Chapter 59
The British noonday sun in September was never too harsh—especially within the Forbidden Forest, where golden rays filtered delicately through the branches, forming slender beams of light. Towering trees cast long shadows, muting the sunlight and lending the woods an air of quiet magic.
But that peaceful scene was soon shattered by a voice echoing through the trees like the ringing of a bell.
"Hey, kid! I really don't know why Betty thought we should be teamed up. Look at my size, look at my teeth, look at these claws! I clearly belong on the front lines—not sneaking around in the back like some glorified porter..."
Albert sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead, helpless beside the source of the voice. According to what he'd heard, the Gray Wolf was usually a quiet creature. So when Albert learned they'd be assigned to the same unit, he had mentally prepared himself for a dull and wordless mission.
What he hadn't expected was this: not only did the wolf speak—but he never *stopped* talking. Since the moment they'd left the assembly point, he'd been running his mouth nonstop. And the way he wagged his tail and glinted his eyes as he talked... Albert was beginning to suspect the creature might be some kind of magical hybrid between a dire wolf and a husky.
"Mr. Wolf, please don't just talk to me—you're the one who knows this place," Albert said with a hint of concern. "I have no idea where we're going. I'm counting on you."
"Relax!" the wolf scoffed. "I've lived here for fifteen years. I could walk this forest blindfolded without making a wrong turn!" He paused, then tilted his head curiously. "Say, can you tell me more about that thing you called a *television*?"
Albert had no choice but to launch into an explanation.
The wolf, as it turned out, was an unfortunate soul. He'd been born from two werewolves who had... well, conceived him while in their transformed state. Abandoned at birth, he was taken in by Professor Dumbledore and left to be raised by the centaurs in the forest.
Despite his bestial appearance, the wolf's intelligence and maturity were equal to that of a human adolescent. And like any curious teenager, he had a strong craving for knowledge about the outside world—one he rarely had a chance to satisfy.
They walked and talked for more than ten minutes until they reached their designated location: a slightly elevated ridge near a small stream. The area was mostly open, with few trees around.
"Why is it that every time I visit these sacred places in the Forbidden Forest, I find they're always in open spaces?" Albert asked, puzzled. "Even if you're planning an ambush, wouldn't a concealed location be better? Is open ground considered lucky here or something?"
"Of course," Wolf replied matter-of-factly. "In the Forbidden Forest, the intelligent species—centaurs, unicorns, the like—they're at the top of the food chain. They have no reason to hide. If you don't need to hide, then naturally you'll choose the spot with the best view of the sky. For example, when the sun isn't fully out, most of us lie in open clearings. The morning dew makes the underbrush too damp and uncomfortable to rest in."
Albert nodded slowly. That actually made a lot of sense.
"And as for why we're setting the ambush here," Wolf continued, "you've got to understand—those spiders can climb trees. If we tried this in the deeper forest, we'd constantly have to watch our heads. Not to mention, we'll be setting fire to several plants this time. Wouldn't want to torch the whole forest by mistake, now would we?"
Albert laughed softly. He was starting to appreciate just how much wisdom was hidden beneath the surface of these forest dwellers. Perhaps true intelligence wasn't just about knowledge—but knowing *how* to apply it. And to do that, one had to keep a humble heart on the path of learning.
They spent about an hour preparing the area. Albert used his magically enhanced plants—especially the potato mines, which could distinguish friend from foe. After half an hour spent cultivating the open field, they moved into the nearby woods to set more traps.
As he worked, a stray thought hit Albert. He'd originally come to the Forbidden Forest just to gather materials—preparing to face the basilisk hidden in the Chamber of Secrets, hoping to give himself a better chance of surviving the encounter.
And yet... somehow, here he was, involved in a full-blown war, playing a central role in the coming battle.
Wasn't this just like planting an apple tree only to end up building an entire orchard?
But the situation had evolved. It was far too late to step back now. The only choice was to do it right—and do it well.
Still, Albert couldn't help but reflect on how Betty had guided him, gently but deliberately, toward this role. It was no coincidence. Leaders like her didn't act without intent. Luckily, this time, her goals aligned with his.
But next time? He couldn't be sure the next person to lead him would be so kind—or that their cause would be so just.
That was something only experience could teach. There was no shortcut for human judgment. But for now, his state of mind was clear. If you overthink things, you risk losing everything in hesitation.
Just as their preparations were wrapping up, a muffled explosion echoed in the distance.
Albert's ears perked up. That was the detonation signal he had given to the centaurs.
**The spiders were coming.**
Albert sprinted up to the top of the hill and began making final preparations. Wolf, using his impressive speed, darted into the forest to bury several of the magical potato mines before returning to the ridge.
The sound of explosions grew louder. Hoofbeats thundered in the distance. Strange, skittering noises echoed from within the trees.
Albert saw the centaur riders burst out of the forest line—not visibly injured, but clearly exhausted. The quivers strapped to their sides were nearly empty. Only the arrows on their backs remained untouched.
And no wonder. Each of those side quivers held around thirty arrows. Together with the one on their backs, they could fire sixty shots in a short time—far surpassing any human soldier.
Behind them, unicorns held the rear. They occasionally fired streaks of magical lightning into the shadows of the forest—proof that these were no ordinary creatures. These were magical beasts that rivaled dragons in might.
As the last centaur reached the hill, Albert transferred control of his magical plants to several experienced riders and to Wolf. That had been part of the plan from the start—they knew the spiders better and could use the plants more effectively in combat.
Albert then turned and approached the magical circle he had etched into the ground—a technique he had learned from his father during a memory lesson in Azkaban.
It served two purposes: channeling energy to the caster, and creating a barrier that protected the surrounding area from magical disruption.
The circle was simple. It only took Albert three minutes to prepare. He drove copper nails into the ground to form the perimeter, then looped enchanted red thread—made from phoenix feathers—around them to complete the shape.
Unlike the original, Albert powered the circle using a crystal. That was the only suitable item he had on hand. Fortunately, the crystal's natural properties enhanced the circle with positive energy—perfect for resisting the dark aura of the Eight-Eyed Giant Spiders.
Just as he finished, the cracking of branches echoed through the forest.
They were here.