Seeing that all three of his companions agreed with his suggestion, Harry's eyes lit up even more brightly—he had finally found his purpose in this little team.
Not as a walking snake translator, not as some quest-giving NPC, but as a real, genuinely useful teammate!
"I'll go back to the dorm and grab my Nimbus 2000—"
Harry had barely taken a step when Daphne stopped him.
"No need, I've got a better broom." As she spoke, she pulled out a palm-sized leather pouch and drew a broomstick from it.
Harry: "??"
If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would've believed that a full-sized broomstick could fit in such a tiny pouch. And then there was the broom itself—it was beautiful!
From the moment Harry laid eyes on the Firebolt, he couldn't look away.
He had once thought the Nimbus 2000 was the peak of broomstick design, but compared to the Firebolt, the Nimbus looked like a Renault parked beside a Porsche.
"This is…?"
"The champion's prize from the Dueling Tournament," Daphne explained as she handed the broom to Harry, "It's a beta version broomstick gifted to Professor Flitwick by one of his friends. Supposedly, its performance surpasses every broom currently on the market."
As she spoke, she also removed the performance limit that had been placed on the broom.
Harry mounted the broom and gave a gentle push off the ground, soaring into the sky.
Woosh!~!
The Firebolt seemed to unleash its fury all at once, showcasing its top performance so fiercely that Harry nearly got thrown off in the first few seconds. But as the broom reached peak speed, he quickly adjusted, and from that moment, he fell completely in love with it.
For a brief instant, Harry even had the urge to trade away half the gold in his vault just to own this broom.
But his rational side quickly crushed the impulse—he still had the rest of his life to live in the wizarding world, after all, and needed to be frugal.
If he squandered the inheritance his parents left him, what was he going to do—move back to Devon and live with the Dursleys as a 30-year-old?
After forcing himself to calm down, Harry guided the broom back down to the ground.
"It's an amazing broom," he said, hovering steadily before the three of them. He first praised Daphne's Firebolt sincerely, then asked if they were ready to proceed.
Even though Harry did his best to contain his excitement, Daphne could still see the love in his eyes for the broom.
For a fleeting moment, she even considered giving the Firebolt to Harry—as powerful as it was, it felt wasted in her hands. Potter was someone who could truly bring out its full potential.
"You go ahead and find the spider nest first. We still have some preparations to make here," Astoria informed Harry of the next step in their plan.
Daphne's Nightmare, which had been kept by Hagrid in the school's paddock, would finally be put to use tonight. With the Nightmare assisting them, they could move much faster through the forest and significantly cut down the time it would take to reach the spider nest.
Harry nodded, indicating he understood their plan.
With a gentle nudge of the broomstick, he shot into the night sky, gliding above the Forbidden Forest like a graceful bird.
"Big sister, he's more suited to be the owner of that broom than you," Astoria couldn't help but remark as she watched Harry expertly maneuver the Firebolt through the air.
"You talk too much. Humph!" Daphne snapped, shooting her sister a glare before striding off toward the school paddock.
…
"Salazar, your disciple can't ride a broom either?"
"As if yours could!"
In a dark corner, a person and a ghost whispered to each other, bickering as usual.
Truthfully, among the four founders, only Godric Gryffindor was good at broom-riding. The rest weren't very skilled—especially Rowena Ravenclaw, who couldn't even properly steer a carriage. She was, without a doubt, a vehicle disaster.
"By the way, someone has actually improved that clumsy autopilot charm of yours."
"Hold on a second—what do you mean by clumsy charm?!"
…
The paddock was an open area cleared near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, used for raising livestock and housing the magical creatures needed for Care of Magical Creatures class. That was where Daphne's Nightmare was kept.
As she approached the fence of the paddock, Daphne softly called out—and from deep within the enclosure, a black skeletal horse with blue flames flaring from its hooves came galloping toward her. It recognized Daphne immediately and responded to her summons.
"I need your help," Daphne said, gently patting the bony skull of the Nightmare a few times.
The moment she saw the Nightmare, Hermione's mouth fell slightly open, her mind momentarily blank. She had heard the rumors before—about Daphne being chosen by a relic left behind by an ancient wizard. But since Daphne had never confirmed the stories, Hermione had always assumed they were just baseless gossip.
But now, Daphne had actually summoned a magical creature that looked nothing short of incredible!
"This is…?" Hermione asked, unable to hold back, pointing at the Nightmare.
"It's a Nightmare. I got it from a crystal ball last year," Daphne gave a brief explanation of the Nightmare's origin, then led it out of the paddock.
By the time they returned to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Harry had already made it back. He brought good news: he had found the spider nest.
Finding the nest wasn't too difficult—when viewed from the sky, the lair of the Acromantulas stood out like a landmark. It was a vast, ashen-gray area, clinging to the forest floor like a festering wound. It was almost impossible not to notice.
Upon learning that Harry had found the nest, Daphne immediately decided to head out toward it.
…
After sunset, most creatures in the Forbidden Forest retreated into their nests to rest. Only a few nocturnal animals, like owls, came out to hunt.
Acromantulas were no exception—they had returned to their nest with the prey they had captured during the day.
One of the spiders looked particularly strange: a massive tumor bulged from its back, pulsing like a beating heart. The growth was constantly drawing nutrients from the spider's body into its own shell.
No one knew how long this parasitic process had been going on, but the spider being used as a host was clearly at its limit.
Its abdomen had shriveled, and its movements had become sluggish and unstable, staggering as if it were drunk.
Its abnormal state quickly drew the attention of many of its kind. The others gathered around it, their mandibles clacking and colliding with sharp "click-click" sounds.
They were very attentive to the health of their kin—not out of concern, but because they were waiting to divide the corpse once it died.
After one final extraction, the host spider was completely drained of its last bit of nourishment. It collapsed to the ground, motionless.
The surrounding spiders crawled closer, first probing with their legs.
Once they confirmed that the parasitized spider was dead, they wasted no time. They swarmed over it, tearing into the corpse and feasting on the remains of their fallen kin.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
_______
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