"Actually, it's not difficult to piece together the truth, if you know what unicorn blood is for…"
He dipped a finger into the silvery-white blood, his deep eyes fixed on the viscous liquid on his fingertip.
"But the books never mentioned what their blood was for. We only used their tail hair and horn in Potions class," Hermione said, looking somewhat confused.
"This is to protect them," Nightingale interjected. "Unicorn blood can heal the deepest wounds and prolong life—even for those on the verge of death…"
"However, the moment your lips touch the blood, a curse will climb your bloodline like a poisonous vine—first pain, then decay, and finally, evil spirits gnawing at your organs, madness devouring your mind, until your soul is riddled with holes."
"Indeed…" Sagres nodded. "Not many people know this, and even fewer would do it."
"Who could it be? Who would do such a thing?" Harry asked, puzzled. "I mean, if you have to endure such a curse, isn't it better to die than to live?"
"Exactly!" the Centaur, Lyon, couldn't help but agree with Harry.
Sagres stood up and suddenly asked the young wizard a question. "Harry, you said that when that person approached you, the scar on your forehead suddenly hurt?"
"Yes, Professor. Although it has hurt before, it was never this severe."
"Then isn't the answer obvious?" He showed a strange smile, but it vanished in an instant.
"What.. What did you say, Professor?"
"I said the answer is already very clear, Harry. Who has been waiting silently for so many years, longing to make a comeback? And who is clinging to life, preparing to return?"
Harry's heart felt as if it had been suddenly gripped by a giant hand. Sagres's words echoed in his mind, each breath making the voice clearer.
"Oh my.. don't tell me.." Hermione looked like she had a sudden realisation. "But isn't he.. isn't he.."
In a trance, Hagrid's rough, deep voice rang out again: "There are rumors that he's dead? That's just the delusion of cowards! Such a soul is only fit to wander on the edge of life and death, never finding true peace."
"You mean… Voldemort isn't dead..?" Harry asked, somewhat incredulously.
A shiver ran through everyone's skin.
The Dark Lord who once commanded the winds and clouds—was he hiding in the Forbidden Forest right now?
Had they just come face to face with him?
Yes. Harry suddenly understood. The scar—that was what Lord Voldemort had left him, which was why it had suddenly hurt when the other person approached.
Is this the truth? The truth the Centaurs were unwilling to speak? Were they afraid of Lord Voldemort's retaliation?
"But everyone says that person's greatest fear is Dumbledore… and it's so close to Hogwarts, he shouldn't be here…" Hermione couldn't help but say. "Ugh.. It doesn't make sense. He should run far away, not hide somewhere so close to Dumbledore."
"Perhaps because he wants something from the school!" Ron suddenly spoke, his words reminding Harry and Hermione.
"You mean—Magic…" The three of them suddenly understood.
An arrow suddenly shot through the treetops, flying rapidly toward them.
Sagres casually cast a spell, and a fierce hurricane instantly enveloped them, deflecting the arrows aimed at them.
A moment later, the hurricane dispersed. Everyone looked around in surprise and uncertainty, finding a group of Centaurs slowly emerging from behind the bushes. They held bows and arrows, glaring at them menacingly.
"They killed a Unicorn!"
"Lyon? Why are you with them?"
"Why did you bring them into the forest? Hagrid, we had an agreement, didn't we? No one else but you!"
The Centaurs accused them vociferously, even pinning the crime of killing the Unicorn on them.
The young wizards grew agitated at this, while Sagres wore an as expected expression, looking at the surrounding Centaurs with a half-smile.
"It wasn't us. Lord Voldemort did it…" Harry defended.
"Lord Volde… Lyon, what did you tell them?" a Centaur angrily questioned Lyon. "We all made an oath—have you forgotten?"
"I didn't tell them anything, Bane. They figured it out themselves."
"He's not lying!" Ron shouted. "Isn't it obvious? We don't need the stars to tell us."
The Centaur named Bane was immediately enraged by these words. He angrily drew his bowstring, aiming the arrowhead at Ron.
"Say no more, Mr. Weasley…" Sagres said calmly. "They're just a bunch of arrogant wretches who only believe what they see. Other than that, they trust no one."
As soon as he finished speaking, an arrow flew toward him.
The other party was clearly provoked. Sagres disdainfully pursed his lips, and with just his modified Return to Sender spell, the arrow flew back toward the Centaur at an even faster speed.
The Centaur named Bane quickly dodged, but the arrow still grazed his cheek. The other Centaurs, seeing this, immediately drew their bows and aimed at everyone.
"Lyon, perhaps you should tell them our intentions now!" Nightingale also drew her wand, saying coldly.
But Lyon, standing just behind her, did not respond. His gaze flickered—guilt? doubt?—but he said nothing. Instead, he quietly stepped back… and kept stepping, until he stood among the ranks of his fellow Centaurs.
His silence said it all.
Then came the voice of Bane, loud and full of command:"Hagrid, take the human wizards and get out of the forest. They are not welcome here!"
"What's wrong with you, Bane? We're just investigating the killer of the Unicorn…" Hagrid's voice boomed with disbelief, and he stepped forward protectively, placing his massive frame between the children and the Centaurs. "You know I'd never bring them here without a reason."
A volley of arrows sliced through the air toward Hagrid. Gasps escaped the young wizards—this couldn't be happening. Hagrid had always said nothing in the Forbidden Forest would ever harm him.
Startled, Harry and his friends instinctively raised their wands—but before they could act, Sagres calmly pressed down on their wrists.
"Heh~ Nightingale. I knew this commission would be trouble," Sagres muttered, almost to himself. His black robe billowed with the first hints of stirred magic.
"But it doesn't matter—dealing with trouble is what I'm best at… Just stand still, ok?" He reassured the young kids with a calm smile.
He didn't use his wand.
He simply lifted a hand and pointed.
The arrows froze mid-air.
Then, one by one, they ignited with a blue-white fire, crumbling to ash before they could fall to the earth.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Sagres's eyes swept over the group of Centaurs. For the first time, the easy confidence in his gaze gave way to something colder—sharper. A thread of wrath glinted beneath the calm.
"I say…" he began, his voice soft and venomous. "Have you perhaps misunderstood something—"
He took a step forward, eyes glowing faintly.
"—We are not welcome? The Forbidden Forest belongs to the Centaurs?" he asked, his voice now edged with power, "And who decided that?"
As soon as he finished speaking,
Leaves rustled without wind. The trees groaned deep in their trunks. And from beneath the mossy undergrowth, thick green vines began to crawl out—snakelike, swift, and alive with ancient magic.
They surged toward the Centaurs.
Some tried to leap away.
The vines coiled around their ankles like predators striking prey. Then they yanked—hard. There was chaos. Gasps. Screams. Hooves thudded. Bows dropped.
Within seconds, the forest was silent once more.
Sagres raised a hand and flicked his fingers.
And more than twenty Centaurs—bound tight, arms and legs crushed by green tendrils—were hoisted upside down, swaying gently in the air like grotesque ornaments hanging from the night sky.
12 Advance chaps—P@treon/DarkDevil1