Harry, Ron, and Hermione strolled along the path from the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, Harry and Ron lazily taking turns kicking a small pebble, their steps slow and relaxed.
Hermione, head down, was wrestling with a dilemma. She was interested in every elective course, but their schedules clashed—completely unreasonable! Why couldn't the professors make better use of free time, like holding classes on weekends or evenings?
"Harry, Ron, what else are you guys thinking of taking?" Hermione asked, stumped after mulling it over with no clear answer. She hoped her friends' input might help.
They'd already discussed it earlier. Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies were picked mostly because of the professors teaching them. Harry and Ron thought it over—only two electives seemed a bit light. They wouldn't earn enough O.W.L.s for the wizarding exams.
"Let's add Divination," Ron suggested. He'd heard from older students that Ancient Runes, a prerequisite for Alchemy, was tough, and Arithmancy came with heaps of homework.
"Divination," Harry echoed, nodding. Professor Trelawney's reputation preceded her—her assignments and exams were easy to fudge. Just spin a grim prophecy, and you'd score high.
"Divination's an important branch of prophetic magic. It's definitely valuable," Hermione said thoughtfully, nodding but sinking back into her indecision.
The trio trudged on quietly, entering the Forbidden Forest. Harry and Ron kicked their pebble, heading straight for Hagrid's hut.
"You lazy, good-for-nothing pests! All you do is eat and mess around!" a gruff voice snapped from near the fence.
Harry and Ron looked up, startled. The groundskeeper was holding a watering can high, pouring diluted insecticide onto the pumpkin vines in the soil.
A hound nearby barked enthusiastically, catching their scent and raising its head, yapping loudly: "Woof! Woof!"
Realizing Hagrid was scolding the slugs on the unripe pumpkins—not them—Harry and Ron breathed a sigh of relief.
"He's just yelling at the slugs…" Ron muttered.
"Hagrid! Fang!" Hermione called, waving as she approached. She noticed something around Fang's neck—silvery, delicate scales coiled in a loop. A young snake's tail curled around the dog's body, its head resting lazily atop Fang's, giving them a sluggish greeting.
"Woof~"
"Yulm's here too?" Hermione realized. "Does that mean Professor Lewitt's nearby?"
"Haha! What a coincidence!" Hagrid said, setting down the watering can and wiping his hands on his moleskin coat. "Melvin got here just half an hour before you. He came with Snape, headed deeper into the forest—something about testing potions."
"Snape's here too?" Harry and Ron said, shocked.
"My insecticide's his brew. Works like a charm, just smells a bit off," Hagrid said, pointing at the can and fanning the air toward them with his massive hand.
The trio caught a whiff of something like farmyard manure and paled. They'd assumed it was Hagrid's homemade fertilizer, not an insecticide. The pungent smell screamed "nutritious for plants."
"Testing potions? Since when does the old bat come to the Forbidden Forest for that?" Ron, always quick to suspect the worst of Snape, widened his eyes. "I bet he knows Lewitt's tight with you, Hagrid, and tricked him into leading the way so he could wreak havoc in the forest!"
It was a biased jab at Snape, but neither Harry nor Hermione argued. Snape's demeanor didn't exactly scream "good guy."
"Where'd they go, Hagrid?" Harry pressed.
Hagrid frowned. "Don't talk nonsense. Snape's a professor—Dumbledore trusts him. He wouldn't do anything to harm the school. Plus, Melvin's with him, keeping an eye out."
The trio knew Hagrid was stubborn and wouldn't budge easily. They turned their attention to Fang and Yulm.
The dog and snake met their gazes, tilting their heads with puzzled expressions.
"No way! Students aren't allowed in the Forbidden Forest!" Hagrid protested.
"We're just looking for the professors—we've got questions for them!" they insisted.
"…"
Unable to dissuade them, Hagrid tossed the watering can aside and grudgingly tagged along.
The group—four wizards, a dog, and a snake—wandered along a forest path. Yulm rode atop Fang's head as the hound bounded about, sniffing here and there, occasionally barking as if showing off to the snake. Yulm responded with soft, delicate hisses.
They passed moss-covered stumps, leaves rustling in the breeze, and the distant sound of trickling water. Following Fang deeper into the forest, the dense canopy blocked out the sky, casting an eerie gloom. The temperature dropped, and a damp chill brushed against them.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione grew inexplicably nervous, glancing around constantly.
About half an hour later, Fang stopped at a towering oak. Through the tangled branches, they spotted a clearing: green grass, reddish-brown leaves, gnarled shrubs, and two tall figures in black robes.
Before them lay a row of animal carcasses.
A gray-furred hare, a stag with forked antlers, a vibrant woodpecker, even a juvenile Acromantula—all motionless. Crimson blood stained the shrubbery, stark and unsettling.
A cold breeze carried the metallic scent of blood, and the leaves rustled like the quiet sobs of living creatures.
"This… this…" Hermione froze. Ron went pale. Harry and Hagrid's faces turned grim.
"Is this… a slaughter?" Ron stammered.
"Shh!" Hagrid clamped a hand over his mouth.
Harry and Hermione instinctively stepped back, hiding stiffly behind the tree, hearts pounding. They held their breath, terrified of making a sound.
Yulm, unable to speak, looked up at them, its slitted eyes reflecting human-like confusion.
…
"Use it sparingly—there's only a pint left," Snape said.
"This potion's potent. One ounce is enough for an average animal. A pint could treat at least twenty," Melvin replied.
The two discussed as they examined the animals, their casual tone chillingly indifferent to the creatures' lives. Their practiced movements hinted at a disregard that sent shivers down the spine.
The experiment had been going on for who-knows-how-long. Fur and feathers were scattered everywhere, blood splattered on the grass and treetops. The professors held wands, with glass vials floating midair, filled with a milky-white potion.
"Common European hare, blunt head trauma—likely ran into a stump," Snape's voice echoed through the clearing, laced with cold amusement. "Utterly hopeless."
"Why mock a rabbit? It can't understand you," Melvin said without looking up, using a Levitation Charm to pour a trickle of potion into the hare's mouth while lifting its Petrification Charm.
The hare's stiff muscles relaxed, the dullness in its eyes fading. Its ears twitched, and as it regained movement, it struggled. Snape, unfazed, grabbed it by the scruff, inspecting the head wound.
"This one can't understand, but some foolish rabbits can," Snape said, tossing it aside to scamper into the shrubs. "A half-inch scar, healed in two minutes. Not great for external injuries—nowhere near as effective as Dittany."
…
"It's just a potion test," Hermione said, patting her chest in relief.
Harry and Ron exhaled. The idea of professors teaming up to slaughter animals was too much to stomach.
"Told you they're professors," Hagrid said, scratching his head, now worried. "How am I gonna explain this to Melvin?"
…
"Let's try the stag next. It fought another deer—multiple abrasions and a broken antler," Melvin said.
"Fourteen abrasions, healed in three minutes. Three left scars. The antler didn't regrow—likely because blood flow doesn't reach it," Snape noted.
As the stag's Petrification lifted, the battered, irritable creature thrashed, swinging its broken antler at Snape. Its legs were still bound, limiting its reach—it couldn't even graze Snape's robes.
"Foolish deer—" Snape began.
"Pfft!"
"…"
Melvin fell silent, watching the scene unfold.
Before Snape could finish, the furious stag jerked its head, spitting at him. Snape, a seasoned duelist and former Death Eater, reacted swiftly, raising his sleeve to block. He avoided a faceful of spit, but his robes caught some damp stains.
Though a herbivore, the wild stag wasn't exactly hygienic, its saliva carrying an indescribable odor.
Snape narrowed his eyes, cheeks twitching, and after a moment's silence, said coldly, "We haven't tested the potion's antidote properties. Let's use this one."
"You're the Potions Master. Your call," Melvin said.
With Melvin's approval, Snape moved quickly, summoning the juvenile Acromantula. Smaller than the stag, it was fully Petrified, only its eight eyes darting in panic.
Snape pried open its chelicerae, exposing venomous fangs, and pressed them into the stag's back.
The stag bellowed in pain, thrashing its head, but its bound limbs kept it pinned. Saliva flew, but it couldn't break free.
Venom coursed through its veins, dark bruising spreading as the toxin took hold. The stag's agonized cries grew desperate.
Melvin and the students hiding behind the tree winced, unable to watch.
Snape stood calmly, waiting until the stag was near collapse before pouring the milky potion into its mouth, applying a small amount externally.
A soft white glow emanated, slowly purging the venom and repairing the damage. The process was uncomfortable—painful, itchy, and burning. The stag whimpered pitifully.
"The antidote effect surpasses most known antidotes. It seems to directly dispel harmful magic," Melvin observed keenly.
Acromantula venom, laced with magical properties, was costly and resistant to standard antidotes. Yet the Goblet's milky potion targeted foreign magic directly, neutralizing it quickly.
"Hm," Snape responded coolly. "It dispels harmful magic. Let's test it on Dark Magic injuries next."
Isn't this just petty revenge? Melvin thought. A professor like Snape, ambushed by a deer—and in front of students, no less—would naturally be furious.
Melvin understood.
Sectumsempra.
An invisible blade sliced across the stag's flank, leaving a shallow cut no bigger than a thumb. For a healthy wild animal, it should've clotted quickly, but a wisp of malevolent magic lingered, preventing healing and causing intense pain.
Blood spread across the stag's tawny fur, staining it crimson. Already weakened, the stag was barely standing, its eyes filled with fear of death. It glanced at the wound, shaking its head weakly, its cries faint.
A few ounces of potion later, the wound began to close.
Snape studied it closely. Sectumsempra, his own Dark spell, prevented natural healing, and even Dittany was ineffective. Without a counter-curse, victims bled out. This milky potion dispelled the Dark Magic and healed the wound—a discovery worthy of a First-Class Order of Merlin.
"Can it heal other Dark Magic injuries? What about the Unforgivable Curses?" Snape asked, his eyes glinting.
"…"
This stag didn't deserve that.
Melvin tapped its head with his wand, lifting the Petrification.
The stag, barely believing its freedom, glanced back. Seeing the black-robed "demon" unmoving, it stayed silent, scrambled up, and bolted into the forest, vanishing behind the trees.
Melvin released the remaining animals, letting them flee.
The Goblet's milky potion had been thoroughly tested. Its ability to heal external injuries was secondary; its true power lay in dispelling foreign magic.
Many spells relied on magical energy, and this potion tackled them at the source, healing many Dark Magic injuries. As for the worse Unforgivable Curses—Avada Kedavra was beyond saving, but Imperius and Cruciatus…
That would require more rigorous testing, beyond what a few wild animals could provide.
Melvin shook his head and turned to the oak behind them. "The animals that insulted the professor have been punished. Now it's time for the students breaking school rules."