The Hogwarts Great Hall looked perfectly ordinary that morning — at least at first glance. Candles floated along the enchanted ceiling's soft light, owls fluttered overhead delivering late post, and the usual hum of chatter echoed across the four house tables. Students complained about homework, Quidditch practice, and the increasingly unpredictable Scottish weather.
Yet beneath that familiar rhythm, something was… off.
At the Gryffindor table, Fred and George Weasley sat unusually subdued. Their heads were bowed, expressions carefully arranged into exaggerated misery. Anyone who didn't know them might have believed they were devastated.
But anyone who did know them could clearly see the smugness barely hiding behind those mournful faces.
One full month of detention.
Professor McGonagall had personally delivered the sentence, lips thin enough to cut parchment. The twins hadn't protested. In fact, they had accepted it with suspicious grace.
Because the prank had been worth it.
Across the hall, the Slytherin table gleamed — literally gleamed — with an overwhelming wash of red and gold hair. Every single Slytherin student, from first years to seventh, now sported Gryffindor colors atop their heads.
Even Severus Snape's hair had briefly shown a reddish tint before he locked himself in his office to counteract the effect. Rumor had it he was still working on a stronger antidote.
Dumbledore himself had tried reversing the spell during breakfast. Nothing had worked. The potion the twins used was stubbornly magical, designed to resist counter-charms.
The result?
The Slytherins looked furious.
The rest of the school found it hilarious.
Soft snickers rippled through Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables every time a Slytherin shifted uncomfortably. Some students tried to hide laughter behind goblets; others failed entirely.
Marcus Flint looked personally insulted by existence.
"This is barbaric," he muttered to Shafiq. "Absolutely barbaric."
Meanwhile, Fred leaned toward George.
"Worth it?"
George didn't hesitate.
"Completely."
Neither bothered hiding their grins anymore.
At the High Table, Professor McGonagall shot them a look sharp enough to slice through granite. The twins immediately returned to their exaggerated sorrow poses.
Then the Great Hall doors opened.
Conversation faded gradually as heads turned.
And then silence fell completely.
Three centaurs entered.
Gasps rippled across the hall. Even older students straightened in surprise. Not everyone knew centaurs lived in the Forbidden Forest, and they rarely ventured close to Hogwarts grounds, let alone into the castle itself.
Seeing them inside the Great Hall felt… unprecedented.
They were magnificent creatures. Towering equine bodies gleamed beneath polished humanoid torsos, bows slung across their backs and quivers full of arrows ready at hand. Their posture wasn't hostile, but it was unmistakably alert.
Guarded.
Watchful.
The lead centaur stepped forward first. His dark hair flowed down his shoulders, and his eyes carried a tension that didn't belong in a peaceful school.
Dumbledore rose immediately.
"Welcome," he said warmly, descending the steps from the staff table. "You honor Hogwarts with your presence."
Despite his gentle tone, those who knew him well could sense the underlying concern. Centaurs didn't leave the forest lightly.
Not without reason.
The centaur inclined his head politely, though his grip on his bow remained firm.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," he said. His voice carried a deep, resonant timbre that filled the hall without effort. "We require a private discussion. Urgently."
Dumbledore's expression sharpened subtly.
"Of course."
Professor McGonagall was already moving, quietly guiding students back toward their meals, though curiosity burned in every pair of eyes.
The other two centaurs scanned the hall continuously. Their ears twitched at every sudden sound, muscles tense beneath their glossy coats.
This was not a diplomatic visit.
Dumbledore gestured toward a side chamber adjoining the Great Hall.
"Please," he said gently. "We may speak here."
The lead centaur hesitated briefly, then nodded. All three followed him out, hooves echoing softly against the stone floor.
The moment the doors closed behind them, whispers exploded throughout the hall.
"Why are centaurs here?"
"Did something happen in the forest?"
Fred leaned toward George again, voice barely audible.
"Think this beats our prank?"
George considered it seriously.
"Depends. If it ends classes early, definitely."
Across the hall, Slytherins continued sulking — red-and-gold hair blazing defiantly — but even they couldn't ignore the tension now settling over Hogwarts.
Because centaurs didn't abandon the forest.
And whatever it was… even Dumbledore suddenly looked concerned.
By the time breakfast ended, rumors had already begun multiplying faster than Cornish pixies in a cupboard. Every corridor, every staircase, every common room hummed with speculation.
"They're leaving the forest."
"No, they're declaring war."
"My brother says they only come out when someone is going to die."
No one knew anything for certain, which only made the guessing worse.
Even the Slytherins had temporarily forgotten their fury toward the Weasley twins. The centaurs had stolen the spotlight entirely.
By mid-morning, word spread that the centaurs had not left the grounds.
They had moved.
Toward Hagrid's hut.
Naturally, that was enough to draw half the castle toward the edge of the grounds before first period even began.
Students gathered in cautious clusters at a distance, whispering and craning their necks. Some Ravenclaws attempted to look scholarly about it. Gryffindors tried to pretend they weren't nervous. Hufflepuffs huddled together. Slytherins stood with calculated detachment — though even they looked uneasy.
Near Hagrid's hut, the three centaurs stood in tense formation.
Dumbledore was already there.
He looked calm — as he always did — but those who watched closely could see that he was not relaxed. His hands were folded behind his back, his posture attentive. He wasn't leading the conversation.
He was listening.
They are all appeared to be waiting for something.
Professor McGonagall stood nearby, lips tight with controlled concern. Professor Snape's black robes swirled slightly in the breeze, his expression unreadable but sharp. Professor Flitwick stood on a small crate he conjured himself, peering toward the forest with narrowed eyes.
The atmosphere felt heavy.
Then came the sounds of hooves.
Not centaur hooves.
Thestral hooves.
Students turned toward the castle gates and few saw large, skeletal-winged thestral wagon approached at speed from the Hogsmeade direction.
Hagrid stood at the reins.
Behind him, in the wagon's open back, were Aurors.
Several of them.
They wore traveling cloaks, wands already drawn, eyes alert. The moment the wagon rolled to a stop near the hut, the Aurors disembarked with efficient precision.
Whispers exploded among the watching students.
"Aurors?"
"What's happening?"
"Is it an attack?"
Hagrid climbed down heavily, boots thudding against the ground.
"Albus," he said quietly, his voice unusually serious. "Brought 'em as quick as I could."
Dumbledore nodded once.
"Thank you, Rubeus."
The lead Auror stepped forward — a tall witch with silver-threaded hair pulled tightly back. Her expression was all business.
"Headmaster," she greeted. "We received your message. What is the situation?"
Dumbledore gestured toward the centaurs.
"Our friends from the forest have reported… a disturbance."
The forest swallowed sound differently than the castle did.
Once the Aurors, professors, and centaurs passed beneath the canopy, the light dimmed noticeably. The air felt thicker, damp with moss and ancient magic. Leaves shifted overhead, and distant creatures watched from hidden perches.
They walked in silence for several minutes before the lead centaur finally spoke.
"Yesterday," he began, his voice low but steady, "we saw a large group of humans entering the forest."
The lead Auror glanced at Dumbledore.
"How large?"
"More than forty at first glance. Perhaps more behind them. They moved in formation."
"And you did not confront them?" Snape asked smoothly.
The centaur's dark eyes flicked toward him.
"They carried a dangerous aura. Their magic was aggressive. Defensive wards moved with them like shadows. It was already nearing dusk. We chose observation over reckless engagement."
The Auror captain nodded slightly. "Prudent."
"We intended to report the matter this morning," the centaur continued. "But events overtook us."
Dumbledore's brows knit faintly.
"What events?"
Another centaur, younger and visibly unsettled, spoke this time.
"The full moon."
A brief silence followed.
The Auror captain exchanged a quick glance with Professor McGonagall.
"So," she said cautiously, "there were werewolves on Hogwarts grounds."
Dumbledore's expression shifted sharply.
"Werewolves?" he repeated.
For the first time since leaving the castle, his composure visibly faltered.
"On the grounds?" he pressed. "Inside the forest?"
"Yes," the centaur confirmed calmly. "The howls echoed across the trees. Not one. Many."
Dumbledore's gaze hardened. "How many?"
"We could not count precisely. But enough that even the acromantulas withdrew."
Hagrid inhaled sharply behind them.
"Blimey…"
Snape's eyes narrowed.
"A pack that size does not assemble by accident."
The centaur inclined his head.
"That is not the most troubling part."
They continued walking deeper. The terrain shifted subtly — disturbed leaves, broken branches, scorch marks faintly visible against bark.
"Today," the centaur said, "the humans we observed yesterday passed through Hogsmeade and disappeared."
The Auror captain frowned.
"They carried bodies."
A heavy silence fell.
Dumbledore's steps slowed slightly.
"Bodies?"
"Yes."
The younger centaur's voice tightened.
"When we investigated… we found the remains of an unknown encampment. Wards. Concealment charms."
The Auror captain's expression turned grim.
They emerged into a clearing.
And the sight halted everyone.
Tents lay shredded and half-burned. The ground was torn open in deep gouges where claws had raked through soil. Trees bore scorch marks from curses. The air still smelled faintly of blood and magic.
And body parts of witches and wizards scattered all over the clearing.
The Aurors moved immediately, wands raised, spreading out carefully.
Dumbledore stepped forward slowly, studying the scene with sharp, silent intensity.
"They were camping here?" Professor Flitwick asked quietly.
"Yes," the centaur replied. "Without our knowledge."
Hagrid crouched near a shattered tent pole.
"Looks like they were well set up too."
The Auror captain knelt near the edge of the clearing and brushed her hand over a patch of ground where blood had darkened the soil.
"From the pattern," she murmured, "this was not a single creature attack."
The lead centaur spoke again.
"They died brutally. We counted at least three dozen."
Dumbledore's face was unreadable now.
"And you are certain these were not forest creatures responsible?"
The centaur's gaze remained steady.
"We have lived here for centuries, Headmaster. We know the difference between predator and battle."
He gestured toward a long furrow carved into the earth.
"These wounds are not from beasts alone. This was a clash."
Snape's voice cut in smoothly.
"A clash between wizards and werewolves."
"Yes."
The younger centaur's jaw tightened.
"The werewolves do not hunt like this. They moved with direction. A target."
The Auror captain rose slowly.
"And you say the werewolves passed through Hogsmeade?"
"Yes."
Dumbledore exhaled quietly.
"So there were unknown wizards operating inside the Forbidden Forest… under concealment… and they were engaged by a coordinated werewolf pack."
His tone was no longer surprised.
The Auror captain stepped closer to him.
"Headmaster, if foreign operatives were conducting unauthorized activity within British territory, this becomes a Ministry matter."
"It already is," Snape murmured darkly.
Dumbledore walked toward the center of the clearing and knelt briefly, touching the disturbed soil with two fingers.
His blue eyes flickered as he sensed the residual magic.
"There was intention here," he said softly. "This was not random violence."
The centaur watched him carefully.
"We brought you because those who died were your kind."
"And because," the younger centaur added quietly, "whatever summoned that many werewolves… may not be finished."
Dumbledore rose slowly.
"We will investigate thoroughly," he said calmly, though tension edged his voice. "Hogwarts will not ignore bloodshed on its grounds."
The Auror captain nodded.
"We'll expand patrols. Quietly. If a large pack assembled once, they could again."
Snape's gaze shifted toward the deeper forest.
"And if they were led…"
He didn't finish the thought.
Werewolves did not coordinate at that scale without direction.
Without purpose.
And purpose implied a leader.
Dumbledore turned back toward the centaurs.
"You have our gratitude. Continue your vigilance. If there is further movement…"
"We will inform you," the centaur said.
The group began their slow walk back toward the castle.
The courtyard of Slytherin Castle had never felt so exciting.
Cody stood in the center of it, practically vibrating with excitement as the Morticons shuffled their hooves impatiently. The creatures were calm, obedient, and perfectly trained. For weeks, the house-elves had worked tirelessly alongside Cody, preparing them for this exact moment.
And now the moment had arrived.
"Hold still, Ember," Cody muttered, tightening one final buckle. "You're going to look magnificent."
The Morticon snorted softly but did not resist. None of them did. Their eyes gleamed with unusual intelligence as Cody secured the harnesses over their shoulders. The enchanted leather straps shimmered faintly, binding them to the enormous wagon behind them.
The wagon itself was a marvel.
Cody had designed and built it by himself — reinforced oak frame, curved sides, reinforced axle joints, and an aerodynamic carriage meant for stability in the air. But it was Harry who had turned it from sturdy craftsmanship into something extraordinary.
After enchanting it, the wagon looked less like transport and more like a royal sky-carriage. Polished silver trims lined its edges. The interior was layered with soft emerald velvet seating. The windows were crystal clear yet warded against wind pressure. Most importantly, Harry had cast a weight-reduction enchantment so powerful that the wagon barely touched the ground despite its size.
The Morticons would not struggle.
They would glide.
Harry stood nearby, arms folded loosely, unable to hide his own excitement. Even Lord Blackfire's usual composed demeanor softened slightly at the sight of the flying wagon.
"It's ready," Cody announced triumphantly. "Perfect balance. Perfect lift."
Harry nodded approvingly.
"You've built a miracle."
The rest of the Serpent Court gathered in the courtyard as well.
Lily stood near the steps of the castle entrance, her small hands folded tightly in front of her. She wore a simple black traveling cloak over her dress, her hair brushing lightly against her cheeks in the soft breeze.
She looked excited.
And terrified.
Excited to go home.
Terrified of going home.
The thought of seeing Neville again filled her with warmth. The thought of seeing her mother made her heart ache.
But beneath it all lingered that darker whisper.
What if they still think I'm a squib?
What if nothing changes?
Here, in Slytherin Castle, no one had looked at her like she was lesser. The house-elves treated her like a noble guest. Cody had shown her the Morticons proudly. Even the Serpent Court members had spoken to her with respect.
She could stay here.
She had even thought it, quietly, selfishly.
Maybe she could live here forever.
Harry studied Lily quietly for a moment, she still looked uncertain despite everything — hopeful, yes, but fragile, like someone afraid that the reassurance might suddenly disappear.
He had already confirmed the truth with his Observe ability earlier.
Lily Longbottom was not a squib.
Her magic was simply dormant, hesitant — much like the girl herself.
And Harry knew something important: sometimes belief alone wasn't enough. Sometimes people needed something tangible to hold onto.
He opened his Gamer interface silently. The faint blue glow flickered only in his vision.
[Party Interface Activated]
Target: Lily Longbottom
He exhaled slowly.
"Lily," he said gently, crouching slightly so he didn't tower over her. "I'm going to give you two abilities. They aren't spells you learn from books. They're… gifts. Something to help you grow confident."
She blinked in surprise.
"Will it hurt?"
"No," he replied softly. "It will feel warm. That's all."
He selected the first skill.
[Skill Transfer: Verdant Growth – Lv. 1]
Allows rapid acceleration of plant life. Trees, vines, flowers, or vegetation can grow within seconds to minutes under the user's will. Mana cost varies by scale.
A soft emerald glow pulsed briefly around Lily before fading into her chest.
Her eyes widened.
"I… I can feel something," she whispered. "Like… leaves? Roots? It's strange."
Harry nodded.
"That's nature magic responding to you. If you ever feel scared or alone, plants will listen. You can grow them. Protect yourself with them. Or simply create something beautiful."
Lily looked almost awestruck.
"I can really do that?"
"Yes."
He then activated the second skill.
[Skill Transfer: Fireball – Lv. 1]
Creates a concentrated sphere of magical fire in the palm. Can be launched offensively or dissipated safely. Balanced for both attack and defense.
A brief flicker of warm orange light shimmered across her palms before vanishing.
She gasped softly, instinctively opening her hands.
"It's hot… but not burning."
"That's elemental magic," Harry explained. "You can summon fire balls and attack. Creation and destruction both belong to you."
Her lips parted slightly in wonder.
"So… I'm not squib?"
"Never were," he said firmly. "You just needed some proof."
For a moment she didn't speak. Then she looked up at him, eyes shining with something far stronger than before.
Confidence.
The Gamer interface chimed softly again in his vision.
[Reputation Increased: Lily Longbottom – +20]
Lily straightened unconsciously, her posture changing ever so slightly.
The scared girl who feared being a squib was still there.
But now she had something solid to stand on.
And that was exactly what Harry intended when he gave her those gifts.
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