The Forbidden Forest was unnervingly silent. The trees stretched into the darkness like skeletal fingers, their twisted branches obscuring the sky. The air felt thick, charged with something unnatural.
Something wrong.
My breath was steady, but my heart was still pounding from the fight. The cloaked figure—the thing that had fled into the shadows—was gone. But the cold, ancient hunger that radiated from it still clung to my skin.
Voldemort.
I knew it.
And so did he—whoever, whatever, he was possessing.
The clearing still reeked of death. The unicorn lay barely breathing, its silver blood staining the earth.
But it wasn't dead.
I had saved it.
For a moment, relief flooded my chest.
Then—
"ETHAN!"
A deep, bellowing voice tore through the clearing.
I turned just as Hagrid came crashing through the undergrowth, his crossbow clutched in his hands, Fang whimpering at his side. His massive form loomed over us, wild-eyed and frantic.
"Where in Merlin's name—yeh—what in the bloody hell—" His words stumbled over themselves as he took in the sight of us, the unicorn, the centaurs. His bushy beard trembled as he fixed me with a look of pure shock.
Then he saw the blood.
Not mine. The unicorn's.
His face paled. "No… no, no, no." His voice turned desperate. "Tell me ye didn't—tell me no one—"
Rose's voice was sharp. "Hagrid, we saw it. Someone was drinking its blood."
Hagrid froze.
His massive hands clenched around his crossbow. "Who?" he asked, but the question came out as a growl.
I met his eyes. "Voldemort."
Hagrid staggered, like I had physically struck him.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—he swore under his breath.
"Damn fool," he muttered, shaking his head. "Damn, stupid fool—if he's that desperate…" He exhaled sharply. "Dumbledore needs to know."
Rose nodded. "That's what I said."
But Hagrid wasn't looking at her. His eyes had drifted back to the unicorn. It let out a weak, shuddering breath, its silver eyes flickering open slightly.
His shoulders sagged. "Yeh saved it?"
I hesitated. "Yeah."
His expression was unreadable. "That ain't… supposed to be possible."
Before I could ask what he meant, another voice cut in.
"The boy has already changed what was meant to be."
Firenze.
The centaur stepped forward, his silver coat gleaming under the dim light. His blue eyes flicked toward me, unreadable yet knowing.
"You have interfered with fate," he said. "This creature was meant to die tonight."
I stiffened. "And you wanted me to let it?"
Bane snorted in disgust. "You do not understand the consequences of your actions, boy."
Rose's brow furrowed. "What consequences?"
Firenze glanced at her, then back at me. His gaze was piercing. "You have already stepped beyond the path written for you."
Hagrid shifted uncomfortably. "Ye talk in riddles, Firenze. What's this all mean?"
Firenze didn't look at him. Instead, he fixed his eyes on me. "The stars do not lie, Ethan Carter. And they say that you stand on the edge of something far greater than you know."
Something cold curled in my chest.
Bane huffed. "Enough of this nonsense. The balance has already shifted too much tonight."
But Firenze wasn't done.
His sharp gaze landed on Rose. "You seek answers?" His voice was quiet, but heavy with meaning. "Then you must understand why he sought the unicorn's blood."
Ron, who had been uncharacteristically silent, muttered, "Yeah, actually. What does drinking it even do?"
A grim silence followed.
Then—
"It keeps yeh alive."
Everyone turned to Hagrid, whose voice had gone unusually low. His massive hands were balled into fists.
"Unicorn blood is cursed," he said. "It'll keep yeh alive, sure—but at a terrible price. A life drained of true strength. A cursed existence." His expression darkened. "Only someone desperate—someone who ain't got nothin' else—would drink it."
Draco's face had lost all color. "So—so that means—" He swallowed hard. "Voldemort… he's alive?"
Firenze's voice was quiet. "Not alive. Not dead. A creature lurking between existence, clinging to life by any means necessary." His eyes flicked back to me. "And he is not done."
A heavy silence followed.
Then—
"The curse can still be stopped."
All eyes snapped to Bane.
His dark eyes bore into Rose. "You already know what you seek. The answer is within your own walls."
Rose sucked in a sharp breath. "The Philosopher's Stone."
Bane said nothing. But his silence was confirmation enough.
Hermione gasped. "That's why he's here. He's trying to get it!"
Ron let out a strangled noise. "Oh, brilliant. As if school wasn't dangerous enough."
Draco still looked pale. "We're telling Dumbledore. Right now."
I nodded. "We will."
Rose's gaze flicked toward me, like she had expected me to argue. But I wasn't stupid.
This was bigger than us.
And if Voldemort was moving, Dumbledore already knew.
I turned back to Firenze, a question forming in my mind.
"Back there… you said I was changing things. How?"
Firenze studied me for a long moment. Then—
"You already know the answer, Ethan Carter."
Something in his tone sent a shiver down my spine.
Bane snorted one last time, then turned sharply, galloping into the shadows. Firenze hesitated, then gave me one final look.
"Be careful, young one." His voice was quiet, but heavy with meaning.
"You are walking a path that was never meant to be walked."
Then, without another word, he followed Bane into the darkness.
A long silence stretched between us.
Then Rose turned to me, her voice firm.
"We have to go to Dumbledore."
I nodded.
The journey back to the castle was heavy with silence. The trees loomed above us, their skeletal branches swaying in the cold night air. Every rustle of leaves, every distant hoot of an owl, felt sharper, more pronounced after what had just happened.
Fang stuck close to Hagrid, his tail still tucked between his legs. He let out a low whimper every now and then, ears twitching at every distant sound. He wasn't the only one on edge.
Rose walked beside me, her expression unreadable, but I could feel the tension radiating off her. Ron and Hermione followed closely behind, their wands still clutched in their hands as if they expected another attack. Draco, for once, wasn't talking. He lagged slightly behind, pale as a ghost.
It wasn't until we neared the castle that someone finally broke the silence.
"What do you think that was?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice.
Ron shot her a look. "Isn't it obvious? Someone's been sneaking into the forest and drinking unicorn blood!" He shuddered. "That's dark magic—real dark magic."
Draco scoffed, though his voice lacked its usual arrogance. "No kidding, Weasley."
Rose ignored them. She turned to me instead. "You were fighting him."
I nodded, tightening my grip on my wand. "Yeah."
"And you were keeping up," she added.
There was something in her voice—almost like suspicion.
I exhaled. "I've been training."
That much was true. Every night, every spare moment, I pushed myself further. My magic was growing stronger, my control more refined. But tonight had shown me that I still wasn't there yet.
Voldemort had retreated, but I had no illusions about why. It wasn't because I had won. It was because he hadn't been at full strength yet.
I already knew that Dumbledore was aware—he always was. But this wasn't just about me. If Voldemort was regaining strength, Hogwarts had to be prepared.
Draco let out a nervous laugh. "You lot can tell him whatever you want, but I'm not getting involved in this."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, because running away was such a big help back there."
Draco scowled. "I made the smart choice. If you had any sense, you would've run too."
"Enough," Hagrid grumbled, leading us toward the entrance hall. "This ain't the time for squabblin'."
The castle loomed ahead, its warm lights spilling onto the grounds. The closer we got, the heavier the weight in my chest became.
Telling Dumbledore meant things would change.
But after tonight, I knew—there was no going back.
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