"Nature is neither cruel nor kind, but indifferent." — Richard Dawkins
The forest surrounding the school covered most of the island, wrapping around the central fortress like a suffocating blanket. The island itself was moderately large, with a radius of about five kilometres. Under normal circumstances, it would take a day to walk from one end to the other.
However, given the dense vegetation and the magical creatures roaming within, it would be a miracle if a Muggle survived here for even a few minutes.
It was like the Amazon Rainforest, but darker and far more hostile. The canopy was so thick that sunlight barely reached the forest floor, leaving the ground in a state of perpetual twilight. The trees were titanic, ancient things with gnarled roots, and the undergrowth was so wild that walking in a straight line was impossible. Countless bugs crawled through the wood and leaf litter—many of them invisible to the naked eye, and likely lethal.
A poisonous toad in this forest could make you dizzy before you even made physical contact. The magical beasts here would ravage you to the ground before you evensensed their approach.
Whenever Ms Johnson conducted her Care of Magical Creatures classes, she kept the students strictly at the periphery. Even the most reckless troublemakers, like Sirius, would have shivered and hesitated to step into the true depths of these woods.
In short, this forest was a death trap for wizards and Muggles alike.
Regulus stepped into the tree line with his group, projecting an air of confidence. He relied heavily on his ability to sense magical signatures in his surroundings.
Almost immediately, he sensed a presence following them. Based on the magical signature, he perceived it to be Mr Morrow.
Of course.
Clearly, the school was not reckless enough to send a bunch of ten-year-olds into an unmonitored death forest without precautions. Regulus reckoned each group must have been assigned a shadowed instructor to intervene in situations they absolutely could not handle.
Still, history had proven that one or two students failed to return alive every year. Regulus decided not to disclose this information to his group; fear could be useful, but carelessness would get them killed.
The group moved at a snail's pace, wands drawn. They kept the tips lit with Lumos, serving both to light the path and to ensure they were ready to cast instantly. In this place, reaction time would decide the outcome between life and death.
"Charlus," Emma Rosier whispered, her voice hushed. "It is too dark here, even in the daytime. It is going to be hard living in such conditions for six consecutive months. How are we going to take care of food and shelter if we can only see a few paces ahead of us?"
"Don't worry, Emma," Charlus replied, trying to sound reassuring. "We will make sure to find a safe place with the help of Regulus. He said he can sense things in the forest." He glanced back. "Regulus, everything okay? You have been silent since we started, mate."
"We have only walked for ten minutes," Regulus replied calmly. "But you are right, Emma. We should determine our position to ensure we are heading in the right direction."
He stopped and held up a hand. "Wait here for a minute. Do not roam around or make noise until I come back. Only one of you keep Lumos lit to save energy; the other two, keep your wands ready."
Hestia looked at him curiously, while Emma opened her mouth to ask where he was going.
Before she could speak, Regulus shrank.
In the blink of an eye, he transformed into his Animagus form—a sleek Peregrine Falcon—and took flight.
Instead of flying wide into the forest, which would be dangerous, he spiralled straight up the trunk of a massive tree, breaking through the canopy. He flew to a distinct height where the three members of his group looked like mere ants on the forest floor.
Regulus perched at the top of the tree. From this vantage point, he could see the sea on one side and the fortress on the other. They had barely made a dent in the distance. The sea was a long way off, but their destination wasn't the coast; they needed to find a cave or natural shelter to build a base.
Suddenly, while mid-air, he sensed a magical presence far larger than any of the instructors.
His breath hitched in his bird chest. He quickly dived and hid behind a thick branch, peeking his head out cautiously.
It was the Thunderbird—the guardian of the school.
The majestic beast glided past, its wings crackling with static. It glanced toward the tree where Regulus was hiding, gave him a sharp look, and then banked left, returning toward the fortress.
It had recognised him. Even in his Animagus form, the Thunderbird knew he was one of the students.
Regulus let out a falcon's sigh of relief. He quickly dismounted the tree, diving back down through the canopy to his group before shifting back into human form. He was sweating buckets. If that had been a wild predator instead of the school's guardian, he would have been injured—or dead.
Lesson learned: Do not use the Animagus form recklessly in the open air.
Looking at his dishevelled state, Charlus asked worriedly, "Regulus, what happened?"
Regulus wiped the sweat from his brow and adjusted his breathing. "Nothing… The Thunderbird just gave me a scare while I was up there. The sea is to the south, but if we had continued the way we were going, we would have been lost. We need to adjust our course."
Regulus decided to stop relying on guesswork. He raised his wand to cast a spell that would act as a guide—a piece of magic he had found in a library book regarding the exploration of ancient pyramids.
"Misericordia. Viam mihi monstra."
He cast two components of the spell simultaneously. Magic coalesced in the air, forming a glowing, spectral shape.
"Ostende mihi locum tutum."
Show me a safe place.
Emma and Hestia stared, speechless, as Regulus wove the spells together. They had studied Latin like every other educated girl in their circle, but they were sceptical that simple Latin words would function as a high-level spell.
Before they could finish that thought, a compass took shape in the air, formed of silvery light. It resembled a Patronus, yet it carried no emotional warmth. The needle of the spectral compass spun, locking onto a direction. As the third spell completed, the needle shifted slightly towards the South-West.
Regulus explained the spell to them briefly. They looked at him with admiration, finding a profound sense of safety in his competence.
Seeing their expressions ease, Regulus warned them, "This spell will only show the direction of a safe destination. It does not tell us what lies on the path to that destination. Stay vigilant."
The group moved towards the direction indicated by the floating compass.
After a few minutes of trekking through the gloom, Regulus sensed a magical signature that slanted more towards flora than fauna. He sensed no immediate threats, so he approached the source.
He bent down and examined a plant with distinct branches, each bearing five oval leaves.
Emma, proficient in Herbology, recognised it at a glance. "This is Dittany! It's a powerful healing plant for wounds. I wanted to pack some for our test, but we weren't allowed to bring outside resources. Give it to me; I have a preservation pouch on me. I will store it for later."
Regulus harvested it carefully and handed it to Emma. "We have to keep a sharp eye on our surroundings for useful plants. But be careful, such valuable herbs are often found in the presence of dangerous beasts."
As he spoke, Regulus's sensory range spiked.
Another magical presence was rushing towards them. It was weak, but it was fast.
Regulus didn't hesitate. He drew a dagger and threw it in a blur of motion.
Thwack.
A few feet away, something hissed. The creature pinned under the dagger suddenly burst into flames and disintegrated into a pile of ash.
It was an Ashwinder—a magical serpent created from magical fires, which turns to dust after laying its eggs or being killed.
Hestia looked at Regulus, her eyes wide, wanting to say something but holding back. Emma sensed the danger that had just passed but stayed silent.
Regulus retrieved his dagger, cleaning the ash off on the grass. Without a word, he signaled for them to move. They continued following the spectral compass, intent on reaching sanctuary before true nightfall began