The image of a unicorn, a creature synonymous with purity and grace, flashed through John's mind as he envisioned a majestic white horse with a spiraling horn. Unicorns were protected species, revered for their innocence. When a distressing wail pierced the air, Hagrid, without hesitation, dashed towards the source, with John trailing behind. Despite John's physical conditioning, he found himself struggling to keep pace with Hagrid, who navigated the forest's terrain with ease, showing no signs of fatigue.
Upon reaching a clearing by a water source, they were greeted by a harrowing sight. A unicorn lay wounded, its cries of agony filling the air. A ghastly scar marred its body, from which silver-white blood flowed like mercury. "Approach carefully," Hagrid warned, gripping his crossbow tightly, ready to defend against any threat.
As they neared the unicorn, the extent of its injuries became apparent, and Hagrid's heart sank. "Oh no," he murmured, his voice laced with sorrow as he knelt beside the creature, realizing the futility of any attempt to heal such grievous wounds. "No one would harm a unicorn... except those driven by madness and a death wish," he said, the weight of the situation heavy on his heart.
John's thoughts raced, connecting the dots to a disturbing possibility. The frequent nocturnal absences of Professor Quirrell from Hogwarts, coupled with this attack, painted a sinister picture. Could Quirrell be involved in this vile act?
Together, they buried the unicorn in the Forbidden Forest, a solemn act that left Hagrid despondent. John, understanding Hagrid's passion for magical creatures, offered words of encouragement. "Hagrid, we must look ahead and ensure this doesn't happen again," he said, trying to lift his spirits.
Back at Hagrid's hut, John's attempt to lighten the mood with rock cakes brought a semblance of comfort to the grieving gamekeeper. "We must protect those innocent beings," Hagrid resolved, his spirits somewhat lifted by John's presence and words.
After their patrol, John, feeling a growing sense of urgency, decided to delve into Occlumency, a magical discipline that would be crucial in the face of looming threats. He spent the night in the Room of Requirement, pushing himself to grasp the basics of Occlumency.
The day of the Quidditch match arrived, and the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. In the Great Hall, John observed Hermione trying to bolster Harry's spirits. Harry's anxiety was palpable, the fear of failure overshadowing his fear of physical harm. John offered his own brand of encouragement, reminding Harry of the importance of staying focused and resilient.
Seamus Finnigan's attempt to rally support for Gryffindor against Slytherin led to an awkward moment when he remembered John's house allegiance. Despite the faux pas, John brushed it off, understanding the rivalry's intensity but also the underlying camaraderie among Hogwarts students.
As the match approached, the tension was palpable, but John's thoughts were elsewhere, pondering the dark conspiracy that seemed to be unfolding within the castle's walls. John was regarded with a certain level of respect by Gryffindor, a sentiment that seemed to extend even to Malfoy, who approached him with his usual entourage. Upon seeing Gryffindor and the ever-irritating Potter, Malfoy couldn't help but snort disdainfully. "Wick, I'll show you the way to the Quidditch pitch. You wouldn't know where it is," he said, a tone of condescension thinly veiled as generosity in his voice. John, thinking he was going to support Slytherin at the game anyway, agreed to accompany them. After they departed, Ron snapped out of his daze, his mouth agape in disbelief. "Am I seeing things, or did Malfoy actually invite John?" he exclaimed. Harry shared his astonishment, "I wish I could say you were mistaken, but I witnessed it too." Seamus, half-joking, half-serious, suggested, "John must've cast a Confundus Charm on Malfoy." Hermione, ever the voice of reason, pointed out, "John has consistently performed well, contributing nearly two hundred points to Slytherin's tally." The Gryffindors exchanged puzzled looks, questioning if beating Malfoy at the start of the term was indeed a commendable feat.
The Quidditch pitch was a sight to behold, its immense size barely containing the excited crowd. "See, only I could secure such a prime spot," Malfoy boasted, conveniently omitting the fact that John had prevented him from a near fall just moments earlier. Goyle and Crabbe managed to carve out a decent viewing area for them. The stadium was a sea of colors, divided between Gryffindor's red and Slytherin's green. The tension was palpable even before the match began, with fans from both houses nearly coming to blows.
The game kicked off with Madam Hooch's whistle, and Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor, served as the commentator. His bias was unmistakable, celebrating Gryffindor's achievements while barely acknowledging Slytherin's. John couldn't help but feel irked by the blatant partiality. Amidst the excitement, he spotted Hagrid among the sea of red, with Ron and Hermione looking almost doll-like beside him.
The match was intense, marred by numerous fouls. John noted the absence of red cards, a staple in Muggle football, which could have curbed the aggressive play. Suddenly, Harry's broom began to act erratically, reminiscent of someone under the influence. John's gaze instinctively found Malfoy, who seemed to take pleasure in Harry's plight. "Certainly, Malfoy lacks the capability," John muttered to himself, though Malfoy didn't catch his words.
After a tense few moments, Harry regained control of his broom. It was then that John witnessed Snape's robe catch fire, and in a surprising turn of events, Snape elbowed Quirrell in the face. The impact was so severe that Quirrell was left reeling for minutes. Harry, now back in control, spotted the Snitch and made a spectacular dive, eventually catching it in his mouth. Lee Jordan announced Gryffindor's victory with a score of 170 to 60.
John couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. "We're in dire need of a skilled Seeker," he remarked. Malfoy, momentarily aligned in sentiment with John, quickly brushed off the feeling, determined to become Slytherin's Seeker and best Potter in the future.
The incident with the broomstick raised suspicions in John's mind. Whether Snape had a hand in it remained unclear, but one thing was certain: the intrigue and rivalry within Hogwarts were as alive as ever. John had always considered Snape a complex character. Despite his harsh exterior, Snape's undying love for Lily Potter suggested he would never harm her son. John even mused that if Harry had been a girl, Snape might have switched careers just to be closer to him, driven by the same devotion that led him to betray Voldemort for Lily.
As he approached the door, John overheard the conversation inside. Hagrid's voice, tinged with annoyance and anger, clashed with Harry's curious inquiries. "Forget about the big dog, forget what it's guarding. That's a matter between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel..." Harry's voice trailed off as he stumbled upon the name.
"Aha, so Nicolas Flamel is involved, is he?" Hagrid grumbled, clearly frustrated by the turn of the conversation.
John, who had arrived after watching the game, hesitated at the doorway, debating whether to enter. He glanced at the dog food in his hand, considering the timing. While he could afford to wait, the ever-hungry Ghost Yaya, a gluttonous specter known to them, certainly could not. The sound of drooling was almost audible to him. It was a mystery how the large dog had come to recognize Tom as its leader, seemingly in exchange for food.
Deciding to make his presence known, John knocked and pushed the door open. Inside, he found Hagrid wearing an expression that was a mix of anger, annoyance, and sulkiness. The three young students—Harry, Ron, and Hermione—were also there, gathered around a table laden with rock cakes. John couldn't help but hope that Hermione's father, a dentist, would be able to repair any damage the hard treats might cause to their teeth.
The room was filled with a tense atmosphere, but John's arrival seemed to momentarily distract everyone from their previous conversation. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of how mundane concerns, like the state of one's teeth after eating rock cakes, could momentarily pause the more serious, magical dilemmas they faced.
_________
If you are tired of reading I also have this converted to an audio novel on my youtube
https://www.youtube.com/@NovelAudioForge/featured
Direct Link to playlist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_Hg-qsW4rM&list=PLKskshYG-OcPTR4-Nw7IWFEBZm07D8pBV&ab_channel=NovelAudioForge