Unicorn’s Funeral and Familiar Breath

When Hagrid returned with the snowbell flowers, the Acromantulas were already chattering hungrily.

"This is our instinct," said the ninety-seventh grandson, a few pairs of eyes gleaming above his head. "But like Aragog, I can restrain my instinct."

"That's purely out of respect for Hagrid," Aragog said to Anthony, then turned to Hagrid, who was approaching with large strides. "If Hagrid hadn't asked me to look after you, I would never have stopped my sons and daughters."

Hagrid held a large handful of snow-white flowers, swaying gently with his steps. It was unclear where he had picked them.

"I can see that. But still, thank you," Anthony said with a light-hearted tone. "Next time, stick close to the unicorn—maybe you'll catch that bastard."

Hagrid blinked in confusion. "Catch what?" he asked. A snowbell flower was tucked into his collar, dangling under the weight of his unkempt beard. The flowers looked surprisingly small compared to his massive frame.

"Nothing, just a joke," Anthony replied. As a human, he didn't think anyone should end up as an Acromantula's snack.

Hagrid didn't press the matter further. He picked out three snowbells, handed them to Anthony, and tried to persuade Aragog to "hold the flowers in his claws" as a gesture of respect for the unicorn.

"You didn't bring flowers last time," Hagrid mildly scolded Aragog.

Hagrid had lived at Hogwarts for a long time and had even witnessed the funerals of dead unicorns. According to Aragog, the unicorn that had just died was the great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother (or something close to that—Aragog had counted for a while before admitting his memory wasn't what it used to be, and Acromantulas were never great at math). Unicorns, it seemed, lived quite a long time.

Fang also wore a circle of snowbell flowers around his neck, hanging just outside his collar. Anthony leaned in to take a closer look and noticed that the flowers were strung together with ropes Hagrid usually used for hanging hams. The faint scent of cured meat lingered. Fang, however, didn't seem to care about the fragile white flowers adorning his neck. When Aragog came closer, Fang pressed against Hagrid's legs, inadvertently rubbing off several flowers.

…

Anthony waited in the clearing, holding the delicate flowers, their heads bowed as if in humility. The unicorns had completely surrounded the bodies in the clearing, and since the scene was no longer in view, he found himself surprisingly calm.

Looking back, he couldn't quite understand why he had felt so overwhelmed with sadness earlier.

He rarely experienced such strong emotional swings. The Bloody Baron had mentioned in his notes that he once doubted his suitability for necromancy due to his intense emotions. In their conversations, the Baron had also warned that necromancy could amplify these emotions, eventually blinding one with rage.

Anthony hoped that his grief was normal—not some dark side effect of necromancy tempting him towards something dangerous.

But compared to Hagrid's sorrowful expression, Anthony felt almost indifferent. If Aragog had told Hagrid that the murderer was a human, Anthony believed Hagrid would have stormed the castle, banged on Dumbledore's office door, and demanded that the all-powerful headmaster find the culprit and smash them to pieces—quite literally, rather than through a curse.

...

Suddenly, the centaurs seemed to sense something, and they all stood solemnly in the forest.

The Acromantulas followed suit, rustling as they lined up. Anthony overheard several spiders grumbling about why Aragog had brought them to this magical ceremony that had nothing to do with them—unlike unicorns or centaurs, Acromantulas had no tradition of funerals—but all the rattling complaints ceased when the unicorn's horn was pointed in their direction.

Hagrid stood next to Anthony, repeatedly adjusting the flowers on his clothes, causing them to droop even more. Anthony took another flower, pinned it onto Hagrid's brown plaid coat, and whispered, "Don't touch it."

The unicorns surrounding the clearing seemed to suddenly grow taller, more powerful, and more mysterious. They began to move around the clearing in strange, ritualistic steps.

"It's starting," Hagrid said, his voice thick with emotion. He stared at the procession of unicorns, blinking rapidly, and then dug into his pocket for a while before pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes.

The clouds in the sky parted, and sunlight quietly bathed the clearing. The meadow seemed greener than anywhere else. Silver-white unicorns surrounded the sunlit area like flowing moonlight. The two little unicorns stood up, leaped from their mother's neck, and joined the other unicorns.

To keep up with the others, they trotted and jumped, almost as if they were playing. The older unicorn following them watched them sadly, then gently nudged them back toward their mother with its nose.

Hagrid let out a loud sob.

Under the gaze of the assembled unicorns, the sun grew brighter and warmer, while the unicorn's body in the clearing gradually dimmed. The soul-stirring pure magic surrounding it faded, leaving behind just a body, an empty shell. The meaningless sounds of the Forbidden Forest suddenly returned—Anthony could hear birds chirping in the distance and the faint sound of water.

It was only then that the little unicorns seemed to realize their mother was gone. They circled the body, gently biting its fur, tugging and shaking it, as if trying to wake something up.

"It has returned to magic," a centaur said solemnly. The centaurs raised their bows and arrows and shot towards the clearing one after another. Anthony watched the arrows fly past his head and land in the empty, deserted space.

Bane nodded to the tallest unicorn, then turned to the centaurs and said, "Let's go."

Hagrid sniffed and led Anthony and Fang to the unicorn's side. The unicorns in the circle looked at the flowers in their hands and silently stepped aside. Hagrid bent down and poured all the snowbell flowers onto the unicorn. The white flowers nearly covered the entire body.

"I... I'm sorry..." he said, his voice choked with guilt. "I really am the worst gamekeeper in the world! If I could have guarded the Forbidden Forest better, if I had found that bastard..."

Anthony patted him wordlessly.

Despite his efforts to suppress his undead magic, Anthony could still feel that the wound on the unicorn had a very familiar aura. If he hadn't been certain it had nothing to do with his pets, he might have suspected the skeleton cat or the wraith rat due to the faint scent of undead magic lingering around it.

From another perspective, the murderer must have had some connection to undead magic—just because his two pets were wandering outside all day long, and Hogwarts was a castle full of magic. He couldn't pinpoint the source at the moment.

But he was determined to find it. He had uncovered the basilisk, and he didn't believe he couldn't find the unicorn's murderer.