Chapter 23: The Hippogriff Scout
The Forbidden Forest meadow was a place of wild, untamed beauty. The morning dew glistened on the grass, the air was crisp and cool, and the scent of wild herbs and damp earth hung in the air. A herd of Hippogriffs, their feathers shimmering in the morning light, were grazing quietly, their eyes, intelligent and knowing, watching them.
"Scoutin' with hippogriffs? Grand idea!" Hagrid boomed, a wide, joyous smile on his face. He adjusted his coat, the tweed a familiar, comforting sight. "Best way to see the forest. Best way to see what they're up to."
Leo felt a surge of curiosity. He had tamed the rats, the birds, the owls. But a Hippogriff? It was a different kind of challenge. A different kind of magic.
"Hippogriffs dodge nargles—perfect scouts," Luna Lovegood said, her voice a dreamy, whimsical sound. She was watching a hippogriff, her eyes wide with a quiet, knowing admiration.
"Nargles beware!" he chuckled.
[FOREST HIDES MORE THAN TREES. WATCH FOR TRAPS.]
A trap animation pulsed, a small, menacing warning.
"Traps? We're sharper." The Hippogriffs were their eyes in the sky. Their way of seeing what the Ministry was hiding. They had to be careful. They had to be smart.
The flight was a breathtaking, exhilarating rush of wind and feathers. He was riding a hippogriff, a powerful, majestic creature, its wings a symphony of sound. The ground below, a green and brown blur of trees and moss, was a map of secrets and lies.
Leo's beast-speaking, his connection to the creatures, was a lifeline. He whispered to the hippogriff, a low, steady command, and the creature, a nervous, jumpy thing, calmed down, its movements smooth and steady. He was no longer just a rider. He was a partner.
"Flying's better than brooms!" he shouted, the wind whipping at his face.
Enid, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated joy, shouted back.
"Brooms? So last year!"
And then, he saw it. A clearing. And in the center, a camp. A Black Thorn camp. He could see cloaked figures, their movements furtive, their faces hidden. He could see the faint, shimmering flicker of magical wards, a barrier of magic that kept them hidden from the world.
He felt a surge of triumph. They had found them. They had a lead. He had a family who would fight for him. He had everything he needed to win.
The camp was a small, dusty place. A few tents, a small fire, and a handful of cloaked figures. Leo, his heart pounding in his chest, snuck into the camp, his movements silent, his senses heightened.
He saw a pile of parchments on a small table. He reached for them, his fingers trembling, and he saw it. A plan. A purge. A plan to eradicate the Outcasts.
[PURGE PLANS? THEY'RE NOT SUBTLE.]
A fire animation pulsed, a small, furious symbol.
"Subtle? We'll stop them." He felt a cold, hard rage. They were planning to kill them. They were planning a massacre.
Hermione, her hands shaking, clutched the parchments.
"This is monstrous!" she gasped. "We have to expose them! We have to tell the world!"
He nodded, his voice a low, fierce whisper.
"We will."
"Villain hideout? Needs better decor," he quipped, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.
"Decor? Their downfall," Wednesday deadpanned, her eyes filled with a cold, terrifying fury.
[YOU'VE GOT THEIR PLAYBOOK. DON'T FUMBLE THE PLAY.]
He had their playbook. He had the evidence. He had a family who would fight for him. He had everything he needed to win.
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