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Anthony spent several days processing adoption intentions collected from students. Organized them. Bound them into a volume. Opened the time planning table before his lesson plans. Made a note. Reminded himself to remember finding time to go somewhere less magical to call the rescue center. Whether Hogwarts or Hogsmeade village he frequently visited—both too magical, causing most Muggle items to malfunction. That of course included the all-important telephone.
In fact, every time he thought about the Ministry of Magic's entrance being a telephone booth, Anthony always found it somewhat ironic.
Opening the cabinet to file folders, he found a bottle of brandy sitting there prominently. Anthony suddenly remembered—this was what Tom had entrusted him to bring to Hagrid when passing the Leaky Cauldron on the return trip. Only Anthony had been busy cleaning his room right after returning. Later forgot about it.
He looked at the sky outside the window. Days were getting longer. Outside still bright. Perfect for visiting friends. So he stuffed the bottle in his bag—wouldn't be good if students saw—walked out quickly. Hoped his luck was better today. Could catch Hagrid at home.
Just as he thought about Tom's regards to pass to Hagrid, Anthony ran into Professor Quirrell at the corner. This was the first time he'd seen Quirrell since Snape started substituting.
"Professor Quirrell, so glad to see you're alright," Anthony said politely. Looked Quirrell over. "I guess you already know how much students miss you?"
The other's face was deathly pale. As if seriously ill. But the rumored injuries all over his body had obviously healed. His eyes protruded from withered sockets. Nervously glanced left and right. His face looked even more gaunt under the huge turban. Anthony even worried he'd be crushed by that big scarf breaking his neck.
"Ah." Quirrell was startled by his voice. Cowered against the wall. "An—Anthony P-Professor. Really g-glad to see you."
His stutter seemed to have gotten worse again. Anthony looked at him carefully. Frowned. "Are you—"
Professor Quirrell said, "Yes, I—I'm heading back to my of-office. G-goodbye." He hurried away. As if followed by some monster. Nearly tripped on the threshold opening his office door.
Anthony shook his head. Turned to continue toward Hagrid's hut. He just found it somewhat strange—Professor Quirrell seemed to have encountered some magical creature related to Necromancy. Even though Anthony had consciously suppressed his Necromancy, the magic still grabbed his ear the moment he saw Quirrell. Shouted things like "Necromancy" and "curse."
Like every previous time Anthony came, Hagrid wasn't in his house again.
However, this time he'd taken Fang too. Anthony stood before the quiet wooden house door. Hesitated whether to just leave the bottle on the steps or take it back and send Hagrid a note. Arrange another time. In a sense, for him, Hagrid had become almost as elusive as Dumbledore.
Suddenly, barking came from behind him. Then a thunderous shout: "Henry!"
Hagrid emerged from the Forbidden Forest leading Fang. Bow on his back. Quiver at his waist. Small knife attached. His free hand waved. Strode over. Fang excitedly lunged forward. Pulled the rope taut. But Hagrid easily pulled it back.
"What brings you here?" he said gruffly. Looked at Anthony with concern. "Things haven't been peaceful around here lately..."
Anthony was startled. "Your hut? Not peaceful? What happened, Hagrid?"
"Not my house," Hagrid shook his shaggy head. "The Forbidden Forest. Just these past days, someone hurt a unicorn."
Anthony handed Hagrid the Leaky Cauldron bottle. Asked, "Badly hurt?"
"Very badly," Hagrid said heavily. "Too much blood loss. Its blood is everywhere in the forest. I doubt it can even be saved... They won't let me get too close. I don't even know its condition now... Oh, brandy. Perfect. I really need this." He twisted off the cap. Started gulping directly.
Anthony's heart sank. He still remembered the beautiful, pure creature he'd seen before. Unexpectedly suddenly hearing a death sentence for an injured unicorn.
"Do you know how it was injured?" he asked. Followed Hagrid into his house.
Hagrid sat down heavily in the big armchair. Thud. Started clanking off his weapons. Fang dove into its cushion. Pulled out a ham from underneath—stored who knows how long. Anthony grabbed the chair he usually sat in. Sat beside Hagrid.
"Don't know," Hagrid said. "I asked around. No one saw. Centaurs, of course—still their same stars and moon talk. The wolf pack said it wasn't them—God, their reaction was really intense. I think I hurt their pride." He rolled up his pant leg. Examined his calf against the light. Two rows of faint tooth marks there.
Hagrid looked. Put his pants down again. "I even asked Aragog. It also said it didn't see who. But whatever did it must be very despicable."
Anthony asked, "Why?" As he knew, unicorns possessed very powerful magic. Very hard to injure. So he'd just mentally constructed some dangerous, powerful magical creature. Didn't expect Hagrid's first descriptive word to be despicable.
Hagrid said angrily, "Because it chose the weakest unicorn. Won't even admit it. Henry, it was that day we..." He suddenly remembered something. "Oh right, you didn't see. Remember last time we went to the Forbidden Forest? We went to find Aragog. Coming back we ran into the Weasley brothers who'd chased unicorns deep into the forest..."
Anthony nodded. "I remember."
Hagrid said, "A unicorn was giving birth then. So all unicorns went there. They have this habit. Unicorns are weakest during labor. Of course, only relatively speaking..."
He pulled out two cups. Poured Anthony one. Filled his own. Tilted his head back. Drank it down. "But anyway, Professor Kettleburn told me—they gather together at times like this to protect companions. Witness new life arriving. However, though labor is the most dangerous time, a unicorn that just gave birth is still weaker than usual..."
"You don't mean—"
"Exactly," Hagrid rumbled. Shook Anthony's eardrums with dull pain. "The injured one is that unicorn mother."
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