Deep in the Forbidden Forest
Hagrid, the gamekeeper, was tending to a young Acromantula, crouching down to inspect its chelicerae and bristly abdomen. His broad face was filled with concern. "What're you doing out here? Didn't Aragog tell you? The Forbidden Forest is full of dangers. Even grown spiders go missing mysteriously, let alone little ones like you…"
No matter how much he tried to soothe it, the young Acromantula stayed silent, not making a sound.
Aragog, the clan leader, might not have told Hagrid that the adult spiders weren't vanishing in the forest—they were disappearing from inside the nest, often accompanied by the rich smell of roasted meat. It was a presence the entire Acromantula colony feared, and the young spider could only stay quiet and obedient.
It was just an experiment, and it was willing to cooperate.
Fang lay on the ground, panting with his tongue out, tail wagging lazily. The young snake draped around his neck rested its head on the dog's, also flicking its tongue, curiously eyeing the peculiar-looking spider. Its eyes gleamed, forked tongue darting in and out, hissing softly.
The young Acromantula sensed a primal threat. Its black bristles stood on end, and it trembled, too scared to speak. Its eight eyes darted nervously, occasionally glancing at an oak tree nearby where two black-robed professors stood.
Melvin stood at the edge of the clearing, waving his wand to summon gusts of wind. The powerful airflow swept up bloodstains and tufts of fur, whistling through the gaps in the branches and vanishing into the blue sky. The scene, which had looked like a murder site, gradually returned to normal.
Once the cleanup was done, Melvin leaned against the oak, arms crossed, watching the scene with an amused expression, like he was enjoying a show.
Crunch… crunch…
The sound of hard-soled boots on the grass.
Snape paced slowly in front of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, his steps heavy, as if pressing down on their hearts.
He glanced at Harry with a cold smirk. "Potter, Weasley, and Miss Granger, perhaps you've forgotten that Dumbledore announced at the start-of-term feast that the forest is off-limits to all students."
Ron's face crumpled, looking miserable.
Hermione kept her head down, silent.
Only Harry refused to back down or cower before Snape. Meeting his gaze, his mind scrambled for an excuse. "We… we were helping Hagrid patrol the forest. He's our friend."
"Oh, is that so?" Snape's sneer grew sharper. "As a school employee, aiding students in breaking rules would bring even harsher consequences for your friend, Mr. Hagrid."
Guilt for dragging Hagrid into trouble paled Harry's face, quickly turning to anger. He pressed on, "It's not Hagrid's fault! We came here on our own. We suspected you, Professor Snape, were up to dark magic in the forest. That's got nothing to do with him, right?"
"…"
Melvin was right there, but Harry had singled out Snape.
Snape almost laughed, exasperated. "Let's see if you're still this spirited in detention, Potter! For trespassing in the forest and disrespecting a professor, ten points from each of you and two weeks of detention!"
As Snape stormed off, the trio exchanged glances, quietly relieved.
Ron stuck out his tongue at Snape's retreating figure. "Deduct points all you want. Professor Gaunt gave Harry fifty points in just two lessons last week."
Hermione nodded instinctively, then froze, realizing she'd actually agreed.
She couldn't pinpoint when her mindset had shifted. She used to be horrified by losing house points or breaking rules, but now she thought it was fine as long as they could earn them back. It was unsettling.
"It's Easter break," Melvin said. "If you apologize properly to Professor Snape, your punishment might be lighter."
Ron scoffed. "Maybe with other professors, but Snape? No way."
Stubborn students and a prejudiced professor… Melvin chuckled, shaking his head as he turned to leave. The potion test was done, the show was over, and there was no reason to linger in the forest.
The trio hurried to follow, Hermione bombarding him with questions. "Professor, what was that potion? Why test it on animals? It sounded like a healing potion—what does it do?"
Hagrid, having sent the spider off, trailed behind with Fang.
"It's a potion recipe left by Helga Hufflepuff," Melvin said, stepping on the soft forest floor. "I only recently discovered it and made a small batch. I don't know its exact effects, but Professor Snape, being a Potions expert, agreed to help me test it."
"Helga Hufflepuff!" Ron exclaimed. "That's got to be an incredible potion!"
The name of a Hogwarts founder sparked endless excitement.
"It's impressive, but not as miraculous as you'd think," Melvin explained as they walked. "It's not as good as a general antidote for poison or Dittany for wounds. But it has a unique property—it can remove foreign magic from a living body."
"What does that mean?" Hermione asked, her face puzzled.
"Magic works through magical energy. Many counter-spells work by removing specific magical effects," Melvin said. "For example, the dark magic Professor Snape demonstrated—if the magic lingering in the wound isn't removed, it'll never heal, and the victim could bleed out."
Harry and the others sighed, disappointed. They'd been hiding behind a tree and hadn't clearly seen Snape's spell or the wound on the stag.
"On the other hand, many injuries wizards can't heal are due to foreign magic lingering in the body or wound," Melvin continued, slowing his speech to let them process. "You've all seen Professor Kettleburn from Care of Magical Creatures, with only half his limbs left. Haven't you wondered why, with wizarding medicine, his missing arms and legs can't be regrown?"
Harry nodded. He had experience—last year in Quidditch, Lockhart vanished the bones in his arm, but Madam Pomfrey regrew them overnight with Skele-Gro.
Melvin answered his own question. "His limbs were lost to 5X-level magical creatures—Swedish Short-Snout flames, Peruvian Vipertooth venom. Their unique magic interferes with Dittany or Skele-Gro. By the time the foreign magic is cleared, the wound has healed too much for regrowth."
Hagrid, trailing behind, stayed silent. Last summer in Romania, he'd nearly lost a leg himself.
"It's like Muggle medicine," Hermione said, her eyes brightening. Her parents were doctors, and she made the connection quickly. "Muggles clean wounds to remove bacteria and viruses. Wizards need to clear foreign magic."
Melvin nodded. "Hufflepuff's potion is a counter-spell for all magic—a magical antibiotic."
…
Back at Gryffindor Tower
The common room was quiet during the Easter holidays.
Hermione recalled seeing classmates on the way back to the castle—girls chatting and sunbathing in the courtyards, boys splashing by the lake, playing water fights with the Giant Squid's tentacles. Whenever a younger student fell in, older ones cheered, and when the squid lifted them back to shore, they'd rush to grab its tentacles.
Thankfully, no one was in the common room to notice the missing house points in the hourglass.
Especially Percy, the prefect, who obsessed over house points and lectured endlessly whenever they were deducted.
Hermione sank into an armchair, lips pursed, reflecting on the past. In her Muggle school, she'd always been the model student, strictly following rules. At Hogwarts, her standards had slipped bit by bit.
From never breaking rules to thinking it was fine as long as they weren't caught.
From dreading point deductions to believing they could earn them back.
Recalling today's deductions and detention, and past incidents, she felt a strange sense of disconnection. She wasn't the rule-abiding star student anymore.
Sighing deeply, she looked at her two troublemaking friends. "Do you think, if Professors Snape and Levent hadn't caught us, they'd have used even crueler dark magic on those animals?"
"Levent, I'm not sure," Ron said, sprawling on a sofa and stretching. "But Snape? Definitely. If Dumbledore wasn't at Hogwarts, I wouldn't be surprised if he tested potions on students."
"Levent… isn't exactly the saint we thought either," Harry said, staring at the ceiling, remembering near-drownings with trolls, setting them up to face Quirrell by the Chamber, and manipulating the Basilisk.
"He's so mysterious, it's hard to get close to him," Hermione murmured.
"But he's reliable," Ron said, grabbing a cushion. The forest adventure had been thrilling, and now, calming down, he felt drained. Yawning, he planned to nap before lunch.
Just as he closed his eyes, a hand yanked the cushion away. Harry shot him a look, nodding toward the portrait hole.
Ron followed his gaze.
A figure in a school uniform, prefect badge pinned to their chest, stood there, eyes sharp and fixed on them.
"I saw the rubies in the hourglass drop again. What did you do this time?" Percy stood before his brother, holding a letter for home. "Never mind. You can explain it to Mum yourself."
Ron sighed, suddenly wide awake.
…
Ten P.M.
Ron leaned against his bed's headboard, covers pulled up, brow furrowed. He wasn't just awake—he was too wired to sleep. "We all messed up, so why am I the only one getting chewed out by Mum?"
"What did Percy write in the letter?" Harry asked from the next bed.
Ron shook his head. "No idea. I'm just bracing for a Howler."
"George and Fred get points deducted all the time, but they never seem to get scolded by Mrs. Weasley," Harry said.
"They're used to it," Ron grumbled. "Even when Mum yells in their faces, they tune out what they don't want to hear and change the subject with a joke…"
Muttering complaints, Ron glanced at Neville, who was sitting on his bed, not yet lying down. Curious, he asked, "Neville, can't sleep either? Did your gran give you a hard time? Or is it about picking your classes?"
Easter break was course selection time, and Neville's relatives had been bombarding him with letters, each pushing different subjects. One said Ancient Runes was the foundation of alchemy; another claimed Arithmancy held the secrets of numbers. Every subject was apparently crucial.
Poor Neville was nearly losing his mind.
Ron's question drew everyone's attention to the chubby boy, curious about his sleeplessness. Harry turned to look.
Neville sat on his bed, head bowed, a few glistening tears sliding down his cheeks, staining his pajamas. The flickering candlelight stretched his shadow across the bed.
Without looking up, he mumbled, "I was thinking about what you said earlier."
"Earlier? What's wrong?" Harry asked.
Neville lifted his head, eyes wet. "You said Professor Levent's potion… could it heal my parents?"
Harry and Ron sat up, staring at their roommate.
…
Potions Office
The Potions office was chilly.
Snape sat in the shadows behind his desk, partially obscured by the archway to the storeroom. For the past hour, he'd maintained the same posture, occasionally setting aside a graded essay.
"…"
Like an emotionless machine.
Harry tore his gaze away, pulling on gloves and plunging his hands into a stone basin, grabbing a wriggling salamander. One hand gripped its tail, the other its body, and with a tug, he snapped it in half.
Salamanders didn't cry out or fight back, just squirmed harder, thrashing to escape.
He tossed the tail into a jar and the salamander back into the basin. One tail collected. The process was stomach-churning, especially at first.
But this was Harry's fortieth tail, and he'd gotten used to it. With Ron and Hermione nearby, he felt like a cold, ruthless executioner—terrifyingly so.
This was all Snape's fault, assigning such a cruel detention.
"We'll talk to Professor Levent later about Neville's request," Harry said quietly, snapping another tail.
"We've tried his office a few times, but he's never there. I haven't even seen him at meals in the Great Hall. I'm starting to think he's not in the castle," Hermione muttered, her brown hair falling in her face. Gloved hands made it hard to brush aside, so she shook her head vigorously.
Ron glanced toward the door. "This is important. Should we go straight to the headmaster?"
"I agree," Harry said. "Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom were injured fighting Death Eaters. Dumbledore wouldn't ignore this."