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Just like Rolf's suitcase, Kettleburn, the current professor of Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts, had his own magical item. However, unlike Rolf's suitcase, it wasn't a small, compact design but rather an old-fashioned, somewhat shabby large leather handbag.
While it wasn't made of dragonhide, the leather, even after decades of use, still felt soft and supple. Clearly, this material was far from ordinary. If it had been something common, even with the Undetectable Extension Charm to expand its space, it would never have withstood the chaotic movement inside.
You can't expect a simple cloth bag, even after an Undetectable Extension Charm, to safely contain a temperamental dragon. If that dragon moved even slightly, the flimsy cloth would tear apart instantly. Normally, space expanded by the charm isn't meant to house living creatures, unless the materials used are durable enough to withstand the strain.
The handbag Harry had borrowed was far larger than his own dragonhide bag, providing an internal space roughly double the size of his dormitory room—enough to comfortably fit four or five Thestrals. Early the next morning, after a hearty, calorie-packed breakfast at Hagrid's, Harry and Hagrid made their way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
There, they found a makeshift fence with a skeletal cow hanging from a wooden post. About ten Thestrals were lying comfortably on a bed of straw.
When the sound of approaching footsteps reached their ears, the Thestrals immediately rose to their feet and began walking out through the unlocked gate.
As creatures beloved by Hagrid, the Thestrals were equally fond of him. Without Hagrid, their numbers wouldn't have grown to the current count of over a hundred. It was all thanks to Hagrid's care and attention.
"Such good little ones," Hagrid murmured, reaching out to rub the bare skull of the largest Thestral. This one, named Uwu, was the first Thestral born in the forest and Hagrid's favorite.
"Pick four of your little friends and bring them with you. We're going after a werewolf."
Uwu, fully understanding Hagrid's words, nudged his hand affectionately before turning around and scanning the group. Without making a sound, it led four other Thestrals to the side.
"Go ahead and get in Harry's bag for now. You can come out when we get there."
Harry opened the handbag, which had a hole just large enough for the Thestrals to stick their heads through. Miraculously, all five Thestrals easily squeezed into the bag. Harry peeked inside and saw them lazily lying on the soft, slightly damp grass within.
"Alright, Hagrid, are we ready to go?" Harry asked, glancing at his friend.
"Let's go, let's go. If we're quick, we might even make it back for lunch."
"Can we really be that fast?"
"Don't underestimate the Thestrals, Harry. They're a lot more capable than you think."
Harry called out Fawkes' name, and just as the words left his lips, a burst of flame appeared above their heads. The warmth was not hot enough to burn them, but it chased away the chill of the early morning.
Fawkes, the fiery phoenix with golden-red feathers, flapped its wings gracefully and landed on Harry's shoulder. It gave him a curious look before hopping onto Hagrid's shoulder. With its powerful talons gripping Hagrid's leather jacket, the phoenix's long tail flicked in front of Harry, as though asking him to grab it.
The tail feathers felt exceptionally smooth and strong, and as Harry touched them, a comforting warmth flowed from his hand through his body. With a loud, melodic cry, Fawkes ignited into a swirling inferno, enveloping both Harry and Hagrid in a fiery cocoon. As the flames spun around them, they disappeared in an instant, leaving only a group of Thestrals curiously staring at the place they had vanished from.
The rapidly spinning flames made Harry dizzy, and the heat from the fire increased as it surrounded him. After what felt like mere seconds, or perhaps half a minute, a thin layer of sweat formed on Harry's forehead. Suddenly, the flames vanished, and Harry found himself in an unfamiliar forest.
Fawkes had carried them across an unimaginable distance, bringing them to the Cairngorm Mountains—an area unreachable by Apparition. While a Portkey might have made the journey possible, Apparition was better suited for shorter distances. Traveling too far could put a heavy strain on a wizard and increase the risk of Splinching.
After transporting both Harry and Hagrid, Fawkes, now somewhat weary, let out a soft cry before fluttering to a tall tree where it perched to rest.
"Thank you, Fawkes!" Harry called out, waving at the magnificent phoenix. He then opened the handbag, and the five Thestrals filed out one by one, stretching their wings and shaking out their limbs.
"Go on, little ones, sniff around and find the scent of blood. Let's track down that werewolf."
Hagrid patted Uwu's head, and the Thestrals nodded obediently in response.
"Harry, you ride Uwu and look around. I'll search beneath the trees. If you find anything, shoot up red sparks."
Hagrid pulled out his pink umbrella. "It's been a while since I've used magic, but I still remember how."
"Got it, Hagrid. I'll let you know right away if I find anything."
Harry mounted Uwu's back. Although Uwu was the largest and strongest Thestral, its large frame still made for a bony ride, and its skeleton jutted uncomfortably against Harry's own. But it was fine—Harry had enough muscle to handle it.
As soon as the Thestrals spread their wings, they soared into the sky. After adjusting to the proper height, they spread out, gliding over the forest, each heading off in a different direction to search for their target.
The Cairngorm Mountains were home to England's second highest peak, Ben Macdui. The area was vast, with the Cairngorms National Nature Reserve alone covering 259 square kilometers. Werewolves, however, were unlikely to be found in areas frequented by Muggles. Although Fenrir, even in his human form, had a taste for human flesh, he loathed Muggles. To him, the flesh of those without magic was foul, and his targets were almost always wizards.
Harry's eyesight was exceptional, far better than that of the Thestral beneath him. The Thestrals weren't bad at seeing, and could even see as clearly at night as during the day. But compared to their extraordinary sense of smell—able to detect life and death—they didn't rely much on vision.
Uwu's job was to lead Harry to areas where there was a distinct scent of blood, at which point Harry would verify whether any werewolf traces were present. The Thestrals could only smell blood, but death was an ever-present companion in this forest, always accompanying the hunt.
This area wasn't magically saturated, but it was still an animal paradise, where hunting and death were constant natural rhythms.
"If only we had a Druid here," Harry muttered after a long day of searching.
By the end of the search, Harry was tired and dismounted from Uwu. Hagrid had misjudged the complexity of the situation. The Forbidden Forest was different from the outer woods—its top predators had set territories, and order ruled the forest. Outside, in the ordinary woods, things were far more chaotic.
Hagrid found nothing, and Harry didn't spot a single trace. The Thestrals confirmed hundreds of locations with fresh blood or death scents. They even encountered some wild wolves living in the forest but found no signs of werewolves.
The werewolf hunt had hit a standstill. Harry and Hagrid sat by the crackling campfire, silently turning over their roasting meat.
"Do we really have to wait until the full moon?" Harry grumbled, taking a bite of sizzling wild boar ribs, his frustration evident in his tone.
"To catch prey, you can't be impatient, Harry," Hagrid replied, chomping down on an entire roasted pig leg with a loud crunch. "If we're late returning, so what? We can just consider it a nice little vacation."
"You're right, Hagrid. I was getting too impatient."
In the moonlit night, a few distant wolf howls echoed, but it wasn't a full moon tonight. The howls were not the sound of the werewolf they sought.
(End of Chapter)