Chapter 34: Consulting the Expert
The Forbidden Forest, a vast and gloomy woodland to the west of Hogwarts Castle, was strictly off-limits to students—a rule that, paradoxically, seemed only to fuel its allure. Beneath a dense canopy that blotted out the sky, it was a sanctuary for all manner of dangerous magical creatures. Its dangers were very real, far beyond the capabilities of any young student.
It housed some of Britain's most perilous flora. The Snarfle Vine, with its long, grasping tendrils, secreted a highly acidic mucus capable of digesting an animal, bones and all, without a trace. The Tangle-Tree was even more insidious, its roots sensing vibrations in the soil before erupting to drag unsuspecting prey underground for a slow consumption. A wizard lacking both knowledge and vigilance, venturing in alone, stood a good chance of never returning.
Among its most populous inhabitants were the Acromantula, a species that was not native to the forest. Their presence was thanks to Rubeus Hagrid, who, during his own school years, had released a domesticated Acromantula named Aragog into the woods. Finding a mate, Aragog had founded a colony that now bred uncontrollably, occupying a significant territory and preying upon everything except stone and wood. Their proliferation had sparked an ongoing conflict with the centaurs, who were, unfortunately, part of the spiders' diet. The centaur tribe of the Hogwarts forest was one of the largest in Britain, and while they were hostile to wizards, they would typically see a lost student safely to the forest's edge.
It was fortunate, Solim mused, that the wizarding world had no environmental protection laws. Otherwise, Hagrid would have faced severe consequences for single-handedly causing a devastating invasive species incident.
The Acromantulas had no ancient pact with Hogwarts. They remained within the forest largely due to Aragog's restraining influence over his descendants. What would happen when the old spider eventually died was a troubling question no one could answer.
At the forest's edge, not far from Hagrid's hut, Solim spotted the unmistakable figure of Professor Kettleburn. The man was as recognizable as Hagrid due to his unique physique; he had only one arm and one leg, the missing limbs replaced by two well-worn prosthetic devices, scarred and burnt from countless mishaps.
Kettleburn was a man of immense passion and occasional recklessness, possessing a deep love for the dangerous creatures he studied—a trait that had led to no fewer than sixty-two official warnings during his tenure. Like his future successor, he had a tendency to underestimate the perils of creatures like the Occamy, the Grindylow, or the Fire Crab. A famous school legend told of the time he had enchanted a Fire-Salamander to play a worm in a theatrical production, setting the Great Hall ablaze—an incident still recorded in Hogwarts: A History.
Despite his eccentricities, Kettleburn was a beloved figure, and his long career was a testament to his popularity with staff and students alike.
Solim approached to find the professor crouched on the ground, fiddling with several cages.
"Good afternoon, Professor," Solim began.
Kettleburn glanced back over his shoulder. "Ah, Solim! Come here, my boy. Let's test your knowledge. Do you know what these charming fellows are?"
Peering into the cages, Solim identified the creatures instantly; they were clearly the subjects for the afternoon's lesson.
"Matra Rats, Professor," he replied. "And I'd very much prefer not to be bitten by one."
The Matra Rat resembled a common rodent but for the anemone-like growths on its back. A bite could cause anything from mild retching to a far more embarrassing and explosive condition lasting up to forty-eight hours. Their pickled growths were known to increase resistance to jinxes, though overconsumption could result in unsightly purple ear-hair.
"Hah! Quite right!" Kettleburn laughed. "A bite from this little chap on a bad day, and you'd be stuck in the lavatory with your trousers down for a week! Now, what brings you to me?"
"It's about my... well, my acquaintance, Neville Longbottom," Solim explained. "He has a toad that has a peculiar habit of vanishing, even in enclosed spaces like a train compartment. I was wondering if it could be a hybrid of some sort, possessing an unusual ability."
Kettleburn scratched his cheek with his good hand. "Vanishing, you say? Is it a physical disappearance, like a Popping Plover, or a matter of concealment, like a Demiguise?"
Solim was grateful for his prior studies; another student might have been lost by the references. The Popping Plover, known to Muggles as the dodo, was a flightless bird capable of teleportation, leading Muggles to mistakenly believe they had hunted it to extinction. The Demiguise, however, could turn truly invisible, its fur being a highly sought-after ingredient for Invisibility Cloaks.
"I'm not sure," Solim admitted. "Neville will look for it and find nothing, only for it to reappear beside him some time later. It seems to happen most often in the evenings, after he's returned to his common room to settle down for the night. He rarely sees it during the day."
"Could the boy simply be unobservant?" Kettleburn suggested gently. "Neville is a good lad, but..."
"No, Professor. On the train at the start of term, the compartment door was shut, the windows were closed. The toad disappeared right in front of me, Hermione, and Neville. It was nowhere to be found on the entire train, yet it turned up next to Neville on the steps of the Entrance Hall just before the Sorting Ceremony."
Many had witnessed the event, including Neville's frantic dash to retrieve it, interrupting Professor McGonagall. Solim relayed the entire story.
Kettleburn's brow furrowed. "That is unusual, Solim. Highly unusual..."
"So, is it possible the toad has an unusual lineage? Could it be a crossbreed with a creature possessing innate invisibility or teleportation?" Solim pressed.
"It's unlikely," Kettleburn stated, his tone turning more professional. "The cultivation of a new magical creature through cross-breeding must be registered with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Without registration, it is an illegal act. This year, the Ministry has recorded only two new species. You say this toad was a gift from Neville's uncle? It makes even less sense. Gifting a junior with an illegally bred, and potentially dangerous, creature would be profoundly irresponsible."
Solim listened intently. Kettleburn's logic was sound. If the toad were a special hybrid, it would have to be a registered—or illegal—creation. The idea that a family elder would give such a troublesome and illicit pet to a child was far-fetched.
As he absorbed Kettleburn's words, Solim felt a cold certainty settle in his stomach. The mystery of the toad had just deepened, and the most plausible explanation was becoming increasingly alarming.