Chapter 14
Return to Normalcy
7 March 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
Honestly, when Alexandra stole the Philosopher Stone from the clutches and obstacles of the venerable Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, she had expected the man who tried to be a grandfather version of Merlin to be at Hogwarts within a matter of minutes. Given the difficulty of the trials Alexandra had passed through (which she had done with four months of magical education), she had been forced to conclude some alarms and warnings had been sent to the Headmaster as soon as she set a foot in this forbidden corridor. It was the only thing which made sense. If her theory that the obstacles had been created to test Neville Longbottom, the Golden Trio and the rest of the first-year Gryffindors were accurate, then the Headmaster had surely put some kind of magical cameras or device to spy every student temerarious or stupid enough to enter the corridor. Perhaps, in her haste to steal the legendary Stone and pay back the old wizard, she had been too hasty. Methods to hide her presence would surely have come in handy.
Surprisingly, she had been dead wrong. When she woke up late on January 1 and went to the Great Hall wishing a "Happy New Year!" to everyone she met including the Weasley Twins. The Headmaster had not come back from the ICW event he had travelled to yet. Alexandra had been outright suspicious of this.
Surely, with a Philosopher Stone being kept at Hogwarts, Dumbledore would have a way to be warned if anybody tried to go down the Forbidden Corridor, or if something important happened at Hogwarts required his supervision.
Apparently, her idea of logic and Dumbledore's were not sharing a lot of common views, as the man throughout the year that had just ended had been more often absent than present at Hogwarts. Alexandra forced herself to remember that the alerts could be tied down in methods her magical education hadn't covered yet, and the Chief Warlock could simply bide his time before decisively moving against her. In that case, Dumbledore would arrest her as soon as he returned to the thousand-year-old fortress.
The reality was far more disappointing. As a matter of fact, the Headmaster did not come back until the afternoon of January 5, less than three hours before all the other students and professors arrived via their own methods of transportation and the Hogwarts Express. To Alexandra's relief, Dumbledore was still the same when he wished them a good year that evening.
Truth be told, she did not know on what foot she was dancing. On one hand, Alexandra was extremely relieved she had not been caught. On the other hand, she was a bit offended the protections had been so...pitiful to protect the Philosopher Stone. With Professor Flitwick having used a few simple charms on her to disarm and tie her in her last duel with him, she knew dealing with a professor in duel was out of her league. So if someone like Dumbledore had really wanted to protect the Stone, the job should have been really impressive and in a whole other league compared to her talents. Alas, all she had was suspicions and her feelings. Not exactly much to form a sound theory.
Alexandra left these morose thoughts when Hermione and Nigel entered the Hall this evening. Without them, well... them and the rest of the students, but the latter despised her, Alexandra had realised Hogwarts was not as interesting as it should be.
Yes, Flitwick was a great Professor and Head of House, but he wasn't around much. Anyway he wasn't from her generation, not by a long shot, and after everything in her eleven years of life, Alexandra had really found two persons of her age she could discuss, share her opinions, work with and help with homework or other issues. It was enough for the Potter Heiress to call Hermione and Nigel the first friends she ever had. Which had made her greatly conflicted about the Forbidden Corridor issue. Tell them or not to them? On the plus side, the black-haired girl felt ninety-nine per-cent certain Hermione wouldn't run to denounce her to Professor McGonagall, though the Gryffindor girl would certainly insist to give the Stone back to its legitimate owners. On the down sides, sharing her experiences with the two Lions would put them in danger should the Headmaster discover her rule-breaking. Hermione came from a non-magical family. Nigel had a relatively well-off father but of influence strictly limited to certain diplomatic and ambassadorial circles. Both would get expulsed without recourse should the authorities-that-be wanted to. In the end, Alexandra had decided not to reveal her epic and illegal adventure...for the moment. If something from the Forbidden Corridor became common knowledge or created an incident out of control, then the Potter Heiress would tell the truth to her two Gryffindor friends. Otherwise, she was going to wait until the Hogwarts Express brought them back to London. Albus Dumbledore may be a powerful and extremely knowledgeable wizard, but the green-eyed Ravenclaw was sure he could not listen everywhere. And most likely by then the area where currently a troll and a massive Cerberus were living would be completely empty.
After having passed a series of potentially dangerous traps on the first day of the year, the rest of January was positively boring in comparison. With the snow and the cold outside, flying was obviously impossible, leaving the first year-students to concentrate on their studies.
Potions, where the manners of Professor Snape had not improved from two weeks of festivities. Herbology, in the warm and damp greenhouses. Transfiguration, where Professor McGonagall's incident with alcohol had been hidden away behind her strict and demanding attitude. Charms, where Flitwick continued to cheer his audience. Astronomy, where the cold made the manipulation of the telescopes more difficult than ever. Defence Against the Dark Arts, with a teacher stuttering and forgetting everything. And History, where the two Professors were as boring as ever.
Normalcy had returned to the school of magic. At least in theory.
To Alexandra great amusement, Neville Longbottom and the rest of the Golden Trio had not stopped searching in the library for any trace of Nicolas Flamel. Longbottom had even managed for Parvati Patil, Dean Thomas and a few other first-years to search with them. She was told that had nearly given heart attacks to members of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff when they saw Gryffindor students going willingly en mass to the library.
To give the Boy-Who-Lived a bit of credit, Alexandra had read numerous books on the famous French alchemist, and the man didn't appear to be so universally popular in the British magical world as he was in the non-magical one. His relationship with Albus Dumbledore aside, Flamel 's last important research in the field of alchemy had been made public in the 1880s, which even for the long-lived wizards was plenty of time to forget. There was also the problem of his nationality. Most of the books in Hogwarts library had been overwhelmingly printed in the British Isles, with some exceptions from Dutch, Danish or German authors. There was absolutely no book printed or written in French, an absence Alexandra found a bit disturbing.
Even her first school had had some foreign books, if only to learn the basics of said language. Were there problems in French-British relationships or were the taxes to import said works from Paris too expensive? Hermione didn't find anything to answer her questions with certainty and Nigel wasn't in the know of diplomatic intricacies. After a few days, Alexandra let the matter drop.
Coming back to the search of Flamel, she was starting to find the energy deployed by Longbottom a bit suspect. As time passed and January became February, Quidditch practise of the four House teams resumed. Longbottom, as Seeker for Gryffindor, was playing Quidditch four times a week. According to the grumbling and the whining coming from the table of the Lions every day, Captain Wood was a tyrant who made Flitwick's tutoring look like a tender picnic.
Most of Longbottom's remaining evenings were spent with Black and Weasley in detention for various pranks and misdemeanours. If Alexandra had been in Neville's position, she would have concentrated on her studies, not searched for a name in hundreds of long-forgotten books.
The results were already felt. From the classes of Charms Alexandra shared with Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom was still in the lead when it came to the practise of new spells, but him and his followers were lagging behind the Ravenclaws when it came to the theory. But with the next match of Quidditch, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff approaching, there was little chance the Longbottom Heir was going to climb back in the ranks. At the same time, Potions and History continued to sink the average grade of the House of the brave and the courageous noticeably.
Professor Snape was on the warpath against the Lions and had since January declared his willingness and dedication to pursue a vigilant crusade against Longbottom and anybody who dared stand at his side.
Hermione and Nigel weren't bearing the full might of this conflict, but they too were consciously feeling the strain.
"Why do they try to antagonise him so much?" Raged Hermione with tears in her eyes on a Friday evening."Each time there is a Potions class, we lose at least twenty points! They aren't the ones who will have to gain them back!"
Alexandra was forced to recognise Hermione was in the right. Not that the Lions would ever admit it. While in Ravenclaw or in Hufflepuff the behaviour of the Golden Trio would have attracted heavy displeasure from the older students and the Head of House, it was virtually ignored in Gryffindor.
Alexandra won in average fifteen points for Ravenclaw per week, and was ignored for reasons out of her personal control. By her calculations, Neville Longbottom won probably the same number. Hermione won twice or three times that. Leo Black was awarded half of Alexandra's successes in points at the best of times, and Ron Weasley 'efforts' rarely deserved any point at all.
"McGonagall does nothing and lets the leaders do what they want." Hermione snarled in another of her rants. "It's a miracle the Gryffindor tower hasn't collapsed!"
Alexandra nodded silently. McGonagall had three jobs at Hogwarts: Deputy Headmistress, Senior Professor of Transfiguration and Head of House Gryffindor. The latter had according to Hermione taken a backseat compared to the others. It was the Prefects who were charged of the discipline and maintaining a minimum of order in Gryffindor Tower. A task they seemed to fail at by virtue of not even trying.
"McGonagall should never have chosen this one to be a Prefect!" Was a theme Alexandra was becoming very familiar with in the corridors.
While the 'Golden Trio' raised high the best and the worst the Lions had in their House, united under the same banner, the exact opposite happened in House Slytherin. Draco Malfoy came back from his home looking more arrogant than ever, Crabble and Goyle at his back. Theodore Nott was also on the warpath, followed by Vaisey, Flora and Hestia Carrow.
The power struggle had been unavoidable between the arrogant pompous blonde and the sadist black-haired boy. On the last Saturday of January, Draco Malfoy reached the Great hall to have breakfast when his hair turned a neon green colour. The Slytherin Civil War, as Alexandra nicknamed it in front of an amused Nigel and a semi- exasperated Hermione, had begun.
The power-play in question was brutal and over in less than a week. It very quickly descended into anarchy, had no cunning, and no discretion or any form of deviousness. Draco Malfoy contented himself to recruit three dozens of second, third and fourth-years with the money and influence his father owned, and to launch him at Nott and his supporters. The boys and girls in question were far from united and the students over fifth year chose to remain neutral, thinking it wasn't worth it to antagonise the Malfoy patriarch. Theodore Nott went to the Hospital Wing three times that week. His fellow first-years joined him at least that often.
By the end of the first week of February, Draco Malfoy had retaken his control and authority as the de facto leader of the Slytherin first-years. As Nigel had remarked more than once, being Alexandra's specialist in the subject of pureblood politics, using so many favours had not been a good move from a political perspective. To win what was essentially a first-year quarrel, Malfoy had just thrown away more influence and debts than a minor Lord of the Wizengamot did in a couple of years. Not very intelligent from any point of view.
Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, could afford it, as the wealth and the influence he wielded were second to only Albus Dumbledore in Wizarding Britain. Still, it gave an advanced taste of what would happen should Draco continue on this path when he ascended to the Malfoy Lordship.
Then came the moment when the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match draw near in the first week of March. As there was few tensions between the Badgers and the Lions as a whole, normally there would have been no serious issues in the school for the Quidditch match. These weren't normal times.
For the first time in five years, Gryffindor had the occasion to take the lead in the Gryffindor Quidditch Cup. In the other match of November, Ravenclaw had massacred Hufflepuff 290 to 110, which put Alexandra's house in first position for the moment. If Gryffindor won this match, the Lions would pass from second place to first, putting the pressure on the Ravens and the Snakes who played against each other at the end of March.
Winning this match was critical for Gryffindor, as the Quidditch Cup was one of the only things left for them this year. Traditionally, only a minority of the supposed House reputed for its suicidal courage and their partying shone in the academic field. Thanks to the Boy-Who-Lived and the Weasley Twins, the House Cup was unreachable.
On March 6th, Gryffindor was dead last in the competition by a large margin. Ravenclaw was first with five hundred and forty two points, Hufflepuff was second with four hundred and thirty nine points, Slytherin was third with two hundred and eighty seven points, Gryffindor was fourth with one hundred and ninety two points. Barring an extraordinary performance from Hufflepuff or a miraculous recovery of the two other Houses, Ravenclaw had a very good chance to win the House Cup after six years of Slytherin domination. But in the Quidditch Cup, nothing was decided.
As a consequence, the announcement that Professor Snape was going to be the referee of the next Quidditch match was greeted with stupefaction by anyone who cared about the sport at Hogwarts.
"This man is so biased it can be seen from London!" The Weasley twins roared in the week leading to the match.
"Snivellus is searching for any excuse to knock off points from Gryffindor!" Shouted Leo Black in a corridor while Alexandra was near. The class of Potions the day before the match turned to a series of explosions and cauldron sabotage and Snape was forced to dismiss all the students a quarter of an hour early to clean the mess done by the combined actions of the first-years. By chance, Nigel and Hermione were far from the explosions. In fact, they were probably the only Gryffindors not in the Hospital Wing by lunch. Malfoy and Longbottom undoubtedly had better targets in mind.
"Someone explain to me what the headmaster was thinking." Grimaced Nigel on lunch that day at noon. "Snape refereeing the match has pushed the Slytherins and the Gryffindors to fight again. It's like they want us to hate each other!"
"That's not really true, Nigel." Said Hermione with a frown on her face. Seeing the boy in front of her raise the eyebrows in disbelief, she added: "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore is a very busy man..."
"Isn't that the problem, though, Hermione?" asked Alexandra. "The headmaster is so busy he's never at Hogwarts for most of the week! I'm not sure he has noticed how bad the situation is, I mean, we haven't seen him since last Sunday."
Nigel nodded, snatching a potato with his fork at the same time."My father told me the same thing once. With Dumbledore being the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, he shouldn't have taken any other job."
"And he has two more. But surely he has the time to cope with the three, no?" declared Hermione, her respect for figures of authority coming back at the speed of a horse galloping.
"I doubt it Hermione." Said the raven-haired Ravenclaw. "Even magic doesn't allow you to be three places at the same time that I know of."
The noise of another prank, courtesy of the Weasley twins, interrupted the conversation. Afterwards the subject drifted to Transfiguration homework.
Still, as she left the two Gryffindors to go to Herbology, Alexandra thought Nigel had made a very convincing point. Dumbledore was too old, holding too many positions to enforce the rules every time he was at Hogwarts. Probably. The alternative was the old man's goal was to ensure the Lions and the Snakes remained permanently in a state of small-scale conflict, using Snape and McGonagall's flaws to do so.
Alexandra didn't see the point. By his blatant support of Gryffindor House, Dumbledore has made sure a quarter of the school belonging in Slytherin was opposed to him no matter what. Oh, the Slytherins recognised the Headmaster as a very powerful wizard, but the line was drawn there. For the rest, the Snakes were happy to call him "meddlesome old fool" or "old Muggle-lover" when there was no adult in proximity. Alexandra didn't see the point of alienating one-fourth of your student population in all the ways which counted. And that worried her. Dumbledore would not control the most powerful political block of the British Isles if he had not brains behind his exuberant and weird persona.
The Quidditch match which followed the next day didn't calm these fears even slightly.
"Here comes the team of Gryffindor! " Shouted Lee Jordan, as unbiased as ever when his House Quidditch team was concerned."Wood, Johnson, Spinnet, Bell, Weasley and Weasley and our magnificent Seeker Longbottom! Their victory would be all but assured today, if not for the presence of a certain referee we could all do without..."
"JORDAN!"
"Sorry, Professor." The tone employed by Lee to speak didn't sound sorry or bothered at all.
In circumstances like that, where the partiality of the referee was so blatantly questioned, it would have been crucial for the referee to act as a model of neutrality, forgetting personal grudges and Houses rivalry. Alas, Snape hadn't followed the same thought process Alexandra, Nigel and Hermione had in the stands, or he simply didn't care. After thirty seconds of play, the Slytherin Head of House accorded a free shot to Hufflepuff because one of the Weasley twins had sent a Bludger vaguely in the direction of an Hufflepuff Chaser. An act absolutely authorised in any Quidditch rulebook.
"That Bludger was ten feet away from this Hufflepuff! Where did the ref learn the rules?" Erupted Lee Jordan. "In a cauldron?"
"JORDAN!"
The boos and the shouts coming from the Gryffindor stands after that were so loud they almost drowned the sound of the comments made by the commentator. Not that it mattered, as Snape twenty-five seconds later awarded Hufflepuff a second free shot for 'excessive usage of force' when no Gryffindor player had even touched an Hufflepuff one.
The six next minutes were one of the most blatant spectacles of partiality Alexandra had seen at Hogwarts, which was saying something. Every thirty seconds or so, Snape gave a penalty for Hufflepuff for no reason at all. The Gryffindors in the stands were fuming with rage. The Ravenclaws, where Hermione, Nigel and Alexandra stood, were beginning to leave the stands, disgusted by the turn of events.
The Hufflepuffs were silent. It was a cold condemnation of the Senior Potions Professor's behaviour. Only some Slytherins were laughing in the public, happy their Head of House was helping the defeat of their hereditary enemy, but a large majority of the House of ambition were staying silent and harbouring stone-faced expressions, not amused by the spectacle so brazenly displayed.
It was a miracle that Gryffindor was only losing thirty-zero right now: Wood, the Keeper and Captain of Gryffindor was excellent and had managed to stop four of the seven Hufflepuff shots. A good thing for him as the recruiters from the Quidditch team had noticed his performance. It was less good for the other players, as the penalties and other interruptions made by the Slytherin referee made impossible to play anything looking like a normal game of Quidditch. Was Snape that petty to attempt the destruction of the future career of the Gryffindor team, Alexandra wondered inwardly. In her heart, she already knew the answer to that question.
BLAM!
Up in the air, a Bludger sent by one of the Weasley twins slammed in Snape breaking his right arm. With his only arm left in good condition, the Professor of Potions tried to hold on his broom, missing by an inch Neville Longbottom who was making a vertical dive.
"Well done George! Or was it Fred! I hope it hurt, you-"
"JORDAN!"
Alexandra had no need to be able to see the future to see Snape throwing a look full of fury to the Weasley Twin responsible and opened his mouth to award another penalty for Hufflepuff.
"Merlin's Beard! Longbottom has caught the Snitch!" Shouted Lee Jordan. And indeed, Longbottom has ceased to dive a few feet over the ground, and his right fist was tightened over a little golden ball with wings.
"150 to 30 for GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"
The stands where the Gryffindors stood burst in acclamations, and a crowd wearing red and gold went spilling on the pitch, carrying the Gryffindor team in triumph. Alexandra noticed even McGonagall and Dumbledore had went down with the rest of the students celebrating on the ground, with Dumbledore even saying a few words to the hero of the day. In the surroundings, Snape landed, holding his wounded arm with a black glare which made the Hufflepuffs near him ran away in urgency, and then spit on the ground. Classy.
The Head of House Slytherin looked livid and about to murder someone, as for the Slytherin students in the stands, they were silent and looking even more shocked than when they had been defeated by Gryffindor. Looking at her watch, Alexandra realised the match had lasted less than ten minutes. Perhaps not a record, but a good performance for any Seeker, let alone a first-year.
"This was not a good match, was it?" Asked Hermione, as the trio began to climb down the stairs of the pitch.
Nigel on her left side shrugged. "I've seen worse."
Alexandra almost missed a step at that. "I would hate seeing what you consider 'worse' in that case, Nigel." Seeing her friend turning his head towards her with a questioning face, she elaborated. "Snape was so obvious in his hate of Gryffindor he turned the entire match into a joke to make Gryffindor lose."
"According to the rules, the referee is not supposed to be impartial in Quidditch. You can bribe him too."
"Tell me you're joking."
"No, I'm not." Nigel rolled his shoulders. " But referees who tend to be too obvious when they advantage or penalise a team don't last long in League competitions. If the players don't manage to send him to the hospital before the end of the match, the referee is hunted by the fans until they think he has learnt his lesson. When you're surrounded by thousands of them in a stadium, you have better avoid that. "
"Lovely." said Hermione. By her tone, her opinion of Quidditch was now firmly situated somewhere deep underground.
"Matches can be funny too." Said Nigel defensively, having also noted the disapproving stare of their bushy-haired friend. "Every team playing against the Chudley Cannons usually take a moment to laugh."
"Why is the school so busy laughing about this League team anyway?" Demanded Alexandra. "I think I've heard at least half of the school mocking the Cannons since the beginning of the year. Even Flitwick makes plenty of jokes about them in Charms class."
"The Cannons were quite a successful team until the 1940s," replied the auburn-haired Lion. "They were funded in 1753 by Henry Chudley, a really famous Chaser who was fond of the orange colour. They went to win the League Cup twenty one times, the last in the 1890s I think. "
"What happened?"
"The Dark Lord Grindelwald happened," Nigel said grimly. "The Chudley family was one of the few British Houses in the Wizengamot to oppose him openly and went to fight in France in 1940. None came back and the House went extinct. After that, the team went successively to dozens of owners, and the quality dropped like a dungbomb. After 1960, the Cannons managed to take the last place in the League Cup ten times successively. And in 1972, they changed their motto from ' We shall conquer' to ' Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best' ." Nigel paused and then continued, this time in a more funny tone:
"In the last years, the Cannons have only avoided the place of dead last three times, and at each occasion it was a very near thing. They have become rather famous for their catastrophic performances, recruiting the unluckiest players of the League and suffering an incredible rate of wounded at each match."
"Ouch!" said Alexandra, feeling a bit sorry for the poor supporters of the Chudley Cannons. "Wait a minute? Isn't this team the one Ron Weasley so proud of?"
"Yeah" sighed Nigel. "He has plastered a lot of posters and banners of the Cannons everywhere he could in the boys dormitory. Can't see his wall without feeling a bit nauseous."
"Why? I mean from what you've told me this team is so bad they haven't a chance to win the Cup!"
"True, but as a result of their issues, the fan-club of the Chudley Cannons is now only consisting of Quidditch fanatics."
"Oh! And Weasley is one of those, I suppose?"
Nigel nodded silently before adding:
"Thank Merlin the rest of the boys in Gryffindor are not fans of the Cannons. Dean is a fan of a Muggle sport called 'footballe.'"
"Football," corrected Alexandra.
"Seamus is a fan of the Holyhead Harpies, Neville and Leo support Puddlemere United."
"What is your favourite team?"
"The Appleby Arrows. My father is always getting tickets and going with me to their matches when he has the time." Nigel frowned. " But his work doesn't leave him much time. And, grandfather, well, he thinks Quidditch today is a sport for weaklings. He prefers good old-fashioned duelling."
Alexandra and Hermione both gulped at that. The match between Gryffindor and Slytherin (and for that matter Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff too) had proven both girls grave injuries were likely when playing Quidditch. If you were really unfortunate, you did not leave the pitch alive. Never Alexandra had the idea to call this sport "soft." A fight worthy of Medieval times, yes. A sport for weaklings, no. Hell no. For not the first time, Alexandra wondered what was wrong with Nigel's grandfather.
These thoughts were brutally interrupted by the awful din made by a wave of students in red and gold carrying their Quidditch team towards Hogwarts doors in triumph. The clamour which was made right now by the Gryffindors had the potential to make a person deaf.
"Thankfully, I'm not a Gryffindor." Said Alexandra, smirking at Hermione."The Lions look ready to make a row all night!"
"The Ravenclaw tower is not far from ours, you know..." Reminded with a smirk the Gryffindor brunette.
"Ah, fair enough..."
As much as her two friends threw her thunderous glares after that, neither Nigel nor Hermione found it easy to show joy after that. For good reason, in her opinion. It was not even the time for lunch, but virtually the entire Gryffindor House was in the Great Hall busy eating and drinking the maximum of edible things in the minimum of time. It was not a pleasant spectacle, especially with some Gryffindors singing in voices which could have broken mirrors.
"Your House is going to venerate Neville as a God by Monday." Affirmed Alexandra seriously, seeing sixth-years leaving the hall with the Boy-Who-Lived on their shoulders to go in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Why are they so fond of Quidditch anyway?" asked Hermione with a groan. "It's just a game!"
"So were the gladiators in Ancient Rome, Hermione." Alexandra remarked."At least ours don't leave half the team dead at the end of the day."
"Yet." said Nigel in a dark tone. "When Snape left the pitch, he looked ready to murder half of the school."
"No, he won't do that." The green-eyed girl told Nigel, although in her own mind she was far from optimistic about the final issue. " But if I was one of the Golden Trio, I wouldn't expect a good mark in Potions for the rest of their stay at Hogwarts."
Their conversation ended as the noise coming from the Lions was becoming unbearable. Leo Black and the Weasley Twins were launching small self-made fireworks, and Alexandra left in a hurry to the library before the master pranksters of the school targeted her. Perhaps in definitive, their Potions Professor poisoning the most troublesome students would not be that bad...
8 March 1992, Forbidden Forest, Scotland
The dark-robed figure stood over the lifeless unicorn, small gasps revealing the hunt had been no easy task. Had it been anywhere else than the Forbidden Forest, the volume of noise produced by the confrontation would have attracted plenty of unwelcome observers. But in the middle of this dark forest, and at an hour the average humans and diurnal animals soundly slept, no one had been there to protect or assist the white-robed magnificent creature.
To be fair to the authorities who had completely failed their duty, protecting a unicorn was not needed in ninety-nine percent of cases. The pure white magic fuelling the unicorn was a formidable defence, and if it collapsed the magical legendary one-horned animal had speed and dolphin-levels of intelligence to evade any threat. Unicorn hair and parts of its skin were useless for witches and wizards if the animal had not granted the permission to use them. Incredibly useful, yes, but anything taken without authorisation from the pure being would be cursed thoroughly for decades or centuries depending on the offence made.
The vast and quasi-totality of the wand-wielders across the world had long ago arrived to the conclusion antagonising a unicorn was more trouble than it was worth, and the imbecile who was ready to do it deserved what was coming to him.
Yet there was something about the unicorns which was not common knowledge, but more related to the information hoarded by the practitioners of esoteric and immoral magic. Unicorn blood, if drank, had the possibility of stopping death.
But the price was awful beyond any recognition. First, the killing of the unicorn because none of the horse-like beings would authorise such an abominable act, a feat which darkened your life until the last breath and was the equivalent of drinking a full dose of the Elixir of Misfortune. There was worse. When the lips of the offender touched the blood, all senses progressively died leaving no pleasure, no contentment, no happiness, only endless suffering. Besides, the soul was from this moment and onwards damned for all eternity with no recourse. The remaining life of the perpetrator was going to be pure hell, and this endless torture would continue in the afterlife.
Considering the few things the witches and wizards had known of the Higher Powers which sometimes choose to intervene in the reality, this obscene murder had rarely been done, and then more in ignorance and stupidity than in true malice. There were prices to pay no one sane witch or wizard would ever consider. But as the dark-robed figure bent to touch the still hot corpse of the unicorn proved, there were always a few beings too far gone in the darkness to understand there were things that really should not be done.
The instant the lips touched the cursed silver liquid, loud screams echoed in the Forbidden Forest.
