Nundu

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In the Gryffindor common room

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, yet the warmth it gave off did little to dispel the heavy tension lingering in the air.

Clusters of students had gathered in hushed groups, whispering about the shocking incident that had taken place earlier that evening.

"Merlin's beard…" George Weasley muttered, keeping his voice as low as possible. "I've never seen anything like that in all my years at Hogwarts…"

"A professor pointing their wand at the headmaster?" Dean Thomas added in a hushed tone. "That's definitely going down in school history books."

Off to the side, Harry gently nudged Hermione's elbow. "You okay?"

"Me? I'm fine…" Hermione answered, her voice dazed, fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the book in her lap.

Ron poured a generous glass of butterbeer from the crystal decanter and handed it to her. "Don't let it get to you. Malfoy's getting a full month of detention for this, you know!"

"Yeah, I'm not upset…" Hermione murmured, staring into the swirling liquid. Then, suddenly, she looked up and asked, "Do you guys think… Professor Greengrass is going to be expelled?"

"Absolutely not!" Ron blurted out without thinking, then quickly glanced around the room, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I mean… Dumbledore, he… sometimes…"

His voice trailed off, softer and softer, until it was barely audible.

Harry picked up the thread of conversation. "We all know Dumbledore's a great wizard. But if he's been watching Malfoy do those things all this time and still hasn't stepped in, then yeah, he should've stopped it. He's the headmaster. That's what he's supposed to do, right?"

"You're right…" Ron nodded in agreement. "He did not act, so he apologized to Hermione. And he made a promise, too…"

"I'm still worried about Professor Greengrass…" Hermione murmured, her brow furrowed as she stared at the dancing flames in the hearth. "What if he really does get expelled? After all… he broke Snape's wand…"

Ron, curled up in the armchair, muttered under his breath, "That was Snape's own fault if you ask me. I bet that old bat's gone completely off his rocker by now…"

"Didn't you say Professor Greengrass used to teach at Ilvermorny?" Harry spoke up suddenly, his voice steady. "He's so brilliant… Hogwarts wouldn't just throw someone like him out without good reason."

"And even if someone had to be expelled," Ron added quickly, "Snape and Lockhart should be the first to go!"

"Why?" Hermione reacted at once, clearly startled. "What did Professor Lockhart ever do? Why are you badmouthing him like that now?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Hermione, you've been completely fooled," Ron exclaimed, throwing his arms up with exaggerated exasperation. "You're one of the smartest people I know… how have you not seen it yet? We've been back at school for over a week now, and everyone can tell—he might as well have 'I'm a fraud' written across his forehead in glowing letters!"

The young witch pressed her lips together tightly, clearly displeased. "It's still too early to jump to conclusions or judge him. It's only been a week since the term started."

She clutched the hardbound cover of Travels with Trolls tightly in her hands, though deep down, even she was beginning to have her doubts.

Harry and Ron exchanged a knowing look and, wisely, said nothing more.

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After sending the two young witches safely back to Hogwarts, Sargeras made his way alone to the edge of the Black Lake.

Night had fallen completely. Beneath the moonlight, the surface of the lake shimmered with bands of silver, its gentle ripples catching the light like liquid silk. Suddenly, the bronze feather badge tucked in his pocket flared hot, burning against his skin.

He drew it out at once. The badge, cast in burnished bronze, glinted coldly in his palm. In the eye of the sculpted bird, a message flickered to life… words etched in pale light:

"Mount Koussi (Africa). Nundu sighted. Immediate assistance required."

Sargeras' fingers clenched around the token, and a faint blue glow lit up the runic pattern of the Portkey, humming softly beneath his skin.

A heartbeat later, space twisted violently around him. The world lurched, yanked him forward, and swallowed him in a whirl of spinning shadows.

When the nausea faded, he found himself standing in the center of a rickety wooden hut that looked like it might collapse at any moment.

The rotting floorboards groaned under his weight, brittle and splintering, and pale shafts of moonlight spilled through the cracks in the walls and roof, illuminating the room just enough to reveal a handful of familiar figures.

Hummingbird crouched in one corner, her wand sweeping methodically over the blackened corpse sprawled beside her. Over by the shattered window, Robin and Nightingale were arguing in low, tense voices, their wands both lit with faintly glowing defensive charms.

Thunderbird and Kestrel, one old, one young, were uncharacteristically silent for once, not trading barbs as they usually did. The information broker Stork sat quietly at the table, for once not smirking, deep in hushed discussion with Snowy Owl as they tried to piece together a plan.

"Raven!" Swift strode over quickly, his robes stained with dirt and blood. "The situation's spiraling out of control…"

Sargeras' eyes dropped to the tip of Swift's wand—it was scorched black. In all the years he had known this Curse-Breaker, he had never seen that wand even slightly damaged.

"Gringotts uncovered a lost, ancient magical ruin buried beneath the desert, not far from here," Swift said, his voice pulled tight like a drawn bowstring. "I was assigned to handle the unsealing, but the moment I arrived at the site, that creature burst straight out of the ground."

He gestured toward the window. In the distance, a deep rumbling echoed through the night, followed by the unmistakable sound of trees being violently torn from the earth.

Even through the wooden walls of the hut, Sargeras could catch the sickly-sweet stench of death wafting through the air. The Nundu's toxic miasma was already spreading.

"More than seventy wizards have been poisoned and fallen unconscious," Swift said, his fingernails digging deep into his palm. "And worse, the toxic breath has already spread to three nearby Muggle villages. That's more than two thousand civilians…"

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to, because Sargeras understood exactly what that meant.

More than two thousand innocent lives, vanishing into smoke and silence, all because of one reckless excavation carried out by Gringotts.

Sargeras stared out at the vague, hulking shadow in the distance, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the handle of his wand.

Though he'd read about this creature more than once in textbooks, this was the first time he had ever laid eyes on a Nundu in real life. Native to the desolate regions of Africa, this XXXXX-class magical beast was even more terrifying than the books had led him to believe.

Under the pale light of the moon, the monster's form slowly came into view. Its streamlined body was nearly ten times larger than that of an ordinary leopard, and its amber eyes gleamed with a cold, eerie light in the darkness. Most frightening of all was the poisonous mist it exhaled with every breath, spreading through the night air like a living thing, slithering and coiling as if it had a mind of its own.

Sargeras suddenly recalled a warning he'd read in one of Newt Scamander's notebooks, underlined in bright red ink:

"Deadlier than a dragon. More vicious than a basilisk. Throughout all of recorded history, only once has a Nundu ever been subdued — by a hundred elite wizards working together."

BOOOOM—!

The wooden hut shook violently as a deafening roar tore through the stillness of the night, splitting the darkness in two.

At once, blinding red light burst from the tip of Sargeras' wand, throwing sharp, shifting shadows across the wooden walls.

"You handle the evacuation," he said, his voice calm and steady, as cool and deep as still water. "I'll take care of the beast."

"Wait—don't!" Thunderbird called out urgently. "If you attack it, it will only release a stronger wave of toxic mist!"

Sargeras gave a silent nod and gently tapped the side of his head with his wand, casting a Bubble-Head Charm over himself in one smooth motion.

He reached out and took the emerald-colored potion Nightingale handed him, slipping it into his pocket without hesitation. It was a top-grade antidote, brewed from Mandrake root and Phoenix Tears.

He stepped outside, and the desert heat hit him full in the face like a blazing wall. Thankfully, the attack had occurred in a barren region. Had this happened anywhere near a population center, the casualties would've been tenfold.

Sargeras locked onto the direction of the creature, his eyes sharp and focused. Then, in a single fluid motion, his body dissolved into a massive raven-shaped shadow and shot toward the Nundu like a streak of midnight tearing through the sky.

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[Chapter End's]

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