Lunchtime at Hogwarts was usually a bustling, clattering affair, but today the staff table was conspicuously quiet.
Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen—an event some students might've called a blessing—and even Professor Dumbledore had mysteriously vanished.
Over at the Gryffindor table, Seamus Finnigan was brandishing a chicken leg like a wand, dramatically reenacting how Charles had just rescued Neville—and, according to Seamus, himself—from imminent doom.
"Brilliant move, that!"
"Absolute legend!"
Fred and George Weasley clapped Charles on the back and began piling his plate high with more chicken legs and roasted chops than any one wizard could reasonably eat.
Fred grinned. "Didn't know you had it in you. That makes this afternoon's bag experiment much less nerve-wracking."
George added with a wink, "In fact, we might need to… delve deeper into the field of study."
Charles (also known as "Number Six" in their slightly cryptic nickname system) gave the twins a suspicious look. He had the distinct impression they were talking about something else entirely.
After lunch, Charles was just heading out of the castle with the twins when they ran into Professor McGonagall in the entrance hall.
"Mr. Weasley… and Mr. Weasley," she said sharply, lips pursed like she'd just bitten into a lemon. "You'll be accompanying me to my office. I would like an explanation as to why the common room fireplace is now producing ice instead of heat."
Fred and George instantly lost all bravado.
Professor McGonagall turned her gaze to Charles. "And where might you be off to?"
Charles had come prepared. "Professor Sprout gave me permission to plant some moondew by the greenhouses. I asked Fred and George to help me clear the weeds."
He had, in fact, handed Professor Sprout a neatly labeled herbology map just before lunch. Every plant had been correctly identified, and she'd even marked off a patch of earth for him to use.
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Yes, she mentioned something about poaching you for Hufflepuff over lunch."
So, with the twins reluctantly off to face their frosty consequences, Charles headed out alone toward the greenhouses.
The plot Sprout had given him wasn't bad at all tucked near a babbling brook that trickled from the edge of the Forbidden Forest and curved behind the castle before feeding into the Great Lake.
Charles crouched by the stream for a moment, staring thoughtfully into the water.
If I just followed the brook into the forest a little ways... it should be safe, right? I can always turn back.
The thought had barely formed before it took over completely. His curiosity about the Forbidden Forest had been simmering for weeks—and now it bubbled over.
After checking to make sure no one was watching, he raised his wand and followed the stream into the trees.
It was early autumn, and fallen leaves rustled beneath his boots. The low-lying plants had begun to wither, and towering trees stretched high overhead, their roots twisting over the forest floor like ancient veins.
Spotted birds silent as ghosts fluttered between the branches. They might've been Mute Fowl, rumored to steal voices rather than sing their own.
Now and then, a dead tree lay across the path, its trunk blooming with mushrooms of every color—some bright and dangerous-looking, others quiet and pale. Around them were several dead mice, and a few pufffluffs (round, shaggy little scavengers) busily nibbling away.
Charles made a mental note of the fungi's shape and coloring but kept his distance. He wasn't about to touch anything before checking for venomous spores or explosive properties.
Here and there, a dark shape flickered between the trees—Hogwarts' own Thestrals.
Once, a pale figure appeared, nearly translucent. A unicorn, most likely.
Charles had wandered farther than he'd intended, finally arriving at a small lake—no bigger than half a Quidditch pitch—where the stream began.
And then— A scream. High and sharp, unmistakably human.
Charles froze. A girl's voice.
Is someone else out here?
Without thinking, he bolted toward the sound, wand out and what he saw made his blood run cold.
Beside a thicket of wild blueberries, a centaur girl stood with her bow drawn, facing off against five enormous eight-eyed spiders—each nearly as large as she was. The spiders had her surrounded, their spindly legs twitching with anticipation.
Just as a curtain of silvery webbing shot toward her, it froze midair. With a sudden whoosh, an unseen force yanked the centaur off her hooves and flung her clear across the clearing. She landed with a thump on the lakeside grass, winded but unharmed.
The spiders hissed in frustration, their intended meal now out of reach. Then they spotted something else a lone human boy on the lake's edge.
Charles.
The spiders turned with eerie coordination and began to scuttle toward him.
Charles grimaced. So this is where the old man gets his ingredients, he thought dryly.
With barely a flick of his wand, he cast a Summoning Charm—Accio! grabbing the largest, fastest spider mid-charge and slamming it into the second one using a Bludgeoning Hex. The collision sent both tumbling in a tangle of legs, and the third got bowled over in the chaos.
The fourth spider lunged—Charles responded with a combination of Levioso and Descendo, hurling it into the ground so hard it landed with a wet, cracking thud, like someone bursting a very unfortunate water skin.
The fifth spider came at him from the other side. Without turning, Charles pointed his wand at the centaur girl's quiver and whispered another Accio a dozen sharp arrows zipped through the air to his side. Then he sent them flying with a volley of Depulso spells.
The arrows struck true. The spider staggered, its carapace pierced like a pincushion. One arrow lodged directly atop its head, giving it the unfortunate look of a grotesque crown. It dropped instantly.
Back among the original trio, the second spider had been crushed by its own ally. The third, dazed but alive, had just gotten to its feet—only to be Summoned and hurled like a ragdoll into a distant tree trunk.
The biggest one, still woozy from being slammed about, finally steadied itself and charged again—only for Charles to summon a nearby boulder and send it flying with bone-crunching force.
The creature was flattened with a sickening crunch.
At that very moment, a group of centaurs burst through the trees, drawn by the earlier scream. They arrived just in time to see a young human boy casually use magic to hurl a boulder and crush the final spider like an overripe pumpkin.
They fanned out, checking the area. One spider lay shattered under a stone. Another had its head and torso crushed. A third was impaled on a branch, swinging slightly in the breeze. The fourth looked like a burst sack, its innards spilling out in ribbons. The fifth was crowned with arrows.
Charles lowered his wand and glanced at the centaurs.
From the navel up, they looked human, with sun-kissed skin and long limbs; from the waist down, they were horse—sleek and powerful. Their coats matched the color of their hair, and each bore a massive longbow strapped across their back, along with a quiver full of arrows.
None of them wore clothes, not even the young centaur girl.
Charles, worldly enough not to gawk or make a scene, simply nodded as if this were the most normal thing in the world. His calm demeanor did not go unnoticed.
The centaur girl approached, still a bit shaken. "Thank you," she said in a trembling voice. "If not for you, I would have been spider food."
Charles gave her a friendly smile. "No need to thank me. It was fate that brought me here."
She was about his age, he realized, her complexion lighter than the older centaurs. And though young, her features hinted at the beauty she would grow into one day.
"My name is Twilight. What's yours?"
"Charles Smith," he replied.
Just then, the other centaurs joined them. The lead stallion—a stern looking centaur with storm grey hair—stepped forward.
"Uncle Ronan," said Twilight, "I was nearly killed by Acromantulas. But Charles Smith saved me!"
Ronan approached Charles and dipped his head in respect. "We are in your debt, brave foal."
Charles bowed slightly. "The stars led me here."
Ronan's brows lifted in approval. "You speak like one who listens."
He looked Charles over thoughtfully. "Tell me, brave one have you wandered these woods before?"
Charles shook his head. "I'm a first year at Hogwarts. The stars brought me here for the first time today."
Ronan nodded slowly, then smiled. "Then come. Be our guest at the camp. We owe you more than words."
Charles, ever curious, gladly accepted. The idea of visiting a centaur village was too tempting to resist.
However, what happened next left him rather puzzled.
The centaurs gathered the remains of the spiders and quite methodically severed all eight legs from each body.
Then, one by one, they tossed the legs into the lake.
Charles stared. Right. Sure. That's a thing, apparently.
(End of Chapter)
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