"A large creature is approaching rapidly. If I'm not mistaken, it should be Hagrid," Sherlock said calmly as he sheathed his longsword and dismissed his stone-crust shield.
Turning to Harry, he added, "Dear Harry, if you can, I'd prefer you stay under the Invisibility Cloak."
Harry nodded. For many reasons, he didn't want Hagrid to know he was out here in the Forbidden Forest tonight.
"Sherlock! Sherlock… Merlin's beard, what on earth happened here?!"
Hagrid came crashing through the underbrush, stunned speechless by the scene before him: a battlefield littered with signs of struggle and a barely breathing unicorn. He tugged frantically at his beard, overwhelmed.
"Oi—hold it together! Can you check if it's still savable?"
Sherlock pointed at the unicorn whose legs were clearly broken.
"Sweet Merlin's beard… Who—who could've done this to the poor creature… Wait!"
As he examined the wounds, Hagrid suddenly froze.
"There are bite marks—someone's been drinking its blood!"
His eyes went wide, round as saucers.
"Hagrid, I believe you understand what this means," Sherlock said, his voice low and steady. "Even a dying unicorn's blood can extend one's life—but only if the creature willingly offers it. If someone forces that blood to save their own life, then from the moment the blood touches their lips, their life becomes a cursed one. Not truly alive… nor truly dead."
Though it sounded like a general explanation, Sherlock was actually speaking to Harry, who still stood invisibly beside him.
This time, Harry understood completely.
The figure he had encountered… was none other than the one who murdered his parents—the Dark Lord who struck fear into the entire magical world.
Voldemort.
And yet… he hadn't seemed all that terrifying.
Harry grasped it now. Hagrid, however, was still in the dark.
Not that Sherlock expected him to catch on. His main concern was the unicorn's condition.
Fortunately, despite the serious injuries, Sherlock had intervened in time—there was still hope.
With that, the unicorn attack in the Forbidden Forest could be considered resolved.
Hagrid chalked it up to Sherlock's incredible luck—figuring out everything on the first night.
But Sherlock knew better.
The enemy was simply running out of patience.
Their desperation had been evident in their reckless behavior.
The next step: report everything to Dumbledore and let him deal with it.
After all, that's what a headmaster was for.
In any case, after tonight, the attacker would almost certainly avoid the forest.
On their way back, Hagrid managed to retrieve the now-distant Fang… and ran into—
A centaur.
But it wasn't Ronan or Bane.
This centaur looked younger and far more striking—platinum blond hair, the body of a silver-maned stallion, and a pair of pale blue eyes. He looked like a prince out of a fairy tale.
"Firenze! Good to see you!" Hagrid greeted him with familiarity.
"Hello, Hagrid… Wait—is that a unicorn? Is it alright?!"
Seeing the limp unicorn draped over Hagrid's shoulder, Firenze panicked.
"It was that thing hiding in our forest, wasn't it?!"
"Easy now, Firenze." Hagrid patted the unicorn reassuringly. "Thanks to Sherlock's quick thinking, the creature's alive. And the poacher was driven off."
"Thank heavens!"
Firenze exhaled deeply, then turned to Sherlock.
"Thank you for saving this poor creature."
Unlike Ronan and Bane's aloofness, Firenze was warm and appreciative.
"You're Sherlock Holmes, right? I've heard of you—you're quite the remarkable child."
At that, Hagrid clapped Firenze heartily on the back. "Hahaha! Looks like you're famous even among centaurs! I thought only Harry could pull that off!"
Just then, the sound of more hooves pounding the earth approached.
Ronan and Bane appeared.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed. He noticed their heaving sides and sweat-drenched coats—they'd clearly been running hard.
"Firenze!"
Bane's voice boomed across the clearing.
"I can hear you just fine, Bane," Firenze replied curtly.
"What did you tell him?!"
Bane thundered toward him. "Remember our vow—never to defy the stars! Can't you read the signs in the heavens?"
Ronan nervously pawed at the ground with his hoof and offered a sad attempt to mediate.
"I believe Firenze acted out of kindness."
"Kindness? What does this have to do with us?!"
Bane exploded.
"Centaurs care for the stars' guidance—we're not donkeys to follow lost humans around!"
That finally pushed Hagrid over the edge.
But before he could erupt, Firenze reared onto his hind legs—a clear sign of a centaur's fury.
"Did you not see the unicorn?"
Firenze roared, his fury matching his stance.
"Do you not understand why it was attacked? Or have the stars told you nothing?
Listen to me, Bane. I will resist the creature lurking in our forest. And yes—if I must, I'll stand with the humans."
With that, he lowered his front legs and motioned for Sherlock and Hagrid to follow.
They didn't hesitate.
After all, they'd had enough of cryptic riddles.
Once they were well out of earshot, Firenze finally stopped and turned to Sherlock.
"Holmes, do you know why Bane was so angry just now?"
Hagrid chuckled. "Firenze, you lot never speak plainly. Even Sherlock can't guess what you're hiding—right, Sherlock?"
"I have a general idea."
Hagrid blinked in surprise. Firenze, however, looked intrigued. "Go on."
"It's simple. He doesn't want you to share what you saw in the stars with us."
Firenze's blue eyes gleamed. "Correct. And do you know what I saw?"
Sherlock sighed. "It's obvious. The one who harmed the unicorn… was Voldemort."
Hagrid gasped audibly.
Harry, still cloaked, instinctively pulled his Invisibility Cloak tighter. The air suddenly felt colder.
"No! Absolutely not!"
Hagrid shook his huge head violently. "Dumbledore's at Hogwarts—there's no way He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could get in!"
Firenze, however, took it in stride, nodding toward Sherlock with quiet admiration.
"Holmes, you're exactly as the rumors say. You ought to study Divination."
"Divination?" Sherlock shook his head. "I reached this conclusion through science—not fortune-telling."
"Science…?"
The word made Firenze's expression twitch. Talking about science in a magical world always felt a little off.
"But it really wasn't difficult to deduce."
Still invisible, Harry couldn't help but smile knowingly.
Sherlock was about to launch into one of his explanations.
"If unicorn blood is forcibly taken, it curses the drinker. A life worse than death—barely clinging to existence.
Unless the goal is just to prolong life long enough… to obtain something else. Something capable of fully restoring health and magic.
And right now, there just so happens to be a Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts—the key to the Elixir of Life.
For someone like Voldemort, lying low for years and now seeking revival… he wouldn't miss this chance."
This time, Firenze was completely stunned.
"Sherlock… You told me all that earlier!"
While Firenze stood frozen in shock, Hagrid suddenly lit up with realization.
"So that's what you were hintin' at!"
Harry nearly tripped under the cloak. His giant friend was so slow on the uptake!
Still, even with that delayed realization, Hagrid muttered stubbornly:
"You've got real talent, Sherlock, no doubt—but I think you're wrong this time.
So long as Dumbledore's at the school, You-Know-Who doesn't stand a chance!"
It was clear Hagrid's faith in Dumbledore bordered on blind worship.
Sherlock didn't argue. Firenze simply said quietly:
"This isn't just deduction—it's also the centaur's astrology.
Hagrid… you know we rarely misread the stars."
"Well, this time you're wrong! And so are you, Sherlock!"
Seeing that Hagrid had gone into "everyone-is-wrong-except-Dumbledore" mode, Firenze gave up trying to explain.
He knew Hagrid well enough to recognize when reasoning was pointless.
Soon, the group—three humans, one centaur, one unicorn, and one dog—reached the forest's edge.
"This is where we part ways," Firenze said, stopping to face them.
"I believe in our readings. But even so, centaurs can be mistaken.
There were times the stars of fate have been misinterpreted before.
I hope this is one of them.
Farewell—and good luck."
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