The owl ignored Alice.
She didn't mind and switched topics.
"Are you an owl?"
"Caw!"
Stardust shook its head. Of course it wasn't.
"Then what are you?"
Stardust shook again, stopped calling, and just stared out the window.
"Wanna go outside?" Alice asked.
For the first time, the owl turned to look at her and gave a small nod.
Alice thought it over, then opened the cage. Stardust shot out and started gently pecking at the glass.
She pushed the window open. As it flew off, she called softly, "Come back, okay?"
Stardust banked in the sky, looked back, and let out a long, bright cry—no more cawing.
A phoenix's song!
Alice's eyebrows shot up. Just what was this thing?
…
In the headmaster's office, Dumbledore was out. Fawkes was bored, staring down the portrait of old Phineas Nigellus Black.
Phineas shifted uncomfortably under the bird's gaze.
Then, in a blink, Fawkes perked up—he'd heard something—and zipped off.
The phoenix plastered itself to the window, staring outside at who-knows-what.
It could've flown out anytime, but it didn't. Just stood on the sill, watching.
…
Night deepened. Pansy and the girls pushed into the dorm.
Millicent spotted the open owl cage on Alice's desk and said, surprise in her voice, "Alice, you got an owl? I thought you hated pets."
Alice chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, ran into a cool one. Picked it up from Hagrid, the gamekeeper."
"Hagrid? That big oaf? You're still talking to him?"
Alice caught the weird look on Millicent's face—like she wanted to say something but held back.
"What's the problem with talking to Hagrid?" she asked.
Millicent hurried to explain. "Nothing! It's just… my family mentioned him once, something from decades ago."
"Pretty much every pure-blood family has heard something about Hagrid, right, Pansy?"
Pansy thought for a second, then nodded uncertainly. There was really only one famous story about Hagrid.
"You mean the thing where Hagrid killed that girl?"
Millicent nodded fast.
Wait—what?
Alice blinked. Hagrid, a murderer? Then why was he still at the school?
What kind of freak show was Dumbledore running?
A sour-faced, zero-fairness Slytherin head of house.
A Defense professor flagged by the Myriad Soul Banner.
One student who became the Dark Lord.
A whole castle full of soul-obsessed weirdos.
And now a possible killer as groundskeeper.
This wasn't Hogwarts—this was Azkaban with extra steps!
Alice motioned for Millicent to spill everything she knew. She was dying to hear this.
Millicent cleared her throat.
"Remember I told you about Moaning Myrtle, the crying ghost?"
Alice nodded. She didn't just know Myrtle—she'd basically rewritten the ghost's entire existence.
"Well, this is about Hagrid and Myrtle."
"Back in 1943, I think, Hagrid was keeping an Acromantula in the castle—totally against the rules."
"A kid named Tom Riddle reported him after Myrtle died. Said Hagrid opened the Chamber, let the monster out, and got her killed."
"The headmaster back then, Dippet, had no hard proof, but for student safety he expelled Hagrid on the spot."
Tom Riddle ratted out Hagrid for murder?
Alice's brow creased. What kind of twisted plot was this?
"What happened next?" she asked. "If he got expelled, why's he still here?"
Millicent kept going.
"Notice Hagrid doesn't have a wand? That's the follow-up. They snapped it—said it was used in the killing."
"Dumbledore was just a professor then. He argued there was no real evidence, got Hagrid kept on as gamekeeper."
Pansy chimed in, "No idea what Dumbledore was thinking. No proof, sure, but still risky, right?"
Millicent nodded. Most pure-blood kids had heard the story, so they steered clear of Hagrid. That's why they'd been shocked Alice got a bird from him.
Alice knew Myrtle had been killed by Tom Riddle—aka Voldemort—but she had zero proof to clear Hagrid's name.
Even if Myrtle remembered everything, the Ministry probably wouldn't take a ghost's word.
So Hagrid just had to keep eating the blame.
Alice finally said, "Trust Dumbledore's judgment. Let's drop it."
Millicent and Pansy nodded obediently.
Night wore on. Alice slipped out of her body again, heading for the pair of eyes she'd spotted near the Forbidden Forest earlier.
Invisible, she moved crazy fast. She had a gut feeling the owner of those eyes knew her secret.
She had to meet it.
The second she drifted into the forest, she felt eyes on her—but nothing showed itself.
No choice but to push deeper. After a while, she heard footsteps behind her.
The mist hung like ink-stained gauze, wrapping the forest in thick silence.
Alice glanced back using the faint light. Suddenly the glow flared, the fog split, and—
A unicorn stood between the gnarled roots of an ancient oak. Its silver-white coat caught the cold moonlight, bleeding soft phosphorescence into the mist—like it wasn't flesh and blood, but sculpted from star-dust.
Its mane spilled like liquid mercury, every strand flecked with fleeting sparks. The spiral horn wasn't pure silver; dark, shifting runes ran through it, glowing faintly in the fog.
Alice's heart dropped. She forgot to breathe.
The unicorn lifted its head. No pupils—just swirling silver mist. When it looked at her, it felt like it saw straight through skin to soul.
No sound, no warning. It arched its neck and let out a whisper-soft neigh that rattled the air.
Ancient power rolled through the cry. The mist boiled, silver-blue light exploded. Alice squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, the glow had faded. The unicorn was dissolving into drifting silver motes, melting into the fog.
All that remained was a cool scent of pine needles and starlight… and a thin, quickly-melting frost crystal on the black stone at its feet.