A few days go by, and during this time, Adrian saw Hagrid searching for books about fire dragons. This led to him speculating that the quartet visited Hagrid and learned about the dragon egg.
Unlike the original, Malfoy had learned to leave Harry alone. So this time, no rumors regarding the dragon egg had been spread out to the public. However, Hagrid was still forced to give up Norbert under the persuasion of the quartets. The dragon was maturing quickly and was unable to fit under Hagrid's roof.
The night soon arrived as the quartets crept in the ghostly silence of the Hogwarts halls. The pools of the dim lights barely held back the darkness. The quartets successfully met Charlie at the top of the highest tower, giving him the egg.
While descending, the quartets unfortunately met Filch, who successfully apprehended them. Filch reported the incident to Professor McGonagall, who deducted a combined total of two hundred points between them. The next morning, the whole of Gryffindor collectively groaned at the loss of points. Like a candle snuffed out in the dark, Harry's fame had vanished without a trace.
Dumbledore's POV
In Dumbledore's mind, a swirling amalgamation of thoughts was present. He pondered about sending Harry to the Forbidden Forest. He wanted the savior to be brave, somebody who could face Voldemort without fear. Sending him to the forest meant that Harry would encounter dangers, incidents that could hone his bravery. Upon careful decision-making, he contacted McGonagall, who agreed to send the quartet to the Forbidden Forest.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When the news hit the quartets, it hit them hard.
"Seriously? The forbidden forest is so dangerous," muttered Hermione.
Trying to sound confident, Harry replied. "At least we have Hagrid with us."
The day soon arrived as the quartets headed into the forbidden forest. Every step in the forest got them deeper amidst the trees that are covered in eternal twilight, where the branches formed withered hands clawing at the night sky. Fog obscured the view, and moonlight shimmered across the forest.
"Crunch, crunch, crunch." The sound of the footsteps reverberated through the forest.
After walking in fear for twenty minutes, everyone's footsteps abruptly came to a halt. In front of the quartets and Hagrid lay a fallen unicorn. Its once pearlescent coat soiled with dirt as silver blood, like liquid mercury, gushed out of the carcass. The creature's luminous horn had been buried in the soil; the creature wailed in agony.
Next to the wailing unicorn stood a cloaked figure, a wretched smile etched across the figure's face. Like a divine relishment, the murderer slurped the unicorn, thoroughly enjoying his forbidden act.
The cloaked figure raised its wand, a sickly green light illuminating the darkness.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Time seemed to slow as the deadly curse shot forward, an emerald blaze slicing through the shadows. Harry barely had time to react—his instincts screamed at him. He threw himself to the side, hitting the ground hard as the Killing Curse missed him by inches. A surge of raw terror clawed through his chest.
"RUN!" Hagrid bellowed, his voice shaking the very trees.
The quartets didn't need to be told twice. Adrenaline burned through their veins as they turned and sprinted, the forest a blur around them. Twigs snapped beneath their feet, the thick underbrush clawing at their robes as they stumbled blindly through the eternal twilight. Behind them, an eerie silence settled—then, the rustle of movement.
The figure was following.
A sinister presence lurked behind them, moving soundlessly, like death itself creeping forward. Harry's lungs burned as he pushed himself harder, but his foot caught on a gnarled root. He crashed to the ground with a sharp gasp, the sound of cracking bones and the pain blooming in his knee.
"Harry!" Hermione skidded to a stop, trying to help him up.
A chilling laugh slithered through the air, sending ice down their spines. The figure emerged from the darkness, stepping toward them with an unholy grace, wand raised once more.
But before the curse could be cast—
"THUD."
A massive force barreled into the cloaked figure, knocking it back.
Harry looked up in shock as a centaur—muscular, golden-haired, and imposing—stood between them and their attacker. Florence.
"You dare spill innocent blood on sacred grounds?" Firenze's voice was like rolling thunder, his blue eyes burning with defiance.
More centaurs emerged from the trees, their presence commanding, their bows drawn. The cloaked figure hesitated, its wand trembling ever so slightly. The odds had shifted.
"GO!" Firenze, he ordered, glancing at Harry.
Harry scrambled to his feet, but the moment he took a step, pain flared up his leg. He staggered, his vision blurring at the edges. The shock, the exhaustion—it was too much.
"Harry!" Hermione again gripped his arm, her voice edged with panic.
Firenze moved swiftly, lowering himself. "Get on."
Harry barely had the strength to protest. Hermione, Felix, and Ron helped him climb onto the centaur's back, his fingers gripping weakly at Firenze's shoulders. His body felt heavy, sluggish. The world around him swayed.
The last thing he saw before darkness took him was the cloaked figure retreating, melting into the shadows.
When Harry opened his eyes, he was no longer in the forest. A soft, golden glow surrounded him, and the air smelled of parchment and something faintly sweet. His head throbbed, and his leg ached with every movement.
"You are awake," a voice said.
His heart lurched as he turned his head.
Dumbledore stood by the window, his gaze cast outside, his expression unreadable.
"You were lucky, Harry," Dumbledore finally said, turning toward him, his eyes shadowed with something unsettling. "Luck, however, is not something you should rely on."
Harry swallowed thickly, memories of the forest crashing down on him like a tidal wave. The unicorn. The cloaked figure. The Killing Curse.
"What… who was that?" he whispered.
Dumbledore did not answer immediately. He merely studied Harry, the air between them heavy with unspoken truths.
"Rest, Harry," he finally said, his voice softer. "We shall speak when you are ready."
And with that, he turned and left, leaving Harry to ponder alone with his thoughts.