"Creatures of the Forbidden Forest?" Hagrid let out a breath of relief. "That's no problem at all."
If the task had been digging up the entire forest, that would've been a massive undertaking. Even if Dumbledore and the forest's magical beasts allowed it, Hagrid figured that even with his own strength and Grawp's help, it would take over a decade.
But just gathering magical creatures?
That was easy.
I, Rubeus Hagrid, am the King of the Forbidden Forest!
"Anything else?" Hagrid asked eagerly.
Harry shook his head. "That's all."
Hagrid immediately stood up, flipped his bed, and grabbed Fang in one swoop. "I'll do it now. Once I've sorted it out, Harry, I'll write to you."
Efficient and decisive.
Harry and the others didn't go with him. Instead, they turned toward the Quidditch pitch.
Next Saturday, tryouts were being held for the house Quidditch teams. Ron wanted to join. After five years at Hogwarts, this was his sixth—he couldn't keep missing out on the most exciting sport in the school.
He'd asked Harry to train with him.
Hagrid now had much more control over the Forbidden Forest than he had in the past. Now that he was allowed to use his wand again, a strong, spellcasting half-giant was, in a way, Harry's mirror image—nobody could best him in physical combat or magical duels.
Even though Hagrid had dropped out in his third year.
He might seem dim and goofy.
But magically, he wasn't lacking. At the very least, he was on par with an outstanding seventh-year graduate.
Sure enough, just one day later, on Sunday afternoon, Hagrid's letter dropped into Harry's hands.
"Hagrid's already finished?" Hermione was surprised.
Harry nodded. "The agreed time is midnight. He's worried that if we go now, the commotion might be too much."
At midnight, they left the castle, not bothering to sneak. They even cheerfully greeted Mr. Filch, who was patrolling during curfew.
Filch was in unusually good spirits lately.
Probably because he no longer had to deal with George and Fred. His face was glowing, and he seemed several years younger. His posture was straighter—he almost didn't look like a squib pushing seventy anymore, someone nearing the end of his road without magic to sustain him.
In contrast, Mrs. Norris had become gaunt, listless, trailing behind him like she was tethered to him by string.
"Filch is in love?" Ron suddenly exclaimed after descending three flights of stairs.
Filch's new look reminded him of George and Fred.
They were usually sloppy, but ever since Fred got a girlfriend, he'd started dressing sharp.
Now Filch looked the same—clean clothes, tidy hair, even using the Potters' hair regrowth potion. Mrs. Norris had been washed until her fur was fluffy.
"Probably not," Hermione frowned.
Ron lowered his voice. "I heard last year that Filch and Madam Pince…"
"Madam Pince is married," Hermione cut in.
Harry shook his head. "Filch doesn't smell like a woman, but I do detect traces of potions."
"Potions?" Ron blinked.
Hermione caught on. "Is it that Smith's Spell Training School?"
"Not sure, but it hasn't harmed his body," Harry replied. "It's just a normal vitality potion, with some formula adjustments. Pretty high-level work. Drinking more of it would only help."
"With ingredients like…"
"Rhodiola and holy basil?" Hermione guessed.
Ron turned back, amazed. "Harry, did Filch show you the potion or—?"
"Yes, I smelled it," Harry nodded.
Hermione sniffed deeply. "I only smell nightshade."
Ron stared at Hermione now.
He only smelled cologne.
"Let's just assume Mr. Filch paid for a decent potion," Harry continued, glancing back. Filch and Mrs. Norris were already gone, disappearing down the corridor. Peeves's raucous laughter echoed faintly behind them.
They left the castle and approached the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid was already waiting, wand in one hand, oil lantern in the other.
"Harry," he called out, waving them over. "This way."
"The centaurs aren't keen on leaving the forest—we've got to head in."
They didn't go far before stopping at a clearing by a small lake.
A whole host of magical creatures had already gathered.
A strong, adult unicorn stood proudly, with a trail of fluffy golden foals behind it.
A centaur was using a branch to play with them.
Hippogriffs and kneazles were gathered nearby, a group of puffskeins bouncing on their heads.
Naturally, there were also more dangerous dark magical creatures—like a fat Niffler cowering in a corner, greedily eyeing the unicorn foals but keeping its distance, resisting the urge to attack.
The clearing was like a page from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
Minus dragons or sphinxes—too rare and powerful to be there.
Harry looked around. "Hagrid, where's your spider friend?"
"Aragog didn't want to come," Hagrid shrank back, ashamed. "He's not too fond of you."
To acromantulas, Harry wasn't exactly friendly.
Over the years, he'd frequently attacked them, extracted their venom, harvested their sacs.
"I'd love to see him," Harry tilted his head toward the distant trees. "Looks like the acromantulas have expanded their territory."
Even as he said this—
A centaur jumped in, clearly annoyed. "Hagrid, you really need to deal with those eight-legged beasts!"
"They're out of control!"
"They ran wild this summer while you were gone—we clashed with them several times. Some of my kin even died!"
The unicorns whinnied in agreement.
Even the dark creatures grumbled.
"I'll talk to—" Hagrid started.
Harry cut him off. "Hagrid, it's too big now. Let me speak to them."
"Aragog should become part of the Forbidden Forest."
Hagrid hesitated. "Harry, we have to speak calmly."
"I always speak calmly," Harry nodded, calculating something in his head.
Hagrid led Harry and the eager Ron away.
Hermione carefully approached the unicorns, crouching to gently pet the foals.
They hadn't gone far before they stepped into acromantula territory.
"This place?" Ron glanced up, eyeing the webs strung between the trees. "I remember this used to not be their territory."
Even though he wasn't afraid of spiders anymore, the thick webbing still made him frown.
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Powerstones?
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