Only two scenes this chapter, but I confess I'm fond of them both. I particularly like the former - I'm very fond of the intensity of it all. In fact, I was fond of it to the point where I didn't edit nearly as much as I normally would. I think it works well as it is.
I've started a Discord. I intend for it to be a small, relaxed server - nothing to fancy or grand. If you have any questions about my writing, want to discuss my work, or simply want to hang out, you're more than welcome to join. The link is in my profile.
Read, review, and feel free to point out any errors/inconsistencies.
The next chapter will be published the coming Saturday.
Harry Potter: A Flaw in Fate
The Riddle's Plight
XII. Exsilium
"Excuse me - sorry!" panted Hermione as she pushed past the hoard of students and into the library.
A faint golden flow shimmered through the clouds above, leaking in through the windows that lined the left side wall. Hermione hurried past the frontmost shelves, rushing down the long lane of aisles. Either Crabbe or Goyle - she wasn't really sure which - nearly crashed into her as she passed. So did an older Hufflepuff girl, and even Lisa Turpin, who was smaller than Hermione herself. She mumbled apologizes to all of them, running as fast as she could.
Come on, come on -
Her feet clattered against the ancient floors. She winced as the ringing reached her ears.
Madam Pince is going to kill me.
That didn't matter, though. Hermione felt her fingers nervously press against her side as she slowed to a stop. She had realised something - something important - but she needed to be sure -
Here.
The aisle in question was mostly empty. Only a single Ravenclaw sat nearby - Penelope, if Hermione remembered correctly. She sat hunched over a roll of parchment, a quill held in her hand.
Nevermind her.
"Excuse me." said a soft voice just behind Hermione. She spun around, coming face to face with none other than Ginny Weasley.
She isn't looking well.
There were dull lines beneath Ginny's eyes, which gleamed scarlet beneath the light of the sky. The girl swayed, and the light fell from her face. Earthy brown irises were surrounded by tired red lines. Her hair was a mess, too. In her hands she held a scattered pile of belongings - a few textbooks, a blank sheet of parchment, and an old diary.
"Hello, Hermione -" Ginny murmured, swaying again. Her eyes burnt like hot coals in the pulsing light. Hermione watched as the girl took a small step back, her head tilted softly to the side.
"I was just leaving." she said, nodding to the array of objects within her hands, "Just finished my homework. Snape's a git - his essay's half the reason I'm in here."
Hermione nodded quickly, glancing around the countless bookshelves.
Its got to be here somewhere.
"See you later, Hermione." Ginny called cheerfully, spinning around. Hermione quickly waved back before returning to the shelves, racing down the aisle as she searched desperately for the book she needed.
A book about snakes. Something, anything -
But she couldn't find any. Not one.
The monster within the Chamber of Secrets was a snake, Hermione was sure of it. It just fit - it would have been the perfect monster in the eyes of Salazar Slytherin, and, more importantly, it would explain why Harry Potter was always the first person to find its victims.
He must've heard it.
But Ron wouldn't accept that, and neither with most others. In their eyes, the monster being a snake would only solidify Harry Potter as a suspect. Even Hermione felt her suspicion of the boy grow, if only slightly.
Hagrid said he would never. Dumbledore doesn't think it's him, either.
No, it just couldn't be him. Even he wasn't yet capable of such things, and on the off chance that he was, he wouldn't be allowed to stay at Hogwarts if he somehow was behind all the attacks.
Or would he?
Hermione wasn't blind. She knew who he was, and what he meant. She'd heard them whispering about him whenever he wasn't around, or whenever he wasn't listening. She herself had watched him in their classes - she'd seen firsthand what he could do.
Even if he was the Heir of Slytherin - which he most certainly wasn't - he wouldn't be expelled. No one would let him go, no matter how right it was -
There.
Hermione came to a halt, glancing around the bookshelf before finally finding book she needed. She quickly dragged a stool over, and upon standing on it, yanked the battered copy of 'Magical Snakes: A Study of the Serpent' off the shelf. Flattening it upon the table, she flipped the book open to the page she sought and began to read:
'Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.'
It all clicked, like shards of sharp, cracked glass being pressed together to form the window it might have once been.
A basilisk. A snake.
Harry Potter would have heard it. If it was anything like the Dueling Club, he might not have even realised what he was hearing was a snake. He'd have followed out of curiosity, just as she might have. As for the spiders -
There had been spiders scuttling around the corridors for months now. Streams of them, all scurrying towards the windows as fast as their little legs allowed. Hermione knew this very well - Ron had been going on about them for ages -
And the roosters -
"They're all dead." Hermione murmured, breathing heavily, "Hagrid mentioned it last month. Someone killed them all."
But the Basilisk hasn't killed anyone. Why is no one dead?
Hermione shifted uncomfortably. Her fingers pressed painfully against the palms of her hands as her mind whirled.
"Colin had his camera." she realised quietly, "The Hufflepuff girl saw it through Nearly Headless Nick, and Mrs. Norris . . ."
The water on the floor. We got water all over our robes.
The basilisk killed by looking people in the eye. Yet no one was dead -
Because no one has looked it in the eye.
Hermione shook her head, tapping her fingers nervously against the desk again.
"It doesn't make sense . . . it has to be getting around somehow . . . people w-would've noticed, people would've seen -"
Hermione pulled a quill out of her pocket, lowering it to the book that sat before her. She was shivering now - she could feel her body begin to freeze up. A nervous, fearful feeling began to settle in her stomach -
Think, Hermione, think.
Her eyes widened, her hand lowering to the pure white parchment. Her hand began to dance upon its surface, and when she raised it, her answer was written neatly upon the page.
Pipes.
Harry Potter would have heard it within the walls. It was the only thing that made sense, and it would explain why no one had so much as seen it.
A basilisk. It's a basilisk.
A cold, dull sound invaded her ears, the sound of flesh against the floor. It moved slowly, inching ever closer, whispering in the way that only death could -
No.
Hermione tore the page from the book, stumbling backwards. She tripped upon the table behind her, the chair beneath it dropping on her like a wooden weight - but she felt nothing. She heard nothing, smelt nothing, saw nothing -
"Are you alright?"
It was the Ravenclaw girl from before - Penelope, perhaps. Her face swam before Hermione's eyes, looking down at her with worry. Hermione didn't know what to say - but her eyes, thankfully, seemed to have said enough. The girl quickly pushed the chair off her, helping her up.
Everything felt so numb. Chains of ice laced themselves around Hermione's neck, dragging her down to the furthest of depths. A part of her thought she was wrong - maybe she was just being paranoid -
But she wasn't. She knew that much, she could feel that -
Everything was gone. The voices, the sounds, the noise. Even for a library, it was deadly silent. Only Penelope seemed to make any sound as her fingers pressed against the paper in Hermione's hand. She vaguely registered as Penelope went white with shock. Something was coming. Something was here -
A low, hissing noise rang through the aisle.
Please. Someone, anyone -
They were going to die, Hermione knew it. They weren't a match for a basilisk -
Unless -
"A rooster!" Hermione pleaded, "Can you conjure a rooster?"
"N-no." said Penelope, shaking, "I - I don't know t-the spell."
The soft, slithering sound was growing stronger now. They were running out of options, out of time. Hermione felt hot tears run down her cheeks - they stung like hot coals, burning their way down her face. The salty water slowly pooled in a crevice in the floor, joined by those from Penelope.
"We're going to d-die, aren't we?" whispered the girl, her voice cracking.
Yes.
N-no. Think, Hermione, think.
There had been the water. First the water, then the camera, then the ghost. No one had died, because no one had looked the basilisk in the eyes -
"A mirror." breathed Hermione, "Can you conjure a mirror?"
The girl nodded fearfully. She waved her wand, her hand shaking slightly, and whispered, "Speculus."
A thin, warped mirror appeared within her hand. She held it out, but Hermione shook her head.
"We'll b-both need it." she sobbed, "You have to trust me. Please."
The Ravenclaw girl nodded. Tears matted Hermione's robes, and her hands shook as they wrapped around the mirror in Penelope's hand. Together, they fearfully approached the end of the aisle.
A low, cruel hissing noise came from just behind them. Hermione and Penelope raised the mirror and opened their eyes.
Please. Please -
A pair of large, glowing golden orbs swam into view. The mirror cracked, and they saw no more.
-(xXx)-
"I have to go."
"And you know what I'll say."
You'd prefer I don't go, but you'd never try to stop me.
"I have to, Emily." Harry wrote, his body tense as he ran his quill down the surface of the diary, "It's getting serious now. I need to go."
He waited in silence, the eerie jade glow of the Great Lake casting the diary in an emerald light. His back pressed against the side of his bed, and he stared through the window with unseeing eyes. He felt the diary grow warm beside him, and he lifted it and begun to read.
"Then go, Harry." Emily's thin, neat writing curved across the paper, "But be careful, and take your cloak."
Harry carefully closed the diary, tucking it away within the drawer of his bedside table. He didn't bother changing out of his sleeping robes, instead reaching for his wand and the Cloak of Invisibility. He donned the latter, wrapping the former with his cold grasp.
Lumos.
A faint light formed on the tip of Harry's wand. He took a deep breath before pushing open the door of his dormitory and stepping outside.
The corridor that connected the dormitories was dark, gloomy, and empty. A window at the end of the hall was the only source of light - but it merely cast the same, eerie green glow that the Great Lake always provided. Harry shook his head, turning his back on the window and pressing forward.
The soft tapping of his feet echoed through the small hall far below the castle. Harry listened, straining his ears on the off chance that he heard something that wasn't him. The faint sound of turning pages came from Nott's room, and he heard Crabbe rolling around in his sleep - but that was it.
Out of the hall Harry went, and then out of the common room as well. The portrait hole slowly creaked open, the snake in the picture hissing incoherently as he passed.
The castle was just as dark and gloomy as the Slytherin common room, though there was no sinister jade glow to light the steps Harry took forward. The flames within the torches had been dimmed - just as they always were during the nights - and the entire castle felt as though it were fast asleep.
Despite this, Harry had never seen the castle so alive after dark.
There were teachers patrolling the corridors, and prefects as well. Ghosts floated through the walls, each one looking around fearfully. Each and every portrait was awake, and many were talking to their neighbors in soft whispers. Harry ignored them all, continuing down the halls that would lead out the castle and to Hagrid's Hut -
"- and Harry Potter?" whispered a quiet voice.
Harry froze. His wand rose beneath his cloak, the light on its tip shining brighter than before. The hall that surrounded him was vast, but there was only one room close enough for Harry to overhear.
The Hospital Wing.
Harry turned around, glancing at the doors. Somehow, for some reason, they were wide open - but two guards stood on either end, draped in robes of dark red. Both were far older than any Hogwarts student Harry had ever seen.
Aurors.
Harry edged closer. An Auror looked in his direction, and for a moment Harry felt rooted in place - the next, they had looked away. Harry felt his breathing slowly return to normal. He inched closer - closer - closer -
A small huddle stood at the far end of the Hospital Wing, all crowded around the lifeless forms of two young girls. There was a woman standing opposite them; Professor McGonagall stood to her side, dressed in dark green sleeping robes.
Harry glanced back at the other woman. She had a square-jaw and shoulder length hair a mix of auburn, dark brown and grey. Black formal robes cloaked her form, and a golden monocle sat upon her left eye. Her stern demeanor seemed to match McGonagall's - they both had the same, stern gaze.
Not someone you'd want to cross.
The huddle before her - all Aurors, judging by their robes - stood in silence, waiting for her response. Harry was, too; he felt an uncomfortable feeling slowly pooling in his stomach.
What about me?
"Nothing." said the woman eventually, "There is nothing that firmly connects him to any of these events. Being a Parselmouth is . . . intriguing - but certainly not a crime."
The Aurors all bowed their heads, nodding as one.
"Very well, Madam Bones."
Harry frowned.
Susan's aunt. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"And what of Albus?" asked McGonagall, an uncharacteristic sort of worry in her voice, "And Rubeus? Surely they can't -"
"Law requires us to act on Hagrid's part." said Madam Bones, frowning, "As for Dumbledore, the vote has already taken place. All twelve members of the Board of Governors have voted in favour; there is little that can be done."
"Malfoy probably threatened them all into signing -"
"Quiet, Nymphadora."
The Auror who had spoken - a pretty young witch with bright violet hair - went red in the cheeks, and for a moment, Harry swore her hair flashed a matching color. But a second past, and it was violet again.
A trick of light, probably.
The Auror - Nymphadora, it seemed - quickly calmed down, and Professor McGonagall spoke once more.
"And Hogwarts?" Professor McGonagall fiddled with the hem of her emerald robes, "What of the school?"
Madam Bones paused.
"If the attacks are permanently halted, or if the Heir of Slytherin is discovered? Nothing." she decided, her voice firm, "If not, then Hogwarts may very well be shut down."
A loud, audible silence rang through the Hospital Wing. Harry felt a sudden ringing in his ears, and the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach grew into something cold and horrified. He felt as though he was going to be sick. Harry stumbled slightly as he scurried out of the wing, past the guards, and into the next corridor.
Hogwarts can't close. It's home. It's everything.
The one place where he finally felt like he belonged. Even amidst the Chamber of Secrets debacle, Harry felt as though the castle was his one, true home.
Maybe this is how Emily felt, too.
He hadn't asked her - not directly, at the very least - but something told Harry that the castle had meant just as much to her as it did to him.
She probably would've done everything in her power to keep the castle open.
Harry wondered if the same could be said for him. 'Everything', after all, was a strong, vague word. He would do a lot, yes - but everything?
Deep down, Harry already knew the answer.
The only thing worse than being imprisoned with the Dursleys would be to taste freedom, just to be sent right back.
Harry quietly eased open the large oak doors that led out of the castle. The clouds, which were almost always present during the day, were completely absent tonight. The stars shined down on the Hogwarts Grounds, twinkling just as Dumbledore's eyes often did. Harry continued down the stone path that led to Hagrid's hut, knocking the door thrice when he finally arrived.
The door flung open at once. Hagrid stood in the doorway, a large crossbow aimed exactly where Harry's head was.
"It's me, it's me!" Harry hissed quickly, dropping the cloak. Hagrid lowered the weapon, sighing in relief. He beckoned Harry inside, shutting the door firmly behind them.
"What was that for?" said Harry, looking around as he took a seat. He was pleased to note that there was no dragon egg in the fireplace tonight.
Something flashed in the corner of his eye. Harry turned, his gaze falling upon a small stream of spiders. They quickly scuttled out the open window, their thin, spindly legs tapping quietly against the battered wood and the old bricks. An uncomfortable feeling settled in Harry's stomach.
"Nothin', nothin'." said Hagrid dismissively, waving an oversized hand, "Just bin expectin' - well, it don't matter. One secon' - I'll make some tea -"
Hagrid went about the kitchen, preparing tea in an almost dazed manner. He barely seemed to know what he was doing, and twice he spilt water from the kettle.
At this rate, there won't be any tea left.
Harry frowned. He watched as Hagrid fidgeted with his hands. They shivered slightly as she lowered them to his stomach.
"Is something happening with you?" asked Harry suddenly, the memory of the overheard conversation jumping to the forefront of his mind, "I heard the Aurors talking about you and Dumbledore on my way here."
"Dumbledore?" Hagrid turned around. He stopped fidgeting at once, and the tea kettle remained forgotten behind him, "What's this abou' Dumbledore?"
Harry shrugged uncertainly.
"I don't know." he muttered, "That's all I heard."
Hagrid glanced from Harry to the window, and then back again. At last, he took a seat opposite Harry.
"Harry," he began nervously. He was fidgeting with his hands again, "There's - there's somethin' I bin meanin' to tell yeh -"
"I know." said Harry. Hagrid paused, his eyes blank and lifeless. He ran a shaky hand through his beard, his gaze anywhere but on Harry's.
"I know it wasn't you, too." Harry added, his voice more steady than before, "It can't have been. But I need to know what happened. I need to know your side of the story, Hagrid."
Hagrid tentatively glanced up. Their eyes met, and Harry felt the faint impression of trust in the groundskeeper's eyes.
"Alrigh'." he said at last, "But I don' remember much - it was a-about fifty years ago. I - I didn' have very many friends when I was at Hogwarts." he paused, still fidgeting with his fingers, "I - I was different, yeh see, and people didn' like that. So I spent most o' my time on my own, explorin' the Forbidden Forest and Hogsmeade.
"There's this place in Hogsmeade - the Hog's Head. Yeh find all kinds o' people in there. One day, I met a traveler there. He had an egg he was tryna get rid o', an' I told him I could take it."
"It was an Acromantula, wasn't it?" muttered Harry quietly, "Aragog, right?"
Hagrid nodded solemnly.
"Near the end o' my third year, a girl died." said Hagrid, his voice cracking, "A Prefect caught me with Aragog, an' I was expelled.
Emily.
"But he wasn' the monster." Hagrid whispered earnestly, "Aragog would never -"
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
They both jumped up at once. Harry quickly threw the Invisibility Cloak over him, watching as Hagrid emptied their teacups in the sink. Hagrid ensured he was well hidden before making his way towards the door, the crossbow held tightly within his hands. Finger on the trigger, Hagrid swung the door open.
"Good Evening, Hagrid."
It was Dumbledore. He entered, looking deadly serious, and was followed by a second, very odd-looking man.
The stranger had rumpled gray hair and an anxious expression. He was what Uncle Vernon would consider "the wrong sort", for his strange mixture of clothes made him stand out like a sore thumb. He wore a pinstriped suit, a scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots. Under his arm he carried a lime-green bowler.
Hagrid had gone pale and sweaty. He dropped into one of his chairs and looked from Dumbledore to the man with the bowler hat.
"The last few months have been quite poor." said the man in rather clipped tones, "Quite poor indeed. Four attacks on muggle-borns, and a cat too. Rita's all over this one, and people aren't pleased. It's taken everything we've got to keep her quiet about Potter being a Parselmouth, for Merlin's sake. She won't keep that quill to herself for long - I've got to act."
"I would never." Hagrid whispered, turning Dumbledore, "You know I would never, Professor Dumbledore, sir -"
"As I have told you countless times, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, frowning at the man, "I do not believe Hagrid to be the culprit. If I did, he would not be here today.
Cornelius Fudge. The Minister of Magic.
Harry subconsciously straightened up, pressing his back further against the wooden walls of Hagrid's hut.
"Look here, Albus," said Fudge uncomfortably, waving a short, plump pointer finger through the air, "Hagrid's record's against him. The Ministry's got to do something - the school governors have been in touch -"
"Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest." said Dumbledore seriously. His blue eyes were full of a fire Harry had never seen before.
"Look at it from my point of view, Albus." Fudge fidgeted with the bowler hat in his hands, "I'm under a lot of pressure, I've got to be seen to be doing something. You know how Rita is -"
"She does have a way with words, I admit." said Dumbledore firmly, "But her words are not potent enough, in my opinion, to justify sending an innocent man to Azkaban."
Hagrid froze, as did Harry from beneath the cloak. An image of a lonely island swam through his mind, surrounded by hundreds of horrible, cold creatures, each wrapped in tattered cloaks dark as the night sky.
"You're right, of course." agreed Fudge nervously, "But there just isn't any proof in his favour. Everything we have says one thing, Albus. Besides, if it turns out it wasn't Hagrid, he'll be back and no more said. But I've got to take him. Got to. Wouldn't be doing my duty -"
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Dumbledore calmly strode towards the door, answering it. A man with long, blonde hair strode in, his black traveling cloak swaying in the night breeze. Though Harry had never seen him before, he knew exactly who he looked like, and exactly who he must be.
"Already here, Fudge." said Lucius Malfoy approvingly, "Good, good."
"What're you doin' here?" Hagrid bellowed furiously, his skin still pale, "Get outta my house!"
"I'm here for the headmaster, not you." said Lucius curtly, his eyes lined with distaste as they slid across Hagrid's hut, "Although I assure you, I'm very sorry to step foot in your - er - a house, is it?"
"And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?" asked Dumbledore. Harry watched as the same faint fire burnt behind soft blue irises.
"Dreadful thing, Dumbledore." Malfoy lazily pulled a long roll of parchment out from the insides of his robes, "But we - that is to say, the governors of the school board - feel as though you're losing your touch. You'll find all twelve signatures here, I assure you."
"Dumbledore sacked?" exclaimed Fudge, his hands on his head, "No, that's the last thing we need right now -"
"Unfortunately, Minister Fudge," said Lucius smoothly, "the decision is one for the board to make."
Hagrid, however, was not having any of it.
"Yeh can' take Dumbledore!" he boomed, making Fang the boarhound cower and whimper in his basket, "Take him away, an' the Muggle-borns won' stand a chance! There'll be killins next!"
"Is that a threat?" asked Malfoy, the ghost of a smile etched upon his features, "And at a time like this, too."
Dumbledore raised a hand, stopping Hagrid before he could open his mouth.
"Calm yourself, Hagrid," he said sharply. He turned back to Lucius Malfoy, his expression blank.
"If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside -"
"But -" stuttered Fudge.
"No!" growled Hagrid.
"However," continued Dumbledore, "If I might ask - who will be taking my place?"
Lucius shrugged.
"The decisions of the Hogwarts board are no longer of your concern." he said, turning away, "Though if you insist upon poking your nose into the business of others -"
"Nothing more than simple curiosity." assured Dumbledore calmly, "Professor McGonagall would make an excellent candidate. Professor Snape would, too. Perhaps you would as well, Lucius . . . I'm sure you've retained many of your leadership skills from your days as a prefect . . ."
Harry balked.
What the hell is going on?
Malfoy paused, turning back to Dumbledore. There was a strangle glint in his stormy grey eyes.
"I think I'll stay within the Political area, thank you." he said curtly, "As for Hogwarts, I'm sure your staff will manage without you. The board will find a replacement by the next school year - assuming the school remains open, of course."
Dumbledore smiled.
"Surely you would not mind the burden that comes with being headmaster?" he held out his hands before him, waving them cheerfully. His pale blue eyes flickered; Harry saw something calculated lingering far beneath their surface, "So many brilliant minds seem so opposed to the idea - I've never quite understood why. I'm sure Hogwarts would benefit from each and every one of them."
"Perhaps." Malfoy agreed, pausing, "But I do not wish to find myself on the wrong end of Rita Skeeter's quill. As I said, I am sure your staff shall suffice."
Beneath his cloak, Harry frowned.
He doesn't want to be at Hogwarts. That's what Dumbledore was poking at.
Emerald eyes traced the outline of the tall, blonde man.
Why?
Beside him, Hagrid growled.
"Bloody coward." he muttered angrily. Dumbledore raised a hand, and the groundskeeper looked down at his feet.
"Very well," said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly so that none of them could miss a word, "If I must go, I shall go willingly. But you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."
The man glanced in his direction. Harry's eyes latched onto his -
Nothing. Probably a good thing.
"Admirable sentiments," said Malfoy, bowing, "We shall all miss your highly individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope that your remaining staff will manage to prevent any - er - killins."
He strode to the cabin door, opened it, and bowed Dumbledore out. Fudge, fiddling with his bowler, waited for Hagrid to go ahead of him, but Hagrid stood his ground, took a deep breath, and said carefully, "If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they'd have ter do would be ter follow the spiders. That'd lead 'em right! That's all I'm sayin'."
Fudge stared at him in amazement. Harry felt his head slip into his hands.
For Merlin's sake, Hagrid.
"All right, I'm comin'," said Hagrid, pulling on his moleskin overcoat. But as he was about to follow Fudge through the door, he stopped again and said loudly, "An' someone'll need ter feed Fang while I'm away."
Right.
The soft pattering of the men making their way across the grounds slowly faded away. At long last, Harry took off the cloak. He stepped out of Hagrid's hut - but instead of leaving, he walked around it, approaching the back window.
The steady stream of spiders continued making their way out Hagrid's window. They seemed to be scuttling off in the opposite direction of Hogwarts - the Forbidden Forest.
Follow the spiders, huh?
Harry took a deep breath before throwing the cloak over himself once more.