Ryze did not think Ronan was being delusional.
About a year ago, the celestial patterns had undergone a dramatic shift. The once-clear threads of fate had become obscured, as if a dense fog had descended upon the future itself. The centaurs, masters of stargazing and divination, had been unsettled ever since.
And it was no coincidence.
That same year, Ryze had acquired the rune system—an existence that did not belong to this world. If the stars reflected the structure of fate, then an external variable like him would inevitably distort that structure.
Could the celestial anomaly the centaurs observed be tied to him?
The thought lingered.
If beings like the centaurs had already noticed this shift, what about others? Those in the Wizarding World who possessed similar insight into fate and prophecy? Ryze couldn't help but think of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of Hogwarts' legendary founders. A witch of immense wisdom—could she have foreseen something like this a thousand years ago?
Ryze exhaled slowly and shook his head.
Speculation wouldn't get him far. If he wanted answers, he would have to seek them directly. Perhaps a visit to the centaur tribe in the Forbidden Forest was necessary. Their ancient methods of astrological divination might provide valuable insight.
But not now.
There were more immediate matters to attend to.
When they returned to Hagrid's hut, the towering gamekeeper immediately got to work. He rummaged through the clutter behind his wooden cabin, shifting aside broken tools, crates, and rusted iron scraps before finally pulling out a small wooden structure.
It resembled a miniature house—simple, sturdy, and clearly handmade.
"This here was meant for Fluffy last year," Hagrid explained, scratching his beard. "But that little fella grew faster than I expected. In just a couple of months, he was already too big for it."
Ryze raised an eyebrow slightly.
Fluffy… "little"?
Hagrid continued, seemingly oblivious to the absurdity. "By the time he was fully grown, he was nearly as big as me. Strong too. Kept trying to wander off into the deep parts of the Forbidden Forest."
He paused, then added with a hint of concern, "Even went near Aragog's territory once. Almost got himself into a proper fight."
Ryze had already heard of Aragog.
The massive Acromantula was one of Hagrid's earliest and most controversial "pets." During one of Hagrid's more emotional moments—after a few drinks—he had recounted how he was expelled from Hogwarts decades ago for raising the creature.
That incident could have ended his life at Hogwarts entirely.
But Albus Dumbledore had believed in him. Against strong opposition, he ensured Hagrid was allowed to stay on as the gamekeeper. That act of trust had shaped Hagrid's unwavering loyalty ever since.
Setting aside the memories, Ryze helped Hagrid clean the small wooden house. Dust and debris were cleared, and fresh bedding was laid inside to make it warm and comfortable.
Once everything was ready, they carefully placed the injured Demiguise inside.
The creature, with its silvery fur and large, expressive eyes, seemed calmer now. Though still weak, it no longer trembled as violently as before.
"You rest here," Hagrid said gently, his voice softening in a way it rarely did around people. "I'll bring you some food later."
He then turned to Ryze and gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder—strong enough to make most people stumble.
"I really owe you this time," he said sincerely. "If not for you, I wouldn't have found it before the centaurs did."
Ryze smiled modestly and waved it off, offering a few polite words of dismissal.
But he didn't waste the opportunity.
During their trip into the Forbidden Forest, he had developed a genuine interest in magical creatures. The Demiguise alone had already proven fascinating—not just for its invisibility, but for its intelligence and unique magical properties.
"I'd like to study them more closely," Ryze said. "If possible, I want to observe the Demiguise and other magical creatures over the next few days."
Hagrid's eyes lit up instantly.
There was nothing he loved more than someone showing interest in magical creatures.
"Of course!" he said enthusiastically. "That's easy. I'm on good terms with Professor Kettleburn—you know, the Care of Magical Creatures professor."
He hesitated briefly, then waved his hand dismissively. "Well… anyway, he's got a lot on his plate. I help him out with creatures he can't handle sometimes."
Hagrid leaned in slightly, lowering his voice with excitement.
"In a couple of days, I'll take you to see some of the creatures he keeps. You won't believe it! Some of them are rare—really rare. Not even the students get to see them in class."
He grinned proudly.
"A few of them, Kettleburn and I even figured out how to breed ourselves."
Ryze nodded, his interest piqued.
He had already heard of Professor Kettleburn.
The man was something of a legend—though perhaps not in the conventional sense.
Like Hagrid, he had an intense passion for magical creatures. But unlike Hagrid, he lacked the same physical resilience. Over the years, his enthusiasm had led to numerous "incidents."
By Ryze's count, Kettleburn had undergone over sixty probationary periods during his career.
More strikingly, he had lost one arm and one and a half legs due to accidents involving magical creatures.
And yet…
He had never given up.
Even in his current condition, he continued teaching, driven purely by passion. It was said that he would only retire in a couple of years, passing his responsibilities on to Hagrid.
Thinking about it, Ryze felt a quiet sense of respect.
At the same time, he made a mental note:
Take sufficient protective measures.
Anyone who could lose that many limbs and still continue working with magical creatures was either extraordinarily dedicated—or dangerously reckless.
Possibly both.
After sharing a simple meal of hot soup, Ryze prepared to leave.
Before going, he casually plucked a few strands of fur from the Demiguise while feeding it—careful not to distress the creature. The fur shimmered faintly in his hand, a valuable material with numerous magical applications.
He also checked on his Magical Rice crop, ensuring everything was growing as expected.
Satisfied, he finally left Hagrid's hut.
Hagrid's efficiency did not disappoint.
Less than two days later, Ryze received a note.
In his usual generous fashion, Hagrid had arranged everything. The note even suggested that Ryze could bring along friends if they were interested.
More importantly, it bore Professor Kettleburn's signature.
This granted them permission to leave the castle grounds in the evening—something normally restricted.
Ryze shared the note with his roommates. After a brief discussion, he also sent a message to Hermione, knowing she wouldn't want to miss such an opportunity.
That night, the cold was biting.
Under Filch's watchful and suspicious gaze, a small group of young wizards stepped out of the castle.
The moment they crossed the threshold, a sharp wind cut through their robes.
"Merlin's beard!" Michael exclaimed, shivering. "Why did I agree to this? Learning about magical creatures in this weather—this is madness!"
He hugged himself tightly, teeth chattering.
"Ryze, do me a favor—cast a Warming Charm on me. Mine isn't nearly as good as yours."
Originally, Michael had planned a much more comfortable evening—chatting with Ravenclaw witches in the common room and exchanging gossip with his friends.
But Anthony and Terry had been eager to go, and not wanting to miss out—or appear uninterested—he had reluctantly joined them.
Ron, standing nearby, silently agreed.
At first, he hadn't thought much of the trip. But now, standing in the freezing night air, he was starting to regret it.
Unfortunately, turning back was no longer an option.
Ryze didn't waste time.
He raised his wand and cast several Warming Charms in quick succession.
Almost instantly, the group felt a wave of warmth spread from their spines outward. The cold retreated, replaced by a steady, comfortable heat that circulated through their bodies.
Ron let out a relieved sigh.
"That's amazing…" he said. "If I could cast a Warming Charm like that, I wouldn't have to worry about winter at all."
Hermione, however, remained silent.
Her focus was elsewhere.
She carefully analyzed the sensation, comparing it to her own spellcasting. The difference was clear.
The Warming Charm wasn't particularly demanding in terms of magical power. The key was control.
Maintaining a stable and comfortable temperature required precision—far more than she had initially assumed.
Previously, she had only aimed to generate heat.
But Ryze's version wasn't just warm—it was balanced.
Consistent.
Refined.
Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly in thought.
She had found another gap.
Without saying a word, she committed the observation to memory. Once they returned, she would practice—refine her control, improve her execution.
Step by step, she would close the difference.
And so, under the cold night sky, warmed by carefully cast magic, the group continued forward—toward the Forbidden Forest, and toward an encounter with one of the most legendary professors in the study of magical creatures.
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