Chapter 48
The night at Hogwarts carried an eerie chill, but the thought that even if he ran into a ghost it would be someone he knew made Harry feel a little less afraid.
It was just cold, that was all.
He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and thought.
He and Hermione were carrying the crate containing Norma up toward the Astronomy Tower. The pitch-black corridors and the constant howling of the wind made his stomach twist with unease.
The weather tonight was truly awful, Harry thought.
Norma, though, was unusually quiet. There wasn't a sound from the crate except for her soft, steady breathing—almost as though she were excited.
They climbed floor after floor. Just when Harry thought his arms might give out, they reached the steep spiral staircase of the tower. At last they emerged onto the open rooftop under the freezing night sky. They threw off the Invisibility Cloak and gulped down great lungfuls of icy air, feeling a rush of relief like nothing they'd known before.
Everything had gone smoothly. No mishaps. No surprises.
They didn't have to wait long. Charlie's friends arrived—four of them, all lively and full of good humour.
They secured Norma's crate to their broomsticks with ropes, shook hands warmly with Harry and Hermione, said plenty of encouraging things about how bright their futures looked and how they should keep up with their studies, and then they were gone, sweeping away into the darkness with the precious cargo.
Watching them disappear with Norma, Harry and Hermione both let out long breaths of relief. They crept back down the spiral staircase, taking care to make as little noise as possible.
Everything seemed to have gone perfectly, Harry thought.
But then the unexpected happened.
Hagrid and Gabin stood staring at the unicorn's body, momentarily forgetting to breathe.
It was a scene of heartbreaking beauty. The unicorn lay on its side as though merely sleeping, its long, graceful legs crossed like a sacred emblem. Its silver mane spilled across the ground like moonlight poured out in liquid form, softly draping its still form.
Only the torn throat told the truth. Blood had sprayed outward in dark arcs, spattering the surrounding grass like silver-white pearls scattered across the night.
Purity and death, beauty and violence, existed side by side before Gabin and Hagrid. The unicorn's corpse lay there like some rare and terrible work of art.
"Oh no…" Hagrid let out a long, mournful sigh. He lumbered forward and knelt beside the creature, reaching out one massive hand to gently stroke its head.
Gabin followed more slowly, saying nothing as he took in the sight.
A wave of sorrow washed over him, mingled with anger. For a moment he wanted to march straight back to the castle, find Dumbledore, and tell him everything about Voldemort.
He shook his head sharply, pushing the impulse away. It wasn't his place. He forced himself to calm down.
"She's gone," Hagrid said, voice thick with grief. He kept stroking the unicorn's head, gazing at the closed eyes as his huge frame trembled.
"Who did this?" Hagrid suddenly surged to his feet, fury blazing in his eyes. He glared into the surrounding darkness.
The body was still warm. The killer hadn't gone far.
But there were no tracks. The grass wasn't trampled. It was as though the attacker had floated above the ground.
Hagrid's anger burned hotter, but he had no direction to follow. He'd arrived too late. The culprit was gone.
Then came the sound of footsteps from deeper in the forest—many footsteps, approaching fast.
Hagrid immediately stepped in front of Gabin, raising his lantern and wand, eyes fixed on the direction of the noise.
Bushes and branches were thrust aside, and three figures burst into the clearing.
Three centaurs.
The one in front was Ronan, whom Gabin had seen before. In the darkness his red hair flowed like flames. When he saw the dead unicorn, sorrow clouded his face.
"We are too late," he said.
"The stars foretold her death. She returns now to the company of the heavens," said the centaur beside him, his voice calm and solemn. He raised both hands upward in a gesture like a priest offering prayer.
Unlike Ronan, this centaur's coat was platinum-white—the exact colour of a unicorn's mane—and his eyes were an unsettling, brilliant blue, like the heart of the sea.
"Hello, Gray Star," he said, smiling gently at Gabin over Hagrid's shoulder. "I am Firenze."
Gabin nodded. He recognised Firenze from what he'd read and heard; even so, seeing him in person was striking. The silver coat, the piercing blue eyes—they set him apart instantly from the other two. There was an air of quiet detachment about him, something almost otherworldly, even among centaurs.
"Hello again, Gray Star. And hello to you, Hagrid—you're here too," Ronan added.
His tone toward Gabin was noticeably warmer than toward Hagrid, despite years of acquaintance with the gamekeeper.
"I am Bane," the third centaur said curtly, offering nothing more.
His coat was coal-black, and his build was broader and more powerful even than Ronan's—the largest of the three.
"Ronan, do you know who did this to the unicorn?" Hagrid's voice shook with barely contained rage; his eyes were red.
Ronan looked at him but said nothing. His hooves pawed restlessly at the earth, the soft thudding echoing through the trees.
"You do know, don't you? But you won't say. Isn't one unicorn's life worth anything to you? How many more creatures in the Forest have to die?" Hagrid's voice rose until he was almost roaring.
"I am sorry, Hagrid," Firenze stepped forward. "We follow only the guidance of the stars."
Ronan and Bane flanked him like silent guards.
"I know that, but right now—" Hagrid began, desperate to persuade them to set aside their traditions and help him hunt down whatever had attacked one of the Forest's magical beings.
Talking to creatures who could speak was always so difficult. He much preferred the ones who couldn't—like Norma.
Suddenly remembering Gabin standing behind him, Hagrid stepped aside and gently pushed the boy forward, giving him a meaningful look.
"Gray Star, have you found Vol—" Firenze spoke first, before Gabin could even raise his wand to cast a spell for speech.
Gabin paused, then sent a small shower of light-sparks into the air.
"No. There's still no sign of Voldemort."
"No matter," Firenze said lightly. He lifted his head to gaze at the stars overhead, then lowered it again to look at Gabin.
His eyes were like deep ocean water, reflecting countless points of starlight.
"The stars guide every path. The time is not yet right. When next we meet, you will find him."
With that, he turned and walked away, Ronan and Bane falling in behind him as they disappeared into the shadowed trees.
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