Chapter 17: The Suitcase's Clue
The Iago Tower dormitory was a flickering haven, its candlelight casting warm shadows across warped mirrors, the air thick with cedar smoke and a faint menagerie scent—fur and feathers—clinging to a tattered map spread across a scarred table. The map's frayed edges curled, its ancient script pulsing with golden lines that snaked through a depiction of the Forbidden Forest, ending at a glowing suitcase silhouette. Newt's legacy. Our hope. Leo's fingers brushed the parchment, its rough texture grounding his surging hope, the hydra scale in his pocket humming faintly . A chipped goblet of cold pumpkin juice sat forgotten, its tart scent a mundane anchor to their coalition's triumph. This is bigger than us—Outcasts, creatures, truth. Enid clapped, her voice bursting with pure excitement, her scarf fluttering as she leaned over the map.
"Adventure time!"
Her eyes shone with shared thrill, deepening their bond, echoing their forest escape She's all in, like always. Leo grinned, hope flaring bright, his voice laced with sarcasm.
"Suitcase hunt? Hope it's not cursed."
Ginny Weasley's steady voice came from the doorway, her faded Gryffindor sweater a quiet symbol of resilience, her face resolute like .
"Cursed? We'll manage."
She's our ally, forged in the Ministry's shadow. Ginny nodded at the map, her eyes tracing the glowing lines with a knowing intensity.
"Map echoes secrets. The Forest's magic won't let just anyone in."
The Forest's a test, like the Chamber or the Echo Prison. Leo's heart raced, urgency stirring in his chest . We're the bridge between Hogwarts and Nevermore. A frayed quill rolled across the table, its feather bent, urging discovery. Hermione's voice cut through, firm and precise, her robes dusted with ink from their war room plans.
"We find it. Tonight."
She's our strategist, relentless. The dorm's barriers hummed faintly the map's golden glow intensifying as the candles flickered, casting jagged shadows. Agnes's wand sparked, her voice playful but determined.
"Let's make this a story worth telling."
She's our spark. The air was electric, urging them toward the Forest, the map's pulse a beacon of hope.
The Forbidden Forest was a living labyrinth, its gnarled trees whispering ancient secrets on a damp, chilling wind, their twisted branches clawing at the twilight sky like skeletal fingers. The air was thick with the scent of rotting leaves and damp earth, the ground crunching under Leo's boots, a carpet of acorns and twigs snapping with each step. This place guards its own, like the ruins. His cloak chafed his sweat-soaked neck, the map's glow guiding the group—Leo, Hermione, Wednesday, Enid, Agnes—through the oppressive dusk, their wands drawn, the Nevermore ruins' hum echoing faintly in the air. A chipped twig snapped underfoot, grounding their determination . Wednesday clutched her dagger, her voice a low, steady whisper, her eyes scanning the shadows.
"This forest guards its own."
She feels its weight, like I do. Leo nodded, his voice firm, his beast-speaking tingling with the Forest's pulse.
"We'll earn its trust."
A massive spiderweb loomed in a glade, its strands glowing with an otherworldly light, a giant spider at its center, its black-glass eyes glinting like polished obsidian, its hulking body radiating primal power. Newt's guardian. Leo's heart pounded, his beast-speaking catching its guttural hum, a deep resonance echoing the connection with Pixel. "Guardian. Newt's will. Protect." He stepped forward, his voice low and respectful, his knees aching from the trek.
"Guardian's role?"
The spider rumbled in his mind, its voice a primal force. "Protect. All who seek. Must prove worthy. Of his legacy. Of his love for the beasts." The air shimmered, a script pulsing in his vision, bold and intricate.
[SPIDERS? CLASSIC GUARDIAN CHOICE.]
A web animation glowed, its strands pulsing. Leo muttered, suppressing a shiver, his sarcasm a shield.
"Classic? Terrifying."
We prove ourselves, like with the bats. A frayed web strand swayed in the breeze, urging action. Enid's hand trembled, her voice soft but resolute, her scarf catching on a thorn.
"We can do this, right?"
She's scared, but here, like in the Ministry. Leo squeezed her hand, determination solidifying in his chest. We will. Agnes conjured a faint mist illusion, her voice steady, her wand trembling slightly.
"Let's show it we're worthy."
She's our light in the dark. The spider's hum softened, a single glowing strand parting like a curtain, granting passage, the glade's air heavy with anticipation.
The suitcase sat in the glade's center, a worn leather case, its scuffed surface marked by scratches and time, yet pulsing with an unassuming promise. Newt's legacy, our key. Leo's fingers brushed its radiant seal, a jolt of energy sparking through him, . The seal hummed, its golden light flaring, filling the glade with a warm glow that banished the Forest's chill. This is it. Hermione's eyes widened, her voice reverent, her hands trembling with excitement.
"This could change everything."
The cure, the truth, everything. The air shimmered, a script pulsing, bold and commanding.
[SEAL NEEDS A MASTER BEAST-SPEAKER. YOU'RE UP.]
A lock animation glowed, its intricate gears turning. Leo quipped, urgency rising in his chest, his voice laced with tired humor.
"Master? Working on it."
"Locked? Typical," he added, a wry smile breaking through, his muscles sore from the trek.
Enid giggled, her laughter a bright spark, easing the tension.
"Typical hero problem."
She's our heart. A chipped acorn rolled across the moss, grounding their urgency, the seal flickering with orb-like shadows that hinted at the shutdown's secrets . This is our chance. The System's warning pulsed, heavy with responsibility, its words a stark reminder of the stakes.
[THAT SUITCASE HOLDS POWER. DON'T BREAK THE WORLD OPENING IT.]
We won't break it—we'll save it. The forest's hum intensified, the glade's glow a beacon urging them toward the truth, the suitcase's promise heavy in the air.
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