Harry Potter: Master of Talismans

McGonagall told us on Monday afternoon that our detention would begin after dinner. Malfoy was waiting with Filch when we came downstairs, looking at the four of us as though he still considered his presence an administrative mistake. Filch took us outside and filled the walk to Hagrid’s hut with punishments he regretted no longer being allowed to use. His fondness for the old methods did nothing to encourage conversation.

I watched the path instead of his face. Whatever pleasure he took in frightened children, I saw no reason to improve the evening for him. Beside me, Harry had drawn his coat tightly round himself, while Malfoy kept glancing towards the dark line of trees.

Hagrid waited with a lantern, a crossbow and Fang. His hut was quiet now, without scratching at the door or a sudden screech from within. Once Filch had handed us over and left, I asked whether he had spoken to Dumbledore about the man with the egg. Hagrid said he had, yesterday, then began explaining our route before I could ask what the headmaster had made of it.

‘We’re keeping to the outer paths,’ he said. ‘Stay close, and don’t go wandering after anything you hear.’

Malfoy looked at the crossbow. ‘Why do you need that?’ he asked, taking a small step away from its point.

‘Because I know better than to go in without it.’ Hagrid lifted the lantern and led us towards the trees. Fang trotted after him, leaving the rest of us to follow.

I had walked through woods in my other life. I recognised branches moving in the wind, animals disturbing leaves and the inconvenient noise of my own feet whenever I wanted to listen. Here, familiarity with those sounds made the unfamiliar ones worse. The trees soon hid most of the castle’s light, and I kept Hagrid’s lantern in view rather than looking too long into the spaces beside the path.

Fang stopped near a fallen trunk. Hagrid brought the lantern closer, revealing a silver smear across the leaves and more caught on the rough bark. It shone whenever the flame moved, bright enough that I initially mistook it for something reflecting the light from underneath.

‘What is it?’ I asked. Hagrid crouched, and his expression made the rest of us gather closer.

‘Unicorn blood. This is what we’re looking for.’ He moved the lantern along the fallen wood. ‘Found one dead a few weeks back. Looks like another’s badly hurt.’

Descriptions from my books came back to me: rare materials, unusual properties, things I had read about without expecting to test them. For a moment I saw the silver on the leaves as something I could put in a bottle. Then Hagrid showed us how far the trail continued. Whatever had left it was losing a great deal of blood, and I kept my hands out of my pouch.

The marks separated around the trunk. Hagrid examined both sides before telling Ron and Hermione to come with him. Harry, Malfoy and I were to check the other path, stay on it and send up sparks if we found anything. We were to wait for him after signalling, not approach whatever we discovered.

‘By ourselves?’ Malfoy asked. He looked down the narrow gap between the trees, then back at Hagrid.

‘We’ll be close. I’m checking this stretch, not sending you into the middle of the forest.’ Hagrid pointed out where his own path ran. Malfoy demanded Fang, and Hagrid agreed, though he warned us against relying on the dog’s courage. Fang wagged his tail without offering any evidence either way.

I checked that my prepared spells were within reach before we separated. Hagrid’s lantern remained visible through the trunks for a little while, then disappeared behind them. We followed the blood with Fang ahead, trying to distinguish fresh marks from patches we had already passed. Malfoy waited until Hagrid seemed out of earshot before complaining about being made to tramp through the woods like a servant.

‘You’re scared,’ Harry said. His own voice was tight enough that the accusation did not sound especially convincing.

‘And you aren’t?’ Malfoy retorted. He pulled his sleeve free of a branch and glared at Harry instead of watching where he was going.

‘Enough. We all want to get back.’ I stepped over a root and waited for them to catch up. ‘Watch the path and stop giving everything in here directions to us.’

They fell silent, though the ground ensured that none of us moved quietly. Wet branches brushed our robes, and roots hid beneath the leaves. After several minutes, Harry was breathing hard and Malfoy had abandoned any attempt to look above the work. I was finding it awkward too; being fitter did nothing to remove the obstacles under my feet.

Fang stopped between two trees, his body rigid. Malfoy noticed first and touched my arm, withdrawing his hand as soon as I looked round. He pointed at the dog, then followed its stare into the darkness ahead.

A white shape lay beneath a tree. Something dark was bent over it, moving close to the ground. I took a fire talisman from my pouch and raised my other hand for the boys to stop. We needed to back away, signal Hagrid and keep whatever that was from noticing us.

Harry groaned before I could tell him. Both his hands went to his forehead, and he staggered against my shoulder. ‘My scar,’ he gasped, pressing harder. ‘It hurts.’

The dark shape lifted its head. Moonlight caught part of a mouth and the silver wetness beneath it; the hood concealed the rest. Malfoy screamed, and Fang bolted before he did. I heard both of them crashing away while the figure straightened with a twisting movement and came towards us.

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Harry stumbled backwards. I stepped in front of him, threw the prepared strip and shouted, ‘Incendio!’ Fire flared against the approaching robes, forcing the figure to recoil. For an instant I could see the leaves and trunks around it with painful clarity.

Something passed close above my shoulder. I ducked as hooves struck the ground ahead, and a broad body landed between us and the flames. Above it were a man’s shoulders; below them, a horse’s body drove forwards. The centaur called for me to hold my fire, and I stopped with a second strip already between my fingers.

The hooded figure twisted away from him. A last flicker of burning cloth lit a trunk before both light and figure disappeared into the trees. I listened for movement I could follow and heard nothing useful. My hand was shaking, making the unspent talisman tremble against my thumb.

‘Where did it go?’ I asked. The centaur turned towards Harry, who was leaning against a tree with one hand still pressed to his scar.

‘You must leave this place,’ he told him. ‘It is dangerous for you, Harry Potter.’ Harry looked up in surprise and asked how he knew him. The centaur replied that many in the forest knew his name, without making that sound particularly reassuring.

I asked what the figure had been doing. The centaur looked towards the white body and said it had been drinking the unicorn’s blood. Even somebody close to death could be sustained by it, he explained, but killing such a creature for its blood carried a terrible price. The life it bought would be cursed.

I put away the unused strip and moved towards the unicorn. Behind me, the centaur began speaking to Harry more quietly; I caught only pieces as I knelt beside the white body. Its flank moved with a shallow breath. The wound beneath it was far worse than the trail had suggested, and I kept clear of the torn flesh when I laid a hand against its neck.

The fur was warm. That surprised me, though I could not have explained why I had expected anything else. Its eye moved towards me, and I tried to think of something in my pouch that could help. I knew no charm to close a wound like that, no potion which could replace the blood spreading into the leaves.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. The unicorn’s nostrils trembled as it drew another breath, and I stroked the uninjured part of its neck. The useful spells I had worked so hard to learn felt very small beside it.

I looked at the silver and thought of a bottle again. I hated that the thought could return while my hand was still on its warm skin. Pretending it had never occurred would not make my motives any better. I leaned closer, unsure whether it could understand me but unwilling to stay silent.

‘I wanted some before I even saw you,’ I admitted. ‘For my work. I won’t drink it. If you’ll let me take a little, I want to use it to make something that helps people.’

Its eye remained on mine. I could not tell whether the words meant anything to it, and they sounded inadequate against the effort of its breathing. I kept my hand steady, trying to offer at least that much comfort.

‘I’ll find whoever did this,’ I said. ‘I swear it. I won’t let them keep doing it.’

The unicorn tried to lift its head. I supported it with both hands, feeling the shudder pass through its body. For a moment its eye was close to mine, bright despite the blood beneath us. Then its head settled against my palm, and I stayed beside it until the next breath failed to come.

I waited longer than I needed to. When I finally moved, I took a small empty bottle from my pouch and collected a little blood still flowing from the wound. I did not cut into it or open the torn flesh further. I stopped the bottle securely and put it upright in a protected pocket, with no sense of triumph at having obtained what I had wanted.

Something warm pressed against my other hand. I looked down and found a white horn across my palm, although I had neither reached for one nor felt anything fall. The unicorn’s brow was bare. There was no ragged break where the horn had stood, and I remained very still as I looked between it and my hand.

I had asked for blood. This had come without a blade, without pulling or taking, and I could not make it into merely another ingredient in my collection. I wrapped it carefully before putting it away. Then I touched the still neck once more and told the unicorn that I had meant my promise.

‘A promise is easier to make than to keep,’ the centaur said beside me. I had not heard him approach, and evidently I had spoken less privately than I thought.

‘Was that You-Know-Who?’ I asked. Harry’s scar, something drinking blood to stay alive, a Stone that could produce the Elixir: the pieces had begun fitting together while I knelt there. I would have preferred almost any answer that separated them again.

The centaur’s expression grew grave. ‘Your friend asked me that too. Consider what would pay this price, and what it would seek next.’

It was no identification I could prove. I looked back at the unicorn and asked whether he could help us bury it, but he turned towards the path. A moment later I heard Fang, followed by Hagrid calling our names. Harry answered, pushing away from the tree.

Hagrid arrived with Ron, Hermione and a very pale Malfoy. He looked us over, counted us and released a breath before greeting the centaur as Firenze. That supplied the name I had not thought to ask. Firenze told him to take us back, and Hagrid knelt beside the unicorn to check it.

His face tightened as he lowered the lantern. I did not need him to tell me what he had found. When Firenze turned to leave, he looked at me once more and told me to keep my promise. I said I would, and thanked him for helping us before he disappeared between the trees.

Hagrid kept all five of us together on the return. He said he would arrange for the unicorn to be brought in and report the attack, making us describe what we had seen as we walked. Nobody complained about the work now. Even Malfoy stayed close enough that his sleeve sometimes brushed mine.

We parted from him in the entrance hall. Upstairs, the four of us found a quiet place in the common room, and Harry repeated what Firenze had told him. Ron fitted Snape into the account at once, suggesting that he wanted the Stone for You-Know-Who. Hermione pointed out that the Elixir would remove the need for unicorn blood, though neither of them had seen who was beneath the hood.

‘We need to tell Dumbledore,’ Harry said. He began getting up, but Hermione stopped him with the news that the headmaster was away. Flitwick had mentioned a Ministry visit that afternoon, and she did not know when he would return.

I had unfolded an old piece of parchment while they talked. There was blood in my pouch and a horn wrapped beside it; possessing either had supplied me with no instructions. Harry said my name, bringing my attention back to the table. I folded the parchment and looked at him.

‘McGonagall tomorrow morning,’ I said. ‘Hagrid’s reporting the attack, and we’ll tell her what Firenze said. She can hear about your scar from you.’

‘What if she doesn’t believe it’s him?’ Harry asked. He kept a hand on the chair, halfway between sitting and standing.

‘Then we still tell her what we saw. That’s more than a theory about which way Snape walked.’ I waited until he sat down. ‘And I’d rather lose an argument with a teacher than let somebody like that reach the Stone. I haven’t been your friend long enough to lose you yet.’

Harry gave me a small, tired smile and said he was not planning to die. We put the books away without opening them. Upstairs, I checked the bottle and the wrapping round the horn before closing my pouch. In the morning, I would have to begin doing the work my promise required.