In the days following their late-night misadventure with Hagrid and the loss of one hundred and fifty points for Gryffindor in a single night, turning them into social pariahs, mist clung against the high windows of the Great Hall. Owls swooped between the rafters, dropping letters and packages amid the clatter of spoons and sleepy chatter. Three brown envelopes landed in quick succession: one in front of Harry, one before Hermione, and one nearly in Neville's porridge.
Each note read the same:
Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight.
Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.
Signed, Professor McGonagall
Harry blinked at the parchment. He had nearly forgotten about the detention in the chaos of losing fifty points. Hermione, for once, didn't say a word. She folded her letter quietly and tucked it into her bag. Harry saw the faint tension in her jaw and guessed she, like him, felt they deserved it.
That night, as the clock in the common room chimed the eleventh hour, Harry rose from the sofa. Ron stood with him, but not to follow. He hesitated by the fireplace, chewing the edge of his thumb.
"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asked.
Harry shook his head. "You weren't the one who got caught."
Neville joined them a moment later, clutching his cloak too tightly. His fingers fumbled with the fastenings. Hermione appeared with her scarf already wrapped twice around her neck.
Together, the three descended the staircases, their footsteps quiet on the stone. Filch waited in the entrance hall, lantern swinging in his hand. The moment he saw them, his mouth twisted.
"Out past curfew, thinking you were clever," he rasped. "Let's see if the forest makes heroes of you."
As he led them out of the castle, the wind slapped their faces, damp with spring chill. Harry tucked his hands into his sleeves. Neville sniffled quietly behind him.
Filch was still muttering. "I remember when we strung them up by their ankles for this. Nothing like a good flogging to teach discipline."
The Forbidden Forest loomed ahead, black and motionless against the sky. Clouds parted just enough for moonlight to spill across the snow. The lamps of Hagrid's hut glowed dim in the distance.
Then, a howl broke the silence.
Hermione startled. Without thinking, her hand shot out and caught Harry's sleeve before she could stop herself. Her fingers gripped tightly. Harry turned his head, startled, but didn't pull away.
"Exciting, isn't it?" she said quickly, voice an octave too high.
He should have teased her for that. But instead, something inside him stilled.
"Nothing's going to happen to you," he said quietly. The words came without thinking, like breathing.
Hermione glanced at him, wide-eyed. She didn't let go of his sleeve.
The howl faded into the trees. They walked on in silence.
Ahead, the door to Hagrid's hut creaked open. A massive shape emerged, crossbow in hand and Fang bounding ahead. Hagrid strode toward them, boots squelching softly against damp leaves.
"'Bout time," he said. "Bin waitin' half an hour. Evenin', Harry. Evenin', Hermione."
"Don't get friendly," Filch snapped. "They're here to be punished."
"I'll be doin' the punishin'," said Hagrid gruffly. "You can run back to yer chains now, Filch."
Filch sniffed, threw them one last glare, and retreated into the night.
Then Malfoy appeared, looking pale and thoroughly annoyed. He pulled his cloak tighter and said flatly, "You've got to be joking."
"We're goin' inter the forest," said Hagrid. "All of yeh. Summat's been hurtin' the unicorns. We gotta find out what."
Malfoy's mouth opened in protest. "The forest? My father—"
"Tell him," Hagrid growled. "Tell him yeh refused school punishment an' got yerself expelled."
Malfoy scowled, but said nothing more.
Hagrid led them to the very edge of the trees. The branches stretched wide like claws, and dew beaded on every pine needle.
"See that there?" Hagrid said grimly, pointin' to the ground. "That silver stuff's unicorn blood. We're gonna follow the trail. Whatever's hurtin' 'em's gotta be stopped."
Behind him, Hermione still held Harry's sleeve. He didn't say anything. He didn't want her to let go.
They walked deeper into the Forbidden Forest, the trees pressing closer on either side. The last of the moonlight barely touched the path now, their lanterns the only glow between ancient trunks. Dead leaves rustled beneath their feet. Somewhere far off, an owl cried out.
At a bend in the trail, Hagrid stopped.
"Right. This's where we split up," said Hagrid, lowerin' his lantern. "Blood trail forks both ways. We'll cover more ground if we split."
Malfoy shifted beside Neville. "We're going in alone?"
"Nope," said Hagrid. "Two groups. Me, Harry, an' Hermione'll take the left. Neville an' Malfoy, you go right."
"I'm taking the dog," Malfoy snapped, already tugging at Fang's collar.
"Take him if yeh want," muttered Hagrid. "But don' expect him ter do much. He's a big coward, Fang is."
Malfoy stepped closer to Fang, already tugging the scruff of his neck. Neville looked uneasy.
"We'll be close," said Hagrid, lowering his voice. "If yeh spot the unicorn, send up green sparks. If yeh get in trouble, red ones. Got it?"
Hermione gave a small nod, raising her wand. Harry did the same. Neville's wand was already out. He was gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.
Malfoy gave Neville a shove toward the path. "Try not to trip over your own feet," he muttered.
Neville flinched but didn't argue. He gave Harry a look that landed somewhere between pleading and panic, then followed, clutching his father's wand like a lifeline.
They watched the two figures and the dog disappear between the trees, lantern glow flickering through the branches. Hagrid waited until the sound of crunching leaves faded.
"Right," he said at last. "Let's go the other way. Keep your eyes peeled."
Hermione lingered a moment longer, glancing back in the direction Neville had gone. Her brow furrowed.
"He'll be alright," Harry said quietly.
She nodded, then fell in beside him.
The forest closed in around them. Thick roots jutted from the ground like ribs, and branches tangled overhead until only slivers of moonlight slipped through. The air smelled of wet bark and cold stone.
Harry walked in front beside Hagrid, Hermione just behind him. Her hand stayed close to his sleeve, sometimes brushing it again when leaves rustled or a branch cracked above them. Harry didn't mind. He understood.
They moved slowly, eyes sweeping the path.
"There," Hermione whispered.
Pale silver streaks glistened on the earth, curling through the leaves like veins of moonlight. Hagrid knelt beside them, squinting.
"Fresh," he muttered. "Unicorn blood. Poor beast's hurt bad."
Hermione leaned closer to Harry without realizing it. He could feel the warmth of her presence against his arm.
"Do you think it's still alive?" she asked softly.
"Hard ter say," Hagrid said, rising. "But whatever did this... still out here, I reckon."
The quiet stretched.
Then came a sound like dragging cloth. It was soft, but wrong.
Hagrid froze. He raised the crossbow in one hand and with the other, shoved Harry and Hermione behind the thick trunk of a nearby tree. He held his breath. So did they.
The sound moved past slowly, steady and low, brushing through the leaves like fabric.
Hermione pressed into Harry's side, her breath shallow against his shoulder. Her hand clutched his sleeve again, tighter than before. Harry kept his wand raised. She didn't speak, and neither did he.
Eventually, the noise faded. Hagrid stepped out, peering through the trees.
"Somethin's out there," he muttered. "That weren't no unicorn. An' not a werewolf either."
They continued, slower now. Even Fang, somewhere in the trees with Neville and Malfoy, had gone silent.
Hermione still hadn't let go.
She whispered, "Do you think that was what's been hunting them?"
Harry nodded once. "Probably."
They came to a small clearing ringed with thick undergrowth. Something stirred ahead.
"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself. I'm armed."
A shape emerged from the shadows. Human from the waist up, horse from the waist down. His coat was chestnut, his beard red, his expression unreadable.
"Ronan," Hagrid said with relief, lowering his crossbow.
The centaur gave a nod. "Good evening, Hagrid."
"These two are students," Hagrid said, jerking a thumb behind him. "Harry an' Hermione."
"Students," Ronan repeated. "So young still. Do you learn much, up at the school?"
"A bit," Hermione answered softly.
Ronan lifted his gaze to the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."
Hagrid frowned. "You seen anythin' odd? Another unicorn's been hurt."
Ronan didn't reply at once. His eyes stayed on the stars. "Always the innocent are the first to suffer. It has always been so."
Before Hagrid could answer, another figure entered the clearing. This centaur's coat was black, his eyes sharp and glinting in the dark.
"Bane," Hagrid said. "Any sign of what's attackin' the unicorns?"
Bane barely looked at them. "Mars is bright tonight," he said again, as though the answer was already written above them.
Harry shifted. Hermione's grip finally eased, though she stayed close, still watchful.
Hagrid let out a long breath. "Right then. I can take a hint. Come on."
As they turned to leave, Hermione looked back. The centaurs had not moved. They only watched the stars, unmoving, statues beneath the branches.
"Strange," she whispered. "It's like they already know."
They moved on. The path narrowed. Brambles hooked at their cloaks, and the silence became heavier.
Behind them, the clearing disappeared into shadow.
Ahead, a howl rose in the distance, sharp and lonely.
Hermione flinched. Her fingers brushed Harry's knuckles this time. He glanced at her and gave a small nod.
Then, up ahead, a burst of red flared through the treetops.
Hermione startled. "Hagrid, look! Red sparks."
Harry's chest tightened. "Neville..."
"You two stay put," Hagrid ordered. "Don't move from this path."
Without another word, he plunged into the undergrowth, branches cracking in his wake until the sounds faded entirely. The woods felt heavier after he left, as if the trees were holding their breath.
Hermione's hand clutched tighter. Her breathing quickened. Leaves shivered overhead in a faint breeze.
"I don't care if Malfoy got hurt," Harry said. "But if something happened to Neville... it's our fault he's here."
Hermione turned toward him. "It's not your fault. Malfoy set him up."
Harry didn't answer. He watched the path, alert, his wand drawn. Hermione remained at his side, silent, her hand still resting against him.
Time crawled. Every rustle felt loud. Every shift of wind seemed to bring something closer.
At last, Hagrid emerged from the brush. Fang bounded beside him. Behind them came Neville, pale and shaking, and Malfoy, looking annoyed and tugging twigs out of his sleeves.
"What happened?" Hermione asked.
Hagrid's brow was furrowed. "Malfoy thought it'd be funny sneakin' up on Neville. Poor lad panicked and sent up the sparks."
Hermione snapped on Malfoy, her eyes flashing. "You could've put him in real danger."
Malfoy scoffed and looked away. "It was a joke. How was I supposed to know he'd go off like that?"
Neville's voice was quiet, but firm. "It wasn't funny."
Harry took a step forward, fists clenched, but Hagrid stepped between them with a grunt.
"Enough. We've still got a job ter do."
He glanced over the group, then made his decision. "Neville, you'll come with me and Hermione. Harry, you're with Malfoy and Fang."
Hermione turned sharply. "Why split us like that?"
Hagrid lowered his voice. "Neville's jumpy. I need him steady. And Harry can hold his own."
Hermione hesitated. She looked at Neville, who wiped his nose on his sleeve and blinked hard.
She crossed to Harry and took his wrist. Her grip was tight and warm.
"Watch yourself."
Harry met her eyes and nodded. "You too."
Malfoy, already stepping onto the path, let out a loud sigh. "Can we get on with it?"
Fang followed behind him, whining softly, his tail tucked between his legs.
Hermione watched them disappear into the dark, lips pressed into a line.
Neville stood beside her, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. She reached out and touched his arm gently. He flinched, then gave a quick nod, not meeting her gaze.
Somewhere behind them, fabric rustled.
Hermione turned and caught Neville and Malfoy stepping hastily apart, looking anywhere but at each other. In the earlier panic, they must have grabbed hold without thinking.
Neville quickly dusted pine needles from his front, ears burning red.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You two all right?"
Neville muttered, "He nearly flattened me."
Malfoy sniffed. "You shrieked like a kicked Puffskein."
Neville let out a surprised bark of laughter. It came out too loud and died almost instantly. He looked down again, but a smile ghosted across his lips.
Hermione glanced back at him. He wasn't looking at Malfoy. His eyes followed the direction Harry had gone, lingering in the dark gap where the path had swallowed him.
She saw it, just for a moment. The small, quiet shift in Neville's face. Something like longing. Something like admiration.
Hagrid slung his crossbow back over his shoulder.
"Right. Best we keep movin'."
Trunks crowded close, bark damp against their sleeves.
Harry moved silently, his wand held steady before him. The dim glow at its tip barely reached the edges of the path. Trees arched overhead like skeletal arms, their tangled branches blotting out the moonlight. The further they walked, the thicker the shadows grew.
Malfoy trudged a pace behind, muttering under his breath and swatting at invisible things brushing past his sleeves. Fang padded beside them, letting out soft snorts as he sniffed at the earth. Harry stayed close to the dog, trusting his senses more than Malfoy's complaints. He had a feeling Fang was more alert than he let on.
"Stupid punishment," Malfoy grumbled. "This is servant work. My father'll—"
Harry didn't let him finish. "Your father's not here. So shut it."
Malfoy glared, but fell silent. Even he seemed to understand there were worse things than losing an argument tonight.
They followed the trail of silvery stains, spattered in thin, metallic streaks across the leaves and roots. But now the marks were thicker. Congealed in places. Harry's stomach twisted.
He held out an arm, halting Malfoy without a word.
Just ahead, through a break in the trees, a shimmer of pale white glowed faintly beneath the branches of an ancient oak. They edged closer, breath shallow.
It was the unicorn.
Its body lay motionless in a bed of dead leaves, legs twisted where it had collapsed. The silver mane fanned out around it like silk, luminous even in the darkness. There was no movement. No sound. Only the soft rustle of wind in the trees.
Malfoy stayed back. For once, he had nothing to say.
Harry stepped forward. He had lowered his wand when a sound stopped him cold. A slow, slithering hush through the underbrush. Leaves trembled.
A shape emerged from the shadows.
It crawled into the clearing, hunched and cloaked, its limbs moving unnaturally, scraping the ground like a dying thing. Harry froze, breath caught sharp in his throat. The figure reached the unicorn and lowered its head over the wound.
Then came the sound. A soft, wet lapping.
It was drinking the blood.
Harry froze, breath caught sharp in his throat. Thought guttered out as he watched the thing creep forward. Its movements twitched with an awful hunger, the hood tilting at an angle like a broken neck. A chill worked through him, marrow-deep.
Behind him, Malfoy screamed. Fang barked once, then bolted into the trees.
Harry remained.
The figure lifted its face. Under the hood, something pale gleamed, lips dark with blood. It looked straight at him.
The pain was immediate.
His scar ignited like a brand. The agony tore through his skull, dropping him to his knees. The world spun. He barely registered the thunder of hooves until something leapt overhead.
A centaur.
Golden-coated, strong and swift, it crashed into the clearing and reared between Harry and the figure. There was a sharp cry, and the creature fled into the trees. Its cloak trailed behind like smoke swallowed by the dark.
The pain faded slowly. Harry opened his eyes, blinking tears from his vision.
The centaur stood over him. Young, with a palomino coat and white-blond hair. His blue eyes lingered on Harry's scar.
"You are Harry Potter," he said. "This forest is no place for you. Come."
The centaur lowered himself. Harry climbed shakily onto his back, gripping his shoulders for balance.
"What was that thing?" Harry asked.
The centaur held his silence. Time dragged, broken only by twig-snaps and the faint wingbeats above. His hooves fell softly on the moss, steady and deliberate as they moved through the forest.
"My name is Firenze," he said at last.
Another sound broke the quiet. More hooves, louder and heavier. Two more centaurs burst through the trees, Ronan and Bane. Both stopped short at the sight of Harry riding on Firenze's back.
"You carry a human?" Bane's voice rang with disgust. "Are you a beast now?"
"This boy was about to die," Firenze replied evenly. "Would you have let it happen?"
"Our place is not to interfere," Bane snapped.
"And what would you have done?" Firenze asked, stepping forward. "Let death feed on the innocent while we watch the stars?"
Ronan pawed the ground, uneasy. "Firenze meant well…"
Bane turned on him. "That is not the point. We are not beasts of burden. We do not carry humans."
Firenze reared suddenly, forcing Harry to grip tighter. His voice rang sharp. "Do you not see what stalks our forest? That creature killed a unicorn. Does that not demand action?"
They had no answer. Firenze turned from them.
They rode on in silence.
Branches thinned above them, silver light slipping through. The forest was quieter here, but not safer. Harry sat tense on Firenze's back, heart still pounding from the clearing. His fingers itched from the memory of pain.
Firenze spoke at last, his voice low. "Harry Potter. Do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"
Harry frowned. "No," he said. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in class. Nothing else."
"That is because killing a unicorn is a terrible act," Firenze replied. "Only someone with nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit it."
They passed under a limb streaked with silver. Harry looked away.
"It can keep you alive," Firenze said, "even if death has already touched you. But the cost is high. You've taken life from something pure. That kind of survival is cursed. A half-life. Never whole again."
The words landed heavy. Harry didn't respond at first. His thoughts turned inward.
He murmured, "But why would anyone choose that?"
Firenze's reply was quiet. "Perhaps they only need to live long enough. Long enough for something else."
They passed between two ancient oaks, roots twisting like sleeping beasts.
Firenze asked, without turning, "Do you know what is hidden in your school?"
Harry's stomach clenched. "The Stone," he said. "The Elixir of Life."
Firenze said nothing. He didn't need to.
Harry's fingers curled tighter against the pale hair at Firenze's shoulder. He didn't speak the name that hovered at the edge of thought. He didn't want to hear it spoken aloud. Not yet.
Ahead, a voice echoed faintly—Hagrid's. Then another—Hermione, calling his name.
Firenze slowed.
"You must go. This forest is no longer safe for you."
Harry slid from his back. His knees almost buckled.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Firenze looked up at the stars, unreadable, "Perhaps the stars were wrong this time. Even we must hope."
Then he turned and vanished, light and silent, swallowed by the trees.
Through the trees, the others were arriving. Harry turned toward the sound of Hermione's voice, her footsteps fast and frantic. He moved to meet her.
Hermione reached Harry first, breathless and pale. She looked him over without a word, eyes lingering on the smear of blood near his sleeve.
"You're all right," she said at last, but her voice was tight.
Harry gave a small nod. "It was drinking from it."
Her gaze dropped to the silver stain again. She reached out, almost hesitating, then gently touched his arm where the blood had dried. Her fingers brushed it like she expected it to burn.
Harry tensed. Just for a moment.
Hermione noticed. Her hand stilled.
Neither of them spoke.
Then Hagrid came crashing through the brush, wheezing, branches snapping underfoot. Neville was close behind, nearly tripping in his rush.
The moment Neville saw Harry standing, upright and alive, he exhaled sharply, like he'd been holding his breath the whole time.
"Thank Merlin," he mumbled, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. "I thought—when Malfoy came running back—I thought—"
Hagrid gave Harry a quick once-over, face hard and unreadable. "What happened?" he asked, not gently.
Harry swallowed. "Something was drinking its blood."
The word someone hung between them. Hermione's hand stayed on his sleeve. Harry didn't pull away. But he didn't meet her eyes.
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This will be a pure Harmony fic, written for Harmony shippers who love teenage romance and drama.
Year 1 is already complete, focusing mostly on fluff. Year 2 will bring jealousy and their first real fight.
I'm also open to suggestions for Years 3 and 4. As the Year 2 plot is locked. Oh boy, Lockhart will as amazing. If there are moments, themes, or even pairings except Harmony you'd love to see explored, feel free to comment or message me.
Will there be lewd stuff? Honestly, I don't know. I've already written plenty of 'lewd' in Year 1, from handholding to hugs… and once you're that attached, it's hard to tell what could feel even more daring.
Early access: Chapters 1–4 are already available on my P*treon/Ko*fi/OmniNymph.