The scent of toasted muffins drifted lazily through the corridors of Hogwarts that morning, but Harry was seated in front of the common room fireplace, checking his wand for the third time.
His knuckles pressed against the edge of the oak table as his eyes swept across Hermione's open book, Advanced Defensive Spells. It was flipped to the chapter on countering the Withervine Curse, its edges still stained with traces of last night's insect repellent potion.
"Harry, you sure you didn't mix up the Polyjuice with the Skelegro?" Ron peeked out from behind the sofa. His satchel bulged with pest powder, beast-handling gloves, and half a rock-hard flapjack. "I tried that new anti-snake spray last night and made Neville's toad sneeze for an hour."
Hermione shut her book with a soft thud. Her fingers unconsciously brushed the dark purple residue clinging to her wand. "Ron, the problem isn't your spray. The important thing is we avoid the thestral nesting areas." She pulled out a faded roll of parchment from her bag and unfurled it to reveal Hagrid's rough sketch of the Forbidden Forest. "He said there's a stream in the eastern fir groves where unicorns drink. That rotten stench must be coming from deeper inside."
Harry flinched. He had dreamed again last night—of a hand in the snow, black and twisted, of vines writhing from beneath the earth, crushing a silver unicorn's horn into shards.
His fingers brushed the wand beneath his robes. The scar on his forehead had started to burn.
"Check everything one more time," he said, voice lower than usual. "Hermione, keep Dark Symbol Quick Reference with you. Ron, make sure the gloves cover every finger. That last time, the Hinkypunk snuck in through the seams."
As they slipped out the side door near the kitchens, sunlight streamed through the grapevines, casting dappled light onto the cobblestones.
But the moment they rounded the pumpkin patch, a familiar sneer sliced through the morning air.
"Well, well, the Chosen One playing hero again?" came a mocking voice from behind the hedgerow.
Draco Malfoy leaned against a hawthorn tree, silver-blond hair damp with dew. Crabbe and Goyle loomed behind him like twin walls of granite.
His gaze flicked to Harry's satchel, a smirk curling on his lips. "Let me guess. Granger didn't pack enough books, and Weasley's gloves are about to fall apart again?"
Hermione's grip tightened on her wand until her knuckles turned white.
"At least we're not hiding behind Daddy's gold, tossing hexes from the shadows," Ron muttered. His gloves creaked as he clenched his fists.
Malfoy's face darkened. His wand slipped into his palm. "What did you say?"
"Enough," said Harry, stepping forward. The burning in his scar gave his voice a cutting edge. "We're not wasting time playing in the dirt with you, Malfoy."
Then his eyes locked onto the silver snake badge pinned to Draco's robe. Between its polished scales, something dark was nestled — a delicate thread of black vine, uncannily similar to the markings on Snape's sleeve.
Draco noticed Harry staring and tugged his collar sharply. "What, you spying on people's badges now, Potter?" He flicked his wand, sending a crackling silver whip of light past Harry's ear. "You better take a good look, before the forest beasts gnaw your bones clean."
"Draco!"
A sharp voice sliced through the tension. Professor Sprout emerged from behind the hedgerow, carrying a basket of mandrakes. Her eyes, magnified by thick glasses, darted between the students.
"I heard spellwork echoing from the third-floor corridor. So it was you lot."
She turned to Harry, her gaze landing on the map in his hand.
"Mr. Potter, I believe Filch made it very clear: no students are to enter the Forbidden Forest unsupervised."
Harry felt sweat bead down his spine.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione beat him to it, holding up her Magical Creatures Conservation textbook.
"Professor, we're researching unicorn migration patterns. Hagrid said the stream in the eastern woods has shown unusual signs recently…"
"Unicorns?" Sprout's tone softened. She bent down to inspect a wriggling mandrake. "One did stumble into the herb garden last month. Poor thing had rotting vines tangled in its horn."
Straightening up, she cast a final glance at Draco. "If any of you are using 'research' as an excuse to stir up trouble…"
She shook the basket. The mandrakes wailed like angry infants.
"…you'll be scrubbing mandrake pots until Christmas."
Draco scoffed and stalked off, bumping into Crabbe as he did. "Come on, you idiots," he muttered. "Let's see how sweet the unicorn's blood is when it's feeding the monsters."
Once Professor Sprout's footsteps had faded into the distance, Ron exhaled heavily. "I was this close to smacking him with my flapjack." He patted the anti-snake spray in his bag. "That badge of his… you saw it too, right?"
Hermione tapped the map thoughtfully. "Those vines looked exactly like the Withervine Curse scars. Malfoy's family has properties in Knockturn Alley. My dad's Muggle paper mentioned..."
She stopped short and pointed ahead. "Come on. If we wait any longer, we'll lose the light."
The forest mist was thicker than yesterday.
They followed the red Xs on Hagrid's map, their shoes sinking into moss. The stench of decay clung to the air like cobwebs.
Harry's scar throbbed in sync with his heartbeat, as though a needle were drilling into his skull.
He froze.
Fresh claw marks slashed across the bark of an ancient fir. Black sap oozed from the gashes, identical to the stain on Hermione's wand.
"Look here," Hermione knelt, lifting a leaf with the tip of her wand.
Dark veins spread across the underside like a spiderweb. "This is a symptom of Withervine spread. The curse eats away at plant cells and leaves behind this network." Her voice was tight. "This is ten times worse than any case we found in the library."
Ron rubbed his nose with his gloved hand. "I don't like this feeling…" He trailed off.
The underbrush ahead was shifting.
Not swaying with the wind—but twisting, like something was crawling beneath it. Branches coiled together, forming a narrow arch just big enough for someone to crawl through.
Harry's wand leapt into his hand. Its tip glowed green, casting light on the stone wall behind the arch, where a thin fissure ran across the rock.
Etched along the crack were deep red symbols—some serpentine, some thorn-like—shimmering with eerie blue light under the glow.
"These are keystone symbols for dark rituals," Hermione whispered, thumbing through her reference book. "That one means 'Soul Binding.' And this… 'Devouring Vine'—used by medieval dark wizards to mark territory…" She snapped the book shut. "Someone cast a Confusion Charm to hide this. They didn't want anyone to find it."
The air inside the cave was colder still.
They crouched as they moved forward, the damp stone walls weeping with condensation. Drops echoed on the ground like ticking clocks.
Harry's scar seared. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
They turned a bend—and froze.
A bluish fire burned ahead, consuming a pile of shattered bones. Wisps of silver mist curled above the flames, spectral and weightless.
"That's unicorn horn powder," Hermione breathed, almost inaudibly. "In Magical History, it says dark wizards mix it with the Withervine Curse to…"
"Shh!" Ron yanked her sleeve.
Footsteps scraped against the stone deeper in the cave.
They dove behind a stalagmite just in time to see a hooded figure pass the blue fire. Cloaked in black, head bowed low. Only a glimpse of their jawline showed.
Their fingers traced the air in intricate patterns. Each movement ignited the symbols on the cave walls, glowing like embers.
"In the name of Withervine, consume the roots of life," the voice rasped. "Let old blood boil, let new souls be given…"
Harry's lungs refused to move.
That voice—he had heard it before. Last week, during Potions. The same rough, grating tone that had accompanied a sharp rap on the knuckles with tongs.
"It's Snape," Hermione mouthed silently.
Ron's glove scraped the rock with a squeak.
The figure whipped around.
From beneath the hood, two eyes gleamed green—unnaturally so, like a creature cursed and twisted beyond recognition.
"Who's there?"
They all held their breath.
Harry's palms were slick. His wand burned against his skin, ready to fire.
But Hermione squeezed his wrist. Ron's hand pressed his shoulder down. They couldn't afford to be seen. Not yet.
The figure stepped closer, bootheels thudding against the stone, each one a spike of terror in Harry's chest.
Just as the boots reached the edge of the stalagmite, Hermione tugged Harry's arm.
They retreated in near silence, steps like leaves on wind.
Only when they heard a heavy thud behind them did they break into a sprint.
By the time they burst from the cave, dusk had swallowed the Forbidden Forest.
Harry paused at the base of the old fir and tapped it with his wand. A silver spark shot out, fading into the bark.
"A new spell?" Ron asked, panting hard.
"Just a tracker," Harry said, wiping his forehead. "Lasts three days. If Snape really is up to something… we need proof."
Hermione was still shaking. She opened her book and jabbed a page. "That ritual—it's called 'Withervine Rebirth.' It needs unicorn horn powder and blood from living beings to feed the spell."
She swallowed hard. "If it completes… every living thing in the forest will be drained. And then it will spread to Hogwarts."
When they returned to Gryffindor Tower, the common room was in chaos. Neville was arguing with Lavender about fire lizard care, and Dean was trying to teach Seamus wizard chess.
They reached the spiral staircase just as the curfew bell chimed.
Before they could climb, Parvati jumped up from behind the couch. "Harry! Hagrid was looking for you. He said it's important. He's waiting at the gamekeeper's hut."
Harry froze.
Outside the window, the last light of the sun bled into the horizon. A faint stench still drifted from the direction of the forest.
His scar flared again—and this time, he heard the voice clearly.
Not the hand from his dreams. Not the whispering vines.
Hagrid's voice.
"There are some things… only you can stop."
Harry touched the wand under his robes, then turned to Hermione and Ron.
"I'm going to see Hagrid."