Morris had no idea what was happening.
One thing, however, was certain: the Thestrals seemed to like him—more than like him. They were obsessed with him.
The moment he reached out and stroked the neck of the lead Thestral, the entire herd surged forward. They nuzzled him, circled him, even shoving Hagrid aside in their enthusiasm.
"This… this is unheard of," Hagrid muttered, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace. "They've never taken to anyone like this. Not even me."
Surrounded by the skeletal, winged horses, Morris felt utterly bewildered. He could sense their joy and affection as vividly as if they were long-lost family. No—closer than family. They treated him like a leader.
But why?
What was it about him that drew them?
With a shrug, Morris swung himself onto the back of the nearest Thestral. The creature let out a delighted shriek at his impudent action.
"Hagrid, could you tell me about them?" Morris asked, guiding the animal closer to the half-giant. "I don't know the first thing."
Hagrid sighed and rubbed his hands together. "Right… Thestrals. Very special magical creatures. Only those who've seen death can see them. Most wizards think they're unlucky, but they're gentle enough… as you've probably noticed."
Morris nodded slowly, his fingers tracing the bony spine beneath his touch.
Only those who've seen death can see a Thestral. That explained everything. These creatures were tied to death itself. In a sense, they were kindred spirits.
After all, Morris wasn't exactly a stranger to death. He had personally raised two undead creatures. Perhaps the Thestrals recognized that part of him.
"They've got a perfect sense of direction," Hagrid continued. "They pull the Hogwarts carriages. No matter the weather, no matter the conditions, they'll never get lost."
As if to prove Hagrid right, the Thestral beneath Morris unfurled its massive bat-like wings and flapped once. The rest followed suit, filling the clearing with the sound of flapping wings—a chorus of skeletal thunder.
Hagrid scowled. "They never let me ride."
"Maybe they can't lift you," Morris said casually, sliding to the ground. Hagrid glanced down at his massive frame and then at the thin, gaunt creatures. The scowl softened into an almost sheepish expression.
"Fair point," Hagrid muttered.
He clapped his hands. "Right. Business first. Morris, do you remember which Thestral carried you yesterday?"
Morris scanned the herd, brow furrowed. "Hmm… hard to say. They all look alike."
Hagrid blinked. "All alike? Every one's different!"
Morris shrugged. To him, the black skeleton-horses were indistinguishable. Dozens of them. Picking out yesterday's mount felt impossible.
"Then what do I tell Professor McGonagall?" Hagrid asked, rubbing his hair in exasperation.
"Make something up," Morris said casually. "Yesterday was a fluke. It was just humoring me. No big deal."
Hagrid sighed. He worried more than he would admit. Thestrals were gentle with Morris, yes, but he'd seen what could happen when creatures of this type were provoked. One wrong move and a student could be hurt.
But looking at them now… rolling on their backs, practically begging for attention… Hagrid felt conflicted.
Still… they should have been his friends alone.
The thought made the half-giant's expression darken.
"Can we head back?" Morris asked, noticing Hagrid's mood shift.
"Yeah… let's go," Hagrid muttered.
Morris nodded and, half joking, announced, "Dismissed!"
To his astonishment, the Thestrals stepped back at once, melting into the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. The clearing was empty, save for a few drifting leaves.
Hagrid gaped. "They obeyed you?"
"I… I didn't even ask them," Morris admitted, shrugging. "It just… happened."
Hagrid shook his head. The creatures were supposed to listen to him, their keeper. Yet somehow, they understood Morris.
The two of them began walking back, Hagrid peppering Morris with questions about how he had achieved such obedience.
"I don't know," Morris said honestly. "Maybe… natural talent?"
They followed the winding trail until Hagrid suddenly stopped, squinting down the path.
"What is it?" Morris asked, instantly alert.
"Something's coming," Hagrid said, stepping protectively in front of him.
Before Morris could react, a spear hissed through the air. Shhk! It buried itself in the earth just inches from where he stood.
"Who's there?" Hagrid bellowed, spreading his arms to shield Morris.
Morris studied the weapon: smooth, polished wood, the tip driven deep into the soil. Whoever had thrown it was strong. Very strong. And almost certainly not a wizard.
Hagrid seemed to reach the same conclusion. Facing the forest, he roared, "It's me—Hagrid!"
Rustling answered. A tall figure stepped from the undergrowth. Black hair, wild eyes, a powerful build.
A Centaur.
"Bane?" Hagrid exhaled, surprised. "Why attack us?"
The Centaur ignored him, eyes fixed beyond Hagrid. "Hagrid! Tell me—what is that behind you?" His voice cracked like thunder, echoing through the trees.
Morris turned instinctively. His heart pounded. The forest seemed suddenly alive, tense and watchful, as if the trees themselves held their breath.
The Thestrals—or whatever connection he had with them—felt like a distant memory now, replaced by the immediate danger. Yet, strangely, Morris felt no fear. Not yet.
There was only curiosity. And a creeping sense that whatever Bane had seen… it had seen him too.
Hagrid took a cautious step forward, blocking Morris from view. "It's just my friend," he said. "Nothing to worry about."
Bane's eyes narrowed, scanning Morris as if trying to pierce through some invisible veil. "That… is no ordinary friend," the Centaur said slowly. "I've seen many strange things in these woods, but never that."
Morris felt the weight of the words, though he wasn't sure what Bane meant. The creatures in the clearing, the Thestrals… even his own abilities. Everything pointed toward something larger, something he had barely begun to understand.
For the first time in weeks, he felt the full weight of his position. Not just as a student, not just as a Necromancer, but as someone who walked the thin line between life and death, power and danger.
Hagrid's hand pressed against his shoulder, grounding him. "Stay calm," the half-giant muttered. "We'll figure this out."
Morris nodded, heart still racing. He had no spells ready, no plans—yet somehow, he knew one thing: whatever was coming, he would face it.
And the Thestrals… somehow, he knew they weren't gone. Not really.
They were watching, waiting.
And soon, everything would change.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Ben479