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In the darkness, bioluminescent creatures glowed faintly.
The tip of Ian's wand emitted a strong white light, illuminating the tangled roots and webs ahead. The damp mist flowed along the ground, wrapping around Ian's ankles like a living thing.
The trees around him appeared even more gloomy in the eerie glow, like enormous beasts baring their fangs, silently observing his every move.
The Forbidden Forest, as always, was gloomy, but unusually quiet.
"Strange… too strange!" Ian slowed his steps, frowning. He scanned his surroundings; the silence of the Forbidden Forest felt almost unnatural.
Normally, Bowtruckles would jump between branches, and small animals would rustle in the underbrush, but now, it was as if he had stepped into a forgotten world. No Bowtruckles leaping between branches, no night owls calling from the treetops, not even a single firefly. The entire forest seemed emptied of life by some invisible force.
Only the deathly quiet of the wind and the swaying shadows of the trees remained.
Not encountering a single living creature, Ian immediately sensed something was wrong.
Creatures in the Forbidden Forest were usually lively; even at night, nocturnal animals would be active. But now, the animals all seemed to have vanished.
Or perhaps…
They had simply disappeared!
No way the dragon could have eaten them all that fast. Not even a dragon could be that quick!
Ian squatted, touching the ground with his fingers. The soil was cold; no ants, no beetles, not even a Pukwudgie footprint. He certainly didn't think a dragon would bother with such tiny snacks.
"This is really eerie."
Ian stood up, his gaze fixed toward the direction of the dragon's roar.
"Could it have something to do with what Ron saw… the 'Riddle'?"
He pondered this, but didn't stop walking, only slightly more alert as he continued deeper into the Forbidden Forest. The deeper he went, the heavier the air became, as if even breathing was sluggish.
The tree branches twisted into ever more grotesque shapes. The wind rustled through the treetops with a "shh-shh" sound, making the already quiet night feel even gloomier.
After observing for a while, he still found no clues.
Ian decided to transform into a wisp of white mist and directly rush toward the end of the sound, just by listening, he could pinpoint its exact source.
Superb hearing.
Nothing could confuse him. Ian rushed straight to the source of the dragon's roar.
What he saw was a clearing vthat had been iolently destroyed.
Thick tree trunks were broken in half, black scorch marks spread across the ground, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of sulfur and burning flesh. Yet, the dragon that should have been here was nowhere to be seen.
"Huh?"
Ian scanned the area. He saw some huge claw marks on the ground, but it didn't look like the dragon had simply flown elsewhere.
After all, if a dragon took to the sky, Ian would not have failed to notice.
Even mixed-blood dragons were easy for Ian to detect, let alone an ancient dragon the size of a small hill. Yes, that was why Ian had sensed something was off earlier.
Having encountered ancient dragon before, Ian immediately realized that the dragon roaring in the Forbidden Forest was definitely not one of the current mixed-blood dragons, it was an extinct ancient dragon.
This was also why Hermione could never guess correctly, no matter how hard she tried. Many wizards didn't even know ancient dragons had existed, let alone Hermione, whose knowledge came only from books.
In the end, books sold in stores contained only what could be considered common knowledge.
And regarding the ancient dragon…
It was more like a secret.
Precisely because of the rarity of this dragon, Ian felt compelled to take action here—what? Protecting a rare species? That would be underestimating Ian's mastery of body-restoring magic.
"Where's all my endless potion ingredients?!"
Ian muttered to himself, pacing around the area, trying to find some clue. On a nearby dead tree, he noticed some scorched marks.
It reminded him of the intense flames during the dragon's roar.
However, strangely, Ian couldn't find any target attacked by the dragon—he clearly remembered hearing two roars, each louder than the last. Logically, the dragon should have been angry for some reason.
Ian turned his head again and noticed a pitch-black streak running up the tree trunk, as if burned by some corrosive liquid. He reached out and touched the substance with his finger.
"Dragon blood… pure dragon blood."
His tongue wasn't corroded, only a burning pain spread through it. Clearly, the dragon had been injured, and its blood had splattered onto the surrounding trees.
"Could it be that someone got there first?!"
Ian was shocked.
A possibility he didn't want to accept flashed through his mind.
At that moment, in the direction of the valley crushed by the dragon's body, Ian seemed to see something flickering—like a bronze door embedded within the valley itself?
…
After Ian used magic to create the three flying carpets that wrapped Hermione, Ron, and Neville, the carpets slowly and automatically flew toward Hogwarts Castle. At first, the three were a bit nervous, having never experienced such magical flying before. But over time, they gradually adapted to this wondrous mode of flight.
The three thick flying carpets cut through the night sky, as if guided by invisible hands, steadily heading toward Hogwarts. Realizing this flying was more comfortable than a broomstick, the three stopped holding their breath in fear.
"This… this is actually pretty fun. Senior Prince's magic is amazing," Neville whispered, clutching the edge of his carpet tightly, though his initial fear had faded.
Hermione adjusted her posture to make herself more comfortable inside the wrapping. Her brow remained furrowed: "Ian going to face the dragon alone… that's way too dangerous."
"We all know how powerful a dragon is; no one knows what awaits him." Hermione began worrying about the possibility of hearing tragic news of Ian's death as soon as tomorrow.
You see, the young girl, just entering the wizarding world, had no real understanding of the level her guide in this world held. She had little concrete cognition of the upper limits of a Second Year senior's abilities.
A sense of limited imagination.
And when it came to imagination, Ron had his own unique talent.
"Too dangerous?" Ron, hearing Hermione's words, immediately perked up. Excitement crept into his voice as he began to speak passionately, expressing his opinion.
"Hmph, I don't think so."
There was a hint of defiance in his tone.
"What do you mean?"
Hermione frowned. The rushing wind blew her fluffy hair wildly across her face, giving her serious nighttime expression a rather intimidating look.
(To Be Continued…)