"Harry?"
Adrian looked somewhat surprised when he caught sight of the unexpected trio standing at the edge of the treant habitat clearing, clearly not having anticipated any visitors today.
His eyebrows rose slightly as he recognized them. "What brings you three all the way out here to this particular part of the forest? This is quite far from the castle."
"Never mind that right now, Professor," Hermione interrupted urgently, her voice tight with concern and panic.
Her eyes were fixed with horror on the centaur's absolutely horrifying wound, the raw, bleeding stump part where an entire arm should be. Fresh blood still dripped steadily from it.
"This... this centaur gentleman's injury needs immediate treatment! He's losing so much blood!"
"Oh, it's perfectly fine, really just a relatively minor wound for centaurs," Adrian said with a faint, reassuring smile at them, seemingly completely unconcerned by the gruesome injury that was making Ron look even more green.
Then he gestured politely with one hand to introduce them properly: "This is Ronan, a centaur who lives in the deeper, more isolated parts of the Forbidden Forest. He's part of the local herd and has been helping us with our ongoing spider problem these past few weeks."
The centaur named Ronan nodded slowly to the three young wizards in greeting, his expression remaining remarkably calm and stoic despite his injury, as if the intense pain in his right shoulder and the completely missing limb didn't exist at all or matter in the slightest.
"Mr. Ronan," Harry couldn't help but ask with concern, unable to look away from the terrible wound, "don't you feel any pain at all? How can you possibly stand there so calmly with your arm missing?"
Ronan shook his head slightly in that way centaurs did, his tone carrying that typical melancholy and slow tempo that all centaurs seemed to naturally possess. "Pain is ultimately trivial and temporary to centaurs. We endure far worse in our lifetimes under the stars. This is nothing compared to what fate brings."
"Actually, I casted a fairly powerful pain-relieving charm on him about twenty minutes ago when we first met," Adrian interjected with a casual shrug. "But even accounting for that, Ronan's willpower and inherent pain tolerance far exceeds that of ordinary people or even most trained wizards. Centaurs are remarkably tough creatures, both physically and mentally."
Harry nodded slowly in understanding, feeling some relief.
That explanation made considerably more sense than simply superhuman resilience alone. But still—
"What exactly happened to you?" He asked with unease, his eyes moving between the injured centaur and his professor, trying to piece together the story. "Was it the Acromantulas that did this to you?"
"Correct assumption," Adrian confirmed with a slight nod.
His tone was remarkably casual, as if discussing tomorrow's weather forecast rather than a life-threatening injury and near-death experience.
"Those spiders are currently making their desperate death throes, fighting with everything they have for survival. Ronan here was unfortunately bitten on the upper arm by a particularly enthusiastic large fellow.
As you should certainly know from your Care of Magical Creatures textbooks, Acromantula venom is extremely lethal and fast-acting, especially when injected directly into the bloodstream in large quantities like this."
He paused for emphasis, his gaze sweeping over Ronan's gruesome severed arm, then continued to explain in an educational tone.
"Conventional antidotes didn't work fast enough in this particular case as the venom was spreading too rapidly toward his heart. The most effective method available under the circumstances was to prevent the toxin from spreading to vital organs.
So, Ronan made the decision to cut off the contaminated part. Clean and efficient, remarkably effective."
Harry, Hermione, and Ron listened in absolutely stunned disbelief, their faces going pale. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth.
Were all centaurs genuinely this hardcore and stoic about self-mutilation for survival?
"Can... can it possibly grow back naturally over time?" Hermione asked with worry, her voice coming small and tense. "Or will he be permanently?"
"That's no problem," Adrian said with complete nonchalance, as though regrowing entire limbs was the most ordinary thing in the world. "If even bones can be fully regrown with Skele-Gro, what's one complete arm?"
"Let's begin the treatment, Adrian," Ronan suddenly interjected, furrowing his brow with discomfort. His face had gone slightly paler. "You said you had a reliable way to help me."
"Of course, just bear with the discomfort for a few more moments, Ronan," Adrian replied calmly.
His voice remained steady as he gestured toward a particular tiny treant in the distance who had been quietly tending to some young saplings near the lake.
"Shalala," He called out. His voice wasn't particularly loud or amplified, yet it carried precisely across the entire clearing, reaching every corner.
Almost immediately, a figure distinctly different from all the other treants working nearby responded and began approaching.
She, judging by both the feminine name and the somewhat slender silhouette, this seemed an entirely appropriate assumption, was noticeably smaller in overall size than Bart, standing perhaps only ten feet tall. Her branches displayed soft curves rather than the angular, harsh lines of the male treants.
Adrian could see her status clearly in his mind,
[Name: Shalala]
[Species: Willow Tree]
[Level: 3]
[Trait: Medic]
[Status: Growing (1%)]
Shalala was originally just an ordinary willow tree planted near Wika.
Recently, many trees growing in close proximity around Bart had spontaneously gained the ability to transform and acquired different traits. Shalala was one of the most useful and valuable of them all.
Most treants who had mutated possessed the standard "Guardian" trait.
Only Shalala was different, special and unique.
She was the treants' medic and healer, possessing surprisingly powerful restorative healing abilities that Adrian was still actively discovering the full limits and potential of.
Adrian had broadly tested Shalala's abilities on various subjects over the past weeks. He'd tried severing all eight legs of a captured Acromantula completely at the joints, and Shalala could restore them perfectly within minutes, fully functional.
Ronan's injury, while certainly gruesome and severe, was naturally no problem for her.
Unfortunately, to this day, Bart remained the only treant who could actually speak fluent human language. The others seemed to understand commands perfectly but couldn't physically respond verbally, perhaps their vocal structures weren't developed yet.
After receiving Adrian's clear command, Shalala walked to Ronan's side. She extended one lustrous branch which looked almost like green-tinted glass, gently hovering above the gruesome severed arm without quite touching the raw wound directly.
The watching trio couldn't help but step closer, curiosity and fascination overcoming their initial nauseousness. Under their wide eyes, the branch gradually began emitting a soft yet rich emerald glow that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Ronan suddenly let out a muffled groan of intense pain, and his entire face contorted into a grimace. His jaw clenched hard enough that his teeth became visible, he was obviously suffering tremendous agony despite the lingering effects of the pain-relief charm Adrian had casted.
The flesh at his severed arm stump began to squirm and wriggle unnaturally. Pink buds of new flesh, like tender shoots and vines breaking through hard-packed soil in spring, began to interweave and entwine at visible speed, growing rapidly out.
Next came bone, forming seemingly from nothing, white and clean. Then blood vessels like red threads weaving through. Then layers of muscle, building up. And finally skin, covering everything...
In just over ten breathless seconds of watching this impossible, miraculous process unfold, a complete, strong arm—one that even appeared more vigorous and healthier than the original scarred limb had been fully formed and attached itself seamlessly to his shoulder.
Hermione was completely speechless at this scene.
Harry felt instinctively that this healing method was somewhat sinister and wrong, though undeniably effective and impressive. He had never witnessed any healing magic that could regenerate an entire limb from nothing
Ron looked like he might be sick, and was swaying slightly.
"There you go, Ronan," Adrian said, nodding with satisfaction at the successful result. "I told you it would be relatively easy and straightforward. How do you feel? Any numbness or unusual weakness in the new limb?"
Honestly, despite his confident face and professional demeanor, Adrian was still a bit apprehensive inside about potential complications or rejection.
This was genuinely his first time using Shalala's ability on a person... well... a centaur, but close enough to human physiology that complications were possible.
Ronan didn't answer immediately, as he was too overwhelmed by the experience. He was breathing heavily in huge gasps, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead running down his face—that brief regeneration process had been extremely painful and physically exhausting.
He slowly raised his newly grown arm, and began examining it with complex, mixed emotions.
The skin was smooth and completely unblemished, the muscles full and properly formed, with a natural, healthy complexion that looked young.
Why did it somehow feel... slightly mismatched with his other, older arm? The color was a shade lighter.
He tried experimentally moving his fingers, flexing and extending them slowly. The movements were somewhat stiff and unnatural, like a limb that had fallen asleep, but the basic function was completely intact.
"Very remarkable work," Ronan's voice trembled slightly. "Thank you very much, Adrian."
"Oh, no need to thank me," Adrian waved his hand dismissively.
"In fact, I should really be the one thanking you and your entire herd. The centaurs have helped us considerably with valuable intelligence about spider movements and warning us about the locations of the alpha nests."
Ronan gave him a friendly, even somewhat awkward smile in return—this expression appearing on his habitually melancholy, stoic face looked particularly out of place and strange.
"!"
Adrian felt greatly surprised by this unexpected display of emotion.
He'd honestly always thought Ronan physically couldn't smile at all, given his continuously stoic demeanor over their months of sporadic interaction and cooperation.
Next, Ronan turned toward Medic Shalala standing quietly nearby and Bart watching from a distance, and performed an elaborate centaur gesture of great respect: placing his newly healed right fist over his heart and bowing his head low. "Thank you sincerely for your help, neighbors. The herd will remember this kindness in our stories."
Bart waved cheerfully at him in a friendly manner, rustling his branches happily.
After Ronan left, walking on his four legs and continuously testing his new arm's range of motion, Hermione finally couldn't resist asking the burning question on her mind.
"Mr. Ronan came here specifically to...? I mean, I've read that centaurs usually aren't willing to have much contact with wizards at all. They value their independence and autonomy extremely."
"But they're quite willing to have contact and peaceful relations with treants," Adrian explained patiently, sitting on a convenient log. "As you can clearly see, there are now dozens of treants living here who naturally need to expand their territory to accommodate continued growth, so they've set their sights on claiming the Acromantulas' traditional domain. The centaurs came voluntarily to help with this displacement and extermination."
"Why would centaurs specifically help treants though?" Harry asked, not understanding the unexpected cooperation. "What's in it for them?"
Adrian spread his hands in an obvious gesture, as if the answer was self-evident. "If you personally had to choose neighbors to live beside in the forest, would you pick peaceful, quiet treants or aggressive, man-eating Acromantulas that breed constantly?"
The answer was obvious when put that way.
In fact, Adrian knew, the centaur herd had long held serious grievances and simmering anger against the Acromantulas.
Those spiders had even killed several of their foals before. Now that the treants were willing and able to clear out the spiders permanently, the centaurs naturally welcomed it enthusiastically and offered assistance.
Harry turned his gaze to the large pile of Acromantula corpses stacked nearby. At some point during their conversation, it had grown into a small mountain of legs, and fangs.
"We should process these while they're still relatively fresh," Adrian said suddenly, changing topics.
"What?" Harry asked, confused by the sudden change in topic. "Process them how?"
Adrian pointed at the pile of Acromantula corpses, explaining frankly:
"Only fresh Acromantula corpses can yield properly extractable venom that maintains its potency and magical properties. The venom sacs degrade rapidly after death within hours.
Perhaps we can finish processing this whole batch before sunset if we work efficiently—treants aren't capable of such delicate work. They'd crush the venom sacs accidentally."
He reached into his robes and took out three pairs of thick dragon-hide gloves, handing them to each of the three. "Also, stay very safe, you three. The venom can burn through regular gloves instantly."
And so, through circumstances totally beyond their control or expectation, Harry and his friends were pulled by Adrian into serving as unpaid laborers for the entire long afternoon.
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