Midway through his tea, Hagrid suddenly sat up straighter.
"Oh, I almost forgot," he said. "I noticed something troubling during my patrol this morning."
Everyone looked at him. Newt set down his teacup.
"What did you find?"
"Blood," Hagrid said. "Silvery blood, it looked like unicorn blood."
Hermione's eyes widened. "A unicorn was injured?"
"Must have been, and badly," Hagrid said. "There was too much of it for a minor wound."
Newt's expression grew serious. Unicorns were exceptionally sensitive creatures, pure and powerful, but deeply vulnerable to anything capable of breaking through their natural defenses.
Whatever had injured one would not have been ordinary.
"How long ago?" he asked.
"This morning. Three or four hours back."
Newt rose immediately. "Take me there."
Hagrid hesitated. "Now?"
"Yes. If the wound isn't treated, it risks infection. We can't afford to wait." He was already moving toward the door.
Hagrid nodded quickly and got to his feet. The Gryffindor trio exchanged glances and stood as one.
"We'll come too," Harry said.
Hagrid looked to Newt, who considered briefly. "All right. But stay close and don't wander."
The three nodded. Then they looked toward Henry.
Henry knew what the silvery blood in the Forbidden Forest signified, the same events he remembered. But it was the middle of the afternoon, and Quirrell had classes at this hour.
The Forest itself posed no immediate threat.
"I'll come," he said, and stood.
Cho Chang rose as well, unwilling to miss whatever lay ahead.
The group made their way into the Forbidden Forest. The deeper they went, the more the trees pressed in around them, tall and dense enough to reduce the early spring sunlight to scattered patches on the ground.
Hagrid led the way with Fang's rope in hand, the boarhound trotting at his side with rather less enthusiasm than usual. Newt followed just behind, his gaze moving steadily across the undergrowth as he walked.
Henry and Cho Chang kept pace in the middle, with the Gryffindor trio close at their backs.
Hermione looked pale, not frightened exactly, but unsettled by the oppressive stillness of the place.
Ron kept glancing sideways at the shadows between the trees, clearly calculating the fastest route back. Harry, by contrast, seemed entirely at ease, his eyes bright with curiosity.
"Hagrid," Harry said, "what actually lives in the Forbidden Forest?"
"All sorts," Hagrid said. "Centaurs, unicorns—"
He stopped.
"And?" Harry prompted.
"Just stay close," Hagrid said.
Newt spoke without turning around. "Hagrid, has anything out of the ordinary been happening in the Forest recently?"
Hagrid thought for a moment. "Not that I can put my finger on. The only thing I've noticed is the unicorns. I used to see them fairly often, but lately they've kept themselves well hidden."
Newt absorbed this without comment, his pace steady.
The observation troubled him. Unicorns were not naturally solitary. If one had been hurt, the others in the herd should have remained nearby, protective.
But Hagrid had found only bloodstains, no unicorns, no herd. The absence said something, and whatever it said, it was not reassuring.
After roughly twenty minutes of walking, Hagrid stopped.
"Here," he said, gesturing to a small clearing ahead.
Sunlight fell in broken patches through the canopy, illuminating a stretch of grass along the base of a large tree.
There, catching the light in a way that seemed almost luminous, were the bloodstains. Silvery, shimmering against the dark earth, beautiful and deeply wrong.
Hermione pressed her hand to her mouth.
Newt crouched beside the stain, touched it carefully, and brought his fingers to his nose. "Unicorn blood. Recent, within the last hour."
"Where is it now?" Hagrid asked, his voice tight.
Newt stood and read the trail. The bloodstains continued in a single direction, deeper into the Forest.
"We follow," he said.
The path grew rougher as they pressed on, branches snagging at sleeves, the ground softening into mud that made each step an effort.
Newt moved through it without slowing, entirely at home in terrain that had everyone else picking their footing with care.
Henry stayed close behind him, his attention moving constantly across the surrounding trees.
Something was wrong. The Forest was completely silent, no birdsong, no insects, not so much as the rustle of a breeze through the higher branches.
The quiet had a quality to it that felt deliberate, as though everything in the Forest had withdrawn to a distance.
"Mr. Scamander," Henry said quietly.
Newt glanced back.
"It's too quiet," Henry said.
Newt gave a single nod. "I know." He didn't elaborate, but his pace quickened.
The blood grew fresher as they walked, silvery traces that had not yet fully darkened, gleaming faintly where the light reached them.
Hagrid's expression had gone gray. He looked like a man watching something he cared about deeply come undone.
"It's close," he said. "Just ahead."
"Stop here," Newt said.
Everyone halted.
He drew his wand and spoke without turning. "I'll go first. Follow me, but keep your distance. Whatever you see, don't make any sound."
He led them through a dense thicket, and the trees opened without warning into a wide, sunlit clearing, far larger than the first.
In the center, a unicorn lay curled on the ground.
Pure white, its coat seemed to hold its own light even in the open air. Its long mane fanned across the grass in silver threads, and its horn, still beautiful even now, caught the afternoon sun. But the creature's body was folded in on itself, trembling with each shallow breath.
Blood seeped steadily from a wound at its neck, pooling on the ground in silvery rings.
The sight of it, so luminous, so clearly suffering, was difficult to look at directly.
Hermione and Cho Chang reached for each other wordlessly, eyes bright. Harry stood without speaking.
Ron's legs were visibly unsteady, and Hagrid surged forward instinctively, only for Newt to catch his arm.
"Don't," Newt said, low and firm. "She's frightened. If we move too quickly, she'll bolt, and that will make the bleeding worse."
Hagrid stopped, his hands twisting together. "But she needs help."
Newt was already crouching down, bringing himself below the unicorn's eye level.
He began to speak, or rather, to make sounds that were not quite speech. Low and steady, with a rhythm that seemed to belong to something older than language.
A call, or a comfort, pitched at the frequency of something the Forest itself might understand.
The unicorn's ears turned.
Her head lifted, slowly. She looked at Newt with large, dark eyes full of pain and a wariness that hadn't yet decided to become trust.
Newt continued without pausing. The unicorn watched him for a long moment, her breathing still ragged, her body still trembling.
Then, gradually, her head lowered.
Newt rose and walked toward her, unhurried, giving her time to register each step. She did not move away.
He reached her side and knelt, laying one hand gently along her neck, just below the wound.
"There now," he murmured. "We've found you. You're all right."
The unicorn made a small sound, low and uncertain, barely audible, like something between a breath and a cry.
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Early chapters: [email protected]/palevolt100