Nolan glanced at Harry, holding a fragment of the cinnamon bark in his hand before answering, "This is advanced magic. You haven't reached that level yet."
His tone was indifferent, showing no inclination to elaborate further, nor any intention of teaching Harry. For someone at Harry's current level, attempting advanced magic would be far too taxing. The sheer energy consumption could deplete his magical reserves, potentially causing irreparable damage to his magical core—an irreversible loss that would render him incapable of wielding magic ever again.
"I hope that one day I can learn it," Harry said, his eyes filled with anticipation. Meanwhile, he helped Hermione carefully place the gathered cinnamon bark into a glass container.
Once Hermione had secured all the bark, she used magic to seal the container. This method ensured that the internal magical structure of the cinnamon bark remained intact, preventing contamination and making future potion-making significantly easier by reducing the need for purifying the material.
With their crucial task completed, Ron exhaled a breath of relief but quickly became captivated by the remains of the rotten serpent. His curiosity piqued, he stepped closer, eyes gleaming with fascination.
"This is the first time I've seen a decayed creature up close. It's honestly incredible!"
Oblivious to the overpowering stench, Ron reached out to touch the exposed bone of the rotting serpent.
"Don't touch it!" Nolan's warning came too late. The moment Ron's fingers made contact, the decaying flesh seemed to come alive, transforming into writhing, maggot-like creatures that burrowed into his skin.
"AAAAAH!" Ron let out a bloodcurdling scream, flailing wildly as his body convulsed. The tiny worms rapidly spread, wriggling beneath his skin like living tendrils, and even appearing in his eyes.
"Ron!" Ginny instinctively lunged forward, only to be pulled back by Hermione.
"Don't touch him! If you make contact, you'll be infected too!" Hermione warned, her voice sharp with urgency.
"Nolan, can you save him?" Astoria asked anxiously.
By now, Ron had collapsed to the ground, his face ghostly pale, his body twitching sporadically. Harry hesitated, reaching out but withdrawing his hand at the last moment. He knew that he had to stay clear-headed; any rash actions could make things worse.
"The only option is to use Ice Guardian Magic to freeze him and slow the infection. Then we must get him back to the academy as quickly as possible."
These parasitic creatures were manifestations of a rotting entity's lingering malice. Normally, they would dissipate over time, but once they latched onto a living host, they would devour their victim from within, propagating and spreading further.
Nolan's expression darkened as he incanted the spell. Frost rapidly encased Ron's body, solidifying him within a thick layer of ice. Only then did Nolan relax slightly.
"We have to get him back to the academy immediately," he declared, before glancing at Harry. "You all came here on broomsticks, right? I can carry passengers, but not someone frozen solid like this."
Though Nolan's vampiric form granted him immense strength, flying long distances while carrying an ice-bound body was impractical. Over time, the cold could numb even his sharp talons, increasing the risk of accidentally dropping Ron from a fatal height.
"I remember reading about a rumor... There's a witch who lives in this swamp," Hermione recalled. "She specializes in dark magic and flight spells. Maybe we can borrow a flying device from her."
"Then let's move quickly," Ginny said, steeling herself. Despite her fear, she knew she had to stay strong for Ron's sake.
Harry scanned their surroundings. "We can make a stretcher using branches and vines. Nolan and I will carry Ron."
"I'll light the way," Hermione said, conjuring a brilliant orb of white light that illuminated their path.
Working swiftly, Harry and Nolan fashioned a makeshift stretcher and secured Ron onto it. With Harry at the front and Nolan at the back, they began their trek deeper into the swamp, Hermione leading the way, while Astoria and Ginny walked alongside, ensuring Ron remained stable.
As they advanced, the forest thickened, the towering banyan trees casting oppressive shadows. The ground became increasingly treacherous, soft mud clinging to their boots.
Two hours later, they arrived at the witch's cabin—a decrepit wooden structure barely visible through the dense foliage. Hermione stepped forward and knocked on the door.
A moment later, slow, shuffling footsteps echoed from within. The door creaked open, revealing a figure cloaked in tattered robes, her wrinkled face twisting into a sinister smile as she surveyed the group.
Her gaze settled on Ron, encased in ice. "Ah... This boy has been tainted by the wrath of the dead. I assume you've slain a decayed creature?"
Her voice was neither male nor female, rasping and eerie, likely due to long years of isolation.
"Yes," Harry admitted. "Ron was careless and touched it, and now he's infected."
"Do you have a cure?" Ginny asked, her voice trembling with hope.
The others fixed their eyes on the witch, awaiting her response. After a long pause, she slowly shook her head.
"I am a forest witch, not a healer. If you want me to end his suffering quickly, however, that I can do."
She let out a dry, cackling laugh, sending a chill down their spines.
"Then can you at least lend us a flying device? We need to get him back to the academy as soon as possible!" Astoria urged, desperation evident in her voice.
She could feel Ron's life force dwindling. If they delayed any longer, he might not survive the journey back.