Blood Of The Unicorns

Chapter One

Harry Potter lay on his bed, chin in his hand, flicking over the pages of a Martin Miggs: The Mad Muggle comic that Ron had sent him. A creak sounded outside his door, and he froze in the middle of Martin having a lot of humorous trouble with an escalator, muttering "Nox!" so that the light at the end of his wand disappeared. After what seemed like forever the creak sounded again, this time further away. This summer had been better than Harry had expected - Aunt Petunia had been heavily involved in affairs of the Women's Institute, Uncle Vernon had been busy with Grunnings and making sure everyone appreciated his new car, and Dudley had been surprisingly un-Dudley-like - but he still didn't want any one of the Dursleys discovering him reading anything remotely magical. And he was pretty sure that Martin Miggs would fall under that category, especially since the pictures, in common with all wizarding pictures, moved.

Harry sat up, and tossed the comic under the bed. Tomorrow was September 1st, and he would be on his way back to Hogwarts, where he would have Ron and Hermione to talk to, and Quidditch matches to play… and Potions lessons to get through. But even the thought of Professor Snape and Potions lessons wasn't enough to dampen Harry's excitement at the thought of going back to school.

The following morning came, and he had made sure everything was back in his trunk. Uncle Vernon still kept it locked in the cupboard under the stairs all summer, but that didn't present much of a problem for Harry (thank you Standard Book of Spells Grade I, Chapter VII). Martin Miggs: The Mad Muggle was tucked carefully away, as were the books he had been using for his homework. At breakfast he had waited for Uncle Vernon to make the first move. When he didn't, Harry sighed to himself, then spoke.

"Uncle Vernon?" A grunt was his only answer, but that was only to be expected: Uncle Vernon had made an art form of ignoring Harry. "I have to catch the train to school today. Can you give me a lift to the station please?" This time, Vernon Dursley looked up.

"All right then, boy. Just as long as you haven't got any more forms to fill in, or stupid sports matches you want to go to…"

"There's nothing like that," answered Harry quickly, not wanting to set Uncle Vernon off again. "I just need to get to the station." With much grumbling under his breath, he chivvied Harry into the car, complaining loudly when Hedwig protested at being put in the boot and had to be squashed onto the back seat. An hour later, however, they had reached King's Cross Station, and Uncle Vernon had managed to get Harry, Hedwig and the trunk out of the car in record speed and drive off, leaving Harry looking around for a trolley. Fortunately there were plenty around, and soon he was on the platforms 9 and 10. Looking around, he saw several people from school, but it was not until he had run straight at one of the red brick arches in the middle of the platform that he felt his first term in Hogwarts' Fifth Year had begun.

The Hogwarts Express, the train that runs between London and Hogsmeade, the wizarding village which stood close to Hogwarts, ran promptly at ten o'clock on September 1st, and at twenty to, the platform (9¾) was seething with students. Harry waved to Fred and George Weasley, who were Gryffindors in the Seventh Year, as they stood with Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson. Further down the platform he caught sight of Dennis and Colin Creevey, two more Gryffindors, and he waved at them as well, then wished he hadn't as Dennis Creevey's chest swelled with importance at being waved at by the famous Harry Potter. Pushing his trolley in front of him, he wandered over to Fred and George.

"Hey, Harry! How was your summer?"

"How was Duddiekins?" Harry grinned at the redheaded twins.

"Pretty subdued. I think he remembered the toffee from last year." One of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had "accidentally" found its way into Dudley's possession, and he had ended up with a tongue about four feet long before Mr. Weasley had been able to put it back to normal. The memory still made Harry grin. "D'you know where Ron is?" Fred - or possibly George - pointed to where Ron was being harangued by Mrs. Weasley.

"He's getting the "OWLs speech"," said George - or possibly Fred. "Mum's had plenty of practice with the rest of us, so I reckon she's safe for twenty minutes."

"Yeah, and then she'll be coming after us with the "NEWTs speech"." The twins blanched at this thought, and started making not-so-subtle moves towards the train. Harry watched them, feeling slightly sorry for himself. The Dursleys didn't care one way or the other if he passed his OWLs. In fact, as far as they were concerned, he could get eaten by a vampire in his Defence Against the Dark Arts practical exam, or get transfigured into a bookend by an over-zealous Hermione Granger. However, he was not left on his own for long. Fred and George's estimate of twenty minutes had been gifting their mother with too much credit (though not by much) and Mrs. Weasley was swooping down on him, looking at him with equal parts affection and severity.

"Now, Harry, I hope you and Ron are going to be working hard for your exams this year, and not getting into any trouble. And I certainly don't want to hear that the two of you have been looking for trouble." She continued at some length, and Harry stood listening to her, amazed at the trouble she took in telling people off. Behind her, Ron was making faces, though he stopped suddenly as Mrs. Weasley said, without pausing for breath, "and take that expression off your face, Ronald Weasley!"

Eventually she finished, and kissed both Ron and Harry on the cheek. "Have a good term, boys. Be good!" though it didn't sound like she had any great hope that they would be. With that, she whisked herself away, presumably to look for Fred and George to give them the "NEWTs speech". Harry and Ron stood watching her for a moment, then grinned at each other.

"All right then, Harry?"

"Yeah. How was your summer?" The two boys boarded the train as Ron started complaining about Percy.

"Honestly, you'd think he'd have learned his lesson after the whole Barty Crouch thing, but now he's all, "Oh, Mr. Albion says this, and Mr. Albion says that, and Mr. Albion wants all magical animals to be tagged and licensed… I think Mr. Albion's nuts." Harry wanted to ask who Mr. Albion was, but Ron was rushing on. "And he goes on and on and on at dinner, as if any of us really cared." Ron, who was himself quite capable of going on and on and on, was interrupted as someone entered their carriage. Harry jumped up with perhaps more enthusiasm than was warranted.

"Hermione!"

"Hi, Harry." Hermione Granger, who was Harry and Ron's best friend, and the best witch in their year, grinned at him. Then she said hello to Ron, with a marked lack of friendliness.

"Have fun in Bulgaria, did you?" asked Ron sullenly.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione replied sweetly, before turning back to Harry.

"How was your holiday, Harry?" He shrugged.

"Not too bad."

The train set off, and they were on their way to Hogwarts. Harry felt a thrill of excitement that never seemed to lessen however many times he caught the train. It didn't take long for him to notice, however, that Ron and Hermione weren't exactly on the best of terms, and the root of it seemed to be Hermione's trip to Bulgaria in August. Harry had received a post card from her (a picture of Viktor Krum on a broomstick) saying that she was having a good time, and it seemed like Ron had got one too, but had objected to Viktor Krum. From the way he was carrying on, you'd think she had sent him a picture of Voldemort, or something. It didn't take long for Hermione to take offence, and she buried herself in a good three feet of manuscript that, from what Harry could see, was covered in different coloured symbols.

"What's that, Hermione?" he asked after ten minutes of her eyeing it severely. She looked up.

"Revision timetable," she answered briefly. A snort sounded from where Ron was staring out of the window. Hermione ignored him. "You know how quickly time goes once we get to school. I want to make sure I'm ready when the exams come." Harry thought this was going a bit far, but decided that it might be wiser not to say anything.

"All this fuss about stupid OWLs," Ron moaned. "Honestly, the way Mum was going on about them you'd think they were life and death." Hermione's expression clearly indicated that she was in complete agreement with Mrs. Weasley, but Harry agreed with Ron. There were much more important things going on. "And Percy was trying to force all his books on me and…" Ron looked slightly happier. "Oh, yeah, Harry, I forgot about this." He rummaged in his bag, and produced a slightly dilapidated book. "I found it in Dad's study." Harry opened it, and looked at the front page. "Divining Disaster: It Could Happen To You!" He looked up at Ron.

"A book for Divination?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"The book. Let's face it, Harry, we were running out of things to happen. This has everything!" He snatched the book back, and started flipping through. "Look, we could get battered to death by an irate fishmonger, or…" He looked for more ideas, ignoring Hermione's groan at the pun, and Harry pulled out Martin Miggs.

"Or get squashed under an escalator," he suggested with a grin. Ron made a grab for the comic, and clutched it to his chest, his expression blissful.

"My last comic," he sighed after a while, patting it fondly. "Mum took the rest," he explained to Harry, keeping a strong hold on it, in case Mrs. Weasley suddenly popped in through the window on a broomstick. "I tried to convince her they were for Muggle Studies, but she wasn't having any. I've got to work." Ron looked gloomy for a moment, then cheered up a bit. "Mind you, as long as I do better than Fred and George, I don't think she'll mind."

Before long, the train pulled to a halt, and they had arrived in Hogsmeade. Harry leaned out of the window to see if Hagrid was around, Ron stretched noisily, and Hermione started busily gathering her things together.

"See him?" asked Ron, and Harry was about to reply, when it became unnecessary.

"Firs' years! All firs' years, over here!" Clumps of smaller children scuttled towards the school goundkeeper. It was easy to tell those who came from Muggle families, as they looked at Hagrid as if he might grind their bones for bread any minute. The children from wizard families usually knew all about Hagrid, and were greeting him with grins. Harry, Ron and Hermione waved, then followed the rest of their classmates towards the big carriages that would convey them to Hogwarts. Once they arrived, they shuffled into the great hall, and sat down at the Gryffindor table, looking around to see what, if anything, was new.

"Hey! Where's Snape?" It was Dean Thomas speaking, and at his words, Harry turned towards the high table where the professors were sitting. Dean was right - there they all were: Professor Dumbledore, sitting in the middle, Professor McGonagall on his right, Professors Sprout, Flitwick, Vector, and all the rest, including Hagrid. Other than Snape, the only teacher absent was Professor Trelawney, who took them for Divination, but as she rarely attended school meals (according to her, it "clouded her inner eye" - an announcement that had caused Ron to nearly choke to death as he tried not to laugh). Seamus Finnigan, another Gryffindor in their year, shrugged.

"He's probably around somewhere."

"Lurking," contributed Neville Longbottom, who had more than enough cause to be acquainted with Professor Snape's propensity for that particular pastime. He looked over his shoulder fearfully, as if he expected his nemesis to pop up behind him and deduct ten points for... well, being Neville. But the hall remained Snape-free, and Neville's mood improved noticeably. The conversation moved on to Quidditch, and Gryffindor's chances for the cup, only Harry still distracted by Snape's absence. He couldn't help but remember what had happened at the end of last year, and wondered if Snape had perhaps been caught by Voldemort - or gone back to him, because for all Dumbledore trusted Snape (and, Harry had to admit, that trust didn't seem to be misplaced), Harry himself couldn't quite bring himself to do the same.

All conversations came to a halt as the big doors opened, and the first years came pouring into the hall. Some of them looked downright scared, and Ron and Harry grinned at each other, remembering all too well how they had felt their first time - especially since Ron had been under the impression that he might have to fight a troll, and Harry had been sure his mere presence was a terrible mistake that would soon be found out.

The Sorting Hat sang its latest song. It had decided to abandon the tried and true rhyming couplets theme, and gone for limericks, with entertaining results, but eventually the new students were sorted and Dumbledore rose for the start of term announcements. The Forest was off limits to all students, any student breaking curfew would Very Seriously Regret It, and Professor Snape was taking a sabbatical in order to do some research, and would be replaced, for the time being, by a Professor Loveday, who was very highly qualified. With that, and the words, "Nunshead, Peckham, Dulwich," the feast appeared on the tables. Conversation was limited, by necessity to, "Pass the potatoes," and it wasn't until they were headed for their dormitories that Harry could ask Ron about the massive grin that had almost split his face when Dumbledore announced the new potions professor's name.

"This is brilliant!" Ron crowed. "Snape's gone, and that's the best news ever! With any luck he won't come back and..."

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" The sharp words came from behind them, and Harry, Ron and Neville turned round in surprise to see a stranger standing there, arms akimbo. Severe black robes hung down in careful folds, brushing the ground. A pointed hat obscured all but the slightest hint of red hair. And a distinctly unpleasant expression graced the face of a woman who couldn't be anyone else but their new Potions professor. Professor Loveday, I presume, thought Harry, but judged it wiser, under the circumstances, not to open his mouth. Such a thought obviously didn't occur to Ron. He gaped at her in surprise.

"What?"

"For showing a complete lack of respect for your elders and betters."

"But-"

"And another five for arguing." Professor Loveday's expression was as stern as Snape's ever had been, and it was quite clear that any anticipation over the possibilities inherent in Snape's absence would be very shortly quashed. She stalked off, the stiff material of her robes swishing lightly over the stone floor, leaving the fifth year Gryffindors staring after her. Harry turned to face Ron, who was looking as if he'd been hit by a brick.

"What was that all about?" he asked to no one in particular.