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Harry, surrounded by the Thestrals, had been walking through the Forbidden Forest for a long time. Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest wasn't always this vast. A few centuries ago, it was much smaller because it wasn't as peaceful as it is now.
Every magical wonder in the forest, rich with resources, was like a treasure trove for poachers. Magical creatures may have been difficult to hunt, but their value made the risk worthwhile. There are always people willing to take deadly risks, and as long as the profit outweighed the danger, poachers were relentless.
The forest, constantly in chaos, couldn't expand. But about a century ago, for reasons unrecorded in any history books, the number of poachers in the Forbidden Forest suddenly dwindled. The previously rampant poachers disappeared within a short span of time, leaving no trace. No one could say for sure what happened.
Neither Important Events in Modern Wizarding History nor Hogwarts: A History mentions the events that occurred in the forest during that time.
It seems like something was deliberately forgotten, or perhaps that part of the past was too heavy for history books to bear.
Hagrid's ability to maintain order in the Forbidden Forest was largely thanks to the fact that there were fewer poachers than in earlier times.
Although Hagrid had 90% of a giant's resilience, his defense wasn't as exceptional as his destructive power. As long as enemies didn't get too close, defeating Hagrid wasn't an impossible task. Even true giants couldn't escape the bloodthirsty ambushes of determined poachers.
The place where the Thestrals led Harry was unfamiliar. Hagrid had never brought him here. The Forbidden Forest was vast, especially after a century of peace. Without the disturbances of poaching, the forest had expanded at least threefold. The more prosperous the forest grew, the more magical creatures it housed, and the less fighting there was. The forest accumulated more magic, allowing it to grow.
However, this growth had its limits. The current size of the Forbidden Forest had reached its expansion cap. Although it could continue to grow, its pace had slowed to the point where decades or centuries were the smallest units of time by which it could be measured.
Harry noticed some ruins in the distance. The ruins weren't just crumbled houses—there were also enormous iron cages. The thick skull of some creature had not yet fully decayed. The large hole in the forehead and the absence of eye sockets indicated that this was the skull of a Cyclops—a type of giant known for their immense size and strength.
The creature, likely over thirty meters tall, had died miserably inside the decaying cage. Deep cuts on its bones suggested that its death had not been peaceful.
The Thestrals passed by the half-buried skull, leading Harry onward.
They passed the ruins of what seemed to be a large human settlement. If Harry had to guess, it was likely the remnants of a village. There used to be more than just Hogsmeade near Hogwarts. At one time, Hogsmeade had upper and lower sections, but as the forest expanded, Lower Hogsmeade was gradually swallowed by the woods. Its inhabitants moved to the more prosperous Upper Hogsmeade, and the two villages merged several decades ago.
Harry wasn't certain whether these ruins were part of Lower Hogsmeade or one of the many other villages that had been engulfed by the forest. He had been walking for a long time.
But the Thestrals didn't stop. After passing through the hidden village ruins, they led Harry deeper into the forest.
After about fifteen minutes, the Thestrals came to a halt.
This seemed to be their territory. The towering skeletons of some giant beast formed a boneyard. The ribcage, four or five meters long, outlined the creature's enormous body. This place, surrounded by skeletal remains, was the Thestrals' favorite home. Though they weren't symbols of misfortune or doom, Thestrals were magical creatures closely linked with death.
Whether it was their skin-and-bone appearance or the fact that only those who had seen death could see them, Thestrals, with their gentle intelligence, were always connected to the concept of death from birth.
Dismounting from the Thestral, Harry curiously surveyed his surroundings. He still didn't understand why the Thestrals had brought him here. The one that had originally tugged on his robes walked ahead of Harry and, when it noticed his hesitation, turned its head as if urging him to follow.
They passed another enormous skeleton, and when Harry saw the huge purple horn, a name suddenly came to mind—Purple-Horned Beast.
This was an exceptionally rare magical creature, often described as a land tank. The Purple-Horned Beast could grow up to six or seven meters tall and weigh over twenty tons. Its terrifying strength and formidable magic resistance meant it had few enemies. Its enormous purple horn was a valuable magical material, imbued with properties such as armor-piercing, venom, corrosion, and severe injury. It was widely used in warfare-related potions. Although potion makers had found substitutes for the horn, its value remained astronomical.
Without hesitation, Harry packed the decayed but still vibrantly purple horn into his dragon-hide bag. In Snape's potion storeroom, there was only a small piece of Purple-Horned Beast horn, barely as thick as a person's arm. The horn Harry had just collected was at least thirty or forty times bigger than Snape's.
The Thestrals patiently waited for Harry. They didn't mind him taking a small piece of their home's decorations—Thestrals only ate meat, not bones.
After passing through the boneyard, Harry came upon ruins completely covered in moss and vines.
Suddenly, a strange feeling welled up in Harry's heart. Within the dark green ruins ahead, Harry felt as though something was calling to him.
There was a familiar feeling, and Harry felt his magic stirring inside him.
"Is this the place?"
Harry patted the Thestral's smooth head, and the dragon-headed Pegasus nodded slightly.
The Thestral, kneeling down, seemed to have brought Harry as far as it could. Harry proceeded alone, cautiously drawing his wand. While his instincts told him there was no immediate danger, he still felt it necessary to stay on guard.
The ruins before him seemed unusual. While magical progress isn't driven by archaeology, ancient magical relics have shown wizards a glimpse of the magical world's once terrifying and grandiose past. Ancient magic, though crude, was raw power—requiring brute strength and massive effort to wield. Though modern wizards couldn't hope to use such magic anymore, its pure, violent force remained awe-inspiring.
Harry suspected the ruins before him might be from an ancient magical site. Though unlikely, given that thousands of years had passed, a structure exposed to the elements for that long couldn't possibly still be standing. The ruins before him seemed only two or three centuries old, not thousands.
"Could it be traces left by the poachers?"
In the height of poaching, many poacher outposts had dotted the Forbidden Forest, some even built like small fortresses. These outposts catered to the dark and gray markets of the magical world. If this were one such site, the timeline would barely make sense.
"Diffindo!"
Harry cast the Severing Charm, shredding the vines and clearing the rubble. The sound of collapsing stones echoed as he cleared the area with the most convenient—if not the gentlest—method. After tearing through the outer layer of the ruin, Harry revealed a dark space covered in mushrooms and moss.
This darkness would have been oppressive to most, but Harry could see a faint silvery-gray mist rising like steam. As he approached, the nearly invisible mist thickened. On the moss-covered ground, a small vortex began to form—a swirling mass of silver-gray mist.
A surge of magical energy, oddly comforting to Harry, emanated from the vortex. It was purer and denser than his own silvery magic. This could only be described as true ancient magic.
Perhaps, Harry thought, this was the same ancient magic that had once flowed through his mother's veins—a magic far stronger than that of ordinary wizards, an incomprehensible power.
If a regular wizard's blue magic was like water, this black-silver ancient magic was mercury.
"Lumos."
A soft white light emerged from Harry's wand, illuminating the moss-covered ruins. Rotten wooden chairs had all but disintegrated, and alongside them lay the decayed remains of hundreds of bodies.
The magic-infused cloth covering the blackened bones had kept them from completely turning to dust. Hundreds of empty eye sockets stared blankly, seemingly trapped in a state of unrest after death. The bodies had been carelessly discarded here after being killed. The executioners responsible for this massacre...
The black-silver vortex rippled, and Harry now stood less than two meters from it. As he moved closer, the vortex suddenly expanded, and a grayish-white world unfolded before his eyes.
It was a bustling market, filled with the sound of shouting and curses. Hundreds of wizards bartered and traded goods. Countless magical creatures were imprisoned in cages, waiting to be sold. Many more had already been butchered, their most valuable parts harvested, their remains traded across various stalls.
Harry couldn't tell exactly when this scene had taken place, but it was undoubtedly during a period when poachers ruled unchecked.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A cold, emotionless voice broke the silence, and the deadly green light exploded in front of Harry. The piercing light of death shattered the monochrome scene, injecting a vivid stroke of color into this historical memory.
It was exactly like the dream Harry had at Hogwarts—the web-like, all-encompassing death far surpassing even Voldemort's capacity for destruction.
(End of Chapter)