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Deep within the Forbidden Forest.
Darkness hung thick like viscous ink, swallowing every trace of light.
Ian, now a drifting cloud of white mist, glided swiftly between the trees. As he passed, branches rustled, startling a cluster of sleeping Bowtruckles, who let out sharp, chittering protests.
Each one clung tightly to its home branch, trembling nervously.
A flock of owls took off in alarm, wings flapping noisily in the still air. On the ground, several spiny porcupines bristled, puffing out sharp quills as they snorted angrily and glared in the direction of the moving mist.
But Ian paid them no mind.
His thoughts were fixed on finding the three mischievous students.
"Where are they…?"
Thanks to his legendary-level vision, Ian could see everything around him clearly, even in pitch darkness. He didn't have to worry about missing anything hidden in the shadows.
Not only could he see clearly, but his vision also covered a wide range.
Anyone who had reached his level of mastery would understand that his eyes were no longer just eyes. With his gaze, a thread of magical power swept out, brushing over every inch of the forest within sight.
"Whoosh... whoosh..."
The sound of his flight startled more sleeping creatures. A unicorn drinking from a brook lifted its head, its silver-white mane rippling like moonlit waves. The instant it sensed Ian's mist drawing near, it gracefully withdrew into the trees, its hooves touched the water, yet not a single droplet splashed.
"They should be somewhere around here."
Ian followed the direction marked on the Marauder's Map, which pointed to a secret passageway into the forest. However, the map could only reveal general locations. Who knew where those three had gone after crawling out of the passage?
So Ian began a grid-style search.
He moved in wide, sweeping arcs, radiating outward from the exit of the secret passage. His magical proficiency had grown to the point that his current speed surpassed that of most flying brooms.
And truth be told—
For many powerful wizards, brooms were hardly essential anymore. Even someone like Voldemort didn't rely on such things.
"Two-legged creatures trying to outpace me in the air?"
Ian's brow quirked within the rolling mist.
He darted swiftly through the forest.
And wouldn't you know it, some things really do happen the moment you mention them. Just as he was grumbling about the trio's whereabouts, a piercing scream ripped through the Forbidden Forest's stillness.
"Bloody hell, what is that?!"
It was Ron's voice, thick with panic and terror.
The shriek tore through the night like a knife. Without the Boy-Who-Lived around, it was clear that Ron didn't have the same luck or confidence to keep him safe in the Forbidden Forest.
"So they really did run into trouble?"
Ian raised an eyebrow.
His white mist shot forward, speeding through the trees like lightning toward the source of the sound. When he arrived, the sight before him made him blink.
So that's what it was!
Despite Ron's blood-curdling screams, which sounded like those of someone moments away from being devoured alive, the "new generation" trio weren't actually in mortal danger.
They were trapped in a patch of strange purple mushrooms.
Each mushroom was about half a person tall and had glowing veins of light pulsing across its cap. The mushrooms swayed eerily in rhythm with the trio's movements.
As for why Ron was screaming—
Hermione's wand glowed faintly, illuminating his pale face. His left leg was wrapped in a mass of sticky fungal threads that were creeping upward at an alarming pace.
After all, he was just an eleven-year-old boy who'd been protected and sheltered all his life.
He had never faced anything this terrifying or dangerous before.
He was this close to wetting himself.
Of the new-generation trio, Ron was by far the most panicked. As a wizard, he didn't think to pull out his wand. Instead, he tried to fight the magical plants with his bare hands.
Well...
That was a rather Gryffindor thing to do, if you ignored the fact that he was crying and screaming while doing it. He was the very image of a terrified fool wrestling with vines.
"Let me think, let me think... What should we do now?" Hermione's face was as pale as snow. She, too, was ensnared. Even as the sticky tendrils crept higher, she tried to gather her wits and reason her way out.
Of course—
This was her first time facing such danger. Raised as a pampered Muggle-born girl, her bright mind couldn't remain entirely unaffected by fear.
Her thoughts were muddled.
Hermione forced herself to stay calm.
At that moment, however, it was the usually timid and shaky Neville who handled the situation best. He was scared—trembling all over but he was still thinking clearly.
"Don't move! Don't move around!" Neville suddenly shouted, his voice cracking with fear. "These plants are like Devil's Snare! The more you struggle, the tighter they'll squeeze!"
And indeed—
Though his body trembled violently, Neville resisted the instinct to thrash around, unlike the other two. By sheer willpower, he forced himself to stay still. This didn't free him, but it did slow the spread of the sticky fungal threads; the slime had only climbed up to his thighs.
He was shaking even harder now.
Hermione, meanwhile, was already wrapped up to her waist.
Ron, on the other hand, had fought the hardest and suffered the most. The slimy filaments had almost completely engulfed him, forming a cocoon around his entire body, ready for digestion.
The viscous strands had sealed over his mouth.
The forest instantly grew much quieter.
"Similar to Devil's Snare, huh? I remember the book said it hates sunlight. Devil's Snare is extremely sensitive to light and warmth, but it's nighttime..."
"And this isn't Devil's Snare," Hermione muttered, her hand trembling so badly that she could barely hold her wand. This was her first encounter with true danger. She was far from the confident, composed witch she would one day become.
"Then use fire! Most plants hate fire!"
Neville's voice cracked again, half in panic, half in tears. He didn't doubt his own reasoning, but the tightening vines terrified him.
"Hurry! It's climbing up to my waist!"
Neville shouted in desperation.
"Mmph—mmphhh!"
Ron could only make muffled, meaningless noises.
As expected—
It was the same old formula and dynamic. Even though this wasn't the original trio, Ian knew the pattern remained. Hermione figured things out while the two useless boys flailed helplessly beside her.
In short, it was still "Hermione and Her Two Useless Boys."
"..."
Ian watched silently from midair above with a deadpan expression on his face. He wasn't in any hurry to intervene; he knew it would take these plants at least a full day to digest their prey.
Letting them sweat a bit would teach them a lesson.
Otherwise, who knew what hare-brained adventures they'd rush into next? Then again, judging from the original timeline, no amount of lessons could stop Gryffindors from charging headfirst into danger.
"Fire… Incendio!"
At last, Hermione raised her wand and cast the spell.
(To Be Continued…)