Well, at least we've managed to get Norbert out of here I suppose... Though I do wish ever so much that Filch was sculking around a different corridor tonight, but seeing as things have gone so well up until now, at this stage, with our track record, it going wrong could only be expected. Because when does anything ever run smoothly?

He's drug us to Professor McGonagall's office, and neither of us have said a word to each other from where we're sat outside of it. How can we have forgotten the cloak? It seems like, and most probably is, the least likely thing to have us caught, and yet here we are.

Professor McGonagall and, for some reason, Neville Longbottom are the two to walk out to greet us, yet neither of them look particularly pleased.

"Harry!" Neville bursts as soon as he's clamped his sights on the two of us, "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag-" Harry quickly shakes his head erratically at the other boy warning him that saying anything more will only make matters much worse.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr Filch says you were up the Astronomy Tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves," our professor seethes out angrily.

I can't think of a single thing to say. Nothing comes to mind whatsoever, especially after all the information she's already been given. What's there to say? To defend? There's nothing that'll turn this around for us now, and I think Harry knows it as well, because he looks just as pitiful as I right at the moment.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," says she, and I close my eyes awaiting her verdict. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

I'm completely caught off guard by this, as, and I'd never thought I'd say it, she's gotten it completely wrong, and in doing so has made us seem as though we take pleasure in seeing Neville in trouble as such, which is ridiculous! I'd never! We'd never! The look on Neville's face makes it all the more worse... he look so hurt. In his mind, he snuck out, broke the rules, just to keep Harry and I from getting into trouble, and now according to what McGonagall's accusing, we've just thrown that back in his face.

"I'm disgusted," says McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Amethyst, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions – yes, you too, Mr Longbottom-"

"But he didn't do anything wrong!" I yell out, and then cover my mouth following said outburst.

"Silence! Nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous – and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty," Harry gasps.

"But, Professor! Then we'll-"

"Miss Amethyst! I suggest you learn to bit your tongue. It has gotten you into plenty enough trouble as it is! Fifty points each," she clarifies whilst breathing through her anger.

"Professor – please-"

"You can't-"

"Professor, listen, I know-"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

With all said and dealt, I couldn't feel worse. This, these lost one hundred and fifty points, will put us in fourth place, so after news gets out, Professor McGonagall isn't going to be the only person severally disappointed in us all, and not to mention the fact that Neville looks absolutely shattered, and he had nothing to do with it!

As we begin our long track back to our dorms, I quickly run up to Neville and take up his sleeve. I need him to understand that we never meant for him to get in trouble, nor involved, and that we appreciate what he intended to do for us, and that I'm so, so very sorry.

"Neville, listen-"

"I don't wanna talk about it please, Y/N," he remarks before removing my grip and continuing on his way.

"But we never-"

"Please just stop..." he sounds as though he's holding back a flood of tears, and hearing such, causes I myself to do the same.

I choke on a short sob before looking to Harry with watery eyes and then taking off as quickly as possible before he can say anything at all as to avoid either of them having to see me cry.

The next morning the realisation as to what had occurred the night before starts off slowly, and then all at once. How the great Potter, and the strange Amethyst girl had lost all of their points by being out when they weren't supposed to. Neville still isn't speaking to me, but I suppose that's okay, as every time I picture the hurt in his eyes I almost break down and cry again. Hermione's been trying to cheer me up, but I just feel so horrible.

"Thanks, Potter!" some Slytherin boys call across to us in the halls. I've still barely spoken two words myself since explaining to Mione what happened in our dorms this morning. "We owe you one!"

"They'll forget all about this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them," Ron tries to console.

"I'm not worried about the ruddy points!" I exclaim, and then fall silent again as they look to me in shock. "We got Neville in trouble. This isn't just about some points. It's not even about us. He had nothing to do with it and it isn't fair."

"And Fred and George've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, have they?" mumbles Harry miserably.

"Well – no," Ron mutters in reply.

~~~{...Ӂ...}~~~

I've stayed silent during classes, mostly to avoid people's eyes, and seeing as I was trying to remain as invisible as possible, Hermione tried her best to remain silent as well as she's always sitting next to me.

The only real reason I pipe up anymore is when someone's going at Neville for what happened, and I'll stand up for him. I felt a little bit better one lesson when I yelled at Malfoy to shut his pompous mouth when he was congratulating Neville on helping Slytherin make first place. I was livid at the blond boy, and because of such, Snape took a further five points from me for yelling in class, which earned me even more glances than I was getting before.

In all of this I've been trying to keep my head as far down as possible, so I suppose having exams approaching so quickly works in my favour, as I'm able to devote all my time to revising and study instead of overthinking everything that's happened. That's not to say I don't still dwell on it though, I just save those thoughts for when I'm laying in bed in the dark silently.

It's on one particular afternoon a week before our exams that Harry and I are stumbling through one of the corridors to return a few books for our group to the library that we suddenly stop dead in our tracks when we hear a muffled voice inside of a classroom.

"No – no – not again, please-" begs none other than Professor Quirrell. He sounds like he's being threatened, and it doesn't take a genius to figure by who. "All right – all right-"

A few seconds later, said professor moves out of the classroom and into the hall with us, straightening the turban on his head. Perhaps Snape was getting a little rough in there, which is disgusting. He looks as though he might cry, and he's deathly-pale. He doesn't seem to see us, and he just walks away.

"We're on the same page here, right?" I mutter dully to the round-glasses boy, and he nods. Neither of us are going to be going in to investigate what's just occurred. Things will most likely go south again, and people are just starting to stop with their relentless reminding of what we've already done.

Harry and I walk away from the door and finally into the library where Hermione is testing Ron on his Astronomy. Harry's the one to tell them what we've just witnessed.

"Snape's done it, then!" Ron says. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Forces spell-"

"There's still Fluffy, though," reminds Mione.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," suggests Ron grimly. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here, telling you how to get past a giant, three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure," Hermione quickly says.

"But we've got no proof!" exclaims Harry, and I sigh knowing he has a point no matter how appealing Mione's suggestion may be. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor – who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wont help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

"Harry's right," I sigh again, looking to the table and fidgeting with my fingers. "There's nothing we can say that won't get Hagrid in trouble now. After all, he wasn't supposed to say anything, and the only reason we know some of what we do is because he's told us."

Hermione looks convinced, but Ron, however, does not.

"If we just do a bit of poking around-" he begins.

"No," Harry flat out refuses. "We've done enough poking around."

~~~{...Ӂ...}~~~

The next morning, we were all gathered around for breakfast when we each, Harry, Neville, and I, receive our notes reminding us of our detention that's apparently to take place tonight.

'

So as eleven o'clock does finally roll around, Harry, Neville, and myself, who've just said goodbye to Hermione and Ron, are stood in the Entrance Hall, as instructed, awaiting a probably excited Filch for our detention. Malfoy, both sadly and gladly, is here as well.

"Follow me," sneers Filch after lighting his lamp and leading us outside. "I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he continues. "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... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

I spend most of his monologue rolling my eyes as our feet all tap away at the grounds, and in the back of my mind I wonder, seeing he's so excited about physical punishment, what we'll be in for tonight. Surely our professors won't let him actually harm us, right?

We're all following dutifully behind him and his lantern, Harry and I walking side by side, Malfoy just behind Filch, and Neville keeping close to Harry and I walking just behind us both. The moon is brilliantly bright tonight, which gives me a little comfort in the glinting night, the darkness of the grounds, the contrasting stars lighting nothing, and the patchy clouds oiling the darkness further. It's after a few long minutes that we've arrived at Hagrid's hut.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started," Hagrid's voice cascades towards us through the dark. I glance to my side to see Harry looking much more chipper than before. I suppose he reckons we'll be getting off easy with Hagrid around, but I've got a terrible feeling we wont be in the least.

"I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf?" Filch spits with oil and malice. "Well, think again, boy – it's into the Forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

Neville's teeth start chattering, though I suspect it isn't from the cold, as suddenly his hands are bawled around both mine and Harry's robe sleeves, holding us ever-closer to him after the news has been announced. Malfoy even looks afraid, yet ever-skeptical.

"The Forest?" Malfoy demands. "We can't go in there at night – there's all sorts of things in there – werewolves, I heard."

"That's your lookout, isn't it?" Filch replies. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid breaks up the awful conversation by strolling over with a large cross-bow pressed against his shoulder and a quiver or arrows, or bolts, to match.

"Abou' time," he says. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Y/N?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," cuts Filch icily. "They're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" Hagrid frowns to the greasy man. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," Filch concludes with an evil little smirk in his glossy, horrid eyes, "for what's left of them."

"Don't pay him any mind, Neville," I whisper to the terrified boy. "He's only being nasty, as always – you know what he's like." The boy nods and his shaking lessens, but doesn't vanish. He's been speaking to me again ever since I've been sticking up for him when others comment on what he did because of us, and I appreciate that he heard me out when I explained to him that we had no intentions of getting him in trouble.

"I'm not going into that Forest," I hear Malfoy tell off Hagrid with a sternness to him that's wavering underneath the underlining fear.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," Hagrid retorts fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be writing lines or something. If my father knew I was doing this, he'd-"

"-tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growls conclusively. "Writin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!"

Malfoy, after Hagrid's display of displeasure, which is a side nor us, and apparently nor Malfoy has ever seen, submits and quietens up, even if he does like like he'd love to protest further, he doesn't. He simply looks to the ground with that scowl of his and I smile slightly to see Hagrid is no pushover when it comes to the Malfoy name.

"Right then, now listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight an' I don' want no one taken' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He leads us all to the outskirts of the Forest, right on the tree line, his large lamp swaying back and forth and spreading an orange glow through the dark. He points down a narrow, deep bush track, and then disappears into the thicket, a light breeze accompanying him, and with one last deep breath each to steel ourselves, we, too, head into the trees.

"Look there," says Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in here bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Malfoy asks the question that's spinning in all of our heads to some degree. He, though, surprisingly enough, sounds more scared than even I.

"There's nothin' that lives in the Forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," says Hagrid, and with a warm smile I pat and greet the grate hound. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

Splitting up? Well, now I love Hagrid, he's one of the many people I'd never want to get hurt, and I'd never say a bad thing to his name, but split up? In the Forbidden Forest? In the middle of the night? He must have hit his head some time today, because this sounds like a completely ludicrous plan! Split us up... who in their right mind would decide that? I mean please! We're eleven years old for Pete's sake!

"I want Fang," Malfoy suddenly declares, and I scowl at him as he drags the dog from my side where he's become comfortable sitting.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," warns Hagrid. "So me, Harry, an' Y/N'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice – now – that's it – an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh – so, be careful – let's go."

The silence is practically deafening as we stroll though the onyx trees and inky shrubbery, the breeze winding around the large and thin trunks alike and licking at the mist that's cascading as if it's water stuck in slow motion over the forest floor, thinner and thicker in different patches. The entire world inside of the Forest seems as though it's a realm all it's own, and perhaps it is. Who's saying that when we pass through the Forest's threshold we don't teleport to another world entirely? The way the darkness is sitting and singing silently around us would suggest such a thing.

We're just as silent as the night as we walk, our steps muffled by the damp leaves and our breaths billowing in front of our faces the deeper in we wander, as the deeper we get, the colder the Forest seems to become. Every now and then the moonlight careening through the canopy where the leaves aren't as dense illuminates small speckles of unicorn blood, and with each trickle of silver-blue light that shines from the ground, the more Hagrid's face seems to contort into a deeper state of worry.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harry asks, which causes me to jump as he's broken the silence so suddenly.

"No, they couldn't," I respond.

"Not fast enough," Hagrid agrees. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

There are tipped logs covered in dew and moss of varying colouration and thicknesses, and there are mushrooms of all shapes, sizes, and even various glows, some of which I recognise from one of my Herbology textbooks, and others I've never seen before. Somewhere up ahead there's the distinct sound of rushing water meaning we'll probably come across a stream in the coming minutes. I suddenly frown deeply as we cross a particularly dense puddle of blood.

"You alright, Y/N?" Hagrid whispers to me. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt n' then we'll be able ter – GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"