The following morning dawned cold and gray, mist curling low over the grounds of Hogwarts like a living thing. Percy stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the trident relic strapped securely across his back. Hermione and Ron flanked him, each holding their wands tightly. Hagrid waited near the path with Fang, his boarhound, who was whining nervously.
"You're sure about this, Percy?" Hermione asked, worry etched across her face. "We don't know what kind of magic lies out there—especially now."
"I have to be sure," Percy replied. "Dumbledore said the forest holds the oldest secrets of the castle—of the bridge itself. If I'm meant to protect it, I need to understand it. And that means going where the magic began."
Hagrid gave a grunt. "I'll take yeh in a bit o' the way, but even I don't go deep in the heart o' the Forest these days. Creatures've been restless. Somethin' is stirrin'."
Percy nodded. He felt it too—a pulse beneath his feet, like the very earth was trying to whisper warnings. But there was no turning back. Whatever waited for him in the heart of the forest was tied to the darkness they had all sensed.
As they made their way through the thickening trees, the atmosphere shifted. Sunlight barely filtered through the twisted canopy above. Shadows crept across the forest floor, stretching like fingers. Strange rustlings echoed around them—too fast, too light for animals.
"Did you hear that?" Ron muttered.
Percy held up a hand to stop. The mist swirled around them, obscuring even the trees. Hermione drew closer to Percy, her wand raised.
Suddenly, a shape darted across the path—then another. Small. Too quick to identify.
"Pixies?" Hermione guessed.
"No," Percy said slowly. "They're watching us."
From the mist emerged a cloaked figure, its form indistinct. It didn't walk—it glided. The air grew cold. Percy felt something tug at the trident on his back.
"Guardian of the Bridge," the figure said, voice echoing unnaturally. "You step where time bleeds and memory lives."
Percy instinctively reached for the trident, but the figure didn't move.
"You are not our enemy," it said, "but the forest remembers. The bridge was built long before your kind walked the earth. You are a child of gods, yes, but even your lineage cannot command what lies beneath the roots."
Hermione stepped forward cautiously. "What do you mean? What lies beneath the forest?"
The figure turned slowly toward her. "A seal. A gate. A prison." It looked at Percy. "And it is weakening."
The figure faded into mist, and with it, the unnatural cold began to lift. The rustling stopped.
They stood in silence for a long time. Finally, Percy spoke. "A prison. That's what the darkness was guarding. Not just a bridge between worlds—but a lock."
Ron looked pale. "So, if it breaks—what happens?"
"I don't know," Percy said. "But I think we were meant to find it. And stop whatever is trying to get out."
As they turned back, a strange light shimmered through the trees—a glowing symbol etched into the trunk of a massive oak. The same symbol that had appeared on the floor beneath Hogwarts when Percy had touched the relic.
Hermione's voice trembled slightly. "Percy… I think this is part of the seal."
As Percy reached out toward it, the symbol pulsed, and a deep tremor rumbled through the forest floor.
And from somewhere far below the roots, something stirred.
The tremor passed, but the silence that followed was even more unsettling.
The glowing rune on the tree continued to pulse, its light rhythmic, like a heartbeat. Percy's hand hovered over it, fingers tingling from the raw magic in the air.
Hermione whispered, "Percy, wait—if this is the seal, touching it again might—"
Too late. His fingers brushed the symbol.
There was a flash—white-gold light erupting from the tree—and the forest vanished.
He wasn't standing anymore. He was… floating?
Around him stretched a vast, starless void. But he wasn't alone.
A voice echoed in the darkness—not the whispering tones of the forest spirit, but something ancient and thunderous. It didn't speak in words, but in feelings, in truths that slammed into Percy's mind with overwhelming clarity.
You bear the relic of tides and time. The seal weakens. The bridge trembles. The chained one turns its gaze upon your world.
Percy saw flashes of images:
A dark figure beneath the earth, bound in spectral chains.
A younger Dumbledore standing at the forest's edge, casting enchantments.
The trident—his trident—breaking through storm clouds to strike down something vast and winged.
The Founders of Hogwarts, standing together, faces grim, surrounding a great glowing doorway made of roots, light, and runes.
Then came the voice again:
Only the guardian may mend the chain. But the guardian must first remember who they are.
The void cracked like glass—and Percy fell.
He landed on the forest floor with a gasp, knees hitting soft moss. Hermione and Ron rushed to him.
"Percy! You disappeared—just vanished!" Hermione cried.
"It was just a few seconds," Ron said, eyes wide. "But you were glowing."
Percy's heart was pounding. "I saw it. The seal. The… prison. It's holding something older than Hogwarts—maybe older than the magic itself."
He touched the trunk of the tree again, but the symbol was gone. The bark was smooth and cold.
Hermione looked around uneasily. "If what you're saying is true, then this forest isn't just ancient—it's sacred. And dangerous."
Ron nodded. "And whatever's beneath it… it knows you're here now."
Percy stared into the woods, feeling the pulse of magic running just below the surface of the world. "Then we'll need to go deeper. Not today—but soon. If something's waking up, we need to be ready before it breaks free."
That night, back in Gryffindor Tower, Percy couldn't sleep. The trident relic rested on the desk beside his bed, humming faintly. The visions haunted him—especially the one of Dumbledore casting spells near the forest.
He knew about the seal, Percy thought. Why didn't he ever tell anyone?
Or maybe he had. Maybe that's why Dumbledore had kept such close watch over the Forbidden Forest all these years. And maybe why he had taken a particular interest in Percy from the moment he arrived.
Just as Percy drifted into sleep, a sudden noise pulled him awake again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
An owl—unfamiliar, black-feathered—perched on the window ledge with a scroll tied to its leg. Percy opened the window, took the scroll, and unrolled it.
There was no signature. Just a single line, written in silver ink:
"The seal was meant to hold back more than just darkness. Don't trust the one who wears the wolf."
Percy read it again, heart thudding.
The one who wears the wolf?
Before he could puzzle it out, the owl gave a low hoot and disappeared into the night.
Percy turned toward the window, staring into the darkness beyond the castle.
Somewhere, someone was watching him, and Percy didn't like it.
The days that followed felt... different.
Even as classes resumed their normal rhythm—Charms in the morning, Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lupin in the afternoon—Percy couldn't shake the feeling that the school had shifted beneath the surface. There was an energy in the air. Tense. Charged.
He kept the note hidden in the bottom of his trunk, checking it often as if the words might rearrange themselves and offer more meaning.
"Don't trust the one who wears the wolf."
Professor Lupin wore a threadbare coat with a fur-lined collar. Students had taken to calling him "the cool one," given his calm voice and casual attitude. He had quickly become one of Percy's favorite teachers.
But now… Percy wasn't so sure.
It was after a Friday class when Percy approached Lupin.
"Professor," Percy said, lingering while the others packed up. "I wanted to ask about something… in the Forbidden Forest."
Lupin raised a brow, clearly curious. "You've been poking around the forest?"
Percy gave a noncommittal shrug. "I found a tree. Old, covered in runes. It… showed me something."
The expression on Lupin's face changed subtly. His smile faltered for half a breath.
"I see. Well… I wouldn't recommend wandering in there unsupervised. That part of the forest holds older magics than even I can explain."
Percy narrowed his eyes. "But you know about it."
Lupin paused. Then gave a small nod. "Enough to be wary."
Their eyes met for a moment. There was something beneath Lupin's calm demeanor—knowledge he wasn't sharing.
And suddenly, Percy remembered the owl's warning.
That night, Percy sat with Harry and Ron by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, the Marauder's Map open across their laps.
"This map's incredible," Percy said, watching the little footsteps roam the parchment.
"Best thing Fred and George ever gave me," Harry grinned.
But then Percy saw something strange—near the dungeons.
"Remus Lupin" was moving… oddly. Not pacing or walking. Almost circling.
"What's he doing?" Percy muttered.
Hermione looked over. "The dungeons? That's near the old sealed tunnels. Some were used during the First Wizarding War—Dumbledore had them locked up ages ago."
Harry tilted his head. "Think he's hiding something?"
"I think," Percy said, voice low, "we should find out."
Later that night, under the invisibility cloak with the Marauder's Map guiding their way, Percy and Harry crept through the stone corridors beneath the castle. Ron and Hermione stayed behind as lookouts.
The dungeons were colder than Percy remembered, their walls damp and echoing with distant drips.
Then… they saw it.
Professor Lupin was standing in front of a stone archway, half-buried in rubble. He muttered something under his breath—and a shimmering doorway appeared.
Percy's breath caught.
That doorway. It looked just like the one he saw in the vision—the glowing door of roots and runes, surrounded by the Founders.
Lupin stepped through it.
Without hesitation, Percy and Harry followed.
Inside, the air shimmered with magic so thick it felt like walking through mist.
They were in a chamber deep beneath Hogwarts—walls lined with carvings of mythical beasts, and in the center, a massive circular seal embedded into the floor. Runes flickered along its surface like fireflies.
Professor Lupin knelt beside it, placing one hand on the seal. His expression wasn't malicious—it was pained.
Then he spoke, quietly. To himself. Or to something else.
"I've kept the promise, Fenrir. I've kept him away from the forest. But now the tides are shifting. He's already touched the tree."
Percy felt ice slide down his spine. Fenrir? As in Fenrir Greyback—the infamous werewolf?
Lupin turned—and locked eyes with Percy and Harry, cloak or not.
"I know you're there," he said, voice calm. "Come out."
They stepped forward slowly, the invisibility cloak falling away.
"You're working with Greyback?" Harry asked, voice full of disbelief.
Lupin's expression darkened. "It's not what you think."
"You're the one who wears the wolf," Percy said quietly. "A relic told me not to trust you."
That stopped Lupin cold. His eyes flicked to Percy. "You've seen it?"
Percy nodded. "The seal. The chained one beneath the forest."
Lupin stood slowly. "Then it's too late. The protections are weakening. That thing beneath the school… it's beginning to stir. And Percy…" He stepped forward, voice dropping. "It's calling you."
A grinding sound echoed through the chamber. Runes across the floor flared bright red.
And the seal began to crack.
To Be Continued... Next week!
I'm so... tired.
I'm so... tired.
I'm so... tired.
Important things should be said thrice
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