"I got the message to pick you up at 5:30, but I didn't expect you to take the wrong path," the old man said slowly.
The wrong path?
The chill in his fingers began to fade as warmth returned. Hoffa's complexion gradually returned to normal.
Without a doubt, the old man standing before him with a bow slung over his shoulder was the gamekeeper of Hogwarts.
"Why did you set up something like that at the entrance?!" Hoffa pointed at the tree trunk, suppressing his irritation as he questioned him.
He thought to himself that he was lucky to know the art of meditation. If it had been an ordinary first-year student, they might have been scared stiff—or worse. That kind of magic was no joke.
"That wasn't me. It was set up by the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest," the old man said plainly, offering no further explanation.
"What? Why would centaurs do something like that?"
"The Forbidden Forest hasn't been peaceful lately. They wanted to help out," the old man said with a slight shrug. "Come with me."
With that, he adjusted the bow on his back and strode into the Forbidden Forest.
Watching the old man disappear into the woods, Hoffa followed closely and asked, "What were those three images on the tree?"
"Past, present, future," the old man replied curtly. "Stick with me, and you'll be fine. Don't wander off."
"What?" The old man's pace was brisk, and Hoffa had to quicken his steps to keep up. "What do you mean by past, present, and future? Can't you explain it more clearly?"
"I don't know. I'm not interested in centaur magic. If you want answers, I suggest you ask a centaur," the old man said, showing no inclination to elaborate further.
Realizing the man wasn't in the mood for conversation, Hoffa had no choice but to stay silent and focus on keeping up.
As they journeyed deeper, nothing like the earlier strange events occurred. The surroundings became more realistic—no forks in the path, no bizarre or eerie occurrences, just an ordinary forest.
After about three minutes, the forest opened up. Hoffa saw a faint light ahead and heard the crackling sound of a fire.
The old man led Hoffa to a campfire in a forest clearing. He took off his bow and pointed to the other side of the fire.
"Sit down. It's going to be a busy night. We'll set off after we eat."
Opposite the fire was a round stone. The area was sheltered by trees, keeping the ground dry and free from rain. A tin pot bubbled over the fire, emitting a faint aroma of meat.
Hoffa obediently sat down without saying a word, taking the opportunity to study the old man in the firelight.
Joey Dargo.
He was the least wizard-like person Hoffa had ever met. Clad in animal skins, with only one eye, he had steel daggers at his waist, a wooden bow and iron arrows on his back, and two dead rabbits hanging from a wooden rack nearby.
If not for the fact that they were at Hogwarts, Hoffa would have thought he was an ordinary rural hunter.
Joey Dargo didn't speak either. In fact, since Hoffa's arrival, he had been exceptionally quiet. He kept fiddling with stones in the fire using tongs, barely sparing Hoffa a glance.
The silence stretched for about five minutes. Finally, Hoffa pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket.
"Sir, this is my assessment sheet," he said politely, holding it out across the fire.
"Hmm," the old man grunted in acknowledgment.
The old man took the score sheet, stuffed it into his pocket without even glancing at it, and resumed poking at the stones and embers in the fire.
Hoffa hesitantly asked, "Ahem, Mr. Dargo, what's my task tonight?"
"Just call me Joey," the man replied indifferently, without lifting his head.
His accent didn't sound British; it was more like something from America.
"Uh..." Hoffa wasn't sure how to respond and decided to remain silent.
About twenty minutes passed, and the aroma of meat in the air grew richer.
Before coming here, Hoffa had only eaten a bit of potato pie and a couple of chicken legs. His stomach was now empty, and the scent made his mouth water involuntarily.
Joey pulled a spoon from behind him and stirred the contents of the tin pot.
The pot turned out to contain rabbit stew with beans. Its red, rich appearance was incredibly tempting.
The old man tasted it briefly, then took a wooden plate from behind him, scooped some stew onto it, and handed it to Hoffa.
Hoffa quickly thanked him and accepted the plate.
One spoonful of beans brought a wave of warmth from his mouth to his stomach—it was delicious. The beans were tender, the rabbit meat flavorful. It was entirely different from the meals prepared by the house-elves at Hogwarts: rough but uniquely tasty.
As Hoffa savored the stew, he thought, If only there were a bowl of white rice right now, it would be perfect.
Joey didn't have rice, but he did produce a piece of whole-grain bread, broke off a portion, and handed some to Hoffa. Then he served himself a bowl of the stew.
Using the bread to soak up the rabbit sauce, Hoffa ate heartily. The warmth spreading through his belly gradually dispelled the unease and fear caused by the centaur's magic.
"You're the student named Hoffa Bach, right?" Joey asked while eating.
Hoffa nodded, his mouth full of beans, and mumbled, "Yes."
"You've come at a bad time. Tonight's task is a bit dangerous; we'll have to go deeper into the Forbidden Forest. Make sure you don't get lost, understand?"
"What exactly is the task?" Hoffa asked.
"Rescuing a few magical creatures," the old man replied without looking up.
"What kind of creatures?" Hoffa asked curiously. The old man always seemed to give just enough information to leave him guessing.
"Dodos."
Dodos. That didn't sound particularly dangerous.
Hoffa didn't object. His goal now was to behave and wipe clean his bad record at school.
The old man ate quickly, finishing his meal in just a few bites. Then he slung his bow and arrows over his back, lit a torch, and held it in his hand.
"Let's go."
Hoffa set down his plate and followed him.
It was his first time entering the Forbidden Forest at night, and he was nervous. If he were in Harry's era and knew what to expect—encounters with soul fragments of Voldemort or giant spiders—he might not be as uneasy. At least those were predictable and inevitable.
But now, he had no idea what might happen in this forest, nor did he fully understand the old man walking beside him. The uncertainty was what worried Hoffa the most.
Especially after being startled by the strange magical illusions earlier, Hoffa proceeded cautiously.
Noticing Hoffa's careful demeanor, Joey asked as they walked, "You're in Gryffindor?"
"No, Ravenclaw."
"Ravenclaw, huh? That's rare. I've been at Hogwarts for ten years, and you're the first Ravenclaw student I've seen sent to the Forbidden Forest as punishment."
Hoffa's jaw dropped. What? He was the first Ravenclaw student in ten years to be punished with a trip to the Forbidden Forest?
Joey continued, "Most of the students I get are from Gryffindor—those hyperactive brats seem determined to break every rule. Then there are Hufflepuffs, and after them, Slytherins. But Ravenclaw? You're the first."
Hoffa fell silent, the old man's words strangely effective at calming the unease in his chest. If so many Gryffindors had come through unscathed, he figured he'd probably be fine too.
After another ten minutes of walking, the sound of rushing water reached Hoffa's ears. Joey suddenly raised his hand to stop him. They had arrived at a small stream. Unlike the darkness of the Forbidden Forest earlier, this area was lit by the faint yellow and blue bioluminescence of fungal plants growing on the ground.
Their tiny caps glowed softly in the night, creating an ethereal and beautiful scene.
But looking at them, Hoffa was inexplicably reminded of the mushrooms in the illusion earlier, making his stomach churn slightly.
Joey stood motionless by the stream, prompting Hoffa to turn his head and ask curiously, "What's wrong?"
"Wait here. We're meeting a friend," Joey replied casually.
"A friend?" Hoffa was intrigued.
Before he could ask further, he realized who the "friend" was.
A breathtaking scene unfolded in the nighttime forest.
A unicorn, its body emitting a silver-white glow, emerged gracefully from the woods. Its mane flowed smoothly, and though it resembled a horse, it was far cleaner and more beautiful.
Several colorful butterflies fluttered around the horn on its forehead, creating a mesmerizing sight.
Joey bent down and bowed respectfully to the unicorn across the stream. Awed by the creature's beauty, Hoffa instinctively did the same. The unicorn nodded in acknowledgment, then took a sip of water from the stream before turning and disappearing deeper into the Forbidden Forest.
"Let's go," Joey gestured for Hoffa to follow.
"Unicorns are keenly aware of everything happening in the forest," Joey explained softly as they walked. "They can usually help you identify problems. But the problems they notice are rarely small ones. Something might be wrong in the Forbidden Forest."
Joey followed the unicorn closely, whispering explanations to Hoffa as they moved.
Hoffa kept his eyes on the faint silver figure ahead, its movements swift and light, almost soundless. Every time its hooves touched the ground, faint magical traces were left behind. From these traces, small luminous plants quickly sprouted, standing out against the dark forest floor.
This was Hoffa's second encounter with a magical creature. The first time had been with the dark wizard Schmidt, whose creatures had nearly cost Hoffa his life.
After running for five minutes, Joey announced, "We're almost at the dodos' nesting site."
"Oh," Hoffa replied.
By now, he'd picked up some basic knowledge of magical creatures at the school. Dodos were gentle, small birds adept at running away but completely non-aggressive.
Such creatures should be perfectly safe.
Wait! What is that!?
The unicorn abruptly stopped and let out a shrill whinny.
Joey lit his wand, and Hoffa gasped, retreating six or seven steps until his back hit a tree. His shock was indescribable.
In the center of the forest clearing, a massive creature was curled up, resembling a hill. It had the head of an eagle, six wings, gray feathers, and piercing golden eyes.
The beast was at least ten meters long, even in its crouched position. Who knew how wide its wingspan would be if it took flight?
The air around them felt oppressively heavy, like the suffocating heat before a summer thunderstorm. Yet it was October in England, hardly the season for such weather.
A strange electric charge lingered in the air, making Hoffa's scalp tingle.
The giant bird raised its head and glanced at Hoffa. It let out a low, rumbling call, signaling that it meant no harm.
Joey spoke calmly, "This is Taras, my friend."
Hoffa was stunned. "This thing is a dodo? You must be joking!"
"No, it's a thunderbird," Joey replied simply.
With that, he walked up to the colossal bird and patted its beak.
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