121: The Rise of Evil

Whether the rumors about Snape fearing Nolan were true or not, Harry had no idea.

What he did know was that he was in deep trouble now.

Things couldn't get worse—he was about to head into the most sinister, terrifying place in all of Hogwarts: the Forbidden Forest. And at night, no less.

According to the Weasley twins, they'd rather spend an afternoon having tea with the three-headed dog guarding the third-floor corridor than set foot in the Forbidden Forest after dark.

But worse still were Harry's companions for the ordeal: one tall and one short.

The short one had a head of platinum-blonde hair, a sickly pale face, and an insufferably pompous attitude—Draco Malfoy.

The tall one? Even better! A lanky figure, greasy shoulder-length black hair, a hooked nose curved like a hawk's beak, and a voice so soft and quick it made his lips seem frozen in place. It was none other than Harry's old nemesis, Professor Severus Snape.

"Brilliant. Is this Hogwarts' contest for 'Most Loathed Wizard of the Year' or what?" Harry muttered bitterly, envious of Hermione. He didn't know who was supervising her and Neville on the other side of the forest, but surely it couldn't be worse than Snape.

…

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Forbidden Forest, Hermione let out a startled gasp.

Standing before her and Neville, bathed in moonlight, was Nolan. His dark robes melted into the night as his piercing crimson eyes glinted with an unsettling light.

This wasn't the calm, aloof Nolan she had grown accustomed to. No, something about him felt entirely different tonight. He exuded an aura of menace that made her shiver.

"Don't scream so loudly, little lady," Nolan said with a charming but predatory smile. He raised his right hand, motioning for silence with a single finger. "To be honest, Hagrid was supposed to be in charge of you tonight."

"Then why isn't he here?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Hagrid knows the Forbidden Forest better than anyone! He's the one who should be supervising us—not... not someone like you! You're not even a professor, and you're only a year older than us!"

Nolan shrugged lazily, his lips curling into a smirk. "Allow me to teach you something, Miss Granger. Age means little in the wizarding world. Professor Dumbledore isn't respected because of his years but because of his abilities.

"First, let's address the obvious: Hagrid is in no state to look after anyone right now. Second, tonight's little task was assigned to me by none other than Dumbledore himself. I reluctantly accepted because, coincidentally, I had business in the Forbidden Forest anyway. Otherwise, do you really think I'd leave the comfort of my dormitory for two Gryffindors?"

Hermione bristled at being lumped into a single category with Neville but held her tongue. Instead, her curiosity got the better of her. "What are you doing in the forest so late at night? Isn't that against school rules?"

Nolan chuckled, his crimson eyes narrowing with amusement. "No professor would dare deduct points from me, Miss Granger. Even Filch has learned one valuable lesson this past year—don't mess with me. Privileges are a part of life, especially for wizards. Now, let's not keep Longbottom waiting. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can leave."

With that, Nolan turned and strode into the forest, his movements as fluid as a shadow. Hermione had no choice but to follow, though her frizzy curls constantly got snagged on low-hanging branches, much to her irritation.

"So, what exactly are you doing here?" she asked again, exasperated as she tried to untangle her hair.

"Delivering food," Nolan replied nonchalantly, lifting a basket that emitted a faint aroma of jam. "Longbottom, keep up. Don't let the forest intimidate you. You're a wizard—use spells to protect yourself before succumbing to fear. Take Miss Granger as an example. She's far more capable than you are."

Hermione opened her mouth, tempted to argue against being used as a comparison to Neville, but decided against it.

—This is ridiculous, she thought to herself.

A second-year wizard who flaunted the rules and spoke as if "privilege" were his birthright, leading two first-years into the Forbidden Forest—this was a level of absurdity that even The Quibbler wouldn't publish.

The atmosphere in the Forbidden Forest was tense and eerie. Cold winds rustled the tree branches, creating a haunting melody that made Neville jump in fear more than once.

Hermione wasn't immune to the terror either, but perhaps the other girls were right: the safest place in all of Hogwarts wasn't the castle or the dormitories. It was by Nolan's side.

After all, as long as you were under Nolan's protection, even if a dragon injured you, you'd probably survive.

Hermione had her doubts about such claims. She knew Norbert was just a baby dragon—defeating it proved something, but certainly not everything.

Still, being by Nolan's side gave her a strong sense of security, especially in this environment.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she should have a chat with Eve about Nolan—ask her whether being around him gave her a similar feeling.

As Hermione's thoughts wandered, Nolan suddenly stopped in his tracks. He crouched down, his fingers searching the ground for something. A second later, he laughed aloud.

Hermione froze. She could swear this was the first time she'd heard him laugh.

"What did you find?"

"Hmm? Let's have our little model student take a guess. What's this?" Nolan held up his fingers, showing her a silvery, sticky liquid. He moved it close to her nose. "Here's a tip: even if your brain's fried, don't go licking it—unless you're looking for a quick way to die."

"It's blood," Hermione stated with certainty. "But I can't tell what kind..."

"Fifty points to Gryffindor," Nolan replied with a smirk. He rubbed the silvery blood between his fingers, bringing it to his nose for a sniff. "It's unicorn blood."

"There are unicorns in the Forbidden Forest?" Neville exclaimed in shock.

"Calm down, Longbottom. I know wizards hold unicorns in high regard—they're pure creatures. But something tells me unicorns don't feel the same way about you."

Neville's excited expression crumbled into disappointment. "Oh... I figured as much."

"It's not entirely your fault, so don't be too hard on yourself, Longbottom," Nolan said. "Unicorns favor a very specific kind of human—pure, innocent maidens." His crimson eyes twinkled with mischief as he glanced at Hermione's suddenly flushed face. With a singsong tone, he added, "You know, virgins. Someone like Miss Granger here."

Hermione's cheeks burned scarlet as she snapped, urging him to stop wasting time and move on.

As they pressed forward, however, Hermione's mind couldn't stop racing. What kind of person would harm a unicorn so brutally, spilling this much blood?

Unlike Hermione's naivety, Nolan's face held a strange smile as his gaze locked onto a spot in the distance. There, he saw a shadowy figure cloaked in black, crouched over a unicorn's lifeless body. The figure was bent low, greedily sucking at the creature's silvery blood.

Nolan's expression darkened. He knew this behavior all too well.