After a unanimous vote among the members of their so-called "Dueling Hut" — the nickname they had given their secret training sessions in the Room of Requirement — it was officially decided that Seamus was forbidden from using explosive spells there.
"That's just too weird," Ron muttered. "He can't manage half the basic spells, but give him something explosive and he's a natural."
"I don't even want to imagine what would happen if you used that on a real person, Seamus," he added, his voice slightly strained.
Harry, however, had noticed something important: Seamus's explosive spells were terrifying in sound and spectacle, but their actual destructive power was nowhere near that of a fully grown wizard — and that distinction mattered. Even so, for a first-year student, it was undeniably impressive. Any seasoned professor would have raised an eyebrow.
Resigned, Seamus returned to practicing basic spells over and over, determined to turn his unfortunate tendency for accidental explosions into something controlled and useful.
"You lot are brilliant…" Neville said quietly, genuine envy in his voice. "I'm hopeless. Hermione's been teaching me for weeks, and I still get half the wand movements wrong."
"Everyone has their strengths, Neville," Harry said, sitting beside him. "You're excellent at Herbology. The biting cabbage you grew for Professor Sprout was thriving. Remember how it nearly tore off Professor Quirrell's turban?"
Neville flushed, though he still looked discouraged.
"But that's just gardening… It won't help in a duel."
Harry smiled.
"Who says? Imagine facing a Dark wizard and hurling half a dozen biting cabbages at him. Let's see how dignified he looks while wrestling snapping jaws off his robes."
Neville's eyes widened.
"And it's not just cabbages," Harry continued. "Think about mandrakes."
He glanced at Hermione.
She immediately added, "When uprooted, a mandrake releases a scream that can knock a person unconscious. A fully mature one can even be fatal."
Neville swallowed.
"Exactly," Harry said eagerly. "Used properly, that's strategy. Sometimes brains matter more than brute magical force."
Something shifted in Neville's expression.
"I think you're right," he said slowly. "I… I really do like Herbology."
"And keep practicing your spells," Harry added, clapping him on the shoulder. "A wand is still a wizard's primary tool."
Encouraged, Neville resumed his training with renewed determination. That night, he finally managed a Disarming Charm — unstable, but effective. For Harry, that was real progress.
Before leaving for detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest, Harry took an additional precaution: he tucked a second wand inside his robes.
He knew there was a spell capable of revealing a wand's most recent incantations — Priori Incantatem. If something went wrong, it would be wiser not to use his own.
With the spare wand hidden safely away, he left the Gryffindor common room.
Ron, Hermione, Seamus, and Neville were waiting in the corridor.
"We're walking you there," Ron declared.
"No need. It's freezing," Harry replied.
"The Forbidden Forest is dangerous," Neville said nervously. "Gran says there are all sorts of creatures in there — even werewolves…"
"I'm going to Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione said suddenly, turning toward the stairs.
Ron grabbed her arm.
"You know he might not even be in his office. And even if he is, he may not interfere. Besides, Harry's already faced a troll. If anything, the werewolves should be worried."
"Oh, very funny, Ronald," Hermione replied sharply.
Just then, a deep voice echoed from the entrance.
"Harry? Ron? Hermione?"
It was Hagrid.
He had to duck to enter. A massive crossbow was slung across his back, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. His towering presence brought immediate reassurance.
"Thank goodness Hagrid's here," Hermione whispered.
"We'll be fine," Harry assured her before following Hagrid out.
As they walked, Hagrid grumbled, "Filch didn't want to fetch you. Reckon he's a bit afraid of you now. Always one to bully the weak… but things were harsher in the old days. Back then, headmasters could still use physical punishments. I've heard Apollyon Pringle didn't hold back."
"Really?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"Molly tells the story often enough when she's scolding her lot," Hagrid chuckled. "Doesn't seem to do much good, though. The twins are as troublesome as ever."
Harry nodded in agreement.
Soon they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid raised his lantern, illuminating the forest path.
"See that?" he said, pointing to a silvery gleam on the ground. "Unicorn blood. Second attack this week. No one here would harm a creature so pure. Must be someone desperate… or cruel."
A chill ran through Harry — not of fear, but anticipation.
To harm a unicorn was a terrible act. According to what he had read, drinking its blood could keep someone alive even at death's door — but at the cost of a cursed half-life.
Hagrid tightened his grip on the crossbow.
"We need to find that poor unicorn before it's too late."
Harry's eyes gleamed in the lantern light.
"And perhaps," he said softly, "we should also find whoever did this."
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