novelraw Chapter 22: Petrification and Imprisonment
Chapter 22: Petrification and Imprisonment
Chapter Twenty-Two: Petrification and Imprisonment
As a Slytherin, Draco preferred to simplify complex problems.
His plan for the Dark Lord was simple—strike when the Dark Lord was at his weakest in the Forbidden Forest. A fatal blow.
This was thanks to Dobby's surveillance. Recently, the elf had proudly appeared before Draco to report that Quirrell had been sneaking into the Forbidden Forest; last Wednesday, Dobby returned to announce that a unicorn had died there.
Combining these pieces of information, Draco quickly understood what was happening.
In his previous life, he and Potter had encountered Quirrell and the Dark Lord in the Forbidden Forest. The wraith had been prolonging his existence by drinking unicorn blood.
This was an extremely desperate measure. No wise wizard would willingly harm a unicorn. Harming a unicorn meant possessing a cursed, half-life—not desirable for any wizard.
Even the half-dead Dark Lord hadn't chosen to harm unicorns when he'd first entered Hogwarts.
Unless desperation reached a certain point—weakness to the point of imminent death. Given Quirrell's increasingly pale and frail appearance lately, this seemed certain.
Was there a better time to strike?
What Draco had to do was follow Potter closely.
He knew Potter would encounter the Dark Lord again—you could always trust Potter's knack for finding trouble.
"If Filch takes you to detention, never leave Potter's side," Draco said, leading Hermione through the library's deep corridors. "Stay close to him."
"Harry and I will be in detention together anyway! Of course we'll be together..." Hermione said absently.
She was tugging his sleeve, following as he wound left and right through the Restricted Section, trying to memorize the complicated route to Draco's study space.
"What if you're split into groups? You must be with Potter," Draco emphasized, glancing back to find her giving a perfunctory nod, preoccupied with observing aisles and shelves.
Hermione Granger's curiosity.
Ever since he'd told her about his study space, she'd been excited, single-mindedly trying to figure out the route.
"This is it." Draco stopped before a pile of rubbish, with thick dark green twisted cables blocking their way.
Hermione examined a dark green, gilded barrier standing before the cables, inscribed in cursive script: *"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus"* (Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon).
"That's Hogwarts' motto! To be honest, I've seen this sign several times before—it's been right in front of me all along—"
Hermione stood beside him, mouth agape in astonishment, looking utterly bewildered. "But this isn't like what I saw before! Why has it become so unrecognizable?"
"There are some protective measures in place," Draco said softly, smugness flashing in his grey eyes. "I don't want random people knowing about this place."
"I understand. But you're willing to tell me. Is that alright?" She glanced at him, a strange delight welling up inside.
"As long as you keep this secret and don't let anyone else know," he said, watching her face slowly brighten, faint satisfaction rising in his chest—she was more energetic when happy.
"I'll keep it secret," Hermione said confidently, then glanced at him with expectant eyes, eager to know how to transform the ruins into a study space.
Draco smiled and tapped the sign with his wand tip. The area where "Draco" was written slowly began glowing silver, the cursive word gradually transforming into a small silver dragon, swaying slightly.
A blush crept across his face as he whispered, "You need to give me your hand. It needs to recognize you."
Hermione reached out without hesitation, and he gently took it.
He placed his hand on the back of hers, interlacing their fingers to press her palm against where "Draco" was written. The silver light flickered intensely, the silver dragon seeming to swim in her palm, giving her a tingling, electric sensation. Suddenly, the silver light extinguished, the dragon disappeared. The barrier returned to silence, and "Draco" stopped moving.
"Right, it recognizes you now," Draco said, releasing her hand, ears turning slightly red. "When you get close to the word 'Draco,' Draco will open the door for you."
"Close to Draco...with my hand?" Hermione was intrigued by this magic. She bent to study it, gazing in amazement at the quiet word on the barrier, which now looked identical to the others.
"Something like that." He curved the corner of his mouth, neither confirming nor denying.
"Simple as that?" She turned to look at him, seeking confirmation.
"Try it," he said, glancing at her furtively.
Hermione tentatively touched the word "Draco." A flash of silver light crossed her palm, and the ruins vanished instantly. In a blink, the familiar, comfortable, classically furnished study space reappeared.
"Brilliant!" she said, happily stepping inside.
"Now you know how to enter. It's near the Ancient Runes bookshelf—just find the shelf with the most dictionaries." Draco walked in behind her, hands clasped behind his back, saying mysteriously, "Studying by the Black Lake is pleasant, but troublesome if you need to look up books. If you don't want to see those hostile classmates, you might as well hide here with me."
He could roughly guess how those Gryffindor students, who cherished House honor, gossiped about her behind her back.
He'd noticed long ago she hadn't been to the library in ages.
Hermione Granger not in the library was so unusual it made him uneasy.
Draco had initially quite liked this quiet, secluded place. He preferred solitude. He didn't want disturbance from clueless, foolish students. But he'd gradually discovered it was too quiet, too empty.
This was unbearable.
Something was missing. Like a puzzle missing its final piece, or fine French soup without salt.
Perhaps he lacked someone to talk to—someone clever, lively, and brave who wasn't afraid of his cold demeanor. He told himself this, trying to find a reason to invite her to share his study space.
This person should be a quiet reading companion, or occasionally someone with whom he could have intelligent conversation. He set strict conditions, fearing he'd make the range too broad.
She must be Muggle-born and exceptionally talented.
This finally narrowed the scope.
Who else could it be?
"No one else but her," he thought with satisfaction, and began brewing tea.
Meanwhile, the girl confined by Draco's elaborate schemes and rules—ultimately deemed the only one who could invade his territory—was completely oblivious.
She was swinging her legs comfortably in the armchair, attempting to recite facts about House-Elf Rebellions again.
This had nothing to do with social isolation. They were friends. Friends helping each other, giving her a quiet study space. They just wanted to cheer her up. Nothing more.
Draco silently convinced himself, suppressing wild thoughts, and quietly placed the teacup before her.
He watched her pick up the tea he'd brewed and sip it, eyes narrowing contentedly like a kitten finding its nest, and she said, "Thank you."
Yes, maybe he just needed a kitten. Draco thought—he needed warm companionship. Her bushy hair seemed so lifelike and vibrant.
As for her brown eyes, they were like the finest firewood he could find in winter, always burning with bright flame.
He felt overwhelming chill in his heart. His frozen soul was painfully cold. He couldn't help wanting to draw closer to the flames to warm himself.
This kitten was clearly more than just decoration—she had many thoughts.
Having just figured out where the study space was, she couldn't help returning to the previous topic of detention.
"Why must I go with Harry? Is there any compelling reason I can't refuse? It's just detention—why are you being so cautious?" Hermione asked.
"Potter is in danger," Draco said softly, grey eyes fixed on her quietly, a flicker of emotion she couldn't quite define. "Very dangerous. According to reliable sources, you're going to the Forbidden Forest."
He paused, recalling Longbottom, whom Hermione had petrified.
She'd executed that spell brilliantly! No one was more suited to cast it than her.
"You're a talented witch, and you'll definitely master the Full Body-Bind Curse. In fact, if possible, Potter should learn it too," he encouraged her.
Hermione lacked confidence and seemed quite worried.
"The Forbidden Forest!" she exclaimed incredulously, slamming her teacup onto the table. "We're just first-years—this is against the rules!"
"Rules are made by people. Don't worry, I'll be wearing an Invisibility Cloak and always beside you," Draco reassured her. "I won't let anything happen to you."
"No, Draco, that's too dangerous," Hermione said nervously. "If you're caught, you'll lose House points too."
"This isn't about points anymore." Draco pretended to examine the chandelier overhead, casually advising Hermione, "Think about Potter. How many people want him dead? It's common knowledge among staff that Potter's going into detention. I'd wager if Quirrell wanted to kill him, he'd seize this opportunity for a stroll in the Forbidden Forest."
Hermione pursed her lips and remained silent.
Draco secretly observed her from the corner of his eye, clearly seeing emotion changes on her face—worry, fear, hesitation, and determination.
"Alright," she finally said. "I surrender. You can come—just in case."
"Good. Don't tell anyone I'm following you. Not even Potter." Draco, still worried, repeated the instructions.
He tried not to let more people know his actions.
His previous life made it difficult to let his guard down. He considered almost everyone untrustworthy.
Even the Savior Potter.
He was too young to understand secrets—he blindly trusted people.
And then there was Weasley, the big-mouthed friend, who wasn't bad at heart, truly—just very outspoken, often.
Hermione, however, kept her word and never told anyone his secrets.
Hermione frowned, then nodded habitually. She seemed to find it increasingly difficult to refuse Draco, even knowing it was wrong.
Ever since he'd saved her from the troll, she'd found it difficult to say "no" to him.
Moreover, his rule-breaking methods were usually clever and not reckless. He always emerged unscathed—professors never caught him red-handed—which made it harder to discipline him.
---
The day of detention arrived quickly.
"Draco, are you there?" Hermione asked quietly, taking a deep breath.
They stood before Hagrid's hut. It was dark—crows circled the trees, and the Forbidden Forest loomed shadowy and ominous.
Draco, cloaked in invisibility, remained silent, only subtly squeezing her hand.
Ah, he was here. Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief.
Ahead, Neville Longbottom was telling Harry miserably, "I heard from my gran that there are werewolves in the Forbidden Forest..."
Werewolves? Those only existed in third year. Draco rolled his eyes, suddenly wanting to lean in and tell the trembling, round-faced boy a hellish joke: *There are no werewolves in the Forbidden Forest, only the Dark Lord... that's all.*
Hagrid said gruffly to the trembling Longbottom, "As long as yeh're with me or Fang, nothin' in the Forest'll hurt yeh."
"Hagrid, I can team up with Harry—we're not scared. You team up with Neville, he's terrified—you need to take care of him..." Hermione said quickly.
"Really?" Hagrid looked her over with concern. "Yeh're a little girl, so..."
"This has nothing to do with gender! You need to take care of students who aren't adapting well to the Forbidden Forest, don't you?" Hermione said matter-of-factly, hands unconsciously behind her back.
The invisible boy playfully tapped her palm, making it slightly itchy. The ticklishness made her temporarily forget worrying about werewolves.
"All righ', yeh take Fang with yeh..." Hagrid said. "See that shiny stuff on the ground? Silvery white? That's unicorn blood... We must try ter find that poor unicorn an' put it out of its misery."
Detention began.
They split into two groups to search for the injured unicorn. Fang seemed to catch a scent and kept circling Hermione.
"Oh, Harry, stop him! I'm scared of big dogs!" Hermione exclaimed, feigning fear.
She wasn't afraid of dogs, but worried Fang would expose Draco, complicating matters.
"Fang, come here." Harry was kind and understanding.
He quickly called the fierce-looking boarhound and led the way with Fang, while Hermione pretended dislike of dogs and kept distance behind.
When people enter a vast forest, it's easy to lose sense of space and time.
After walking awhile, amidst soft rustling of fallen leaves and twigs underfoot, Hermione suddenly felt tension surge. She still couldn't believe detention would truly take them deep into the Forbidden Forest, just as Draco predicted.
Saying you're "not afraid" and actually not being afraid in the situation were completely different things.
This was the Forbidden Forest—a dark, terrifying place in countless students' hearts! Hermione had seen more than once the respect, even fear, upperclassmen showed discussing it.
How could there be such casual detention? This tranquil darkness harbored countless dangers, enough to terrify any first-year!
Who knew—Quirrell might suddenly leap from some tree's shadow!
Hermione was frightened. She maintained distance neither too close nor too far from Harry and Fang. To an uninformed observer, she'd seem isolated.
This was intended to hide Draco, but the visual emptiness gradually filled her with terrifying thoughts, making her uneasy. Though the boy had promised to stay beside her, he was too quiet.
As she walked, occasional moonlight shone through branches overhead, illuminating silvery-blue bloodstains on fallen leaves. She gradually felt as if in a vast, desolate dream, even beginning to doubt whether he remained beside her.
Finally, Hermione's face turned pale. She looked around, voice trembling. "Draco?"
"I'm here." His voice came from the void, calming her uneasy nerves.
"Why would anyone harm a unicorn..." She saw another spot of bright silver blood, voice trembling. "It's too cruel."
It was cruel. But for the Dark Lord, nothing was more important than his life, Draco thought.
"Do you want to hold my hand?" he asked softly after a pause.
She seemed frightened.
"Yes." Hermione's voice was barely audible, but the invisible boy clearly heard. Through a layer of cool, slippery fabric, a hand firmly grasped hers.
"Better?" he asked softly, voice coming from beside her.
"Much better," she whispered, taking the invisible hand and continuing forward.
The Forbidden Forest was dark, empty, and silent. A cough could carry far, echoing. People walked carefully, trying not to make noise lest they disturb unknown, deadly beasts lurking within.
Hermione gradually felt tired, legs beginning to ache. She didn't complain but gritted her teeth and kept walking, unwilling to lose to anyone.
However, perhaps someone should have told her that unrelieved physical fatigue could lead to negative effects.
For example, when walking past a moss-covered tree stump, Hermione's legs buckled and she nearly slipped—but Draco caught her.
"Careful, you little fool." He whispered in her ear, breath brushing her earlobe, making that spot feel faintly warm.
She couldn't see Draco but could sense his body from his support. They were very close—close enough she could smell a faint, refreshing scent.
In fact, she was completely held in an invisible boy's arms—which would be quite bizarre if seen by any other person or creature in the Forbidden Forest.
Imagine! A girl teetering mid-air, tilted at an angle defying human biomechanics, yet not falling.
The invisible boy gently helped her up, steadied her, and said, "Are you tired? Let me help you."
"Alright," she said softly, feeling her fear lessen.
With Draco around, she felt much safer. He always seemed confident, never taking anything to heart, easily resolving problems or offering advice...
"Are you alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, turning when he heard her.
"I'm fine, let's keep going," Hermione said. She gradually heard flowing water—there seemed to be a stream nearby. Her hand was guided by the unseen hand, which walked ahead, preventing her from slipping or tripping again.
With his help, she hurried to catch up with Harry and Fang, heading toward the Forbidden Forest's center. The trees had become so dense the path was nearly impassable.
The silver bloodstains on the ground grew denser, and Hermione's grip tightened.
Draco knew the Dark Lord and Quirrell could appear any moment.
He gently squeezed Hermione's hand and whispered in her ear, "Prepare your wand—any moment." Hermione nodded, expression a mixture of alertness and panic, like a cat on edge. Her hand gripped the wand in her pocket, ready to draw it instantly.
Harry, still oblivious to Hermione and her invisible companion, was completely focused ahead. He stopped, blocked Hermione's path, and whispered, "Look."
Through tangled oak branches, Hermione saw the unicorn whose life was ending.
Beautiful, yet tragic. That was her first impression.
Its coat was white as pearls, lying gracefully on dark leaves, on the verge of death. The silvery-white liquid on the ground was mottled, dripping sounds from its wounds like cold, merciless countdown to life's end.
It tilted its head toward the bushes where Hermione hid, eyes pure and gentle, innocent and sorrowful. For some reason, its sorrowful gaze reminded Hermione of the boy beside her.
Suddenly, a hooded figure emerged from shadows of bushes on the other side. The figure crawled slowly on the ground, neither human nor beast. It crouched before the unicorn, lowered its head, aimed at the unicorn's wound, and began drinking its blood.
As if spotting something foul, Fang fled instantly—just as Hagrid had said, a complete coward.
The figure seemed to hear branch rustling and slowly raised its head—at the same moment, Draco saw Potter fall, clutching his scar.
"Now!" Draco snapped sharply.
"*Petrificus Totalus!*" "*Carcerem!*" Two jets of light struck the hooded figure in succession.
The figure remained motionless.
The moon emerged from behind clouds, bathing the earth in bright light. In moonlight, Quirrell lay motionless, like lifeless stone.
"Stay here! Wait for Hagrid and the others!" Draco said to Hermione, releasing red sparks into the sky.
Hermione belatedly collapsed to the ground. "Draco, I'm scared..."
"Dobby," he said to the air, "protect Harry Potter and Hermione invisibly until they're safe."
"Yes, young master," Dobby's voice came from the air.
"Who is Dobby?" Hermione's face was white as a Hogwarts ghost. She'd had no idea others accompanied them.
"A powerful house-elf. He'll protect you. Nothing to worry about. Go check on Potter." With that, he remained cloaked in invisibility and tiptoed to Quirrell to observe.
Draco had never seen such an ugly skull. The Dark Lord's hideous face was white as chalk, long thin nostrils like a snake's, once-bright red eyes now lightless. He glared fiercely in Harry's direction, expression frozen on Quirrell's skull.
It seemed he'd bet correctly.
While the Dark Lord's soul could indeed leave living beings, if Quirrell was petrified, he became stone.
If the Dark Lord's soul was imprisoned in stone, how could he escape?
He looked around but didn't linger. Instead, he hurried back to the bushes to check Potter.
Hermione was already crouching beside the unconscious Potter with grim expression. Her small face was furrowed, thick eyelashes fluttered anxiously—she looked very worried.
"Hermione," Draco's head appeared from nowhere beside Hermione, startling her, "I'm certain that's Quirrell. He has an ugly face on the back of his head—I suggest you don't look, it's disgusting." He drawled and pulled a funny face.
Hermione frowned, glanced at Quirrell in the distance, and shuddered. "Fine, I won't. At least not until the professors arrive," she said.
Just then, hurried footsteps, horses' hooves, and Hagrid's loud voice came from the bushes.
"Hermione, pull yourself together. Hold your wand—don't let go. I must leave. Don't tell them I was here," Draco said, unable to resist touching her hair, then quickly pulling his hand back as if startled.
Hermione nodded blankly, completely unaware of what he'd done. She was still reeling from the sudden events, shivering in the cool night breeze.
After a soft rustling of fabric, the boy vanished. Hermione quickly cast a Warming Charm on her robes, and the invisible boy disappeared into the vast darkness of the Forbidden Forest, as if he'd never been there at all.