Chapter 55
"There's something in the forest," Hagrid said, his voice low and grave. "It's been killing magical creatures all over the place. A lot of them have died already—including a unicorn. It happened two weeks ago, on a Friday night."
Harry and Hermione immediately glanced at Gray.
That had been the Friday they'd sent Norbert away. Gray had been out on patrol with Hagrid that night; neither of them had expected anything like this to happen.
Malfoy's face changed colour when Gray looked at him.
That same night, Malfoy had dragged Filch out to catch Potter and Weasley—only to run straight into Granger and get himself landed in detention as well.
"Tonight that thing's out again," Hagrid continued. "Fang can sense something wrong in the forest. We've got to find it before it hurts any more of the creatures living here."
Beside him, Fang bared his teeth toward the dark line of trees, tail wagging furiously.
Fang wasn't a magical creature, but animals have instincts of their own. Even he could tell something dangerous was loose in the forest tonight.
"But what if it tries to hurt 'us'?" Malfoy asked, voice trembling.
"Don't worry," Hagrid said. "There won't be too much danger—as long as you do exactly what you're told."
He looked at Harry and Hermione, then frowned at Malfoy.
"We're going to split into two groups," Hagrid said. "Gray, you take Fang and Malfoy. I'll take Harry and Hermione."
"Whoever finds the thing first—or comes across any injured creature—send up green sparks. If you run into serious trouble, send up red sparks. The other group will head straight toward you."
"Anything else?" Hagrid asked.
Malfoy stared up at Hagrid's enormous frame—easily four or five times his own size—then at Gray, who stood beside him with a faint, unreadable smile. Malfoy swallowed hard.
"Why can't we all stay together?" he asked. "And why does our group only get two first-years and a dog? That's far too weak."
"Why not stay together? Because I've already decided," Hagrid said flatly. "No more questions. As for your group—Gray's patrolled the forest plenty of times, and you've got Fang. You'll be fine."
Without waiting for further argument, Hagrid turned and started into the trees. Harry and Hermione hurried after him. Malfoy scrambled to keep up. Gray glanced back once more—using his magical sight to scan the area behind them—then gave Fang's head a quick rub before following.
Nothing. No extra life circuits, no magical signatures. Nothing to confirm his suspicions about who might be trailing them.
The forest was pitch black and unnaturally quiet. They walked for a while until they reached a fork in the path.
Gray, Malfoy, and Fang took the left branch. Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid continued right.
Gray walked ahead in silence, lantern held low. Every few steps he checked the surroundings, then swept his magical sight across the trees and the path behind them.
Nothing unusual. Nothing at all.
The quiet of the night pressed in, carried on a cool breeze. Malfoy stared at Gray's back and felt a fresh wave of fear.
He was terrified of whatever unknown thing was out there killing unicorns.
He was equally terrified that Gray might still be angry about the Astronomy Tower incident and decide to abandon him here in the dark.
But he had no choice. All he could do was stick as close as possible to Gray and hope that any reckoning would wait until they were safely back at the castle.
Gray kept moving forward, eyes on the shadowed forest, mind turning over possibilities.
According to the events of 'Philosopher's Stone', the creature hunting magical animals in the forest should be Quirrell—possessed by Voldemort. In his current pitiful state, Voldemort needed the blood of magical creatures to sustain himself.
Unicorn blood was by far the most potent, even though drinking it carried a terrible curse.
Voldemort had never been one to fear curses; he preferred to be the one casting them.
In the original story, it had been Harry who stumbled across Quirrell drinking unicorn blood. But things were different now. In the book there had been no Gray; Neville had come along instead.
So it was entirely possible that 'he' would be the one to run into Voldemort tonight.
Gray felt a flicker of tension. No matter how weakened Voldemort was, he was still the Dark Lord—still the wizard whose name people refused to speak aloud even after all these years.
Gray was only a first-year.
The gap between them was enormous.
Still, he wasn't paralysed by fear. For months now he had spent at least a quarter of every day practising in the Room of Requirement—honing spells, refining techniques, working out tactical combinations. If he really did encounter Voldemort, he was confident he could at least protect himself long enough to escape. Voldemort's present condition really was that poor.
And—if his guess was right—there was a certain headmaster following somewhere behind them.
Of course, that was only a guess. He had no proof. He wasn't about to stake his life on someone else's protection.
Gray stayed alert, leading Malfoy and Fang deeper into the forest.
Then he stopped abruptly.
A faint silver glow appeared in his eyes as he stared at the ground a little way to his right and ahead.
Malfoy froze behind him, voice shaking. "What is it, Gray?"
Fang growled softly but didn't seem to sense anything specific.
Gray didn't answer with words or light a spell. He simply shook his head. Whether that reassured Malfoy or not wasn't his concern.
Through his magical sight, the earth revealed a broken, incomplete magical circuit.
It had the shape of a human hand—exactly like an X-ray image of bones. At the centre of the palm the circuit was severed.
If Gray remembered correctly, there was only one thing that left a magical signature like that.
Wiggentree root—more commonly called "伏荷" in certain old herbological texts, though most modern books simply called it "Wiggentree tuber."
The centaurs had asked him to help look for it back in November. If the centaurs hadn't mentioned it again recently, he might have forgotten entirely.
Gray studied the buried root. One of its finger-like projections pointed in a clear direction.
According to the books he had consulted later, Wiggentree tubers migrated underground in groups. The direction they pointed was usually the direction the rest of the colony had moved.
In other words—if he followed this straggler, it should lead him straight to the main cluster.
He could complete the centaurs' request tonight.
Gray almost smiled. He hadn't run into Voldemort after all—but he might still finish another important task.
He waved Malfoy and Fang forward, then set off in the direction the tuber indicated.
Find the colony first. Tomorrow he could tell Hagrid, who could pass the information to the centaurs. That would be one job done.
And if—by some stroke of luck—Voldemort happened to be waiting at the same spot… well, two tasks completed in one night wouldn't be bad at all.
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