Chapter 293 - 295: Devil’s Nail
At dusk, the blood‑red afterglow of the setting sun spilled over the treetops, casting a faintly eerie light across the deep, silent forest.
"This should be it."
Evans jumped down from the hippogriff's back, checked the marks he had made on the map, and spoke softly.
Every mark came from magical creatures he knew that were familiar with the Great Lake. Cross‑checking all their directions, that so‑called lake had to be somewhere in this area.
The strange thing was that he hadn't seen so much as a glint of water from the air.
By every account he'd heard, it was a vast stretch of water like an inland sea, stretching as far as the eye could see. A lake that size ought to be obvious from above.
Maybe there was a spell over it that blocked aerial observation. Or perhaps the "lake" wasn't physically here at all, and somewhere nearby there was a Portkey‑like device that led to it.
As Evans considered why he couldn't see a trace of water, the other hippogriffs touched down one by one. Snape slid off his mount, face like thunder, and gave his wand a sharp flick. The cauldron in front of him shot into the air and hurtled toward the back of Evans's head.
Evans stopped it with a lazy Levitation Charm, peered inside at the potion, and grinned. "Thanks, Head of House. This will be a huge help."
"Hmph."
Snape folded his arms, expression blank. "Since you have already tricked me out here and there is no realistic way to leave, are you at least going to tell me what we are actually doing?"
He had known from the beginning that Evans was up to something. Even now, though, he still didn't know the true goal of this "team‑building trip".
"Goal? It's team‑building. The goal is to have fun."
Snape's expression darkened several shades. Evans hurried to add, "All right, all right, I can at least bring you up to speed on the details."
He gathered his thoughts, spread the map out in front of Snape, and laid out the whole story from beginning to end.
With every sentence, Snape's face grew uglier. By the time Evans finished, the corner of his mouth was twitching uncontrollably.
"A curse that almost killed a Chimaera."
As a Potions Master, he knew the capabilities of most magical creatures. Potions ingredients came from them, after all. Understanding what those creatures could do was basic professional knowledge.
Because of that, he also knew exactly how absurd you had to be, as a curse, to seriously injure a Chimaera.
Chimaeras could shrug off some instant‑death curses entirely. Many hexes that required elaborate ritual magic to cast would barely register on them, more like physical training than genuine harm.
And something like that had driven one to the brink of death?
"So the invigorating draught you asked me to brew was for this cursed Chimaera?" he asked.
Of course. Two months ago, Evans had requested a batch of invigorating potion several times the standard strength. Now it all made sense. It had been for a Chimaera crippled by a weakness curse.
Even a dragon would suffer horribly after drinking a dose that strong. Only a creature as extreme as a Chimaera could actually use it.
Thinking back over what Evans had just told him, Snape's expression darkened further. He turned on his heel, clearly intending to walk straight back the way they had come.
"Don't go, Head of House. We're only here to have a look around and get a sense of how dangerous this place really is."
Evans caught up in two quick strides.
"It's still part of the Forbidden Forest, and Hogwarts is one of the very few magical buildings built right up against it. We have to make sure the school grounds are safe for everyone."
"I do not believe that anything far enough away to require a full day's flight on a hippogriff is going to threaten Hogwarts."
Snape did not even glance back. "And I do not fancy my chances against a curse that can bring down a Chimaera."
"Relax. You're our healer. You'll be safely tucked away at the back. Nothing is going to touch you."
Evans paused for effect.
"And when this is over, I'll pop over to Norway and pick up a potion ingredient you've definitely wanted for a long time. How about that?"
Snape's steps finally halted. He turned, eyeing Evans sidelong.
"What ingredient?"
He had no desire at all to come face‑to‑face with a curse like that. But he did want to hear what Evans thought was tempting enough to sway him.
He had seen rarer ingredients than most wizards would in a lifetime. Even so, with Evans's network, there was a chance the boy really could get hold of something extraordinary.
Seeing him stop, Evans flashed a secretive smile.
"Devil's Nail. Interested?"
"Devil's Nail?"
Snape snorted and started to turn away again.
In wizarding circles, "Devil's Nail" usually meant the shed claws of imps and similar dark creatures. In certain specialised potions, devil's nail was essential. It allowed otherwise incompatible ingredients to fuse, forcing them into an impossible balance.
Trying to bribe him with that, though, was laughable.
"Imps may be rare, but you can still buy their claws in Knockturn Alley. That hardly qualifies as some unique ingredient I've been longing for," he said coolly, taking another step.
Evans's voice came again, lower, more intent.
"Not imp claws. A real devil's nail."
Snape stopped dead.
He turned back slowly, face genuinely shocked.
"A real devil."
In the Muggle world, "devil" had dozens of meanings. In the wizarding world, the word was almost always used as a way of referring to imps.
But a Potions Master like Snape knew the truth. Once, there had been real devils in this world.
Their existence survived only in half‑mythical texts now. No witch or wizard living had ever seen one.
Only a thin, watered‑down bloodline remained, in the form of imps, whose claws still appeared now and again as prized potion ingredients.
And now someone was standing in front of him, claiming he could obtain an actual devil's nail.
Evans stepped closer, catching the flicker of interest in Snape's eyes.
"So? Are you in?"
It would cost Evans dearly to get hold of a devil's nail, but hiring a healer of Snape's calibre was more than worth the price.
They stared at each other for a long moment. When Snape finally decided the boy's expression did not look like a lie, he fell silent for a while, then bit down on his doubts and drew his wand.
"Lead the way."