The Białowieża Primeval Forest!
This European temperate forest, a protected ecological reserve, was established through a joint effort by the Muggle United Nations and the International Confederation of Wizards. Spanning the borders of two Muggle countries, it's largely made up of evergreen and broadleaf trees, covering a vast expanse.
The forest is home to numerous sanctuaries for magical creatures, and due to its long history, it also harbors resource-rich territories claimed by ancient wizarding families.
These territories aren't held like Muggle lands, guarded by brute force or defined by contracts and borders. No, wizards rely on magic.
Magic like that of Hogwarts Castle itself.
Unplottable, undetectable, and invisible to anyone not permitted by magic to see it. To an unaware Muggle or even a wizard passing through, it would seem like nothing more than an ordinary, empty forest.
Naturally, such a place can't be reached by conventional means.
Gilderoy Lockhart and Severus Snape led the students of the "Duelling Club" through the school's fireplace to the Crabbe family's ancestral home.
As they emerged from the fireplace, a disheveled, wild-eyed witch charged toward them, grabbing Lockhart's collar in a fury and screaming, "Where's my Vincent? My poor Vincent?!" Tears streamed down her face as she shrieked, "We sent him to Hogwarts, and this is how you let him get hurt? You won't even let me see him!"
Her gaze darted erratically, and before Lockhart could respond, she turned to Draco Malfoy, who stood nearby, his eyes dark with guilt. "Young Master Malfoy, you promised you'd look after Vincent! Did you?"
Draco couldn't answer, his throat tight as he struggled to breathe.
At that moment, a portly middle-aged man rushed over—it was Old Crabbe himself. "What are you doing, you madwoman? Let go of Professor Lockhart!" he bellowed.
He grabbed his wife by the waist, pulling her back as she thrashed wildly. "Professor Lockhart is here to find a way to save Vincent, don't you understand?" he shouted.
"Really?" The witch's face lit up, her anger transforming into ecstatic hope in an instant. She nodded fervently at Lockhart, practically bowing. "Wonderful, wonderful! Thank you, thank you! Please save my son!"
Perhaps embarrassed by his wife's outburst, Old Crabbe dragged her back inside, soothing her quietly as they went.
When he returned, he apologized profusely. "I'm… I'm so sorry. She's been like this ever since… Without Vincent, she'd fall apart."
Lockhart shook his head, unbothered. "If my child were in danger, I'd be more frantic than anyone."
Old Crabbe sighed heavily. "I just hope you succeed. Otherwise, I don't know what'll happen to this family." He turned to Snape with a pleading look. "Severus, for old times' sake, please help."
Snape gave a curt, indifferent hum. "Lead the way."
The journey to the Crabbe family's Puffskein breeding grounds was unusual. They were led to a dragon statue in the backyard of the Crabbe estate. Old Crabbe instructed everyone to touch the second-to-last tooth on the right side of the dragon's mouth.
It was clearly a Portkey. With a dizzying whirl, they found themselves in a dilapidated, abandoned house.
The house still bore traces of its former grandeur—faded, ornate decorations were barely discernible on the peeling walls.
Old Crabbe carried a large bucket of Floo Powder and poured it into a wide fireplace against the wall. Green flames roared to life, crackling with occasional golden sparks.
This was no ordinary fireplace.
He pulled a crystal ball the size of a baby's fist from his pocket and handed it to Lockhart, holding it up to his own eye as a demonstration. "Out there, light a bonfire and look through this. You'll see a fireplace appear."
Lockhart took it carefully—this was not something to lose.
But then Old Crabbe grabbed his hand, his eyes full of desperate hope. "You have to succeed! My son, Vincent—he needs you!"
Lockhart sighed and nodded solemnly. "I'll do my best."
"Crabbe…" Snape's voice was low, his gaze piercing as he studied his former colleague. "You're not coming with us?"
Old Crabbe gestured toward the dilapidated house's door. "The safehouse's magic has failed. Someone needs to guard the fireplace. The Crabbe family is just me, my wife, and Vincent now."
Snape and Lockhart exchanged a glance. With a nod from Lockhart, Snape pushed past an eager Harry Potter and stepped into the green flames of the fireplace.
The flames surged, and he vanished.
"Children, follow Professor Snape. I'll go last," Lockhart called to the young wizards, though Old Crabbe was still clinging to his hand, muttering apologies and pleas.
To be honest, Lockhart had just gone through a similar scene not long ago.
"It'll be alright," he reassured. "If all else fails, Professor Sprout's Mandrakes can be used to brew a potion to save your son."
Old Crabbe shook his head. "Lucius said the Master is purging traitors. He won't let us off. Six months is too long—we can't wait."
Well, that was awkward.
Lockhart felt a twinge of guilt for intimidating the man earlier. Both Old Crabbe and Old Goyle seemed a bit… dim-witted. Bullying someone like that didn't exactly feel satisfying, especially seeing how much Crabbe cared for his family. It was almost touching.
"Go, go," Old Crabbe urged, waving Lockhart toward the fireplace. He drew his wand and sat on a sofa by the hearth, staring intently at the door. "My wife and I will guard this place and wait for your return."
Fine.
Lockhart chose to trust Old Crabbe, not just because of his obvious love for his son but because his Boggart senses picked up the man's genuine sincerity. At least in this matter, Crabbe was reliable.
Soon, Lockhart stepped into the fireplace. As the green flames engulfed him, the world flickered, and he found himself in a forest.
He had to admit, traveling via the Floo Network was far more pleasant than Portkeys or Apparition.
Hearing the excited chatter of the young wizards, he stepped out of the trees and was greeted by the sight of a vast, seemingly endless lake. The fresh air was invigorating, a stark contrast to the endless rainy season at Hogwarts. The clear, crisp scenery felt like a breath of fresh air, rejuvenating him entirely.
Snape approached, wand in hand. "I've checked the area. No other wizards. It's safe for now."
Lockhart nodded, releasing his magical creatures to guard the students. He scanned the surroundings and clicked his tongue. "Forget wizards—I don't even hear the usual birdsong or insect hum you'd expect in a forest."
This was his "Forest Friend" ability, a keen sensitivity to the state of the wilderness.
The forest and lake looked stunningly beautiful, but to Lockhart, they felt eerily lifeless, shrouded in a strange gloom.
It was as if no living creature had ever set foot here, making even the lush trees and shimmering lake seem artificial.
What caused this?
He didn't know.
This was the greatest challenge of Defense Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't just about casting Riddikulus to banish a Boggart or Homorphus to counter a werewolf. The real difficulty lay in identifying the dark creature you were facing.
A Homorphus Charm wouldn't work on a Boggart disguised as a dragon, and Riddikulus was useless against a werewolf under a full moon. If you didn't know your enemy, some dark creatures could seem invincible.
Different Defense Against the Dark Arts experts had their own methods.
Having learned from Dumbledore that the issue here might involve a dark creature known as a "Cloak of Magic," Lockhart had devised a plan based on his skills and resources.
His approach? Confront the dark creature on a mental plane.
It was an unconventional tactic, requiring specialized mental strength.
Fortunately, the allies he'd brought along had been training in just that power for some time—the Patronus Charm.
Gripping his wand, Lockhart sensed the forest's whispers, his expression resolute. "Looks like Old Crabbe's in for a long wait."
Snape, hearing this, immediately grew more alert, his face tense as he scanned their surroundings. "Is it going to be difficult?"
Lockhart gently waved his wand, its rhythm matching the breeze. He nodded. "This is shaping up to be a very interesting fairy-tale adventure."
"Fairy tale?" Snape scoffed, his voice laced with disdain. For some reason, the mention of it stirred unease in him. Perhaps he realized that stepping onto this magical path meant leaving the past behind—a past he feared losing, along with the memory of a certain graceful figure.
Almost instinctively, he sneered, "What, you think Old Crabbe's desperate begging back there was part of a fairy tale?"
"Why not?" Lockhart replied with a cheerful grin. "A despairing father's plea, a hero setting off with his companions on a daring quest—that's the classic opening to a fairy-tale adventure, isn't it?"
With that, he lightly tapped his wand.
A vibrant green light bloomed from the tip, spreading outward in rolling waves.
Within the light, a faint scene emerged—similar to their surroundings yet entirely different.
It was like casting a Scourgify Charm on a painting to reveal the true image beneath a false layer. As the top layer peeled away, the real picture came into view.
The green light's scenery rapidly expanded, soon reaching Snape's position.
He dodged a tree branch that suddenly appeared above his head, stepping onto ground littered with fine white bones. Frowning, he looked toward a building faintly visible at the edge of the light. "What is this?"
"A Mind Connection Spell," Lockhart explained casually. "A little trick Dumbledore taught me. I used the forest's breeze to build a bridge for communication, letting me connect with the dark creature hiding here."
"The spell's enhanced by the forest's magical mist, so the creature's mental world is unfolding before us."
He continued, "In simple terms, stand by me, and you can join me on this adventure to confront it."
A slight smile curved his lips as he glanced at Snape. "The fairy-tale adventure begins now, Severus. Are you coming?"
Snape snorted. "I feel obliged to remind you that dark creatures aren't like other magical beasts. Dark magic can devour the mind. Are you sure your Patronus will protect your soul?"
"You're starting to sound like one of those cackling old hags," he added, his tone sharp. "Too much nonsense."
Lockhart burst out laughing and turned to the young wizards gathering around. "Children, follow my lead!"
(End of Chapter)