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BFH# Chapter 77: The Tale of the Unicorn and the Eight-Eyed Giant Spider
🕑 Added 2025-04-01 21:09:52 +0000 UTCQuirrell’s expression was anything but pleasant when he left. Though he barely managed to maintain his usual demeanor, the hands concealed beneath his cloak had secretly clenched into fists, and there was an undeniable hint of genuine tension on his face.
He was clearly dissatisfied with Victor’s divination results.
Was it truly a prophecy?
Or was someone sending him a message?
His hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly, before he finally forced out a stiff, "Then—then it had better not happen," and hurried away.
Victor watched Quirrell’s figure disappear at the end of the corridor, merely shrugging as he retrieved the tarot card bearing the image of The Tower.
As he always said—he had already made his prophecy. Whether they chose to believe it was their own business.
--
The rest of the morning was spent teaching the fourth-year students how to read tarot cards. Many of them held misconceptions about the meanings of the cards. For instance, Hufflepuff’s David had gasped and nearly fainted when he drew Death, only to later be forced to watch Peering Through the Mist: A Guide to the Future, where he learned that Death simply signified new beginnings—not his imminent demise.
In fact, only one tarot card was universally regarded as a harbinger of misfortune—
The Tower.
--
"What? You said Quirrell took off his turban?"
"Yeah! Not even a hint of garlic smell! I saw it with my own eyes this morning!"
"Are you serious? I thought he’d only take it off under a Voodoo curse! That thing looked like it was welded to his head."
By the time the last class ended, whispers like these had spread throughout Hogwarts.
Truth be told, very few wizards had ever believed Quirrell’s excuse for wearing the turban in the first place. While vampires were indeed troublesome creatures, they weren’t something one needed to fear on a daily basis—avoiding their habitat was usually sufficient. Most wizards assumed that Quirrell had simply been scared out of his wits during his travels and never fully recovered.
So, what shocked them was that he finally seemed normal again.
"Seeing Professor Quirrell act normal for once actually makes me happy. Poor guy—he was brilliant back in school. If it hadn’t been for that trip, he’d probably still be a well-liked professor of Muggle Studies—uh, not to say that Professor Burbage isn’t popular, of course."
That was Hagrid’s gruff commentary when Victor ran into him in the library.
Ever since Christmas dinner at Hagrid’s hut, the two of them had become more familiar with each other—especially since Victor had been the first wizard to actually eat one of Hagrid’s rock cakes right in front of him. Naturally, Hagrid had taken a liking to him.
"So, what brings you here?" Hagrid asked.
"Looking up some materials," Victor replied, holding a stack of books on potion ingredients. Since he had run into Hagrid, he decided to ask, "Hagrid, I heard the Forbidden Forest has many rare magical materials. Do you have any in stock?"
Hagrid didn’t find the question strange—professors often needed materials from the Forbidden Forest.
Rubbing his chin, he thought aloud, "Oh, I do have a fair bit. Just the other day, I went into the forest to gather some Devil’s Snare seeds for Professor Sprout, and I still have some left. I also collected some unicorn tail hairs—those little fellas are in their shedding season lately…"
"So, what exactly are you looking for?"
"Unicorn blood. Do you have any?"
Hagrid froze for a full two seconds.
Victor watched him quietly.
Hagrid remained still.
Only after a few more seconds did he realize Victor wasn’t joking. His eyes widened in shock, and he practically shouted—loud enough that Madam Pince glared at him from across the library.
"Unicorn blood?!"
His already beetle-like eyes bulged further, as if about to pop out.
"Merlin’s beard, are you serious?! Why would you even think of doing something so blasphemous?!"
"Blasphemous?"
Victor looked at Hagrid’s overly emotional reaction in confusion. Clearly, he didn’t fully grasp all the nuances of the wizarding world yet—some bits of knowledge could only be acquired through years of immersion.
Unicorn blood was one such thing.
Seeing Victor’s apparent bewilderment, Hagrid’s initial outrage slightly subsided. He lowered his voice but still spoke with barely restrained anger.
"Good heavens, Professor Victor, I don’t know who told you about this, but unicorn blood is absolutely, absolutely forbidden! Unicorns are pure, innocent creatures—they would never harm anyone. Taking their blood by force is an unforgivable act, and whoever does so will bear a curse for the rest of their life!"
Victor blinked, shifting his posture slightly as he rested his hands on his knees.
"What does unicorn blood do?"
"…It extends life," Hagrid answered gravely. "No matter how close to death you are, it’ll keep you alive. But—you’ll only have a cursed, half-life. A body that has consumed unicorn blood will forever lose its ability to heal, unable to resist even the slightest pain."
His tone was deep and serious, but he couldn’t help adding, with barely contained anger, "I don’t know who put this idea into your head, Professor Victor, but harming a unicorn is absolutely unacceptable. I would never keep such a vile thing in my stock."
Victor shrugged. He neither argued with Hagrid nor showed the remorse the gamekeeper had expected. Instead, he simply stated matter-of-factly, "I see. My apologies—I wasn’t aware."
"I suppose there aren’t many people who seek it."
Not many, but not none, either.
Honestly, Victor was a little surprised that no one had come to Hogwarts for it before. When faced with death, would anyone really hesitate over harming an innocent creature?
Besides, unicorns were innocent—but weren’t the countless Flobberworms killed for potions innocent as well?
Ultimately, it was simply that wizards lived comfortably enough that they had no need for unicorn blood.
Still, since Hagrid was so insistent, Victor dropped the matter. He had no intention of becoming a pariah in the wizarding world just for Quirrell’s sake.
Yet Hagrid still pressed on, asking incredulously, "Why did you even want it?"
"A friend mentioned he might need it," Victor replied casually. "But this method seems… less than ideal."
"Of course it’s not ideal!"
Hagrid huffed, though he lowered his voice after another sharp glare from Madam Pince. Since Victor had so readily abandoned the idea, Hagrid’s tone softened a little as he grumbled, "Is he in some kind of big trouble? Even St. Mungo’s can’t help him? I can’t think of any situation where unicorn blood is the only option. A strong restorative potion would work just as well."
"Professor Snape asked me for some eight-eyed giant spider venom just the other day—he said he was making one."
"There are eight-eyed giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest?"
Another unfamiliar term. But this time, Victor vaguely recalled something about them—they were a highly dangerous 5X-class creature.
Hagrid shifted uncomfortably. "Oh, yeah… They’ve been there for years… Anyway, their venom does have regenerative properties and can counteract certain toxins. If properly processed, it’s a key ingredient in strong restorative potions. If you want some, I can help. But unicorn blood? Forget it."
