The Headmaster and Professor Snape had talked for a long time about what the children had seen in the forest, trying to help them remember every detail about the shade and what the centaurs had said. Finally, they'd been shuffled off to bed with a severe warning: "Do not transform again."
The next night, when everyone went to bed, Hermione snuck out. Through the common room, down some of the side staircases, and around the halls she slunk with a guilty pit in her stomach. But no one had told Firenze she wasn't coming, and no one would know if she just snuck back in later that night. She might be a little tired tomorrow, but she had to learn more about being a unicorn. Having a magical animagus form was rare, only one in fifty, and Hermione was one of them! She couldn't just ignore it!
But, right as she was about to exit the school doors, she froze for a moment. The school was too quiet, too dark for comfort. She wanted someone with her. She was . . . frightened. The shadows were too dark, and even the dark cast darker shadows, some that looked like people. The Forest, in particular, looked forbidding, and brought to mind the shade with the red eyes . . .
"Are you a Gryffindor, or not?" Hermione remanded herself in a forceful whisper. "Get on with it."
One more bracing breath later, she sprinted across the yard. The faster she could get to the forest, the less likely it was that anyone would see her from the windows, and that thought kept pushing her forward until she finally sprinted across the root of the first forest tree, indicating she was safe. Well, safe from discovery, at least.
Hermione looked around while she caught her breath. The forest looked even spookier than last night when Fred and George were with her. The shadows all seemed to jump at her and try to scare her away. When she jumped at the rustling of a good gust of wind, she nearly kicked herself.
"It's not real," she admonished herself. "Just a wild imagination. You're not changed yet, there's no danger. There's no danger." When her brain supplied the worried faces of her teachers and the twins, she shook them away. "They're being overcautious. Nothing has happened, nothing will happen."
A twig breaking made her scream and turn with her wand raised, but there was no shade, only the friendly, hazel eyes of a centaur.
"You are wise to be cautious, Hermione Granger," Firenze nodded towards her wand, which she hid with a blush. "The shade did not finish his hunt last night."
Hermione didn't want to talk about the shade. She didn't want to think of the reason the Headmaster told her not to change. She just wanted to ignore all the scariness and be a unicorn for the night.
"We can still practice, right?" she implored.
Firenze's always distant eyes focused briefly on her. "It will be as you wish."
Hermione felt like there was more to that phrase than tonight's practice session, but she wasn't about to ask. She just wanted to do what she came here to do and then sneak back into the castle with no one there any the wiser.
"Thank you!" Hermione tried to hug him, but the centaur put out his hand to stop her. "What?"
"It is simply not our way, these embraces," Firenze replied. "Our affection is reserved for those of our own blood, none else."
Hermione frowned. "That sounds . . . lonely."
"That is not for you to judge," came the stern reply. "Do not make the same mistake around my brethren, little sister. It is an affront to presume familiarity where there is none."
Though still confused, Hermione nodded. It would be hard to remember not to hug someone because everyone needed hugs in her mind, but she would try to remember.
Firenze motioned her forward. "Come, for the night is too short when you are young. Run with me."
Hermione thought, briefly, that she should pray for safety like her mum and dad did whenever they went on a long-ish journey in the car. But then, this was in front of Firenze and she wasn't really comfortable praying in front of people or taking too long before obeying their orders. So, instead, she transformed. Now that she was paying attention, she could feel the small lightness that bound to her with the transformation, the feeling of power that must have been more than the animagi magic. Maybe this was the special effect of the unicorn form?
Firenze coached her a little on the feeling of running, on navigating the trees. He even pointed out the stars that she would use to get back to Hogwarts if she got lost. With each step alongside him Hermione gained confidence.
"Do not run too fast, little one," Firenze warned. "Unicorns can easily outrun the centaur."
She didn't think she would get to that point that night, but she wanted to. She wanted to be the fastest one, the best. Perhaps it was left over from not beating Fred and George to their transformations. When the lesson came to an end, she solicited Firenze's help the next night too. He agreed, but with another warning.
"You should tell your herd of your travels here," he said knowingly, making her flush with guilt. "The unicorns who break from their herd break themselves."
Hermione didn't answer him even as dread filled her. But she could only shake it off; she wasn't going to stop coming, and she wasn't going to let them stop her.
The next night she snuck out again. After spending time there, the forest was less frightening than the night before and her skittish colt legs were gaining strength and agility. She even managed to go a little faster than Firenze. Again, he admonished her that she should not go too fast.
The lack of sleep was catching up on her a little; Firenze still got her to bed at 3 every morning—nothing she hadn't done before when reading a good book—but she was still getting a little giddy during the daytime. That's how she was when she got tired, she knew. Everything became funny or happy, and she tended to skip more. The twins noticed some and asked her why she was so happy.
"No offense, spitfire, we're glad you're happy an' all—"
"But we thought you'd be down—"
"Crushed—"
"Upset because of all this."
Fred and George were trying to be goofy, but she could see their concern. It just made her madder. She was safe, and had been the past two nights! She was not in danger!
"Am I not allowed to be happy, either?" Hermione brushed them off a little too curtly and went back to her dinner.
It was during the third night when she really got a handle on running in her animagus form. The speed Firenze mentioned didn't entirely come from her legs being better than his, but in the magic thrumming and helping with every push. It had happened twice, accidentally, before Hermione caught on and started using it with every step, every thump of her hooves against the damp earth accompanied by a flare of magic that thrust her forward. It was so exciting! She was doing it!
In her excitement, she forgot to listen to Firenze warning her once again to stay by his side. She felt him behind her at first, heard the strong thumping of his hooves at her flank, and that was enough for her to feel safe.
Impatient, stubborn, and overconfident, Hermione ran full speed into the forest.
The wind whipped around her pointed ears, her mane bounced and blew behind her. The trees were not obstacles as big as they were; the bigger the tree, the wider the space between it and others. Firenze had taken her to paths with the largest trees, making it even easier to run as fast as she was. If the wind wasn't whipping so much, perhaps she would have heard Firenze yelling for her to stop. Or perhaps he'd fallen so far back that by the time he had time to call she was gone.
It was too late. A shadow dropped from the branches and landed in front of her, a silver knife raised. Her exhilaration turned to panic. She was moving too fast, there was no way to turn in time! She was running straight into that knife!
Then, she remembered what Professor Snape had said; they couldn't tell she had unicorn blood if she was human. Before the glint could touch her, she let herself fall to the ground and shift. Instead of a black unicorn running into the shade's knife, a small 12-year-old girl landed at its feet. Momentarily, the shade had been denied its prey.
But it would not be dissuaded. The shadow grabbed at her and she was not strong enough to fight it off. A vile, pale, and cracked white face descended on her and red eyes glared down murderously. His cold hand gripped her neck in a chokehold.
"Turn. Back." The voice was commanding, calm, and slightly weak, but she could see the mania in his eyes. She shook her head and he shook her violently in return. "You irritating girl, you uppity little bug! Turn back, mudblood!"
"Don't . . . please . . ." Hermione begged desperately with what little air she was allowed.
The hand gripped her even tighter. "If you do not turn back, girl, your death will be painful and slow. As a unicorn, I can promise that your end will by quick."
"Please . . ." Tears were streaming down her face, and her vision started sparking. "Please."
He sneered down at her. "Don't you understand, girl? I'm Lord Voldemort! You'll find no mercy here. Unless. You. Turn. BACK!"
Hermione couldn't breathe anymore. Her face felt swollen, her ears were ringing. One thought, made during his proclamation, kept running through her head.
She was going to die.
And though she'd always been taught that death was nothing to fear, that there was more to life after it, she was terrified. She begged Heavenly Father in desperate prayer, Please, don't let me die. Please, I don't want to die!
Then, amidst the ringing in her ears, she could feel the ground beneath her resonate with pounding hooves. Voldemort looked up from her and, with a hideous snarl, released her. Her breathing came back in a small gasp as the shade of Lord Voldemort retreated away from the approaching centaurs.
She was lifted gingerly from the ground then by a set of soft furry arms. She still couldn't think, and she could hardly breathe. It felt like something was blocking her throat, keeping her from the life-giving air that could stop her panicked heart and lungs. Hermione was carried, heaving and gasping and convulsing at times, back to the castle by a hurried Firenze.
Before she passed out, she remembered seeing Professor Snape running towards her and taking her into his own, cottoned arms. She remembered flashes of ginger hair by her side. Then, darkness.