Chapter 120: Into the Dark Woods
"The Forbidden Forest?" Hermione's voice was a mixture of apprehension and weary familiarity. While strictly off-limits, the forest had been the backdrop for more of their adventures than any classroom.
Harry and Ron exchanged a look that spoke volumes—here we go again—but they waited, watching Hagrid's troubled face.
Elian accepted the chipped mug of tea Hagrid offered. In the flickering firelight, he saw the half-giant's injuries clearly for the first time. The bruises on his cheeks were darker, a fresh cut marred his brow, and there was a tell-tale crust of dried blood under one nostril. A cold realisation dawned on Elian. His injuries aren't from the journey. They're from right here.
He'd foolishly told Dumbledore they'd wait until Hagrid was healed. He'd forgotten about Grawp. Hagrid's pure-giant half-brother, hidden away in the forest, was a continuous source of these 'accidents'. Hagrid would never be 'better' in that sense.
"Hagrid," Harry said gently, his eyes fixed on the bruises. "You look… have you been dealing with a particularly difficult creature?"
Hagrid shifted uncomfortably, his massive hands fiddling with the strap of the enormous crossbow he'd just taken from the wall. "Yeah… s'not an animal, exactly. It's… well, you'll see. But you've got to promise. Swear you'll keep it secret. It's… it's important to me."
"Of course," Harry said instantly, Ron and Hermione nodding beside him.
"Good. Then we best get on with it." Hagrid hefted the crossbow, an action that sent a fresh wave of unease through the room. He'd never brought a weapon on one of their forest excursions before. "You've all got your wands? Keep 'em handy."
"Why the bow, Hagrid?" Harry asked, his voice tight.
Hermione's worry sharpened into fear. "You've never needed a weapon with us before. What are we facing?"
The colour drained from Ron's face. "It's not… it's not Aragog, is it? Please say it's not the spiders."
"No, no, not Aragog," Hagrid said, though he didn't sound entirely reassuring. "Just… just come on. Before it's too late." He seemed agitated, eager to be moving, unwilling to explain in the safety of the hut.
Elian knew the Forbidden Forest's dangers—Acromantula colonies, centaurs, Thestrals, things best left unnamed. But he also knew Hagrid loved the forest like a second home. For him to be this anxious meant the 'creature' was something even he struggled to control.
He saw Hermione's face, pale in the firelight, her knuckles white where she gripped her wand. He leaned close, his voice a low murmur only she could hear. "Stay close to me. You'll be safe. If you're scared, just hold on."
Under normal circumstances, she might have bristled. Now, she just gave a small, jerky nod, her eyes wide.
"Hagrid," Ron squeaked, pointing a trembling finger at the slumbering Fang. "Can't we… take him? For, you know, moral support?"
"Can't, Ron," Hagrid said, already opening the door to the chilly night. "Might upset 'im. Can't risk it."
This cryptic warning did nothing for anyone's nerves. Ron looked to Harry in sheer panic.
"We trust Hagrid," Harry said, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He stepped out into the dark.
"Elian," Ron whispered desperately, having overheard the earlier offer. "You said about holding on… can I? I'm properly scared."
Elian gave him a flat look, then deliberately took Hermione's free hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He held up his sandalwood wand in his other. "Sorry, Ron. Hands full."
Ron muttered something uncharitable about 'brothers before… others' but scurried after them as Hagrid began striding towards the tree line.
Hagrid's pace was relentless, each of his strides forcing them into a near-jog. The grounds were manageable under the waxing moon, but once they passed under the canopy of the Forbidden Forest, the world plunged into a deep, oppressive gloom. Twisted roots snagged their feet, low branches snatched at their hair and robes. Hermione stumbled, and Elian's grip was the only thing that kept her from falling.
"Hagrid!" Elian called out, his voice sharp in the quiet. "A little light wouldn't hurt, would it?"
Hagrid stopped and turned, his silhouette monstrous against the sparse moonlight. He put a finger to his lips. "Keep it down. Light's fine, just… quiet."
"Lumos," four voices whispered in unison.
The tips of their wands flared to life, carving out small spheres of comforting white light in the overwhelming dark. It revealed the narrow, treacherous path and, more tellingly, Hagrid's own face. In the wandlight, his expression wasn't just tense; it was etched with a profound, weary sadness, a look of someone marching towards a painful duty, not an exciting secret.
The forest seemed to hold its breath around them. The only sounds were the crunch of their footsteps, their own breathing, and the distant, unsettling calls of creatures that owned the night. They were no longer students on a secret errand; they were intruders in a ancient, watchful domain, following a troubled giant to a meeting he clearly dreaded.
(End of Chapter)
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