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Chapter 25: A Walk in the Woods
🕑 Added 2025-09-03 18:36:21 +0000 UTCThe silence that followed the troll's death was somehow louder than the fight itself. The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood and the foul, sewer-like stench of the dead monster, a smell that clung to the back of the throat and made the eyes water. Harry and Ron were still huddled together, trembling, their wide eyes fixed not on the corpse, but on the small, calm girl standing over it.
Then came the sound of running footsteps, and the professors arrived.
Professor McGonagall skidded to a halt, her sharp eyes taking in the scene in a single, sweeping glance: the three tiny first-years, the carnage, the massive, broken body on the floor. Her face, for a split second, was a mask of pure, unadulterated horror. Relief that the children were alive warred with a fury so profound it seemed to make the air crackle.
Snape glided in behind her, his expression unreadable, but his nostrils flared at the stench. "Well," he drawled, his voice a silky, venomous whisper. "It seems some of our students enjoy a bit of after-hours monster hunting."
"Explain," McGonagall commanded, her voice dangerously quiet.
Hermione was about to give a concise, factual report, but a shaky voice cut her off.
"It was me, Professor." Ron Weasley took a half-step forward, looking like he was about to be sick. "I went looking for it. I… I heard about it, and I wanted to see it. I made them come with me. It was my fault."
Hermione stared at him. What is this idiot doing? The lie was clumsy, unbelievable, and an act of such unexpected, selfless loyalty that it genuinely caught her off guard.
Harry, ever the loyal friend, immediately jumped in, nodding vigorously. "Yeah, Professor. It was Ron. We told him not to, but he wouldn't listen."
Snape let out a soft, disdainful laugh. "And I suppose you defeated it by boring it to death with tales of your poverty, Mr. Weasley?" he sneered. "Look at that club. Explain how the three of you overpowered a fully grown mountain troll."
Ron and Harry's mouths opened and closed, but no sounds came out. They looked helplessly at Hermione.
"I did it," she said, her voice flat.
"You?" Snape's sneer was a masterpiece of contempt. "Do not insult my intelligence, girl."
Hermione didn't argue. She just raised her wand. The massive, blood-soaked club on the floor shuddered and then lifted silently into the air. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it smashing into the stone wall beside Snape's head with a deafening CRACK, showering him with dust and splinters. She held it there, hovering menacingly, and met his gaze with cold, empty eyes.
Snape's face went rigid. He said nothing more.
McGonagall's expression was a storm of conflicting emotions—shock, awe, and a terrifying flicker of Gryffindor pride. But her duty as a teacher won out. "That was the most reckless, idiotic, and irresponsible thing I have ever seen," she said, her voice like cracking ice. "Five points from Gryffindor. For each of you."
She paused, taking a deep breath. "However… Miss Granger, in the face of extreme danger, you demonstrated a level of magical talent and bravery that is… exceptional. You protected your fellow students. For that, I award Gryffindor ten points."
So, a net loss of five points, Hermione calculated. Teacher logic. Utterly infuriating.
Before the lecture could continue, the wheezing, shuffling form of Argus Filch appeared, dragging Draco Malfoy by the scruff of his neck. "Caught this one skulking near the third-floor corridor, Professor," Filch rasped. "Spying."
Malfoy, seeing the dead troll, went pale.
"Another rule-breaker," McGonagall sighed, her patience clearly gone. "Five points from Slytherin. And you, Mr. Malfoy, can join them in their detention. Tonight. With Hagrid."
On the long, dark walk down to the gamekeeper's hut, Malfoy whined incessantly. "My father will hear about this! Making me traipse through the mud with these… these blood traitors and a Mudblood!"
Hermione ignored him, her mind focused on the new data points in her grimoire. The troll had yielded a massive ten points of soul energy, confirming her theory that more powerful creatures gave a greater reward. More importantly, the [Magical Creatures] feature was a game-changer. It wasn't just a bestiary; the grimoire suggested she could use the creature's essence to imbue other things with its properties. The possibilities were… interesting.
"Um… Hermione?" Ron had sidled up next to her, looking awkward. "Listen, about before… me taking the blame and all…"
Oh, God, no, she thought, a jolt of alarm shooting through her. He's not about to confess his undying love, is he?
"…I was just wondering," he mumbled, shuffling his feet, "if maybe… I could borrow your Nimbus 2000? Just for a bit? Seeing as I saved you from detention and all."
Relief washed over her. He wants to borrow the broom. Thank God. This was a simple transaction. Loyalty for a loan. She could work with that.
"Fine," she said. "And if you continue to be useful, I'll get you one of your own after the season is over."
Ron's jaw dropped.
They reached Hagrid's hut, where the giant gamekeeper met them with a massive crossbow and a disappointed look. "Right then," he sighed. "In the forest, there's somethin'… somethin' that's been hurtin' the unicorns. We're goin' ter find it."
Malfoy's face went from pale to a ghostly white. "The Forbidden Forest? But… there are… werewolves!"
"Oh, there's more than werewolves in there, lad," Hagrid said cheerfully, which wasn't at all comforting.
The forest was a wall of darkness, a place that felt ancient and alive. The air was cold and damp, smelling of rot and wet earth. Every rustle in the undergrowth, every snap of a twig, made Malfoy jump. After what felt like an eternity, Hagrid stopped. There, on a patch of dark moss, was a pool of liquid silver, glowing with a soft, sickly light.
"Unicorn blood," Hagrid said, his voice a low, sorrowful rumble. "Somethin' evil did this. Somethin' cursed." He decided they'd split up, taking Harry and Ron with him to track the wounded animal, leaving Hermione with a whimpering Draco Malfoy.
"You… you watch for werewolves," Malfoy stammered, his back pressed against a tree.
Hermione ignored him. She knelt by the glowing, tragic pool of blood. This was an unexpected opportunity. She pulled out a small glass vial and, with a quick, silent charm, drew a single, shimmering silver thread of the magical substance into it. Her grimoire buzzed with the acquisition.
[Magical Creatures]
Unicorn (Collected)
Symbol of purity. Blood can sustain a cursed life.
