Chapter 16 - Midnight Excursions

9th May 1992

"Fifty points?" Harry gasped. This was bad. Losing fifty points would nullify the points they'd won for the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," Professor McGonagall flared—her gaze darting between Harry, Hermione, and Neville. "I don't want to hear a single complaint about this. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students," she finished with a scowl on her face.

Harry's heart turned to lead. There was no way they would be able to make up for this.

It had all started when Harry and Hermione had taken Norbert to be smuggled out of the castle. On their way up to the top of the tallest tower, they had heard Malfoy getting caught by Filch for loitering around after curfew. Laughing silently at Malfoy's pleas to the caretaker that there were students smuggling dragons, both Harry and Hermione proceeded to their rendezvous with Charlie Weasley. Once Norbert was safely handed over to Charlie, Harry and Hermione had almost bounced down the stairs in joy—only realizing later that they had left the Invisibility Cloak at the top of the tower.

Professor McGonagall had been waiting down the stairs for any sign of them. Beside her were Malfoy—detained by Filch—and Neville—ho had been out after curfew to warn them of Malfoy's plot. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall had ȧssumed that the story about the dragon smuggling was an obvious lie by Harry and Hermione to get Malfoy in trouble, and that Neville had been caught unaware. Given that they wanted to protect Hagrid, Harry and Hermione silently agreed to Professor McGonagall's accusations. After all, there was no way to know if telling the truth about Norbert would make things better. But Harry had had no idea that the punishment would be this bad. The small consolation was the fact that Malfoy had lost Slytherin fifty points too.

"Now get to bed the four of you," Professor McGonagall snapped, before walking away. Harry, Hermione, and Neville walked their way to Gryffindor Tower without sharing a single word. When they got to the dormitory, Neville didn't give Harry a chance to apologise, drawing the curtains of his four-poster bed shut within moments.

Racked with guilt, Harry found himself unable to sleep all night. He could hear the light sobs coming from Neville's bed, but he didn't know what to say to the poor boy to make it better. And what would happen tomorrow, when the rest of the Gryffindor House would find out? Surely everyone would notice a decrease of a hundred and fifty points?

In one night, all the chances of Gryffindor winning the House Cup had vanished. The older students were not going to be happy.

One thing was certain. Harry pledged to not go meddling around in things that weren't his business.

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22nd May 1992

"So, what do we do Harry?" asked Ron, the light of adventure kindling in his eyes. Harry didn't think his pledge to himself would be put to the test so soon.

He'd just told his friends about what he had overheard. While walking back from the library, he had heard sobs coming from a classroom. When he neared it, he had heard Quirrell's voice pleading with someone.

"No—no—not again, please —"

Harry moved closer to hear to who was threatening him but evidently missed the next exchange. He finally heard Quirrell ȧssenting softly.

"All right—all right —"

Immediately afterwards, Quirrell came rushing out of the classroom, and Harry instinctively dived in to the shadows. The professor straightened his turban as he looked around the corridor before hurriedly walking away.

Once the footsteps had disappeared, Harry had peered into the classroom, but it was empty except for a door swaying ajar on the other side. The other occupant must have gone the other way, and Harry could have bet his broom that it had been Snape. The conversation was unmistakably like the one he had overheard in the forest that day, and it could only mean one thing.

Quirrell had finally given in.

"Go to Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, replying to Ron. "We should have done that a long time ago. If we get involved ourselves, we'll be expelled next," she said with a hint of fear in her voice.

"But we have no proof," Harry retorted. "Who's going to back us up? Quirrell? Filch? Or do you think Snape will happily admit to conspiracy?" Taking a pause, he added, "And don't forget, everyone knows that we hate him. Plus, it's going to take a lot of explaining to cover our knowledge of things we're not even supposed to know about."

"If we just do a bit of poking around —" Ron said, drawing out every word.

"Oh no, we have done enough of poking around," Harry snapped, before taking out his notes to study.

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''You've got to help me with this Neville," Mark said, frustrated with the book in front of him. Herbology was just so—frustrating.

"I can't make out the difference between Anjelica and Arnica," he said to his friend. After a moment he added, "Other than one's a blonde and the other a redhead."

Neville didn't even crack a smile.

'Oh, come on,' Mark thought, 'that was a good one.'

Ever since the big fiasco with Gryffindor House losing a hundred and fifty points a few days ago, Mark had been trying to cheer up his friend. But it was to no avail. The students were pretty angry about the whole thing, and they made sure everyone responsible knew about it. The only person having it worse than Neville was Harry, and that was because he was more well known.

"Yeah, okay," said Neville, his voice the most dejected Mark had ever known it to be. Taking the Herbology volume from Mark's hand, he started to explain the difference between the two similar-sounding plants.

Mark knew that he should have been paying attention, but somehow, he soon found himself lost in his thoughts. Initially, he had been extremely angry at Harry and Hermione, but after gleaning the bushy-haired girl, Mark had learnt that the story about the dragon was actually true and that the two of them were only trying to protect Hagrid, the kind gamekeeper who the young dragon belonged to.

This had dissipated Mark's anger, and he decided to chalk it all off to just bad luck. To be honest, he didn't realise why all the Gryffindors were taking the House Points so seriously. They were there just for an incentive. Not that it was going to matter in real-life, right? Why incessantly bully someone over it?

Mark had tried telling this to Neville, but the whole incident had affected him a lot. His friend had shrunk into a shell, bȧrėly making any conversation than necessary. Plus, since it was so near the exams, they had stopped their weekly music practices too, which further made the already shy Neville into a recluse. The whole thing felt very depressing, and Mark hoped that Neville would be able to get out of this mood soon.

A random noise from across the room brought Mark out of his thoughts and he realised that he hadn't paid attention to Neville's explanation—which was now finished. Deciding to relieve his friend from repeating the whole thing again, Mark just gleaned the information present in front of Neville's mind.

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26th May 1992

"Are you all right?" the centaur standing over him asked, offering his hand to Harry. Harry took it and pulled himself up.

"Thank you. What—What was that?" Harry asked, his mind occupied by the figure he had just encountered. As the adrenaline rushing through him trickled to a stop, Harry's thoughts wandered to just how he had ended up here tonight.

Professor McGonagall had informed Harry earlier today that he would be serving detention for the incident on that night. Dejected, Harry had shown up at Hagrid's hut along with Hermione, Neville and Malfoy. Harry was grateful for the fact that Hagrid had arranged for the detention to be with him; he must be feeling guilty for the fact that Harry and Hermione got into trouble for his dragon.

The detention was a trip into the forbidden forest, where they were trying to find an injured unicorn. Once they entered the forest, Hagrid split them into two groups; Harry and Hermione accompanying Hagrid in one, while Neville and Malfoy in the other with Fang, Hagrid's dog—who Malfoy insisted accompany him. Harry was glad that he wasn't paired up with Malfoy, but that didn't last for long. A few moments after they separated, the blond Slytherin had tried scaring a nervous Neville, who had shot off red sparks—the signal for danger. When Hagrid found out, he paired Harry with Malfoy instead.

Soon, they separated again and caught on to the trail of silvery blood left by the injured unicorn. As they traversed the dark forest, Harry had wondered exactly what had hurt the unicorn; from what Hagrid had told them, Unicorns were peaceful creatures who were extremely difficult to hunt. None of the animals in Forbidden Forest were fast enough to catch them. Malfoy speculated that it could be a werewolf—after all, there were rumours that a werewolf lived somewhere deep in the forest. But before Harry could wonder any further, he and Malfoy found the unicorn lying dead on the forest floor.

It was possibly the saddest thing Harry had ever seen. The unicorn's coat was bright white, gleamed softly in the dim moonlight, while its blood—pooled around it—shined a brilliant silver. It was a foal—its golden horn had not formed fully—and the sight of its lifeless face invoked a deep sorrow in Harry's heart.

But soon it was replaced with something different—a primal terror—as a hooded figure appeared out of the shadows. Harry watched transfixed as the figure lowered its head over the silver wound on the slender figure of the unicorn and began drinking its blood. A small part of Harry's brain identified Malfoy and Fang running away, but Harry found himself unable to move even as panic welled inside of him. And then it happened.

Just as the figure looked straight at Harry—bright, silvery unicorn blood dripping down its front, white-hot pain pierced Harry's head. It was as if the scar on his forehead was on fire. As Harry saw the figure slowly approach him, he finally found his legs able to move, but the pain in his head was too disorienting. Clutching his head, he tripped and fell backwards, dread creeping in as the hooded figure floated near.

But then something—or rather, someone—else appeared. A centaur came galloping from the forest and jumping cleanly over Harry, charged at the figure, which retreated hastily. Now that Harry was standing beside it, Harry studied the centaur more closely, noticing the white-blond hair and palomino coat.

Earlier tonight, when he had been searching the forest with Hagrid, they had come across two other centaurs. They had introduced themselves as Bane and Ronan, and from the cryptic and mysterious conversation they had with Hagrid, Harry found them to be fairly reserved creatures. When Hagrid had asked them for help in searching the unicorn or its predator, they had been unhelpful. Instead, they had jabbered on something about Mars being especially bright tonight.

But this centaur seemed different. Compared to Bane and Ronan, this centaur looked younger. Instead of looking up at the stars in the sky, he watched Harry with a piercing gaze. Harry was still waiting on an answer as to the identity of the hooded figure that had attacked him, but the new centaur stood silent.

"You are the Potter boy," the centaur finally said, his eyes on Harry's scar. "This forest is not safe for you—especially at this time of the night. Can you ride? You need to get back to Hagrid."

Harry just nodded dumbly, still half shocked by the events that had happened. The centaur knelt down on his front legs and introduced himself as Harry clambered onto his back.

"I'm Firenze."

As he got back up again, the sounds of thundering hooves came from behind them. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, along with a few more centaurs.

"Have you no shame, acting like a common mule?" Bane shouted, before proceeding to speak in a language Harry couldn't understand.

Firenze retorted back in the same language, his front hooves stomping the ground in anger. Harry could make out his name being spoken, but couldn't fully follow the conversation. The centaurs were obviously proud beings, and carrying a human seemed to be some sort of a forbidden act.

"Do you not see the dead unicorn?" Firenze finally spoke in English again. "You speak of the planets, but conveniently forget what else has also been foretold."

Bane grunted in anger, his hooves stomping the forest floor. Ronan, on the other hand, seemed to want to pacify the situation

"I do not believe it refers to one of us, Firenze," he said calmly. "The centaurs have sworn to never interfere, and fate would not demand us to do so now."

"Then you doom us to perish, along with the rest," Firenze snapped, before turning around and galloping off with Harry still on his back.

Harry watched as the centaur Firenze took him on a forest path different from the one he had taken earlier. Harry tried to resist the urge to ask Firenze questions, but couldn't stop himself.

"Why was Bane so angry? Is it because of me?" Harry waited for a reply, but Firenze didn't give him one. Remembering what had happened earlier, Harry continued, "And what was that the thing you saved me from earlier?"

Firenze didn't talk, and the silence stayed unbroken until they reached a clearing, which Harry recognised to be one near the edge of the forest. Slowing to a stop, Firenze motioned for Harry to get off. Realizing that he wasn't going to get any answers, Harry dismounted quietly. He was about to say goodbye when the centaur finally spoke.

"Harry Potter. Are you familiar with the use of Unicorn blood?"

"I've only heard of Unicorn tail hair," he said, remembering his trip to Ollivander's in Diagon Alley.

"That is because the Unicorn is the most innocent of all creatures. It is a monstrous thing, a crime against nature itself to have slain something so pure." Firenze took a pause, forming the words carefully before continuing.

"The blood of a Unicorn will keep you from death, but the cost is terrible. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain would be willing to pay it, for it will condemn you to a half-life, a cursed life."

"Who'd be that desperate?" Harry wondered aloud. "Isn't death better?"

"It is," Firenze agreed pensively, seemingly unsure of whether or not to continue speaking. "Unless all you need to do is survive. Survive long enough to be resurrected by something else—something that will mean you may never die."

"The Elixir of Life," Harry muttered, the pieces finally falling into place. "But who —"

"Can you think of nobody who has been waiting for over a decade to return to power?"

Harry blood ran cold as he realised who Firenze was referring to. Voldemort

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4th June 1992

"Dumbledore's gone?" Harry almost shouted, "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very important wizard, Potter, and he has many responsibilities on his time —"

Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat. His worst fears were coming true. Ever since he had returned from the forbidden forest, only one thing had been on his mind—the thought of Voldemort walking into Hogwarts and getting the Stone. Added to that, Harry felt as if Snape was an edge, almost anticipating something. As if he was waiting for a signal.

If that wasn't enough, his scar—which had pained white-hot in the forbidden forest—was now giving off a continuous throbbing pain in his head. Harry had tried going to Madam Pomfrey and asking for a pain potion, but it had had no effect. The pain was still there and coupled with the thoughts of Voldemort's impending arrival, Harry was surprised he had managed to give his end of year exams through the pain and anxiety.

Still, the thought of Professor Dumbledore had given him enough serenity. After all, he was the one wizard Voldemort had always been afraid of, and as long as Dumbledore was in the castle, the stone would be safe.

Plus, there were the protections for the Stone. They knew that different professors had set up different protections. Even though Snape might have managed to find out what everyone else had done, he had no idea how to get through Fluffy. And Hagrid would never willingly betray Professor Dumbledore.

But today had thrown all that off.

It was just after their last exam had ended that Harry had realised something. Hagrid wound never betray Dumbledore willingly, but it was possible he was tricked into it. Getting Hagrid to loosen up with the information on his mind was fairly easy; after all the three of them had done it themselves.

All he needed were a few choice compliments and the conversation to turn towards the topic. And if someone got something for Hagrid—something he had been wanting desperately—it would be a lot easier. Even more so if that something was a dragon egg.

On realising this, the three of them had rushed to Hagrid's hut, wanting to confirm their suspicions. Harry's blood ran cold when Hagrid said that the hooded guy who had given him the egg had seemed especially interested in Fluffy; and that Hagrid told him that all the three-headed dog needed to go to sleep was some light music.

Thus, they had then rushed back towards the castle, anxious to inform professor Dumbledore that the Stone had been compromised but Professor McGonagall's words had again thrown them off. Dumbledore had received an urgent owl, and he was away in London; the time was ripe for stealing the Stone.

Harry closed his eyes as the pain in his scar throbbed even more. He listened silently as Hermione pleaded with Professor McGonagall.

"This is important, Professor."

"What do you have to say that is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Ms Granger?"

"Professor—it's about the Philosopher's Stone," Harry answered, opening his eyes to see Professor McGonagall drop the books she had been carrying.

"We know that Sn— that someone is going to try and steal the stone —"

"I do not know how you found out about the stone," she interrupted, "but it is too well protected. Now I do not want to hear you tell another student some made-up story as a prank, Potter."

She looked at the three students in front of her and picking up her books, left.

Once she was out of earshot, Harry turned to his friends.

"It's tonight."

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