"Listen, everyone," he announced in a firm voice. "We're going to take you back to the castle. The wounded will be treated in the infirmary immediately. If anyone feels dizzy or has symptoms of poisoning, report it immediately."
Professor Flitwick, who was performing levitation spells to transport the bodies of the fallen students, sighed deeply before addressing the students.
"We know this is difficult, but Hogwarts has strict protocols for these situations. The house heads will be informed, and a ceremony will be organized to pay tribute to those who have perished. Everyone will receive support during this difficult time.
"Dion! Merlin, we thought you weren't going to wake up!" exclaimed Patrick, his face covered in soot and a cut on his cheek.
I tried to respond, but my throat was dry. I could barely whisper:
"The others...?"
The lump in my throat grew larger when I saw Patrick's expression change. I didn't need to answer. I looked around and saw several students sitting or lying on the floor, some with minor injuries, others being treated by teachers. There were absences. Familiar faces that were no longer there.
Teachers were clearing the way back, making sure no one was left behind. Professor Flitwick cast levitation charms to transport the bodies of students who did not make it out alive. His expression was somber as he sighed and spoke in a trembling voice:
"We know this is difficult, but Hogwarts has strict protocols for these situations. The house heads will be informed, and a ceremony will be organized to pay tribute to those who have perished. Everyone will receive support during this difficult time.
Madame Pomfrey was already in action, applying healing spells and potions to those most affected. She stopped when she saw me trying to get up and frowned.
"Don't be foolish, young man!" she said, gently pressing me back down. "Your body has not yet recovered."
I gritted my teeth. I felt anger, helplessness. How had it gone so wrong? What had we done to cause this tragedy?
As we left the forest and returned to the castle, the hall was filled with wounded people. Some students were moaning on the floor, being treated by teachers and other students with knowledge of magical first aid.
Professor Snape was leaning over a Slytherin student, pouring a healing potion on a deep wound on his arm. Professor McGonagall, with a more severe expression than usual, was organizing the survivors.
"Everyone who can walk, to the infirmary wing immediately!" she ordered firmly. "Those with more serious injuries, stay put. Madam Pomfrey is on her way."
Headmaster Dumbledore watched the scene with deep sadness. His gaze passed over the bodies of the students who had not made it. A heavy silence fell over the room.
"This is one of the greatest tragedies Hogwarts has suffered in years," Flitwick murmured, shaking his head.
Aelric's words echoed intensely in my mind. Now, a teacher was confirming the disaster to everyone.
"What exactly happened? What was that creature?" Dumbledore asked.
Professor McGonagall looked at him gravely.
"We can't say for sure yet. Something awoke in that dungeon, something that shouldn't have been there. We're investigating, but the most important thing now is that all the survivors receive care."
Meanwhile, emergency protocols were put into action. Filch, with a somber expression, covered the bodies of the deceased with black cloths while the teachers cast spells to preserve their bodies until they could be properly transported. Dumbledore uttered an incantation that enveloped the hall in a light silver mist, like a veil of respect for the fallen.
Professor Sprout and Professor Slughorn administered calming and restorative potions to the most affected students. Some, in shock, barely reacted.
One of the older students, a Hufflepuff prefect, spoke in a trembling voice.
"P-Professor... There were creatures in the dungeon that shouldn't have been there. They attacked us without warning. We tried to escape, but..."
His voice broke before he could finish the sentence. McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry. There will be a complete review of the castle's security," she said. "Now, go to your common rooms. The house heads will talk to you and give you support."
The students slowly began to move. I looked once more at the bodies covered with cloth floating in the air, carried by the teachers. My heart was filled with a mixture of pain and determination. I couldn't forget what had happened. I couldn't allow something like this to happen again.
Hogwarts would remember this tragedy as one of the greatest among first-year students. But for me, this would not be just another story in the annals of the castle.
It was the beginning of something much bigger.
In the distance, I could see the teachers beginning to recover the bodies of the fallen students. Sadness hung heavy in the air like a dense cloud.
Dumbledore approached us, his voice grave but firm.
"You have shown courage beyond expectation. Hogwarts mourns the loss of our classmates, but we will honor their memories. You have our full support."
As night fell over the castle, the tragedy left an indelible scar on the history of Hogwarts and in our hearts.
The Hogwarts lobby was plunged into silent chaos. The wounded occupied the floor and benches, while teachers and other students with knowledge of magical first aid rushed back and forth, attending to those in need. Above us, owls fluttered in a somber parade. They were responsible for carrying messages to the families of those who had not made it out of the dungeon alive.
Each flap of their wings was a reminder of the tragedy.
As I struggled through the hall, leaning on the cold walls of the castle, my eyes scanned the scene with a mixture of horror and sorrow.
Some students moaned, their bodies marked by the pain of their wounds. Others simply lay exhausted, their magic completely drained. I saw a young Ravenclaw with trembling hands, clutching a potion he could barely hold. Near him, a Hufflepuff girl breathed heavily as a teacher cast a healing spell on her.
I passed a group of Slytherin students; one of them had his face covered in dried blood, but his gaze was lost on the floor, as if his spirit had been trapped in the dungeon.
Then, among the crowd, I saw a familiar face. I froze on the spot.
Philip, the black market man's assistant.
I couldn't believe it. I didn't expect to see him there, let alone in that state. His body lay on one of the makeshift stretchers, unconscious. A chill ran down my spine. I didn't know he had been in the cave.
I quickly approached him and called out to the nurse who was treating him.
"Excuse me... was that man also in the dungeon?"
The woman, looking exhausted but professional, nodded as she adjusted a bandage on Philip's forehead.
"They found him near the entrance, unconscious. We don't know how long he was there, but his condition is stable. He's just exhausted; his magic seems to have been almost completely drained. He'll recover with rest. Do you know him?"
My throat went dry. I looked at Philip and then at the nurse. I couldn't tell her the truth.
"Not very well. He's an acquaintance of someone close to me."
The nurse seemed to accept my answer without further questions and walked away to attend to other wounded people. I stood there, watching Philip in silence. There was something strange about all this. What was he doing in the dungeon? How did he manage to get here?
Suddenly, something moved between the folds of his coat. A tiny flash caught my attention. I leaned forward slightly, and then, from between the fabric, a tiny fantastical creature emerged. Its skin was a pale blue, and it had bright, curious eyes. Without any fear, it approached me and, with its tiny hands, handed me a scroll the size of a fingernail.
I frowned and took the tiny object carefully. It was no ordinary scroll. Looking closer, I noticed it was covered in strange inscriptions. There was no doubt about it: this required magic.
I took out my wand and muttered an enlargement spell. The small piece of paper began to grow until it took the form of a thick, aged scroll. When I opened it, my eyes widened in amazement.
It looked like a fragment torn from a book of magical beasts. I scanned it quickly until I found something that left me speechless: detailed information about iolite. The writing still seemed encrypted, but I had an idea of what it was about thanks to the drawing, which had the same shape as iolite.
The air in the infirmary seemed to grow thicker. If Philip had this, it meant he knew more than he let on. Perhaps too much. Someone must have followed him here... maybe... no, it's impossible that they're following me. No one knows I've come back here.
The best thing to do is wait for Philip to react and explain what happened.
Author's note: As I said, I will be more consistent with the stories, so I ask for your patience. For now, on my official website, you can find advance chapters of:
1. NARUTO RONIN TRAIL: REINCARNATE WITH THE POWERS OF MALENIA.
2. Harry Potter: Dion the magician who changed everything.
And this week, I will upload advance chapters of:
3. DANMACHI: THE ECHO OF FALLEN HEROES.