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"You're saying Professor Snape is trying to kill you?" Draco Malfoy set down his pumpkin juice, his incredulous voice rising in the bustling Great Hall, though it was quickly swallowed by the surrounding noise and caused no stir.
How had he not known about this in his previous life?
It was nearly evening, and the Great Hall was packed with students from all four houses. They were bent over the long tables, using the free time before dinner to catch up on homework. The scratching of quills on parchment, the low murmurs of students discussing difficult problems, and the gradually thickening aroma of food all blended together to form a familiar daily scene at Hogwarts.
Draco had just finished his brief "hospital wing holiday" and returned to this familiar bustle, only to be greeted by such an absurd accusation.
He searched through forty years of memories, trying to find any detail from his first year that related to this matter, but came up empty.
"You must be mistaken, Potter," Draco concluded, his tone carrying a weary certainty.
"We're not mistaken!" Hermione immediately retorted, her brown eyes shining with conviction as she leaned forward, as if to emphasise the weight of her words.
"During the Quidditch match, Harry was clearly being jinxed in the air! And I saw Professor Snape with my own eyes, muttering at him without blinking! I set his robes on fire with a Flame Charm, and Harry's broom immediately returned to normal! What more proof do you need?"
How could it be Snape...
Draco could feel a headache coming on, worse than the one he had during his fever. He had no idea how to convey information from the future.
He rubbed his temples and began to wonder whether bringing these three troublemakers together had been a mistake after all.
Harry looked at Draco, his face set with a seriousness that mixed childishness with stubbornness, and added, "As a matter of fact, we almost know who let the troll in on Halloween night."
Draco snorted. "Who, Snape?"
Harry seemed completely unfazed by the dismissiveness in Draco's tone. His green eyes swept over Hermione and Ron, as if organising his thoughts on how to present a complex chain of events clearly. "A lot has happened while you were away, Draco."
The expression on Draco's face said quite plainly, "I have no words."
Right. While he had been away, these three had apparently been plotting to send their own Head of House, the Order's undercover agent, the backbone of the resistance against the Dark Lord in the later stages of the war, Severus Snape, straight to Azkaban.
"Potter." Draco's voice carried a hint of playful sarcasm. "Your reasoning is very 'logical'. I had no idea your ambition was to become an Auror. But where is the evidence? Apart from what Miss Granger saw, and staring at a Seeker while muttering is not exactly unusual during a Quidditch match, is there anything else substantial?"
"You shouldn't have told him!" Ron cut in, unable to hold back. His deep-rooted dislike of Malfoy was still firmly in place. "I said he wouldn't believe us, Harry. Because Snape always favours him in Potions."
Harry ignored Ron and looked directly at Draco, laying out their "findings" with clear logic.
"First, the night we fought the troll, when we ran out of the lavatory, I clearly saw Professor Snape's leg bleeding, his robes torn. He was hurrying toward the fourth floor."
"Second," Harry lowered his voice, "we're not very familiar with the castle layout, and while you were gone, we... well... took a wrong turn and accidentally ended up in the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor. There's a trapdoor there, and beneath it is a giant three-headed dog!"
"This is no coincidence! Combined with the news about the break-in at Gringotts, we think someone is trying to steal something from Hogwarts. They released the troll on purpose to create a distraction. And that person is very likely Professor Snape, who was bitten by the three-headed dog on the fourth floor and showed up limping and bleeding!"
"Wait..."
Draco pressed his hand to his forehead. To be honest, if their suspect had been anyone other than Snape, he probably would not have even engaged in this discussion.
Dumbledore did not often share details with students. In his previous life, Draco only knew that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had received a large number of house points for "protecting something."
What had he been doing back then?
Surrounded by other pure-blood Slytherins, causing trouble everywhere, busy bullying Neville Longbottom, provoking Harry Potter, revelling in the hollow superiority of pure-blood ideology... and also, related to Potter... the duel.
Draco remembered that stupid midnight duel invitation from first year.
He had proposed a midnight duel to make Potter look foolish, then tipped off Professor McGonagall...
The result had been that they were both punished by Professor McGonagall, sent to patrol the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid, searching for an injured unicorn...
Wait, the Forbidden Forest.
This incident did not seem directly connected to what Harry was investigating. But the Forbidden Forest!
Another thought followed close behind, full of strong temptation.
He had been racking his brain over how to obtain several rare herbs needed for research into Astoria's blood curse. They grew in demanding environments, and as a first-year student, it would be difficult to use Malfoy family privileges without drawing Lucius's attention.
And those very herbs also grew deep in the Forbidden Forest!
He could use this incident to enter the Forbidden Forest legitimately and collect the materials he needed for his research.
As for the dark figure he remembered attacking unicorns... perhaps it was just some dark creature? From his current perspective, it should not be too much of a problem.
A plan quickly took shape in his mind.
He looked up, and the sarcasm and impatience on his face magically vanished, replaced by a carefully serious expression, as if he had been somewhat persuaded.
"...Even if what you say is true, Potter," he said slowly, his grey eyes glinting with calculation, "you don't have any solid evidence to accuse a professor. Unless... we catch him in the act, or find more concrete clues."
He paused, observing the reactions of the three, then proposed in a deliberately casual tone, "Simple. We can pay a visit to that three-headed dog tonight and see what it's guarding.
If Professor Snape really is up to something, we might catch him red-handed."
Draco knew full well that this proposal was reckless and dangerous. Professor McGonagall or another teacher would almost certainly catch them and stop them, and the punishment would very likely be Forbidden Forest patrol.
"Night patrol?" Ron gasped. "If we get caught..."
"That's why we need a solid plan," Draco interrupted, his tone carrying an unquestioning sense of direction. "For example, pick a night when he's unlikely to show up, just to 'get familiar with the area'."
Of course, he would make sure Filch or Professor McGonagall "happened" to catch them, so that they would be naturally sent to the Forbidden Forest as punishment...
A few nights later, the plan went off "smoothly."
When the four of them, huddled under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, crept toward the forbidden corridor on the fourth floor, the clues they deliberately left behind were indeed "unfortunately" spotted by Professor McGonagall on her rounds.
The punishment followed.
"Since you all have so much energy, perhaps you should put it to better use," Professor McGonagall said coldly. "Mr Filch, please escort them to Hagrid's hut."
The caretaker, a Squib, wore a gleeful, almost cruel smile. He carried a dim oil lamp with a dirty shade that only let through a weak, flickering glow, barely lighting the uneven ground a few feet ahead.
His raspy voice sounded like a rusty hinge. "Lucky for you lot, living in such a soft age..."
They walked along the stone path out of the castle. Filch's oil lamp was the only source of light, impossibly faint in the boundless darkness, illuminating only a small circle of wavering, twisted shadows.
In the distance, the Forbidden Forest crouched like a living black beast, waiting to swallow all light. The wind moved through the trees with a constant, sighing rustle, punctuated by the distant, blurred cries of unseen nocturnal creatures, setting everyone's nerves on edge.
"In my day..." Filch's unpleasant, phlegmy voice was unnervingly clear in the silence. He seemed to relish the fear he was creating. "Little brats like you would be strung up from the dungeon ceiling, flogged with special barbed leather whips, your screams music to the ears... left hanging for days on end, with only a bit of mouldy bread and water..."
Ron's face was as white as paper in the dim lamplight. He pressed close to Harry, breathing fast, and muttered under his breath, his voice full of barely suppressed fear and anger. "This was all Malfoy's stupid idea! Now we can forget about the House Cup, and we're being thrown into that creepy forest in the middle of the night!"
Draco walked slightly ahead, as if he had not heard Ron's complaint.
He maintained his Malfoy composure, though the darkness of the Forbidden Forest seemed thicker than he remembered, and the wind sounded stranger. His mind kept turning over the possibility of those herbs, trying to use that goal to push away the discomfort of his surroundings.
Harry walked beside Draco. He could feel Ron trembling and heard his complaints. He murmured in reply, his voice drifting slightly in the wind. "Ron, don't say that. Draco just wanted to help us get to the truth."
Hearing Harry's unhesitating defence, Hermione, walking behind, could not help rolling her eyes and exchanging a look of pure exasperation with Ron. She was frightened too, but more than that, she was worried about the consequences of such a reckless adventure.
"Bloody hell." Ron stared at Harry's profile in disbelief, his voice even lower but full of confusion and a touch of hurt. "What has he done to you, Harry? Look at us right now!"
Filch had been enjoying the fear on the students' faces, but now, seeing them whispering and bickering, the atmosphere of terror seemed diluted, and this displeased him greatly.
He glared at them with his bulging, malicious eyes, the lamplight casting jumping shadows across his twisted face.
But there was clearly nothing he could do, and he settled for muttering curses under his breath.
They walked what felt like an endless distance. The stone path gave way to soft, damp earth, and Hagrid's pumpkin patch came into view. A smell of soil, plants, and a faint animal musk hung in the air.
At last, they saw the warm light spilling from the windows of Hagrid's hut.
Hagrid's enormous figure stood by the pumpkin patch, wearing his heavy moleskin coat, but he was clearly distracted.
His huge, shaggy head turned again and again toward the closed wooden door of his hut, with a tenderness and nervousness entirely at odds with his rough appearance, like a mother worrying over a child.
There must be another illegal magical creature hidden inside, Draco thought.
When Hagrid's gaze turned to them, the tenderness was quickly replaced by heaviness.
"Oh, there you are..." Hagrid's voice was low and full of worry. He wrung his enormous hands. "It's not good, listen. Tonight's no ordinary patrol. There's a unicorn, the purest creature in the forest, and it's been hurt, badly. We found its blood in the trees... we have to find it and see what we can do."
As he spoke, his bushy beard trembled, and his black eyes were full of genuine concern. He handed out lanterns. "Stay close to me, don't fall behind, don't split up!"
The group soon divided into two. Hagrid took Hermione, Ron, and the excitedly barking Fang in one direction, disappearing into the darkness. At almost the same moment, Draco lifted his silver lantern and turned without hesitation toward another path, a more remote and damp area where several rare herbs might grow, according to his memory.
Harry followed Draco almost instinctively, without a moment's hesitation, like a hatchling fixed on the first thing it saw. The lantern's glow cast a small circle of wavering light ahead of them, barely pushing back the thick, impenetrable darkness.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked quietly. His voice was remarkably clear in the silent forest, and his green eyes, reflecting the lantern light, were full of complete trust in Draco's decisions.
Draco enjoyed the feeling of being followed by his former nemesis. He deliberately raised the lantern, making a show of letting its light sweep over the gnarled roots and dew-covered moss, and spoke with a pretence of authority.
"Looking for clues, Potter. Unicorn blood... I've heard it glows near certain herbs, or attracts particular insects. If we follow the traces, we might find it faster."
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Harry nodding earnestly, trying hard to scan the ground in the dim light. That trusting expression made Draco want to laugh.
So gullible. A few casual words and he's completely taken in.
Draco sneered inwardly. He could not help comparing this naive, dependent Harry to the mature, determined Saviour from his previous life who had always stood against him. A twisted sense of satisfaction welled up.
A sense of control, and a little... pleasure akin to teasing a pet.
They moved forward carefully. The lantern light occasionally startled small nocturnal creatures.
A cluster of glowing fairies burst from a bush like miniature will-o'-the-wisps, or a giant magical toad, green as an emerald, sat on a rotting log, its throat pulsing as it stared at them with dull eyes.
Ha, those eyes look just like the scarhead's.
Draco even spotted a clump of the very herb he was looking for, Moonleaf, its leaf edges shimmering silver. Without drawing attention, he quickly picked a few leaves and slipped them into the inner pocket of his robes.
Draco chattered away, half showing off and half joking, glancing at Harry from time to time to see the trust and admiration on his face.
Then their eyes suddenly met, and he was caught off guard by those unusually clear green eyes.
Harry was not looking at the ground. He was looking at Draco.
There was no naivety in those eyes, but rather a kind of understanding, and even the faintest, almost imperceptible hint of amusement.
As if to say, "I'm listening. Do go on."
The mockery and smugness on Draco's face froze instantly, too late to hide, making him look rather foolish.
He suddenly realised that Harry Potter, this seemingly simple Saviour, had seen through his flimsy nonsense long ago.
Just as Draco was feeling his face burn and wondering how to save the situation, Harry looked away of his own accord, as if their brief eye contact had never happened.
He casually pointed at a cluster of very ordinary Asphodel, the kind mentioned in Potions class for treating boils, and said in the most natural tone, with a hint of "eager to learn," "Draco, look at that! Its leaves are glowing. Is that the 'guiding fungus' you were just talking about? You really know so much, to notice such subtle differences."
He was deliberately calling a deer a horse!
Draco's cheeks grew warm. The humiliation of having the tables turned on him made him irritable.
Harry had not only seen through him, but was playing along with his act in an almost indulgent way, even with a touch of teasing.
This felt worse than being called out directly!
To salvage his already battered middle-aged dignity, Draco rather stiffly changed the subject and urged, "Save the chatter, Potter. Keep up. It's not safe here."
His face burning, Draco quickened his pace, inwardly determined to appear more "reliable" from now on.
The two of them walked deeper into the forest, each lost in his own thoughts. The lantern light was their only refuge. The darkness around them grew heavier, the silence more oppressive, broken only by the rustle of leaves underfoot and the occasional faint, unidentifiable sound.
It was in this subtle, slightly competitive atmosphere that Draco, walking ahead, suddenly stopped dead.
They had reached a clearing in the trees. And there they saw it, the dying unicorn and a dark shape hunched over it.
The dark shape was barely human, just a beast after all. That was Draco's first reaction.
This was his chance to save face.
Draco stepped forward abruptly, deliberately positioning himself in front of Harry, and raised his wand at the dark figure with a sharp shout.
"Lumos!"
He tried to use the brighter wand light to drive back the darkness, to see clearly and intimidate the "beast."
The scene before them was tragic and eerie. A tall, beautiful unicorn lay on its side in the middle of the clearing. Its silver coat, which should have shone like moonlight, was dull and lifeless. A terrible wound on its neck still poured silver-blue blood, like liquid moonlight, staining the grass and fallen leaves with a holy yet heartbreaking glow.
And a hooded, hunched figure, like the ugliest of parasites, was crouched beside the unicorn's elegant neck, greedily drinking the blood that was the very essence of life and magic.
At that instant, a familiar, bone-deep cold washed over Draco like a tide.
His body went rigid. The blood in his veins seemed to freeze.
Not a beast...
Not an ordinary dark creature...
Every hair on his body stood on end, and his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.
Even across the long years, even trapped in this eleven-year-old body, the terror of the Dark Lord, rooted deep in his soul, remained as vivid as a brand.
It was... him!
All of Draco's courage, all his desire to show off, shattered in that moment and dissolved into nothing. His mind went blank, leaving only that one realisation screaming over and over.
A massive tremor, rising from the depths of his soul, seized him. On his arm, where the Dark Mark did not yet exist but felt as though it had been seared into his very soul, came a tearing, burning pain.
All the terrible memories of contact with the Dark Lord from his previous life came flooding back. The cold mockery, the searing agony of the Cruciatus Curse, the suffocating fear within Malfoy Manor, and during the final battle, that cold embrace, like a poisonous snake coiling around him, heavy with death...
The Dark Lord... already in the first year...
He had thought there was time. He had thought that at least the first year would be relatively "safe"...
He had been wrong.
The icy fear pierced through his pretence like countless needles, making it almost impossible to breathe. His body began to shake violently, harder than the wind around them.
The lantern in his hand swayed, the light lurching wildly among the trees, as if it too could feel the horror emanating from the darkness.
Harry also felt that terrible cold. His green eyes were full of shock, but he seemed frozen by the ghastly scene and the evil presence, unable to move.
In the darkness, the hooded figure drinking the blood seemed disturbed by the light and noise. Slowly, with dreadful menace, it raised its head and turned toward them.
"Lo…lord..."
A faint, almost inaudible syllable, full of utter terror and a twisted kind of submission, slipped unbidden from Draco's pale lips.
The lantern fell from his hand with a clatter. The glass shattered, and the flame went out. Darkness swallowed everything, and with it, the last of his consciousness.
Draco Malfoy's legs gave way, and like a puppet with its strings cut, he collapsed straight back onto the cold ground, unconscious.