"They'll accept him," Greg said with confidence. "The chances of the herd rejecting a foal this young are almost non-existent. They might reject him if he was older and able to fend for himself but not at this age. They certainly wouldn't kill him if they rejected him. They're magical creatures and smarter than horses, remember? Besides they're unicorns." He scratched at the colt's mane. "My only worry is that none of the mares with foals will have milk to spare but that's easily overcome."
He smiled at Minerva then laughed as he remembered something. "Yeah, your great-gran gave the Death Eaters what-for when they came for her. I remember hearing about that. Mind you, your namesake was a pretty formidable woman as well.