Chapter 218: Journey to the Forbidden Forest
Phineas reluctantly pulled out a small leather bag and handed it to the twins.
"I made this myself. It has a Traceless Extension Charm. Use it to carry these."
George looked at him suspiciously. "Why isn't this our Christmas present?"
Phineas shrugged. "It's a defective prototype. It'll hold, but when you get back to Hogwarts, take everything out and rearrange it. It shouldn't fail anytime soon, but better safe than sorry."
Fred's eyes gleamed with interest. "Thanks! When you've got time, teach me how to make one?"
After all, not everything could be enchanted with a Traceless Extension Charm, and the craftsmanship of this small bag clearly involved more than just spellwork.
Phineas smiled and nodded.
After stuffing a handful of prank items into the bag, they stepped into Honeydukes, just one shop over.
Even after splurging at Zonko's Joke Shop, the twins still had a few Sickles left—enough for sweets.
The moment they stepped inside, the scent of buttercream enveloped them. Rows of shelves were stacked high with candies of every imaginable type.
Unbeknownst to most, Phineas actually held shares in Honeydukes—a gesture of goodwill in the early days toward Dumbledore. Technically, it was his shop, though he had never set foot inside until now. He usually ordered from the product list.
George nudged Phineas and pointed at a display.
"That's sour popping candy. Insanely sour. I avoid it, but it's fun to watch someone else eat it."
Phineas raised an eyebrow. "Story time?"
Fred chuckled. "I gave one to Ron once."
George chimed in, "Burned a hole in his tongue. Mum chased us around the house with a broom."
Phineas smiled at George. "So it wasn't your fault?"
Fred objected, "It was his idea!"
George said innocently, "I just mentioned it—I didn't think you'd actually do it."
Phineas shook his head, amused, but made a mental note to check on that candy's safety and popularity. He flagged down a staff member to ask.
As he browsed, he spotted something familiar—tiny, colorful mice crawling on a plastic display like real ones. Ice Mice. When eaten, they squeaked and made your mouth feel icy cold. Ideal for summer.
He picked up just two boxes of Chocolate Frogs—an essential for any wizard, given their energy-replenishing properties—and made his way to the counter.
Behind it stood a woman with a friendly smile—coincidentally, the same one who ran the trolley on the Hogwarts Express.
"We meet again, ma'am," Phineas greeted her with a smile.
She recognized him at once. As the de facto owner of Honeydukes, his appearance was a surprise.
"Just here with friends to grab some sweets," he said, nodding toward the twins still roughhousing in the aisle. "Give them a discount. Deduct the difference from my share."
Phineas had never withdrawn his Honeydukes dividends. He used them to fund his and Dumbledore's sweet tooth.
She nodded in understanding.
"Any new products to recommend?"
She pointed to a jar of gummy candies. "Exploding Gummies—very popular right now. They pop in your mouth, but harmlessly. Want to try?"
She handed him one. He bit into it. The mild explosion released a burst of orange jam. Delightful.
Honeydukes' treats often leaned toward playful mischief, which only enhanced the flavors.
Phineas chewed a few more and asked, "About that sour popping candy—my friend says it burned through someone's tongue. Is that true? And how's it selling?"
The lady laughed. "They probably ate it wrong. You're supposed to pair it with the small candy bar beside it. We tell customers. It's not a bestseller, but it has its fans."
Phineas nodded. "Good to know. Could you send a shipment to Hogwarts? Chocolate Frogs, Cockroach Clusters, Exploding Gummies, Ice Mice, and—ugh—Bloody Lollipops. I don't like vampires, but those taste surprisingly good. Oh, and fruit preserves—especially orange and apple."
She jotted everything down as he spoke.
When the trio left the shop, Phineas only carried a modest bag of road snacks.
The twins, however, had filled their arms with candy once they learned Phineas owned shares in the place. They didn't ask for money, but they weren't above capitalizing on harmless advantages—especially knowing Phineas wouldn't mind.
They didn't visit any more shops. After stopping by the Hogsmeade bookstore, Phineas summoned a carriage to take them back to Hogwarts.
It was already past two by the time they returned to the castle. Exhausted, they skipped the Great Hall and headed straight to the Room of Requirement.
Inside, they collapsed onto the bed.
Phineas made a mental note—he really needed more beds in here. After every gathering, someone always ended up on the floor. The fireplace and enchantments kept the room warm, but it was still tiring to haul yourself off the floor.
Honeydukes worked fast, and it was also time for Phineas' regular candy delivery.
Soon after their return, Popsicle—his fish-legged owl—delivered the shipment to the castle. Puff, his house-elf lieutenant, brought it to the Room of Requirement.
The Room's layout changed often, so even when Phineas' room had a window, owls couldn't find it. That's why Puff usually handled deliveries—like he'd done last Christmas, when all the gifts had gone through him.
Puff and his house-elf guard moved with military efficiency. Even though Puff returned to Hogwarts nightly to carry out errands—delivering items to the Room of Requirement or relaying messages to Lisa and others—he never used owls.
Despite the time he spent on these tasks, Puff had still managed to eliminate the hostile centaur tribe in the Forbidden Forest by early January, before the Christmas holidays ended.
The cost had been high. Lives were lost. But Phineas didn't care.
Centaurs, after all, were not human—not in the eyes of Phineas or many pure-blood wizards. They were magical beasts with intelligence. If they cooperated, fine. If they rebelled, they were eradicated.
Phineas didn't tell the twins.
They were normal students, from the Weasley family, with no exposure to the darker side of the magical world. They wouldn't understand the ruthless efficiency with which non-human threats were removed.
He had eliminated the tribe for a vague clue about Hufflepuff's treasure—and told no one.
Rather than enter the forest from the edge as usual, Phineas had Puff take him directly to the now-silent centaur encampment.
The Forbidden Forest was dangerous. Even legendary wizards avoided it alone. And Phineas hadn't even reached that level.
It was night, and deathly quiet. The cold wind cut through the trees, forcing Phineas to cast warming charms on himself.
"Damn it. Should've come during the day," he muttered.
Puff stood beside him, alert and unwavering, the perfect guardian.
They followed a faint path, likely created by the centaurs. Tracks of hooves remained visible, though most of the snow had been packed down during the recent battle.
It was still hard going—every few steps, Phineas's boots sank into the snow.
Eventually, under Puff's lead, they reached the abandoned centaur camp.
It was a clearing, once wooded, now surrounded by a tall fence of rough logs.
Two squat watchtowers flanked the entrance. Instead of ladders, wide steps led up—centaur-sized.
Now, house-elf guards occupied the towers. As Phineas approached, they bowed respectfully.
Inside, the ground was stained red. Snow and corpses were being cleared away.
They hadn't expected Phineas to visit today, but he didn't care. It was a temporary base.
He wouldn't have wiped out the entire tribe—except that this camp sat near several promising locations tied to the Hufflepuff treasure. And the centaurs had made themselves enemies of the elves.
"Carry on," Phineas said, waving dismissively.
With Puff leading, he made his way to the chieftain's hut and settled in to rest.