"We don't know who the enemy is," said Neville, whose voice did not squeak.
"We don't know what the enemy wants," said Theodore, still looking menacing.
"But we know who the enemy is attacking," said Susan, as fierce as when she'd taken on three seventh-year students.
"The enemy is attacking Hogwarts students," said Draco Malfoy, clear and commanding, like all this was his natural element.
"And Hogwarts," spoke Daphne of Greengrass, feeling her blood burn like it never had before in her life, "is going to fight back."
Chapter 99: Roles, Aftermath
Ten days later, the first dead unicorn was found in the Forbidden Forest.
Chapter 100: Precautionary Measures, Part 1
May 13th, 1992.
Argus Filch’s face appeared twisted in the light of the oil lamp he held, shadows dancing over his face. Behind them the doors of Hogwarts quickly receded, and the dark grounds moved closer. The track they now walked was muddy and indistinct.
The trees, branches formerly bare with winter, were not yet fully clad with spring; their branches stretched up toward the sky like lean fingers, skeletons visible amid the thin foliage. The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it often threw them into darkness, lit only by the dim flames of Filch’s lamp.
Draco kept a firm grip on his wand.
“Where are you taking us?” said Tracey Davis. She’d been caught along with Draco by Filch, on their way to an attempted meeting of the Silvery Slytherins after curfew hours, and likewise given a detention.
“You just follow me,” said Argus Filch.
Draco was feeling rather annoyed with the whole affair. The Silvery
Slytherins ought to be recognized school business. There was no reason why a secret conspiracy shouldn’t have permission to meet after curfew, if it was for the greater good of Hogwarts. If this happened one more time he’d talk to Daphne Greengrass and Daphne would talk to her father and then Filch would learn the wisdom of looking the other way where Malfoys were concerned.
The lights of the Hogwarts castle had diminished in the distance when Filch spoke again. “I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you, eh?” Filch turned his head, away from the lamp, so that he could leer at the four students following him. “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…”
“Hey!” Tracey said, a touch of indignation entering her voice. “I’m too young to hear about that—that sort of—you know! Especially if the chains are well-oiled!”
Draco wasn’t paying attention. Filch simply wasn’t in Amycus Carrow’s league.
Behind them, one of the two older Slytherins following them snickered, though she didn’t say anything. Beside her was the other, a tall boy with an Slavic cast to his face, and who still spoke with an accent. They’d been caught for some unrelated offense, having to do with the type of thing Tracey went on about, and looked to be in their third or fourth year. “Pfeh,” said the taller boy. “In Durmstrang they hang you upside-down by your toes. By one toe, if you are insolent. Hogwarts was soft even in the old days.”
Argus Filch was silent for around half a minute, as though trying to think of a proper rejoinder, and then gave a chuckle. “We’ll see what you say about that… when you learn what you’ll be doing tonight! Ha!”
“I said, I’m too young for that sort of thing!” said Tracey Davis. “It has to wait until I’m older!”
Ahead of them was a cottage with lighted windows, though the proportions seemed wrong.
Filch whistled, a high sharp sound, and a dog began barking.
From the cottage stepped forth a figure, making the trees seem too short around it. The figure was followed by a dog that seemed like a puppy by comparison, until you looked at it apart from the taller silhouette and realized the dog was huge, more like a wolf.
Draco’s eyes narrowed, before he caught himself. As a Silvery Slytherin he wasn’t supposed to be Prejudiced against any sentient being, especially not where other people might see him.
“What’s this?” said the figure, in the loud gruff voice of the half-giant. His umbrella lit up with a white glow, brighter than Filch’s dim lamp. In his other hand he held a crossbow; a quiver of short bolts was strapped to his upper arm.
“Students serving detention,” Filch said, loudly. “They’re to help you search the Forest for… whatever’s been eating ’em.”
“The Forest?” gasped Tracey. “We can’t go in there at night!”
“That’s right,” said Filch, turning from Hagrid to glare at them. “It’s into the Forest you’re going, and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece.”
“But—” said Tracey. “There’s werewolves, I’ve heard, and vampires, and everyone knows what happens when there’s a girl and a werewolf and a vampire all at the same time!”
The huge half-giant was frowning. “Argus, I ’ad in mind you an’ maybe a few seventh-years. ’Ere’s not much point in bringing along help if I’m to watch over ’em the whole time.”
Argus’s face lit with cruel satisfaction. “That’s their lookout, isn’t it? Should’ve thought of them werewolves before they got in trouble, shouldn’t they? Send them out alone. I shouldn’t be too friendly to them,
Hagrid. They’re here to be punished, after all.”
The half-giant gave a massive sigh (it sounded like a normal man having all the air driven out of his lungs by a Bludgeoning Hex). “Yeh’ve done yer bit. I’ll take over from here.”
“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.
“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 blew over Draco’s head as he looked into the Forest.
“There’s summat in there that’s bin eatin’ unicorns,” the huge man said.
Draco nodded; he distantly remembered hearing something along those lines a couple of weeks ago, toward the end of April.
“Did you call us to track down a trail of silvery blood to a wounded unicorn?” Tracey said excitedly.
“No,” said Draco, though he managed to stop the reflexive sneer. “Filch gave us the detention note at lunch today, at noon. Mr. Hagrid wouldn’t wait that long to find a wounded unicorn, and if we were looking for something like that, we’d look in the day when it’s bright. So,” Draco held up a finger, like he’d seen Inspector León do in plays, “I infer that we’re looking for something that only comes out at night.”
“Aye,” said the half-giant, sounding thoughtful. “Yer not what I expected, Draco Malfoy. Not what I expected at all. An’ you’d be Tracey
Davis, then. I’ve heard of yeh. One of poor Miss Granger’s lot.” Rubeus Hagrid looked over at the two older Slytherins, peering at them in the light of his glowing umbrella. “An’ who’d yeh be, again? Don’t remember seeing much of yeh, boy.”
“Cornelia Walt,” said the witch, “and this is Yuri Yuliy,” indicating the Slavic-looking boy who’d spoken of Durmstrang. “His family is visiting from the Ukrainian lands, so he’s in Hogwarts just for the year.” The older boy nodded, a faintly contemptuous cast on his face.