Chapter 15

The following day, instructions were given for them to report to Professor McGonagall's office that evening.

"Since you five decided to wander around our groundskeeper's hut after curfew, your detention will reflect that choice," she stated sharply as Filch lurked nearby, grumbling to himself.

"Mr. Filch will escort you to Hagrid. He requires assistance with a task this evening. You are all expected to comply without complaint.

Am I clear?"

They all muttered acknowledgments.

Filch hunched his shoulders as he led them outside, mumbling under his breath about how much better punishments were in the old days.

As they approached Hagrid's hut, it became obvious that Hagrid seemed unusually downcast—and not because they were there for detention.

"Got your charges for the evenin'," Filch said as they arrived, then eyed Hagrid's dejected posture.

"You're not still sulkin' over that blasted dragon, are you?" he added with a snort.

Felicia glanced over sharply, as did Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What happened to the dragon?" Harry asked, more concerned for Hagrid than for the dragon itself.

Hagrid sighed heavily, his massive shoulders slumping.

"Dumbledore had Norbert sent off to Romania—to be with his own kind," he said, his voice thick with emotion. His bottom lip trembled. "He weren't causin' no trouble, but Dumbledore was right. Only fair he grows up knowin' what he is. Gonna miss 'im, I will."

Felicia's gaze softened slightly.

Still—dragons weren't pets. Hagrid's heart was in the right place, but the danger had been real. If Norbert had grown up here, the destruction he could have caused—even by accident—would have been catastrophic.

Draco scoffed loudly.

Felicia frowned and shot him a sharp look. "I swear, you better not make this any worse."

Draco turned toward her, scowling. "Oh please. How could it possibly get any worse? I didn't even think I'd get detention." His scowl deepened. "This is unbelievable—my father will hear about this."

Felicia raised an eyebrow just as Ron opened his mouth—only for her to beat him to it.

"Oh?" she said coolly. "Are you planning on telling him that you snuck out in the middle of the night just to spy on Gryffindors—only to end up in detention yourself for tattling?"

Draco's mouth opened—and then closed again, his face flushing red. He turned away stiffly, offering no retort.

Hagrid, pulling himself back together, grabbed his lantern with a heavy sigh, shifting into work mode.

"A'right, that's enough whinin'," he barked. "Yer all here to serve yer punishment."

He gestured toward the dark expanse of the Forbidden Forest.

Draco followed his gesture, blinking in confusion—until realization struck. His head whipped back toward Hagrid, his face paling visibly.

"Wait—we're going in there?! You can't be serious!"

Hagrid gave a firm nod.

"That's the job."

Draco looked over at Felicia, as if expecting her to back him up on how ridiculous—and dangerous—this whole situation was.

She simply crossed her arms and stared at him flatly, radiating silent judgment.

She hoped he fully understood that his stupid decision had led them to this moment.

Felicia picked up her lantern, suppressing a sigh. She would have preferred to just use Lumos instead—but that wasn't part of the first-year curriculum yet, and she was already on thin ice after last night.

"So… are we actually looking for something?" she asked, her tone calm but pointed. There was no way this was just a leisurely stroll through the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid glanced at her, clearly noting her sharpness. His face was unusually grim.

"Somethin's been hurtin' the unicorns," he said, leading them toward the shadowed trees. "Found one dead last week. Heard another one's been injured."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances.

Felicia looked thoughtful rather than afraid.

Poachers? No, that didn't make sense. Poachers after unicorn blood or hairs would never leave a body behind, let alone just injure one. It wasn't profitable—or logical.

Draco, looking increasingly uncomfortable, muttered, "And we're supposed to do what about it?"

Hagrid kept walking but spared him a glance. "We're trackin' whatever's doin' it."

Draco stopped dead in his tracks.

"You mean you want us to find whatever's killing unicorns?" he sputtered, turning to Felicia as if personally offended. "And you were worried about me making things worse?"

Ron groaned dramatically. "Oh, brilliant. This is how we die. Murdered by unicorn killer."

Hagrid, ignoring the complaints, began splitting them into groups.

"Ron, yer with me. Harry and Hermione—you go that way. Forester, Malfoy—you two head over there."

Draco visibly recoiled. "What?!"

Felicia sighed inwardly. Of course. The last person she wanted to be paired with right now.

"Fine. But we're taking Fang," Draco snapped, pointing at the massive boarhound sitting nearby.

Hagrid let out a rough chuckle, then handed over the leash.

"Fine by me. Just know he's a bloody coward... but he'll bark if somethin' dangerous gets close."

Draco exhaled sharply, gripping the leash like it was a lifeline.

"Fantastic."

The Forbidden Forest loomed ahead, the trees stretching into an unnatural, smothering darkness.

The night was too quiet.

Something was definitely out there.

"Don't worry, Draco," Felicia said with a knowing smirk. "We have Redscale."

Draco scoffed, side-eyeing the tiny dragon perched on her shoulder.

"Oh, sure. Because a fire-breathing menace is exactly what we need right now."

Hagrid glanced at Redscale and let out a soft sigh.

Felicia caught it and turned toward him, her expression softening.

"Sorry about your dragon, Hagrid," she said quietly. "If you want, I can have something similar to Redscale made for you."

Her offer was genuine. Redscale might feel alive, but he was still a highly detailed, enchanted replica—not a real dragon.

Hagrid blinked, visibly startled by the kindness.

His tough exterior softened slightly.

"Tha's... mighty kind o' yeh," he said, shifting the lantern in his hand. "Won't be quite the same... but I'd like that."

Ron frowned. "Wait—you're telling me that dragon isn't real? And you're gonna make Hagrid another one?"

Harry, still clearly uneasy about their surroundings, nevertheless glanced at Felicia with a newfound respect.

"That's... actually pretty kind of you," he said.

Draco, whose nerves were fraying more with every passing second in the forest, rolled his eyes.

"Oh, brilliant. We're all bonding over illegal pets while something's out there murdering unicorns," he muttered.

Hagrid straightened, his face turning serious again.

"Right. Enough chatter. We've got a job to do."

Felicia nodded, then turned and motioned for Draco to start moving.

He gripped the leash of the massive boarhound tightly as they set off, trudging into the thick shadows of the trees. Hermione and Harry moved in a separate direction, not far from them.

The deeper they went, the heavier the forest felt—thick with ancient magic... and something darker.

Something watching.

Redscale tensed on Felicia's shoulder, his tiny emerald eyes vivid and slitted, hissing low in his throat.

Fang whimpered, flattening his ears, pausing mid-step—and then slowly began backing up.

Felicia and Draco froze.

"Did you hear that?" Draco whispered, his voice shaky, his breath shallow.

Something moved in the distance.

Something big.

Felicia already had her wand out—she knew better than to be unprepared.

Something cloaked and hooded came rushing toward them.

Felicia didn't hesitate.

"Depulso!" she shouted, flicking her wand.

The figure was blasted backward—only to surge forward again, angrier, faster.

Without thinking, Felicia shoved Draco hard out of the way as the creature came barreling toward them.

Draco grunted from the impact as they both hit the ground.

"What—" he started to say, but there was no time.

The cloaked figure hunched unnaturally, moving toward them again.

Then—through the trees—Harry and Hermione burst into view, their path crossing into theirs.

The creature, catching sight of Harry, immediately changed course.

"Harry!" Felicia shouted.

Harry stood frozen, horror-struck as the monstrous figure loomed toward him.

Then—suddenly—a blur of white and silver rushed forward.

A centaur.

With a powerful kick, the cloaked creature was sent stumbling backward, hissing in frustration before slipping away into the darkness.

Draco, still flat on his back, stared up at the night sky, struggling to catch his breath. Felicia leaned over him, wand still in hand.

"What—what was that?!" he demanded, voice unsteady.

His wide eyes locked onto hers—and for a brief, awkward moment, he seemed to realize just how close she was. His cheeks, already flushed from fear, deepened into something else entirely.

Felicia got to her feet first, then offered him a hand.

"I have no clue," she said bluntly, pulling him up.

Across the clearing, the centaur was speaking—his voice low and serious.

"You should not be here," he said, eyes fixed on Harry. "You especially, Harry Potter."

Felicia and Draco exchanged a look.

Normally, Felicia would have been ecstatic to meet a centaur—they were notoriously distrustful of humans, magical or not.

But right now, all she felt was a deep, gnawing unease.

Gratitude, yes—the centaur had likely saved Harry's life—but also frustration.

She hadn't been fast enough.

Had the centaur not intervened, Harry could have been seriously hurt. Or worse.

Felicia's grip on her wand tightened.

She needed to be faster. Sharper. Better.

Next time, she couldn't afford to fall short.

Felicia scrubbed a hand over her face, trying to push the heavy thoughts away.

"Well," she said after a moment, voice dry, "we found it."

Firenze's explanation still echoed in her mind—though she pretended otherwise.

She hadn't missed the implications. She'd caught enough.

The very idea that the creature could be the Dark Lord...

She didn't want to believe it.

Because if that were true—then what had her father suffered for? What had Harry's parents died for?

Draco was dusting himself off nearby, still pale from shock.

"Yeah, we found it," he muttered. "And I'd like to never find it again."

Felicia, however, was already thinking the opposite.

Already plotting how she might find it again.

Confirm it. Confront it. Destroy it.

If she could.

Her fingers tightened around her wand.

She didn't know if she was strong enough yet.

And that—more than anything—was infuriating.

Felicia and Draco sat in the Slytherin common room, the space eerily still with everyone else asleep.

Felicia sighed heavily as she sank into one of the emerald armchairs nearest the fire.

The warmth blooming across her cheeks was a small comfort after everything that had happened.

But her mind refused to settle.

Scenes from the night replayed relentlessly—the cloaked figure, the near miss, the creature's wraith-like movements.

She ran through it all, over and over.

She had used Depulso—but it hadn't been enough. It had barely slowed it down.

Maybe if I'd used Descendo instead…

The thoughts spun through her head in the span of a breath.

Then she glanced sharply at Draco.

Her tone, when she spoke, was curt.

"The next time you get a brilliant idea to try dragging Potter down, don't."

Draco, still pale and rattled from the night's events, scowled at her across the firelight.

"Clearly, you don't think straight when it comes to him—and because of that, we almost got killed in detention," Felicia snapped.

Draco, stung, dropped heavily onto the couch opposite her.

"Oh, excuse me," he shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I wasn't the one who decided to follow that big oaf of a man who clearly has no idea what he's doing!"

Draco's usual slicked-back blonde hair was slightly frayed and disheveled.

He shoved a hand through it, frustration simmering to the surface when it refused to settle.

"And how was I supposed to know detention meant getting fed to whatever that was?" he snapped, shuddering at the memory and gripping the armrest tightly.

"We really could've died."

His eyes flicked toward Felicia, irritation laced with something unspoken.

She had saved him—again—and that stung his pride almost as much as the fact that they had been so completely out of their depth.

Draco huffed and crossed his arms tightly.

"Next time you want to discover some unsolved mystery," he muttered, "do it on your own."

Something flickered in Felicia's golden eyes, but she didn't let it surface beyond a cool, clipped tone.

"Don't tell your father about this."

The words hung heavy between them.

They both knew he wouldn't.

Because the weight of Lucius Malfoy's disappointment would be far worse than any school punishment could ever be.

On the outside, Draco would find a way to make it look like he'd won, like he was still untouchable.

But Felicia knew better.

Lucius getting involved wouldn't just cause trouble for the school—it would crush Draco under expectations he was already struggling to carry.

Draco's jaw tightened slightly.

For once, he had no sharp retort ready.

He knew exactly what she meant, even without the explanation.

Despite everything, despite the sting of the night's events, Felicia was still looking out for him—even when she had every reason not to.

Felicia stood and walked past him, flicking him lightly on the forehead as she passed.

"Goodnight, Tattletale," she said, her voice light but cutting.

As she disappeared up the stairs toward the dorms, Draco muttered under his breath:

"Goodnight, Nuisance."

It wasn't loud enough for her to hear—but somehow, he thought he caught the ghost of a smirk on her face as she disappeared around the corner.

Draco slumped back into his seat, staring at the empty firelight.

His mind raced.

This year had already turned out to be far more than he'd ever bargained for.