Deep within the Forbidden Forest, under the lingering, copper-gold light of the setting sun, a slender young man cradled the massive head of a beast in his arms, whispering words of comfort.
"I won't be far," Evans said softly, his voice a calm murmur against the creature's hide. "And I'll come to see you often. If you're ever in danger, just call out. Everyone is nearby; they'll hear you."
"Woof," the mountain-like beast whimpered, its tone pitifully small for its size as it rubbed its enormous head against Evans's chest like a lost child.
"Good boy," Evans soothed, stroking the creature's snout. "The box is too cramped. It's not good for you to stay in there for so long. Besides, this forest is full of delicious things to eat, far tastier than anything I could find for you."
"Woof…"
After one last, lingering nuzzle, the colossal beast took a reluctant step back, then another, its heavy footfalls shaking the ground. It moved slowly into the deepening shadows of the surrounding woods, looking back every few steps.
As the vibrations receded, Evans raised a hand in farewell. "If you miss me, remember to come find me anytime!"
A final, mournful roar echoed from the distance, and then the giant beast was gone, swallowed completely by the forest.
With a sigh, Evans tapped a small, silver sphere hanging from a chain around his neck. "Now it's just us."
The sphere vibrated faintly, as if something inside was responding.
"Hungry? Wait a little longer. We'll eat together at dinner."
The sphere shook again, more insistently this time.
"Hot pot? Hmm… how about in a couple of days?" Evans negotiated. "I just got back to school, so I have to eat a few meals with the other professors first."
The sphere vibrated with what was clearly dissatisfaction before finally falling still.
Having placated his companion, Evans looked around at the familiar, ancient trees, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. The last rays of sunset streamed through the gaps in the canopy, painting the forest floor in shifting patterns of light and shadow.
He strode between the giant trees, reveling in the joy of returning to a place that felt more like home than any building ever could. Ever since his first year, he had broken school rules to slip into the Forbidden Forest. That first year, before Voldemort's return had plunged the school into a state of simmering panic, his excursions had gone largely unnoticed. It had been a blissful, quiet time, allowing him to establish contact with many of the magical creature tribes on the forest's outskirts.
Then, in his second year, a certain perpetually scowling Head of House had taken over, and his opportunities to explore had become far scarcer. But it was during that time of clandestine visits that he had begun to uncover the forest's deeper secrets.
Though it was called the Forbidden Forest, suggesting it was an artificially planted wood, it was, in fact, a vast primeval forest. In the early Middle Ages, it had served as a refuge for wizards fleeing persecution from the Muggle Church, which was one of the reasons Hogwarts had been built here.
The entire forest was riddled with extensive wizarding ruins and cemeteries, most of them lost to time and crumbling into the earth. They remained undiscovered only because the forest was so vast and so dangerous.
Most intriguing of all was the deepest part of the forest—a sealed area no one had ever set foot in.
Evans glanced up at the sky. The sunset had not yet completely faded; there was about an hour until dinner.
"Enough time," he murmured to himself. "I can check on the third seal. Maybe I can finally break it."
Taking his bearings from the surrounding trees, Evans's trench coat fluttered as he rose silently into the air. He'd never quite mastered flying a broom. The inherent instability of it, the constant fear of slipping and falling, had always unnerved him—a lingering trauma from his past life, where a fall during a mountain climb had ended everything. The innate flying ability he'd acquired from a house-elf felt far more secure.
The trees receded rapidly below him. Here and there, the dilapidated stone of a forgotten ruin peeked through the leaves. He flew with purpose, and soon, an extremely conspicuous, translucent arc shimmered into view ahead. It was a seal, composed of ancient runes, layered one upon another, completely enveloping the heart of the forest.
Slowing his ascent, Evans drifted down, landing softly before the shimmering barrier. He drew his wand.
"Aparecium."
An invisible ripple washed over the runes. The sparse, flickering symbols flared to life, multiplying at a visible rate until they filled his entire field of vision with a complex, glowing lattice. These were no ordinary runes, like the ones left on the wizards' old residences. They couldn't be broken by force—a seventh-year Evans had already tried and failed spectacularly. The only way through was to fulfill the seal's prerequisite and then solve its riddle.
Even seeing the runes was a challenge. One needed magical sight to perceive them. Otherwise, anyone who entered the prerequisite area would simply find themselves lost, turned around, and guided back the way they came, never even knowing a barrier was there. Evans had only gained the ability to see the seals in his fourth year, after befriending a Thestral. That had been the year of his dear Head of House's worst headaches, with Evans being caught on the outskirts of the forest at least three times a week—not counting the times he wasn't caught. The self-criticism essays he'd been forced to write could have wallpapered Snape's entire office.
Looking at the rings of activated runes, Evans put away his wand and placed his hand on the innermost layer. Two lines of symbols dimmed, and a new array of runes materialized on the back of his hand, glowing for a few seconds before twisting into a single line of text.
[Cast 50 different spells using nonverbal and wandless techniques.]
As if he had been expecting this, Evans pulled his hand back. A red light condensed in his palm and shot toward a nearby patch of grass. The disturbed weeds slowly floated into the air, then disintegrated into a fine powder.
He began casting methodically, a familiar sense of anticipation building within him. He had been trying to complete this very task in his final year before graduation but had failed. He couldn't be blamed; nonverbal and wandless casting for fifty different spells was a feat most wizards couldn't achieve in a lifetime. Masters were those who could manage it for a few common spells. Fifty was a number that would stump even the most experienced Aurors. It had taken him nearly five years to barely complete it, and that was only by including several simple spells he had invented himself.
And this was just the prerequisite. The riddle itself was still a mystery.
He recalled the first seal. The prerequisite had been to fill a deep blue crystal with magic, and the riddle had tested spell power and combat skill. That one had been relatively easy for him; his unique talent gave him a much larger magical reservoir than his peers, and he'd solved it within half a year. The reward had been a research manuscript on the bloodline of a Re'em Bull, a detailed text that had helped shape his future research.
The second seal had been more difficult. It required withstanding a mental impact from the runes themselves, and the riddle tested mental fortitude. The reward for that had been a long-lost ancient potion. Just a single whiff cleared the mind, and after drinking it, his mental strength had increased by a third, dramatically improving his casting speed and duration.
Based on the pattern, the third seal's riddle should be related to spells. His hands moved swiftly, a blur of motion as magical light of every color flowed from his palms. The surrounding vegetation was thrown into chaos by the barrage of spells, but the runes before him grew brighter and brighter.
As the final spell faded, the intricate array of runes exploded into a shower of glittering light. A dilapidated stone platform slowly rose from the now-empty ground. Rows of runes were carved around its base, with five empty slots interrupting the pattern. Above the platform, five stone spheres, each covered in more runes, hovered in the air.
Evans looked at the spheres and sighed, a helpless smile touching his lips. "What is with all these little puzzle games?"
Muttering to himself, he drew his wand and pointed it at one of the spheres. "Accio."
A dim light hit the sphere, and it began to roll through the air towards him, settling neatly into one of the empty slots. He waved his wand again, and the remaining spheres flew into place. As the last one clicked home, the runes on the platform glowed with a cascade of colored lights.
The lights faded, and two picture frames materialized in the air. The frame on the left showed a woman, her head bowed, weeping. The one on the right was completely blank.
Evans stared, momentarily stunned. The previous riddles had never been like this; usually, a piece of parchment would appear with the riddle's content. "What is this supposed to be?"
As he pondered, a new row of runes assembled itself before him, forming two sentences.
[Use ten completely different spells to reproduce the painting on the left in the blank frame.]
[You have 30 minutes.]
"???"
(End of Chapter)
***
(End of Chapter)
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