Harry Potter 1 Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

HP 1 - Harry Potter and the
Sorcerer's Stone

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE FORBIDDEN FOREST
T hings couldn’t have been worse.
Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall’s study on the first floor,
where  they  sat  and  waited  without  saying  a  word  to  each  other.  Hermione  was
trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover- up stories chased each other around
Harry’s  brain,  each  more  feeble  than  the  last.  He  couldn’t  see  how  they  were
going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have
been  so  stupid  as  to  forget  the  cloak?  There  was  no  reason  on  earth  that
Professor  McGonagall  would  accept  for  their  being  out  of  bed  and  creeping
around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy
tower,  which  was  out-of-bounds  except  for  classes.  Add  Norbert  and  the
invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.
Had Harry thought that things couldn’t have been worse? He was wrong.
When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.
           “Harry!”  Neville  burst  out,  the  moment  he  saw  the  other  two.  “I  was
trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you,
he said you had a drag—”
           Harry  shook  his  head  violently  to  shut  Neville  up,  but  Professor
McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she
towered over the three of them.
“I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were
up in the astronomy tower. It’s one o’clock in the morning. Explain yourselves.”
           It  was  the  first  time  Hermione  had  ever  failed  to  answer  a  teacher’s
question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.
“I think I’ve got a good idea of what’s been going on,” said Professor
McGonagall.  “It  doesn’t  take  a  genius  to  work  it  out.  You  fed  Draco  Malfoy
some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into
trouble. I’ve already caught him. I suppose you think it’s funny that Longbottom
here heard the story and believed it, too?”
Harry caught Neville’s eye and tried to tell him without words that this
wasn’t  true,  because  Neville  was  looking  stunned  and  hurt.  Poor,  blundering
Neville  —  Harry  knew  what  it  must  have  cost  him  to  try  and  find  them  in  the
dark, to warn them.

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“I’m disgusted,” said Professor McGonagall. “Four students out of bed in
one night! I’ve never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought
you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to
you  than  this.  All  three  of  you  will  receive  detentions  —  yes,  you  too,  Mr.
Longbottom,  nothing  gives  you  the  right  to  walk  around  school  at  night,
especially these days, it’s very dangerous — and fifty points will be taken from
Gryffindor.”
“Fifty?” Harry gasped — they would lose the lead, the lead he’d won in
the last Quidditch match.
           “Fifty  points  each,”  said  Professor  McGonagall,  breathing  heavily
through her long, pointed nose.
“Professor — please —”
“You can’t —”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all
of you. I’ve never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students.”
A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one
night, they’d ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Harry felt
as  though  the  bottom  had  dropped  out  of  his  stomach.  How  could  they  ever
make up for this?
           Harry  didn’t  sleep  all  night.  He  could  hear  Neville  sobbing  into  his
pillow  for  what  seemed  like  hours.  Harry  couldn’t  think  of  anything  to  say  to
comfort  him.  He  knew  Neville,  like  himself,  was  dreading  the  dawn.  What
would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they’d done?
At  first,  Gryffindors  passing  the  giant  hourglasses  that  recorded  the  house
points  the  next  day  thought  there’d  been  a  mistake.  How  could  they  suddenly
have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started
to  spread:  Harry  Potter,  the  famous  Harry  Potter,  their  hero  of  two  Quidditch
matches,  had  lost  them  all  those  points,  him  and  a  couple  of  other  stupid  first
years.
From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school,
Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on
him,  because  everyone  had  been  longing  to  see  Slytherin  lose  the  house  cup.
Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn’t trouble to lower their voices
as  they  insulted  him.  Slytherins,  on  the  other  hand,  clapped  as  he  walked  past
them, whistling and cheering, “Thanks Potter, we owe you one!”
Only Ron stood by him.
“They’ll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads
of points in all the time they’ve been here, and people still like them.”

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“They’ve never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have
they?” said Harry miserably.
“Well — no,” Ron admitted.
It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry swore to himself not to
meddle  in  things  that  weren’t  his  business  from  now  on.  He’d  had  it  with
sneaking around and spying. He felt so ashamed of himself that he went to Wood
and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.
“Resign?” Wood thundered. “What good’ll that do? How are we going to
get any points back if we can’t win at Quidditch?”
But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn’t speak
to  Harry  during  practice,  and  if  they  had  to  speak  about  him,  they  called  him
“the Seeker.”
Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn’t have as bad a time
as Harry, because they weren’t as well-known, but nobody would speak to them,
either. Hermione had  stopped drawing attention  to herself in  class, keeping her
head down and working in silence.
Harry was almost glad that the exams weren’t far away. All the studying
he  had  to  do  kept  his  mind  off  his  misery.  He,  Ron,  and  Hermione  kept  to
themselves,  working  late  into  the  night,  trying  to  remember  the  ingredients  in
complicated  potions,  learn  charms  and  spells  by  heart,  memorize  the  dates  of
magical discoveries and goblin rebellions....
           Then,  about  a  week  before  the  exams  were  due  to  start,  Harry’s  new
resolution  not  to  interfere  in  anything  that  didn’t  concern  him  was  put  to  an
unexpected  test.  Walking  back  from  the  library  on  his  own  one  afternoon,  he
heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he
heard Quirrell’s voice.
“No — no — not again, please —”
It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer.
“All right — all right —” he heard Quirrell sob.
Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening
his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out
of  sight;  Harry  didn’t  think  Quirrell  had  even  noticed  him.  He  waited  until
Quirrell’s  footsteps  had  disappeared,  then  peered  into  the  classroom.  It  was
empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harry was halfway toward it before
he remembered what he’d promised himself about not meddling.
All the same, he’d have gambled twelve Sorcerer’s Stones that Snape had
just left the room, and from what Harry had just heard, Snape would be walking
with a new spring in his step — Quirrell seemed to have given in at last.
           Harry  went  back  to  the  library,  where  Hermione  was  testing  Ron  on

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Astronomy. Harry told them what he’d heard.
“Snape’s done it, then!” said Ron. “If Quirrell’s told him how to break
his Anti-Dark Force spell —”
“There’s still Fluffy, though,” said Hermione.
“Maybe Snape’s found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid,”
said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. “I bet there’s a
book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So
what do we do, Harry?”
The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron’s eyes, but Hermione
answered before Harry could.
“Go to Dumbledore. That’s what we should have done ages ago. If we try
anything ourselves we’ll be thrown out for sure.”
“But we’ve got no proof!” said Harry. “Quirrell’s too scared to back us
up.  Snape’s  only  got  to  say  he  doesn’t  know  how  the  troll  got  in  at  Halloween
and that he was nowhere near the third floor — who do you think they’ll believe,
him or us? It’s not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore’ll think we made it
up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn’t help us if his life depended on it, he’s too
friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he’ll think.
And don’t forget, we’re not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That’ll
take a lot of explaining.”
Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn’t.
“If we just do a bit of poking around —”
“No,” said Harry flatly, “we’ve done enough poking around.”
He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of
its moons.
The  following  morning,  notes  were  delivered  to  Harry,  Hermione,  and
Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:
Your detention will take place at eleven o’clock tonight.
Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.
Professor McGonagall
Harry had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points
they’d lost. He half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night
of  studying  lost,  but  she  didn’t  say  a  word.  Like  Harry,  she  felt  they  deserved
what they’d got.
At eleven o’clock that night, they said good-bye to Ron in the common
room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there

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—  and  so  was  Malfoy.  Harry  had  also  forgotten  that  Malfoy  had  gotten  a
detention, too.
“Follow me,” said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.
“I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you,
eh?” he said, leering at them. “Oh yes…hard work and pain are the best teachers
if you ask me….It’s just a pity they let the old punishments die out…hang you
by  your  wrists  from  the  ceiling  for  a  few  days,  I’ve  got  the  chains  still  in  my
office, keep ‘em well oiled in case they’re ever needed…Right, off we go, and
don’t think of running off, now, it’ll be worse for you if you do.”
They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Harry
wondered  what  their  punishment  was  going  to  be.  It  must  be  something  really
horrible, or Filch wouldn’t be sounding so delighted.
The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them
into darkness. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted windows of Hagrid’s hut. Then
they heard a distant shout.
“Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started.”
           Harry’s  heart  rose;  if  they  were  going  to  be  working  with  Hagrid  it
wouldn’t be so bad. His relief must have showed in his face, because Filch said,
“I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again,
boy — it’s into the forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come
out in one piece.”
           At  this,  Neville  let  out  a  little  moan,  and  Malfoy  stopped  dead  in  his
tracks.
           “The  forest?”  he  repeated,  and  he  didn’t  sound  quite  as  cool  as  usual.
“We  can’t  go  in  there  at  night  —  there’s  all  sorts  of  things  in  there  —
werewolves, I heard.”
Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry’s robe and made a choking noise.
“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” said Filch, his voice cracking with glee.
“Should’ve  thought  of  them  werewolves  before  you  got  in  trouble,  shouldn’t
you?”
Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He
was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.
“Abou’ time,” he said. “I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already. All right,
Harry, Hermione?”
“I shouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, they’re
here to be punished, after all.”
“That’s why yer late, is it?” said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’
them, eh? ‘Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from
here.”

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           “I’ll  be  back  at  dawn,”  said  Filch,  “for  what’s  left  of  them,”  he  added
nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away
in the darkness.
Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.
“I’m not going in that forest,” he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the
note of panic in his voice.
“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” said Hagrid fiercely. “Yeh’ve
done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.”
“But this is servant stuff, it’s not for students to do. I thought we’d be
copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he’d—”
“—tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid growled. “Copyin’ lines!
What good’s that ter anyone? Yeh’ll do summat useful or yeh’ll get out. If yeh
think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an’
pack. Go on.”
Malfoy didn’t move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his
gaze.
“Right then,” said Hagrid, “now, listen carefully, ‘cause it’s dangerous
what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over
here a moment.”
He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he
pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black
trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.
“Look there,” said Hagrid, “see that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Silvery
stuff? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat.
This  is  the  second  time  in  a  week.  I  found  one  dead  last  Wednesday.  We’re
gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”
           “And  what  if  whatever  hurt  the  unicorn  finds  us  first?”  said  Malfoy,
unable to keep the fear out of his voice.
“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or
Fang,”  said  Hagrid.  “An’  keep  ter  the  path.  Right,  now,  we’re  gonna  split  inter
two parties an’ follow the trail in diff’rent directions. There’s blood all over the
place, it must’ve bin staggerin’ around since last night at least.”
“I want Fang,” said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang’s long teeth.
“All right, but I warn yeh, he’s a coward,” said Hagrid. “So me, Harry,
an’ Hermione’ll go one way an’ Draco, Neville, an’ Fang’ll go the other. Now, if
any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out
an’ practice now — that’s it — an’ if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks,
an’ we’ll all come an’ find yeh — so, be careful — let’s go.”
The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in

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the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy,
Neville, and Fang took the right.
They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a
ray  of  moonlight  through  the  branches  above  lit  a  spot  of  silver-blue  blood  on
the fallen leaves.
Harry saw that Hagrid looked very worried.
“Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?” Harry asked.
“Not fast enough,” said Hagrid. “It’s not easy ter catch a unicorn, they’re
powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before.”
They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water;
there  must  be  a  stream  somewhere  close  by.  There  were  still  spots  of  unicorn
blood here and there along the winding path.
“You all right, Hermione?” Hagrid whispered. “Don’ worry, it can’t’ve
gone far if it’s this badly hurt, an’ then we’ll be able ter — GET BEHIND THAT
TREE!”
Hagrid seized Harry and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind
a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it,
ready  to  fire.  The  three  of  them  listened.  Something  was  slithering  over  dead
leaves  nearby:  it  sounded  like  a  cloak  trailing  along  the  ground.  Hagrid  was
squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.
“I knew it,” he murmured. “There’s summat in here that shouldn’ be.”
“A werewolf?” Harry suggested.
“That wasn’ no werewolf an’ it wasn’ no unicorn, neither,” said Hagrid
grimly. “Right, follow me, but careful, now.”
They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly,
in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.
“Who’s there?” Hagrid called. “Show yerself — I’m armed!”
And into the clearing came — was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a
man,  with  red  hair  and  beard,  but  below  that  was  a  horse’s  gleaming  chestnut
body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Hermione’s jaws dropped.
“Oh, it’s you, Ronan,” said Hagrid in relief. “How are yeh?”
He walked forward and shook the centaur’s hand.
“Good evening to you, Hagrid,” said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful
voice. “Were you going to shoot me?”
           “Can’t  be  too  careful,  Ronan,”  said  Hagrid,  patting  his  crossbow.
“There’s  summat  bad  loose  in  this  forest.  This  is  Harry  Potter  an’  Hermione
Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An’ this is Ronan, you two. He’s
a centaur.
“We’d noticed,” said Hermione faintly.

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           “Good  evening,”  said  Ronan.  “Students,  are  you?  And  do  you  learn
much, up at the school?”
“Erm —”
“A bit,” said Hermione timidly.
“A bit. Well, that’s something.” Ronan sighed. He flung back his head
and stared at the sky. “Mars is bright tonight.”
“Yeah,” said Hagrid, glancing up, too. “Listen, I’m glad we’ve run inter
yeh, Ronan, ‘cause there’s a unicorn bin hurt — you seen anythin’?”
Ronan didn’t answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then
sighed again.
“Always the innocent are the first victims,” he said. “So it has been for
ages past, so it is now.”
           “Yeah,”  said  Hagrid,  “but  have  yeh  seen  anythin’  Ronan?  Anythin’
unusual?”
           “Mars  is  bright  tonight,”  Ronan  repeated,  while  Hagrid  watched  him
impatiently. “Unusually bright.”
           “Yeah,  but  I  was  meanin’  anythin’  unusual  a  bit  nearer  home,  said
Hagrid. “So yeh haven’t noticed anythin’ strange?”
           Yet  again,  Ronan  took  a  while  to  answer.  At  last,  he  said,  “The  forest
hides many secrets.”
A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again,
but  it  was  only  a  second  centaur,  black-haired  and  -bodied  and  wilder-looking
than Ronan.
“Hullo, Bane,” said Hagrid. “All right?”
“Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?”
“Well enough. Look, I’ve jus’ bin askin’ Ronan, you seen anythin’ odd in
here lately? There’s a unicorn bin injured — would yeh know anythin’ about it?”
Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. “Mars is
bright tonight,” he said simply.
           “We’ve  heard,”  said  Hagrid  grumpily.  “Well,  if  either  of  you  do  see
anythin’, let me know, won’t yeh? We’ll be off, then.”
Harry and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their
shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.
           “Never,”  said  Hagrid  irritably,  “try  an’  get  a  straight  answer  out  of  a
centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin’ closer’n the moon.”
“Are there many of them in here?” asked Hermione.
           “Oh,  a  fair  few….Keep  themselves  to  themselves  mostly,  but  they’re
good  enough  about  turnin’  up  if  ever  I  want  a  word.  They’re  deep,  mind,
centaurs…they know things…jus’ don’ let on much.”

---

“D’you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?” said Harry.
“Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what’s
bin killin’ the unicorns – never heard anythin’ like it before.”
           They  walked  on  through  the  dense,  dark  trees.  Harry  kept  looking
nervously over his shoulder. He had the nasty feeling they were being watched.
He  was  very  glad  they  had  Hagrid  and  his  crossbow  with  them.  They  had  just
passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid’s arm.
“Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!”
“You two wait here!” Hagrid shouted. “Stay on the path, I’ll come back
for yeh!”
           They  heard  him  crashing  away  through  the  undergrowth  and  stood
looking  at  each  other,  very  scared,  until  they  couldn’t  hear  anything  but  the
rustling of leaves around them.
“You don’t think they’ve been hurt, do you?” whispered Hermione.
“I don’t care if Malfoy has, but if something’s got Neville…it’s our fault
he’s here in the first place.”
The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Harry’s
seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was
going on? Where were the others?
           At  last,  a  great  crunching  noise  announced  Hagrid’s  return.  Malfoy,
Neville,  and  Fang  were  with  him.  Hagrid  was  fuming.  Malfoy,  it  seemed,  had
sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke. Neville had panicked and
sent up the sparks.
           “We’ll  be  lucky  ter  catch  anythin’  now,  with  the  racket  you  two  were
makin’.  Right,  we’re  changin’  groups  —  Neville,  you  stay  with  me  an’
Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an’ this idiot. I’m sorry,” Hagrid added in a
whisper to Harry, “but he’ll have a harder time frightenin’ you, an’ we’ve gotta
get this done.”
So Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. They
walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path
became  almost  impossible  to  follow  because  the  trees  were  so  thick.  Harry
thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots
of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by.
Harry  could  see  a  clearing  ahead,  through  the  tangled  branches  of  an  ancient
oak.
“Look —” he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy.
Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.
           It  was  the  unicorn  all  right,  and  it  was  dead.  Harry  had  never  seen
anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles

---

where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.
           Harry  had  taken  one  step  toward  it  when  a  slithering  sound  made  him
freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered.…Then, out
of  the  shadows,  a  hooded  figure  came  crawling  across  the  ground  like  some
stalking  beast.  Harry,  Malfoy,  and  Fang  stood  transfixed.  The  cloaked  figure
reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal’s side, and
began to drink its blood.
“AAAAAAAAAARGH!”
Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted — so did Fang. The hooded
figure raised its head and looked right at Harry — unicorn blood was dribbling
down  its  front.  It  got  to  its  feet  and  came  swiftly  toward  Harry  —  he  couldn’t
move for fear.
Then a pain like he’d never felt before pierced his head; it was as though
his  scar  were  on  fire.  Half  blinded,  he  staggered  backward.  He  heard  hooves
behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harry, charging at the
figure.
The pain in Harry’s head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a minute
or two to pass. When he looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing
over him, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair
and a palomino body.
“Are you all right?” said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet.
“Yes — thank you — what was that?”
           The  centaur  didn’t  answer.  He  had  astonishingly  blue  eyes,  like  pale
sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood
out, livid, on Harry’s forehead.
“You are the Potter boy,” he said. “You had better get back to Hagrid.
The forest is not safe at this time — especially for you. Can you ride? It will be
quicker this way.
“My name is Firenze,” he added, as he lowered himself on to his front
legs so that Harry could clamber onto his back.
There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the
clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving
and sweaty.
“Firenze!” Bane thundered. “What are you doing? You have a human on
your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?”
“Do you realize who this is?” said Firenze. “This is the Potter boy. The
quicker he leaves this forest, the better.”
“What have you been telling him?” growled Bane. “Remember, Firenze,
we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is

---

to come in the movements of the planets?”
Ronan pawed the ground nervously. “I’m sure Firenze thought he was
acting for the best, “ he said in his gloomy voice.
Bane kicked his back legs in anger.
“For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with
what  has  been  foretold!  It  is  not  our  business  to  run  around  like  donkeys  after
stray humans in our forest!”
Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had to
grab his shoulders to stay on.
“Do you not see that unicorn?” Firenze bellowed at Bane. “Do you not
understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I
set  myself  against  what  is  lurking  in  this  forest,  Bane,  yes,  with  humans
alongside me if I must.”
And Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could,
they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.
Harry didn’t have a clue what was going on.
“Why’s Bane so angry?” he asked. “What was that thing you saved me
from, anyway?”
Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed in case
of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry’s question. They made their
way  through  the  trees  in  silence  for  so  long  that  Harry  thought  Firenze  didn’t
want  to  talk  to  him  anymore.  They  were  passing  through  a  particularly  dense
patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.
“Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?”
“No,” said Harry, startled by the odd question. “We’ve only used the horn
and tail hair in Potions.”
“That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn,” said Firenze.
“Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a
crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from
death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to
save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment
the blood touches your lips.”
Harry stared at the back of Firenze’s head, which was dappled silver in
the moonlight.
“But who’d be that desperate?” he wondered aloud. “If you’re going to
be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Firenze agreed, “unless all you need is to stay alive long enough
to  drink  something  else  —  something  that  will  bring  you  back  to  full  strength
and  power  —  something  that  will  mean  you  can  never  die.  Mr.  Potter,  do  you

---

know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?”
           “The  Sorcerer’s  Stone!  Of  course  —  the  Elixir  of  Life!  But  I  don’t
understand who —”
“Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power,
who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?”
It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry’s heart.
Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told
him on the night they had met: “Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion.
Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die.”
“Do you mean,” Harry croaked, “that was Vol-”
“Harry! Harry, are you all right?”
Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along
behind her.
           “I’m  fine,”  said  Harry,  hardly  knowing  what  he  was  saying.  “The
unicorn’s dead, Hagrid, it’s in that clearing back there.”
“This is where I leave you,” Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to
examine the unicorn. “You are safe now.”
Harry slid off his back.
           “Good  luck,  Harry  Potter,”  said  Firenze.  “The  planets  have  been  read
wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.”
He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry
shivering behind him.
Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return.
He  shouted  something  about  Quidditch  fouls  when  Harry  roughly  shook  him
awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harry began to tell
him and Hermione what had happened in the forest.
Harry couldn’t sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He
was still shaking.
“Snape wants the stone for Voldemort…and Voldemort’s waiting in the
forest…and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich….”
“Stop saying the name!” said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought
Voldemort could hear them.
Harry wasn’t listening.
“Firenze saved me, but he shouldn’t have done so.…Bane was furious…
he  was  talking  about  interfering  with  what  the  planets  say  is  going  to
happen….They must show that Voldemort’s coming back.…Bane thinks Firenze
should have let Voldemort kill me.…I suppose that’s written in the stars as well.”
“Will you stop saying the name!” Ron hissed.

---

“So all I’ve got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone,” Harry went
on feverishly, “then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off ... Well, I
suppose Bane’ll be happy.”
Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.
“Harry, everyone says Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was
ever  afraid  of  with  Dumbledore  around,  You-Know-Who  won’t  touch  you.
Anyway,  who  says  the  centaurs  are  right?  It  sounds  like  fortune-telling  to  me,
and Professor McGonagall says that’s a very imprecise branch of magic.”
The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed
exhausted, their throats sore. But the night’s surprises weren’t over.
When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his invisibility cloak folded
neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:
Just in case.

---