The Centaurs led them to their tribe's settlement—a wide clearing completely surrounded by towering, ancient trees.
A massive bonfire was already blazing in the center. It burned a fragrant wood mixed with rich spices; the scent wasn't overpowering, but rather incredibly refreshing, clearing the mind almost instantly.
The Centaur elder, an ancient being whose beard practically brushed his chest, sat near the flames. His eyes appeared entirely blind, yet they gave the distinct impression that they could pierce through men's hearts and read the trajectories of the stars.
He gestured for Viktor to sit on a smooth boulder. Looking up at the brightening dawn sky, the elder began a long, cryptic recitation.
"The trajectories of the stars remain unbroken, but shadows have crept up the castle walls... An ancient bloodline whispers, and freezing hatred breeds within the stone crevices... Restless palpitations echo from the depths of the earth—forgotten oaths and chained fury... Child of Nature, what you hear is not the wind, but the ragged breathing of a cage... The danger is not far off; it slumbers and wakes right beneath your feet, buried under your laughter and joy..."
Viktor listened patiently, his mind working rapidly to strip the useful information from the symbolic, prophetic imagery.
When the elder finally stopped speaking and exhaustedly lowered his head, Viktor summarized.
"You're saying that an ancient, hate-filled entity, bound deep within the castle, has awakened and brought danger. And this danger is incredibly close."
The elder gave a slow, solemn nod and spoke no more. Bane stepped forward.
"The forest can sense the freezing evil, but its nest does not belong here. That is all we can tell you, Child of Nature. Beware the convergence of flowing water and shadows."
Leaving the Centaur tribe, Viktor's heart felt significantly heavier. The clues pointed deep into the castle, but they were still frustratingly vague.
---
### The Voices of the Forest
Next, they visited the Unicorn herd.
These pure, sacred creatures were wandering near a crystal-clear forest stream. They were led by an ancient unicorn with a brilliant, silver-white coat and a horn that gleamed like pearl.
It approached gracefully, nudging Viktor's hand with its soft muzzle. Like a pulse of telepathy, a wave of pure but deeply anxious emotion transmitted directly into Viktor's mind.
Evil... an ancient evil... a freezing gaze... it makes the forest tremble.
Aside from that raw emotion, the unicorns couldn't provide any concrete details.
The dark, gloomy valley where the Thestral herd lived was filled with restless agitation.
These skeletal, winged beasts—visible only to those who had witnessed death—were anxiously flapping their leathery wings and letting out silent shrieks.
They were hyper-sensitive to the "scent of death," but what they were picking up on now was different. It was an ancient, stagnant aura—not true death, but a source of sheer terror. And its origin pointed directly back to the castle.
The Hippogriff, Buckbeak, was relatively polite to Viktor. However, he and his flock could only express a primal, instinctual disgust and intense wariness toward a massive apex predator; they had no specific descriptions to offer.
Finally, Viktor ventured even deeper into the Forbidden Forest to visit a very unique wolf pack.
This pack was born from the union of werewolves in their transformed state and regular wolves, resulting in creatures that possessed intelligence rivaling humans.
Their leader was an exceptionally massive grey wolf. Its eyes flashed with a dangerous mix of wild instincts and sharp intellect. It communicated in deep, broken, gravelly human speech.
"Scent... bad scent... seeping from the stone... smelled it long ago... Danger... massive danger... Not wolf. Not any natural creation..."
Once again, aside from confirming the "unnatural" and "ancient" nature of the threat, there wasn't much new intelligence to work with.
Just as Viktor was preparing to leave in disappointment, the oldest unicorn from earlier slowly walked up to him, initiating telepathy one last time.
Spiders... the eight-legged weavers... they arrived late, but perhaps they remember more... The last time... the freezing cold awoke... was when they first came to the forest.
Viktor's mind raced. The Acromantulas!
He immediately changed direction, heading straight for the Acromantula colony.
Tom, seemingly recalling their last highly successful "looting" trip and the delicious "crab legs" they'd acquired, perked his ears up and followed Viktor with a bouncy, eager stride.
---
### The Dying King
Today, the Acromantula nest felt drastically emptier compared to Viktor's last "visit."
The massive, overlapping webs were still draped everywhere, but the "stockpile" of prey hanging from them had noticeably dwindled, and the number of active spiders crawling about was shockingly low.
As they approached the perimeter, a few young patrol spiders initially clicked their pincers threateningly and charged forward, waving their hairy, spiked legs.
However, the second they got a clear look at Viktor—and more importantly, the cat on his shoulder bearing its fangs with unsheathed, razor-sharp claws—the lead spider slammed on the brakes.
All eight of its eyes widened in pure terror. It let out a high-pitched, panicked shriek, spun around, and fled, blindly crashing right through a thick web in its desperation to escape.
The other spiders instantly scattered like startled birds, scurrying frantically into the shadows and the deepest crevices of the cave.
Viktor walked completely unimpeded into the absolute center of the nest. There, he came face-to-face with the Acromantula leader, Aragog, who was clearly at the very end of his lifespan.
The spider's once-massive body was now gaunt and skeletal, covered in a dull, greying exoskeleton. Most of his eyes had turned milky and blind; only a faint glimmer could be seen when he occasionally rolled them. He lay slumped in the center of a massive web, practically immobilized.
"You again... the wizard... who took so many of my children..." Aragog's voice was hoarse, incredibly low, and filled with exhaustion and a lingering, instinctual fear. "And... that terrifying cat..."
Tom let out a smug "Meow" and casually began licking his paw.
"Aragog, I need information. About the attacks that happened inside Hogwarts Castle fifty years ago," Viktor said, cutting straight to the chase. "The unicorns told me you arrived in the forest right around that time."
Aragog's massive body gave a violent shudder—a tremor born from a terror buried deep in his oldest memories.
"Fifty years ago... it was... a time of terror... Inside the castle... something... was let loose..." His voice grew even weaker, as if the memory itself was a crushing physical weight.
"Freezing cold... a gaze of death... echoing through the walls... A young human female... died... Right in a bathroom... the crying... it never stops..."
Viktor's heart tightened. "That thing? What did it look like? Did you see it?"
"No... no spider saw it..." Aragog wheezed. "But we felt it... an unimaginable terror... More terrifying than the most starved dragon... Colder than the deepest darkness... Hagrid... my friend... he was accused... because he kept me... They said... we killed the girl..."
"So, fifty years ago, the Chamber of Secrets was opened. A girl died, and Hagrid was framed for it," Viktor summarized slowly, the disparate clues finally linking together into a horrifying picture. "And that was why you followed Hagrid deep into the Forbidden Forest?"
"...Yes..." Aragog's voice was barely a whisper. Having spoken that final word, he seemed completely drained of what little energy he had left. His massive head dropped, and he spoke no more.
Viktor didn't press him any further. He gave the dying spider king a solemn nod of respect.
"Thank you, Aragog. Rest now."
Leaving the dark, oppressive spider nest and stepping back into the relatively fresh air of the forest, Viktor's mind was racing at a million miles an hour.
Whatever this "thing" was, for it to instill such intense, overwhelming terror in the absolute apex, magically sensitive predators of the Forbidden Forest... it was far beyond ordinary dark magic.
The parameters had been massively narrowed down.
Unnatural. Ancient. Massively powerful. Radiating a freezing hatred. Active fifty years ago. Imprisoned deep within the castle...