his reluctant posse off to another scintillating session of learning about the theory of levitation charms. Never mind that he already knew how to do it. Courtesy of Aphrael as he'd told Hermione, of course.


Evening found Sparhawk watching as Hermione successfully performed the unlocking charm. It was somewhere around third-year level curriculum and once again he'd convinced Hermione that it was all the grace of God, or Goddess as it were. But even after these myriad gifts, he could sense that Hermione, while not entirely opposed to the concept of Aphrael, wasn't showing the necessary belief either. He sighed. Well, there was only so much he could do. Time would tell.

The clock chimed and he glanced over. It was time for his detention with Hagrid. His friends had tried to join him on that one, citing that they too had been party to the whole mishap, but Sparhawk and Dumbledore had firmly refused. He suspected that they just liked the novelty of being out of the castle so late in the night.

Well, I'm off" he said, bidding farewell to his comrades and walked out the door.


A snickering Filch escorted a morose Draco and a stoic Sparhawk to the Groundskeeper's hut, the light of the castle fading away behind their backs. The pristine night with its twinkling stars and the occasional howl of wolves was sadly wasted on the half-mad janitor who was busily muttering to himself about all the lovely punishments that the inhabitants of the forest would visit on disobedient children. The descriptions were dark, lurid, and saucy. Malfoy trembled in his boots as Sparhawk silently doubted the veracity of what Filch alleged the centaurs would do to them.

Not soon enough, the trio landed outside the door of Hagrid's hut, the warm firelight seeping out from around the edges of the heavy door. "Hagrid!" Filch called out, stomping impatiently as the cold seeped into his old tired bones. A couple of minutes later, punctuated by a few shouts of "Back, Fang!", the giant of a man managed to get the door open. A dark blur shot out from between his legs and made a beeline for Sparhawk, who expertly dived to the side. The blur, which happened to be Hagrid's great boarhound Fang, landed on Malfoy, nearly crushing the little bugger beneath him and since it wasn't afflicted by the same discriminatory vein that ran in Malfoy's body, it started licking his face. And promptly gagged. Hair gel was not a tasty flavour to a dog.

Hagrid, Sparhawk noticed, was toting a crossbow. The sight of the weapon suddenly brought to mind his dead friend Kurik. His heart ached and the night all at once seemed morbid and dark.

"I'll hand these troublemakers to you, Hagrid," Filch said, a greasy little smile on his face as he turned to the kids, "Watch out for the centaurs, now" And Filch laughed and cackled and coughed and gasped as he trudged his sad sorry way to the castle.

Malfoy was white as a sheet. Hagrid took pity on the poor 'un. "It's alright lad. Nothing in the forest will harm you as long as Fang and I are with you. And don't go believing everything Filch tells you. The centaurs are a prickly folk but be respectful enough and they won't stick their arrows in you."

Malfoy fainted.


Once they'd managed to revive Malfoy and managed to drag him into the forest, their travels became comparatively easy. The boy was so terrified he stuck to the half-giant like white on rice.

"Lately, something's been hunting the unicorns..." Hagrid began

"The what?" Malfoy squeaked.

"The unicorns."

"But aren't they really dangerous to anyone who's not a virgin?"

"Oh, aye, they are. Gotta be careful around them, else they'll kill you quick."

Malfoy was achieving levels of paleness that should not have been possible. " And we're going to be hunting something that hunts unicorns?"

"Aw, don't be silly, young Malfoy! Whatever gave you that idea! We're just searching for a hurt unicorn. I found traces that one of the beasts had been injured and we're just going to lend a helping hand, or at worst put it out of its misery"

"Hagrid?" Sparhawk piped up.

"Mm?" the giant responded, his black glittering eyes scanning the forest.

"Say I was a hunter."

"But you're not, Sparhawk"

"Humour me a minute here. Say I was a hunter and I'd shot a deer. Only it's not as dead as I'd like it to be and it's bounded away on its last legs"

Hagrid grunted.

"Where do you think I'd be?"

"Why, easy peasy Sparhawk! Right after it!"

Malfoy whimpered. Sparhawk nodded. "Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page here."

"But to be clear," said Hagrid, a gleaming in his eyes as he tracked the crossbow to and fro, "We're only here to help the wounded unicorn"


The path all but disappeared and the shrubbery grew thick and wild as they ventured deeper into the forest. Above them, the foliage laughed at the feeble attempts of the moon to penetrate its dense cover, and from around them came the various sounds of forest life.

"See that?" asked Hagrid, pointing to some silver liquid splattered on a few leaves, "That's unicorn blood."

Malfoy gulped.

Sparhawk was interested to observe that it closely resembled mercury. "Hagrid," he asked, in a low voice so as to not let it travel too far, "Why would somebody hunt a unicorn?"

Hagrid answered, not taking his eyes off the trees, "Lots of reasons Sparhawk."

"Lots of reasons?"

"Aye. Meat. Horns. Blood."

"Meat, horns, and blood?"

Hagrid nodded pleasantly, happy to impart his wide knowledge of wildlife. "Unicorn meat is supposed to be real good fer lots of potions Sparhawk, provided you exsanguinate it. Ollivander uses the hair in his wands. They say that drinking unicorn blood can make you immortal. But the act of killing something so pure means yer cursed to live a half-life the moment it touches your lips"

"A half-life? What's that mean?"

"I have no idea, lad. It's not like people go around drinking unicorn blood"

Sparhawk could sense Hagrid becoming impatient, but decided to push his luck.

"And the horn?"

Hagrid seemed to suddenly have something stuck in his throat. He tried to pretend not to have heard him, but Sparhawk persisted.

"Hagrid?"

The giant man seemed to be almost a bit embarrassed as he mumbled, "The ladies use it for...things"

Before he could bug the man more, something rustled and Hagrid spun around raising his crossbow while pushing the kids behind him with one meaty hand.

"Show yerself!" he roared.

Sparhawk had slipped a sharp rock he had pocketed on the way into his left hand. In the other, he held his wand. Malfoy, predictably, was whimpering.

The foliage parted and admitted a man. A horse? No, It was super...er, it was a half-man, half-horse affair. And oh very undeniably horse in the lower half. Sparhawk could feel Malfoy shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Hagrid greeted the centaur with a bit of relief. "Ronan"

"Hagrid" the chestnut roan replied, his gaze finding the children behind the man. Now if this had been a catholic church situation, it would have been the man behind the children. But let us avoid these controversial topics and steer back to a dark night in the forbidden forest.

"Oh, this is Sparhawk. And Draco Malfoy"

"What brings you into the forest with such strange company, friend?" asked Ronan.

"Dark tidings Ronan. Something is loose in the forest."

"That's nothing new."

"And it's killing unicorns."

"That's new"

"You wouldn't have happened to see something, would yeh?"

"Mars is peachy tonight"

"What?"

But the centaur was already staring off into the sky. Not that there was really any sky to stare off into past the dense tree cover.

As Ronan continued to stare off at a peachy mars, another centaur arrived. This one was a black stallion. Very undeniably a stallion.

"Bane" Hagrid hailed, happy to have someone else to answer his questions, "Something's been killing the unicorns. Yeh haven't seen anything, have you?"

Predictably, the answer was "Mars is peachy tonight." Technically, it wasn't the wrong answer.

Hagrid stared at the two centaurs, sighed, and herded the trio away from the pair. Once they were out of earshot, he shook his head disgustedly.

"Centaurs. Can't get a straight answer out of them."

Well, there were two naked men out there, so it wasn't much of a surprise.


Presently they came to a fork in the path. As is predictable in these sorts of circumstances, Hagrid reasoned that they would cover more ground if they split up and the Half giant trudged off on the path to the right, leaving Sparhawk, Fang, and one very terrified Malfoy to chance the one on the left.

Sparhawk took a look at the trembling boy and felt the least bit sorry for him. "There, there my lad. Hagrid said he'd stick nearby and all we have to do is send up a flare."

Malfoy, who despite all his fainting fits and nearly pissing his pants was still not inclined to drop the tough guy act. "I ain't scared, Sparhawk! But you should be!" he shot back, face stretching in a somewhat ghastly approximation of a grin.

"Pray, tell why?"

Now, bullies generally do not think that far ahead when making statements, even clever ones like Malfoy, and definitely not under this much duress. However, he was spared further embarrassment when Sparhawk shot out a hand to stop him, bringing a finger to his lips.

Malfoy ground to halt, and surprisingly enough, so did Fang. Sparhawk observed the boarhound, and it seemed to be mighty reluctant to venture onward, its head held low and tail tucked. He debated backtracking to find Hagrid, but that opened up the possibility of losing track of whatever it was he'd heard ahead. And felt. There could be no mistaking that.

He stepped back a few paces, dragging Malfoy with him. Then he turned to the other boy and instructed in a low tone, "Get back a ways, around a minute or so, then shoot a flare into the sky. I'll creep ahead and check out what I've found."

Thankfully, Malfoy did not think Sparhawk was trying to steal all the glory for himself and whatnot, and white-faced, he fell back, taking fang with him, nary a word of protest. That surprised Sparhawk somewhat. At the very least, he expected him to whine about being left alone.

Seeing Malfoy disappear through the bushes, Sparhawk turned to consider this development. He'd heard something rustling in the dark ahead of them and his enhanced vision brought about by his magical glasses had shown a sudden glint of silver through the foliage. But above that all, there had been the scent, the foul stench of corruption. And these parts, there was only one person who wore that perfume.

He slipped his wand into his hand in a fluid motion. Then, quietly, with no more noise than a cat, he crept forward. In no time at all, he was crouched among the bushes that ringed a tiny clearing, a macabre tableau set out in front of him.

At the far end of the clearing, beneath a tree, lay sprawled a motionless unicorn, a pure white coat stretched over powerful muscles, a silver mane that flowed down its neck, and a sharp horn jutting out its forehead. Standing it would have been a majestic sight. As it was, flank slashed open by huge cuts, breathless and lifeless on the cold, dark grass, it was a sad thing to behold. And crouched over its neck, making slurping noises...

"Quirrell"

Sparhawk grimly raised his wand. He didn't know too much advanced magic as of now which meant he'd have to fall back to the very foundations of dealing with magicians. Cold steel.

He sensed faint approval from Aphrael and surmised that was the way to go.

Pointing to the rock he'd picked up previously, he gritted his teeth and squeezed, letting it cut his palm. Once it was sleek with his blood, rich in iron as it was, he wordlessly transfigured it into a good old knife. A migraine started pounding in his head. Grimly pushing it back, he pulled back his arm and took aim, intending to paint the leaves red.

Now, as to the events that transpired, Sparhawk's best guess was that the migraine had made him somewhat distracted. He'd swung his arm forward, and at the very instant he released the knife, from out of the bushes to one side swooped in a great big Centaur and reared over the shade. "Avast, ye mangy aaarg!"

Predictably Sparhawk's knife had plunged deep into its equine buttocks. The centaur reflexively kicked its front legs connecting solidly with where Quirrel's head probably was and the shade flew through the bushes and disappeared.

Just then, a red flare burst blindingly above them, and the centaur turned, its somewhat familiar face scrunched in pain, eyes falling on Sparhawk.

Really, there was only one thing to do in situations like these.

Sparhawk pointed his hand somewhere off to his left. "Quick! He went that way!"


Around a quarter of an hour later, Hagrid, the boys, and the centaur, who Sparhawk was beginning to recognize as Bane, were gathered in a clearing. Hagrid was busily dressing the wound on the centaur's backside with some herbs he'd brought in his first aid kit.

"The cowardly swine!" Bane thundered. "he attacked me from behind as I was accosting his accomplice and fled when I turned!"

Sparhawk nodded solemnly. "Slim fellow. All in black robes. Couldn't get a good look at him with all the shadows"

Bane glanced over at Sparhawk. "You committed yourself well, youngling."

Sparhawk nodded modestly.

"But the forest is no place for human foals, Hagrid" Bane glared at the groundskeeper as he put the finishing touches on Bane's buttocks.

"I wasn't expecting everything to go so pear-shaped" muttered Hagrid, shamefaced.

"No matter. Get yourself and the children out of here, this night."

Hagrid grunted, none too pleased at the centaur's aggressiveness. "That's done. Take care of yourself, Bane. We'll be reporting this to Professor Dumbledore."

Bane neighed pensively. Mars truly had been peach tonight.


A/N: And that's that. No, I haven't forgotten the order of events. Yes, I'll be changing them around somewhat for it to make more sense to me and whatever I'm trying to say here. As always read and review.