"At least there wasn't a third party," Firenze said, giving the Acromantula leg a casual wave.
"And you should know this child—his name is Wyzett. Hagrid has mentioned him to us."
Standing quietly beside the two centaurs, Wyzett listened to their exchange. He sensed that the matter of the altar might not be closed after all—perhaps, with the right words, he could secure permission to use it. Negotiating for access would be far easier than seizing it by force.
He decided to probe gently. "Mr. Firenze, Mr. Bane—may I ask, how does one actually use the altar?"
Firenze turned, a knowing smile in his eyes, as if he'd expected this question all along.
"If he's earned a unicorn's favor… then perhaps it isn't truly a betrayal of fate…" Bane muttered, half to himself.
"Do you know mallowsweet? Sprinkle mallowsweet on the altar. If the altar is willing to grant you insight, it will ignite on its own…"
"But we won't provide the mallowsweet for you," Firenze added lightly. "You'll have to find it yourself. Is that a problem?"
"Exactly! Firenze is right!" Bane nodded emphatically. "You'll need to prepare the mallowsweet yourself. But we'll let the others know—you won't be stopped."
…
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid led the way, swinging a lantern the size of a barrel as he guided Harry and the others through the trees.
Malfoy walked with his arms folded and Fang the boarhound at his side. He raised his eyebrows, glancing around nervously. "Are we really going deeper?" he demanded. "We could run into Nifflers right here—who knows what's further in? Have you thought about the consequences?"
His tone was haughty, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of fear—a primal wariness of the dangers lurking within the forest.
Neville twisted his neck uncomfortably. He might not like Malfoy, but he couldn't help agreeing with him this time.
Still, since Harry and the others showed no sign of backing down, Neville kept quiet, clutching the hem of Hagrid's coat for reassurance.
Hermione walked on Hagrid's other side, her wand trembling slightly in her hand as she muttered spells under her breath, looking more than a little anxious.
"Then go back by yourself!" Harry snapped at Malfoy. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't even be here!"
Ron nodded in agreement. "Harry's right! It's your tattling that landed us in this mess!"
They stepped in front of Hagrid, trying their best to look brave—though a glance at Ron's shifting eyes, and the way he kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure Hagrid was still there, told a different story.
"I really did see Wyzett earlier…" Harry frowned, brow furrowed in worry. "He was with someone else…"
Just then, the bushes rustled in the distance, followed by a series of soft, shuffling sounds.
For a moment, the air hung heavy and still as everyone turned to stare at the trembling undergrowth.
"Who's there?" Hagrid barked, raising his crossbow. "I can see you! Come out—now!"
"It's me, Hagrid…"
With a graceful bound, Firenze emerged from the bushes and trotted up to the group.
Hagrid lowered his crossbow, relief and concern mingling in his eyes. "Firenze, is something going on tonight?"
Firenze nodded, tossing the Acromantula leg aside. "There's been a bit of excitement, yes. You know… Acromantula activity has been picking up."
"I was guided by a unicorn to the far side of the forest to help someone, and happened to come across a Hogwarts student you might know…"
As he spoke, he stepped aside, revealing Wyzett behind him.
"Galloping Gorgons!" Hagrid gasped, nearly sucking Ron's robe into his mouth. "Wyzett! What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"
"I told you—I saw Wyzett!" Harry said, his face lighting up with a triumphant grin. "You lot wouldn't believe me!"
Hagrid hurried forward, inspecting Wyzett from head to toe as he dismounted. "Wyzett, what were you thinking, coming into the Forbidden Forest? It's far too dangerous!"
"He must've known it was dangerous, so he came to keep us company!" Ron cheered, bounding up beside him. "You're a legend, Wyzett!"
"Is that so?" Hagrid nodded, but his gaze shifted to the Acromantula leg. "Dead? Did you… kill it?"
"Of course not!" Firenze's tone grew stern. "The Acromantula attacked Wyzett. He dealt with it—I merely helped return it to nature."
Hagrid stammered, "But they're supposed to be good creatures… I made them promise last time…"
"If it had been any other student, they might never have left the forest," Firenze said quietly. "You should consider that carefully. Take it as advice—from all of us."
After that, Hagrid was noticeably subdued on the walk back, repeatedly asking Wyzett if he was hurt, his eyes clouded with worry and regret.
Harry was bursting with questions about the Acromantula, but Hagrid refused to answer a single one.
…
Filch was waiting at the castle doors, limping as he herded Harry and the others back to their dormitories, making sure everyone got in safely.
Wyzett parted ways with the others on the eighth floor. Just as he was about to answer the riddle, the locket at his chest grew warm.
From within, Dumbledore's voice sounded: "A great deal has happened tonight. Could you come to my office?"
"All right," Wyzett whispered to the locket.
Suddenly, the locket flared into a burst of flame, engulfing him in a cocoon of fire.
The warmth wrapped around him like a hearth. His vision blurred—and the next instant, he found himself standing in the headmaster's office.
Dumbledore had set out a veritable tea party: pastries, biscuits, and, of course, a steaming pot of tea.
It was clear he'd gone to special lengths to create a soothing atmosphere, hoping to put Wyzett at ease.
Yet, with the help of his Soul Labyrinth, Wyzett had already regained his composure. In fact, on the way back to the common room, he'd mentally reviewed the entire night's events.
"Voldemort came to you himself?" Dumbledore slid a cup of tea across the table. "Where was he?"
Wyzett frowned. "He's probably possessing Professor Quirrell… I'm almost certain of it."
"How extraordinary… in every possible way!" Dumbledore's eyes seemed to shine. "He sent you into the Forbidden Forest—what was his goal?"
"He wanted Professor Quirrell to get unicorn blood…"
Dumbledore leaned forward, voice urgent. "He didn't succeed, did he?"
"No," Wyzett replied, shaking his head.
Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth, visibly relieved. "Good… that means there's still hope."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
The story isn't over...
🤔 Want to know what happens next to the characters?
🤫 Eager to explore the untold secrets of this world?
✍ Ready to read more of my wildest stories?
✨patreon.com/GoldenLong