Verifying Godelot's words wasn't hard. He had specifically written:
"Creatures of dark magic possess a cruel instinct born from a wizard's extreme conviction.
A wizard who wields the Elder Wand can more easily read the malice hidden deep in their souls… and master it."
That meant Sean, through the Hollow Rune, could sense and confirm that malice the same way he could with Tom.
In the corridor, Sean suddenly stopped in his tracks.
Malice… Voldemort…
If dark magical creatures carried the twisted conviction of the wizard who shaped them, then what about Voldemort himself?
"There's hardly any humanity left in him…"
That was why he was both cruel and terrifyingly powerful.
Sean murmured the words to himself. The centaurs' old warnings quietly lined up with Godelot's theory once again.
…
Another night excursion.
Mrs. Norris rode on his shoulder the whole way, rubbing her cheek against the back of his neck before vanishing into the shadows.
Sean stepped onto the moonlit lawn and slipped into the Forbidden Forest.
For about twenty minutes he walked by wand-light. Nothing but snapping twigs and rustling leaves.
Then the trees grew thicker, the stars disappeared overhead, and his wand glowed alone in a sea of black.
Whether Godelot was right or wrong, dark magic was undeniably a shortcut. But there was always a voice in Sean's heart telling him the same thing:
The longest, most winding road is often the shortest way home.
In the depths of the forest, low branches and brambles usually snagged robes (Hagrid's were always torn), but tonight every vine and limb shrank back as Sean passed, as though politely making way.
Then he noticed something new on the path.
He'd released the basilisk far beyond the forest trails, outside even Hagrid's patrol routes. That deep in, the forest wasn't exactly safe.
From his right, some distance away, something huge was crashing through the undergrowth, snapping branches like gunfire.
"Lumos."
The light flared.
Spiders.
Not the little ones that skittered across dungeon floors. These were the size of carthorses, black and hairy, eight eyes gleaming, eight legs pounding.
A giant Acromantula scuttled down the slope toward the center of a misty, dome-shaped web. Dozens more surrounded it, pincers clicking like castanets.
Acromantula?
Here?
When had they built a colony this deep?
Sean frowned. This was bad.
Every creature in the forest had its territory. This was centaur land.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, raising his wand.
It was his first time seeing so many Acromantula at once, but his voice stayed perfectly calm, like a still lake.
"Aragog!"
"Aragog!"
From the heart of the misty dome crawled a spider the size of a small elephant, blind white films over every eye, body gray-black and hideous.
"What is it?" it clicked irritably, pincers snapping.
"The human from the forest."
"Is it Hagrid?" Aragog asked, edging closer, milky eyes staring blankly.
"Sean Green," Sean answered.
Hagrid had told him he'd mentioned Sean's name to every creature in the forest.
"Kill him," Aragog said, annoyed. "I was sleeping… Wait. You're Hagrid's friend?"
It hesitated.
Sean studied the colony silently. Through the Hollow Rune he felt it—the same thick, vicious malice that poured off Tom Riddle.
He sighed. So it was true. These dark creatures really were products of a wizard's warped beliefs.
That explained their brutally cruel abilities: Dementors devouring happiness, basilisks killing with a glance. All of it still magic, just twisted.
"Hagrid never sends anyone into our hollow," Aragog said slowly.
"This is centaur territory," Sean replied, meeting the blind spider's face.
"The monster from the castle appeared near our borders… we had no choice but to move."
Sean fell silent.
"You can go back now. It woke up tonight and it's leaving this area."
"No! It's awake!" Aragog shrieked in terror. "You want us to march to our deaths?!"
Sean turned to leave. Clearly the basilisk had thrown the whole forest ecosystem out of whack. He'd have to fix this fast.
"You're leaving?" Aragog said lazily, the clicking growing louder, rustling all around as the spiders began to close in.
"I think not… My children obeyed me and never harmed Hagrid. But fresh human flesh walking straight into our lair? I can't stop them from feasting. Farewell, friend of Hagrid…"
Sean looked up.
A few paces away, high above, the Acromantula had formed a solid, towering wall of black bodies. Pincers clacked in a deafening chorus. Hundreds of shiny eyes gleamed on ugly heads.
There were a lot of them.
"Whitey."
In less than thirty seconds a silver-white owl swooped out of the ink-black sky and landed on Sean's shoulder.
Looked like he was going to start working on Acromantula treats earlier than planned.
A roaring ring of fire exploded from Sean's wand, surrounding him in a small sea of flame.
Belief…
Ritual magic strengthened a wizard's conviction—it was the physical manifestation of a wizard's magic.
And conviction, maybe, was the true soul of a wizard. The line that separated dark wizards from the rest.
Once every shadow of doubt was burned away, the fire actually grew larger.
Sean flicked his wand. Flames danced in his eyes.
[You have practiced Master-level Transfiguration (Master standard). Master proficiency +300]
The fire roared and surged, carrying Sean's unbreakable will as it swallowed the entire clearing.
"It's you! The earthquake wizard!"
Aragog's legs trembled. Whole swaths of its children were already charred husks, and the fire was endless—far more endless than the spiders.
They tried to flee in panic.
And ran straight into a blind, bespectacled giant that had just appeared behind them.
To be continued at dawn.