Chapter 296 - 296
Harry Potter was conducting his investigation.
However pretentious that might sound, it was true. Together with his bosom friend Ronald, he'd been trying, on and off throughout the year, to dig up something important concerning the Death Eaters.
He himself hadn't expected he'd end up heeding what seemed a joking suggestion from Hector Granger, brother of his former, or perhaps not-so-former, girlfriend, and start paying closer attention to the eternally calm Nott. Calm to such a degree that it wasn't until fourth year that Harry even realised the brown-haired boy was in his year group.
Naturally, Harry didn't go on his little adventures alone, though a sliver of good sense in his otherwise unruly head did quietly suggest that, whilst Ron was, admittedly, a decent enough friend, as a fellow investigator and wizard he was thoroughly mediocre. Even the many lessons in their little Defence Against the Dark Arts fan club had led to… nothing much, if Harry were honest with himself. Yes, Harry did occasionally have such flashes of clarity.
Hermione's sudden — though, if he was being honest, hardly unexpected — departure from their none-too-close-knit little group had made it clear to Harry that as a wizard he was worth more or less nothing, and that the fact he could pour an absurd amount of power into a spell or charm was merely a pleasant bonus. Oh, how he'd missed having help, at times, when he'd sat down to study new spells, new magic, new concepts.
Right now, though, Harry was sitting in the common room, emptied out for the night, poring over the Marauder's Map in search of anything interesting.
"Can we go already," said Ron, staring blankly at something in a Quidditch magazine. "Or are you planning to stare at that map all night?"
"Go if you want," Harry waved him off, and just then spotted a dot on the map labelled "Hector Granger." "Interesting…"
"What is it?" Ron perked up, looking away from his magazine.
"Hector's dashing about Hogwarts for some reason."
"Well, he's probably on rounds. He is a Prefect, after all."
"Oh, is he?" Harry looked at his friend with a hint of concealed irony. "So are you."
"Yeah. So am I."
Harry just shook his head at that, and in his mind he replayed a couple of phrases from his uncle, whom he thoroughly disliked, as he did the entire Dursley clan: "When one of the team leaves, his duties get split among the rest of us. Blasted shirker Thompson, of all the…" That last bit had nothing to do with anything, but on the whole… since Hermione had left their little group, whatever it was she used to do within it had gradually fallen to Harry himself — which was to say, studying and being sarcastic about certain antics. And what had Ron started doing instead? Apparently just eating for two — he'd never fall short on that front.
"Suit yourself, then," Harry quickly threw his father's Invisibility Cloak over himself, which he now tried to keep close at hand at all times, and briskly left the common room.
Always carry everything you need on you — that was a trick Harry had picked up watching Hector. It was lucky Sirius had bags with Undetectable Extension Charms lying about the house, since such delicate charmwork simply wouldn't come together for Harry himself, no matter how he tried.
Moving swiftly through the corridors, glancing at the map as he went, Harry very nearly caught up with Hector. It seemed the dot ought to be coming towards him down this very corridor, yet there was no one here. That didn't especially surprise Harry, mind you, seeing as he himself was under the Cloak and thus invisible. Then a window opened, and the dot labelled "Hector Granger" leapt clean off the edge of the castle walls on the map. Harry silently thanked his father and his friends for having had the foresight to include some of the grounds surrounding the castle on the map, or else he'd have lost his target entirely.
Peering out the window, Harry judged the drop wasn't especially high, and that with a Cushioning Charm to soften the fall, there'd be no trouble at all — so that's what he did. The moment his feet touched the grass, he checked the map again — moonlight and starlight filtered through the fully transparent inner side of the Invisibility Cloak, letting him make out the finest details of the map without any magic at all. Hector was heading towards Hagrid's hut, the last stretch of ground marked on the map.
Harry knew perfectly well that beyond that boundary he'd have no way of tracking the wizard any further — the fellow had an infuriating number of talents, which left Harry, being roughly his age, feeling a faint stab of envy and a rather larger dose of bewilderment. But there was no choice in the matter, since Harry's head was a tangle of both curiosity and suspicion, and besides, if Hector did slip away — well, it wouldn't be the first time.
Harry tried to keep enough distance to avoid making noise, though he had cast Silencing Charms on himself regardless — on more than one occasion during his outings under the Invisibility Cloak, it had been the noise he made himself that had given him away, so that summer Harry had finally dealt with the problem by learning the proper charms for it.
The closer Harry — and Hector — drew to Hagrid's hut, the clearer it became that Hagrid was back at the school again: a dim light in the windows, a thin wisp of smoke rising from the chimney on the roof.
Harry exhaled, suddenly spotting Hector dropping his concealment as he approached the hut. Now all that remained was for Harry to wait for Hagrid to open the door, and he'd finally learn what business Hector had out here.
The thought that a couple of episodes of some comedy spy show had had a rather obvious influence on the boy was duly, and thoroughly, suppressed.
. . . . .
Had Hagrid actually come back? I wondered where our old malingerer of a big softie kept getting sent off to, and why.
Reaching the hut, I dropped my concealment and, climbing up onto the porch, knocked on the massive door with my fist.
"Hagrid! Open up, you great lump, Hector's come to visit!"
Behind the door came a sharp, loud scramble, something like a cauldron toppled over and rolled across the floor, and an overgrown black boarhound, answering to "Fang," began barking. A couple of seconds later, heavy footsteps announced the big man's approach to the door, and a moment after that, some hefty bolts clunked open, and the door cracked ajar, with Hagrid peering out through the gap with one eye.
"Oh, Hector, so it really is you. What're you doin' wanderin' about at night, eh? That's no good, that," Hagrid opened the door wider.
Fang's muzzle poked through the gap, the dog sniffed the air, then sniffed me, and promptly hurried back inside to settle into his corner, gnawing away at an enormous bone with scraps of meat still on it.
"You look a bit banged up," I couldn't help noting the bruise on the big man's face, and some grazes besides.
"Ah, that… That's nothin'. Fell over in the forest, is all. Sorry, Hector, that I can't invite you in, like. Bit of a mess in here. And I've only just got back, mind, don't even have tea leaves in yet. There you go."
"No harm done. I actually need some ingredients from the Forbidden Forest rather urgently, and seeing as you're home, thought I'd ask."
"Oh…" Hagrid shook his head. "Ain't got nothin' just now, see. All gone towards, well… That's secret information, that is, can't say. But it all went to a good cause, mind. I was just gatherin' bits and bobs here and there, don't have much use for it myself, like. Not something I need, but it went towards a good deed."
"Ah… Nothing at all, then?"
"Swept clean out, I have. Well, they did ask, after all."
"I see. In that case, I'll head into the Forbidden Forest myself."
"You can't do that! It's a dangerous place," the big man rumbled. "All sorts o' things live in there… A student shouldn't be goin' in, and alone at that."
"Don't worry," I smiled, looking up at him. "I can take care of myself."
"Well, if you say so. The professors have always sung praises about your talents. Reckon you won't come to any harm in there, at least. There you go. But best not go near the centaurs. They don't take kindly to people on their patch, no they don't."
"All right, don't worry. And get well soon."
"Aye, no trouble there," Hagrid chuckled. "Everythin' heals on me quick as on a dog, it does."
Saying our goodbyes, I stepped away, and Hagrid locked the door. Turning towards the castle, I paused a moment to admire the sight of it — that magnificent structure, so aptly built upon the crag overlooking the Lake. A dim light burned in a few of the windows, and the Great Hall glowed just as faintly right now — the professors had likely called some sort of meeting; I had no wish to check via the spiders, since no "alarm" or even a simple "take note" signal had come from them.
An elf's practised eye caught sight of flattened grass not far off. That wasn't a simple thing to notice, mind you, given it was night, and moonlight isn't exactly the best light source. But my eyesight is sharper than a human's. I diverted a sliver of my mental capacity to controlling one of the spiders in my pocket, having it climb out and survey the spot. Yes, just as I'd thought. Potter was standing by the vegetable garden fence, under his Invisibility Cloak. What a restless soul! Well, if he wants an adventure, let him follow along. I wasn't planning on doing anything unlawful.
Taking off my school robes, hardly the most practical thing for wandering through a forest, I threw on the "combat" robes Professor Hunt had issued me — the kind you can easily bound about a forest in, without snagging on branches, and without a stray spell catching the edge of your clothes on a graze. Now I was properly set to go wandering through the woods.
Emerging into the clearing behind Hagrid's hut, I stepped calmly into the forest, but at a pace that let Potter keep up with me. Keeping an eye on his safety wasn't especially difficult, and I could just as easily drop a spider somewhere along his path and have it latch onto him… Thought of it, done. A minute later the spider had already settled itself unnoticed on Potter, feeding me information about his movements.
The Forbidden Forest… A strange place. Thick tree trunks, canopies impossibly high and dense, hardly any starlight or moonlight making it through. You'd think it ought to be dark as the void in here, yet no — at the edge of visibility there always seemed to be a sort of mist, as if lit faintly by some diffuse source, and that strange light was just enough to see by.
My feet moved of their own accord, as though I'd been wandering through forests for centuries. Light, weightless, like a feather, disturbing nothing, not snapping a single twig underfoot, not crushing a single blade of grass. The elf shard… A strange experience, one I'd long since grown used to thinking of as my own, yet it doesn't feel as though I'm the one who spent decades honing such skills.
My goal right now was a simple one — I needed to track down my "quarry," specifically, I was after unicorn trails. I'd barely begun to wonder just how I'd go about tracking them when perfectly clear, well-honed elven tracker's skills simply assembled themselves in my head. Yes, there'd been something along those lines regarding archery, moving through forests, combat techniques with various weapons and so on… but nothing quite like this before — and that was at least one more point in favour of the idea of going to fetch the ingredients myself.
Ranging through the forest in search of tracks, noticing the tiniest details — snapped branches, flattened grass, moss and shrubs, trodden paths invisible to an untrained eye… my mind matched every track and sign of animal habitation here against the bestiaries I'd studied, and before long I could practically see the small game that had darted past a couple of hours ago, could see on the branches of the trees and bushes the marks left by Bowtruckles frolicking about, and here, the tracks where a family of boars had passed through with a litter of hyperactive piglets.
And there were more and more such moments. The sheer processing power of my brain let me practically construct mental images of phantom animals moving out of time, having crept, crawled, or flown through here and there.
At one fine moment, the inevitable happened — I found the unicorn trails. Found them, and immediately began walking alongside them, though not directly on them, since sooner or later they'd notice that and change their route.
I walked along the trail, having entirely forgotten about Potter, who was following behind me like a bulldozer through deadfall. If not for his Silencing Charms, my head would have been aching from the endless crunching — he was leaving an entire clear-cut swath behind him! Honestly… what a monkey.
Following along the trail, I studied the trees closely, examined their rough bark, peered into the bushes and other obstacles that a herd of unicorns might have crossed during their migrations, or might have used for a scratch. I quite often came across tiny tufts of unicorn hair, gathered them up, and moved on.
I didn't forget to keep an eye on the plants underfoot and in the trees either, searching for the ones I needed. I found a couple, in fact, but one particular flower stubbornly refused to show itself to me.
Getting rather absorbed in it, I gathered enough hair to plait a small braid. Yes, this method of collecting is rather tedious and slow, but at least it spares me having to deal directly with unicorns, "coaxing" them into parting with their hair voluntarily. Yes, indeed — it's not only blood that must be given willingly, but hair too, and really anything at all that can be snipped off such a creature. As with many other more-or-less sentient magical beings. Whereas when a unicorn scratches its flank or pushes its way through a bush, that's it giving all of that up to nature voluntarily, of its own accord — and a wizard is, one way or another, part of that nature too.
"Right," I said quietly to myself, wrapping up the first stage of ingredient-gathering. "Now the venom."
Potter was nearby, still hidden under his Cloak, though looking a touch worn out. Hardly surprising — tramping through a forest, and at no small pace besides, does wear a person down a bit.
Drawing my wand, I raised it upward, sending out a light wave of tracking magic. I needed Acromantulas. Anyone who needs to know is well aware that the Forbidden Forest houses a sizeable brood of these predatory, and rather dim-witted, creatures.
"Ah, there's a response," I said aloud again, pleased to have found the first traces of Acromantula territory barely half a kilometre deeper into the forest.
Which meant it was time for me to head deeper into the forest as well…
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