"I think the professor just doesn't want to get his hands dirty, so he left this kind of work to us. He clearly has so many fancy and useful things in his house."
Fred grumbled as he carefully climbed down the rope ladder beneath the little wooden house, descending into the thick mist below.
Above him, George, Harry, and Ron followed one after another, making their way down.
It was their first time climbing such a rope ladder, but surprisingly, despite the dense fog, the rungs weren't slippery at all. In fact, climbing down felt unusually easy. A few times, Harry even felt as if an invisible force was gently supporting his feet—clearly, the ladder had been enchanted.
Thinking about this, Harry continued Fred's complaint:
"Fancy? Isn't your house like that too?"
"Not really," Ron answered from above him. "Our stuff moves around a lot more, but overall, it's not too different from school. We don't have cups that automatically fill with beer just by shaking them. Usually, Dad buys the beer in advance, and then we use a Refilling Charm to keep it coming."
"Ron's got it right," George chimed in with a grin, earning himself an eye-roll from Ron.
Still, he added, "The professor's house is definitely different. Wizards usually live in separate settlements, but they never stray too far from Muggles. I still don't get what he meant when he said it had 'moved to the settlement.'"
They continued their descent, vines hanging from the edges of the ladder, swaying gently in the mist. As they passed through the thick fog, a bone-chilling cold surrounded them, making them instinctively huddle into themselves. But soon, their attention was captured by the scene emerging before them.
Two massive shadows were slowly moving in the fog.
"Are those... chicken feet?" Fred gulped.
From beneath the wooden house, two enormous chicken legs stretched downward, like ever-watchful sentinels, shifting step by step in the mist. Each movement sent a deep, resounding thud through the air.
"Thud... thud..."
The rhythmic sound echoed through the forest, as if providing an eerie accompaniment to the bizarre sight.
These chicken legs were at least ten times the height of Fred and the others, covered in grayish grime, dirt, and filth. But upon closer inspection, their original yellow skin and intricate textures were still discernible. Standing before such a colossal entity, it was impossible not to feel a shiver run down one's spine.
Looking down, the sharp black talons were clearly visible, as hard as solid rock.
"Merlin's red underpants..."
At the sight of this extraordinary creation, the group collectively paused their descent.
Even Harry, who was seeing it for the second time, was stunned once again.
They all stood still for a long moment, gawking at the peculiar underside of the house.
"Does your family have anything like this?" Harry asked.
But the moment the words left his mouth, he realized how foolish the question was—Hogwarts certainly didn't move, and since Ron had compared his home to Hogwarts, it clearly didn't either.
"Of course not," George replied as expected. "A house like this must be the result of some large-scale alchemical work. While not unheard of, it's incredibly rare. No idea where the professor found it."
"…Hey, how about we save up and build a house like this in the future?" Fred suddenly suggested.
"Brilliant idea."
They immediately fell into deep fantasies about their lives ten years down the road, excitedly imagining scenarios one after another. By the time they reached the bottom of the ladder, the twins were even playfully swatting at each other, fighting over the nonexistent control of their future prankster chicken-leg house—so much so that Harry and Ron nearly lost their grip and fell.
Luckily, they all made it down safely in the end.
The space beneath the chicken-legged house was dark and cold. Looking up, the sky was a dull gray, with dried, twisted branches crisscrossing like a tangled web. Only a few warm rays of light peeked through the windows at the top of the moving house.
Harry rubbed his arms, eager to get back up as soon as possible.
The memory of wandering the forest for half a day resurfaced in his mind, and he had to admit—it wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat.
The group held a list given to them by Professor Victor. It detailed a few specific herbs and spices growing near the house, along with directions to their locations. Carefully avoiding the massive, tremor-inducing chicken feet, they navigated through the mist and found the spice-growing area.
Beyond the dense foliage, Harry spotted a small, fenced-off circle. A wooden sign was posted at the front, with two simple words written on it:
"Toss here."
Harry read it aloud, puzzled.
"What does that mean?"
"Oh, it's probably where the professor wants us to throw the goblins," Ron said with a glance.
"Do you know how to deal with goblins? You just grab them, swing them around a few times, and then throw them far away—that way, they can't find their burrows again."
"Goblins are a real nuisance. They dig holes everywhere, wreck fences and gardens, and eat all the new flower buds and sprouts. We get them at home too, and Mum always makes us clear them out."
As he spoke, Fred bent down, reaching into the spice bushes. A moment later, he yanked out a goblin from a small, hidden burrow. The little creature shrieked loudly, "Let me go! Let me go!"
Unfortunately for it, Fred had years of goblin-handling experience and was utterly heartless.
Gripping its ankle, he hoisted it upside-down, ignoring its calloused little feet kicking wildly. Then, like a windmill, he swung it around three times before expertly hurling it straight into the fenced-off circle.
"Bullseye!" Fred clapped his hands triumphantly.
Harry, meanwhile, watched the goblin as it landed.
The ugly little creature had been thrown headfirst into the dirt, struggling for a long time before finally pulling itself out, clearly dizzy. It staggered a few steps before making a beeline for the short fence, attempting to squeeze underneath.
Just as Harry debated whether he should stop it, a flash of golden light suddenly flickered through the seemingly empty air at the fence's gap. A split second later, the goblin's head bounced backward as if it had hit an invisible wall, making a sharp thunk! sound.
Then it collapsed, unmoving.
A large lump was already forming on its forehead.
Ron saw it too. Wincing in sympathy, he rubbed his own head before turning to Harry.
"Don't worry. Goblin skin is ridiculously tough. This won't hurt them—it'll just make sure they never dare come back... The professor's magic is definitely effective."
Harry nodded uncertainly, shifting his gaze away before joining in the goblin-clearing efforts.
Before long, the fenced-off circle was piled high with unconscious goblins.
They really were quite stupid—when they saw others being caught, they still gathered around to watch, only to be swiftly dealt with.
Only a few remained, fast asleep in their burrows, needing to be pulled out.
Just as Harry cautiously reached into one of the holes, feeling around, his fingers brushed against something hard—not a goblin, but a small object.
Curious, he prodded it a few times. When it remained still, he pulled it out.
It was a puppet.
Covered in dust and dirt, the puppet's exquisite craftsmanship still shone through. Its face was round and smooth, with no visible carving marks. It had wooden eyes and a wooden nose.
But as Harry looked at it, its eyes seemed to shift ever so slightly.