The Forbidden Forest

They met Hagrid and the quietly quivering Quirinus Quirrell in the Great Hall. Hagrid, evidently some sort of half-giant Ranger, was carrying a heavy crossbow (Milo was skeptical, light crossbows were much more damage-efficient) and carrying Fang's leash. Milo had carefully prepared his spells that morning, and avoided casting any throughout the day—meaning the Gryffindors started to be late for class, again, as Peeves could harass them with impunity, and Milo was starting to appear rather useless in their lessons. Still, he wasn't about to venture into something called the Forbidden Forest without a full complement of spells.

"Mage Armour," he cast as soon as they approached the professor and the Keeper of the Keys. A thin, invisible field of force surrounded him like a second skin. It was far from complete protection, but it would help a little.

"Hagrid!" Harry said happily.

"A-all right" Quirrell said, "our j-job is simple: all we're t-to do is enter the f-f-forest and f-find whatever it is a-attacking the u-unicorns," he stammered nervously. "A-and then r-return to H-Hogwarts so the H-Headmaster and I can d-d-decide what to do."

"Sounds like a plan," Milo said, although he privately wondered why all the powerful wizards living in Hogwarts didn't just use some Divinations to determine what was in the forest.

"Yeh all right, Harry?" Hagrid asked the Harry, who looked a little nervous, but determined. Milo was a little impressed that he'd volunteered for this, his friend was only three days into his wizard training. Milo hadn't, in fact, seen him perform any actual magic, yet. Now that's guts, he thought. But smart. If he lives, anything we encounter will give him so much XP that he's bound to level up at least once.

"Let's be off, then," Hagrid said, and led them through the grounds. Hogwarts sure looks eerie at night, Milo thought. A bit like Thamior's old place. Milo felt a brief pang of homesickness; Thamior was evil to the core, sure, but after the number of times Milo and his party had defeated him, he was practically family. "Now, I want ter be clear: anythin' happens—anythin' at all—and yer ter send up red sparks an' run, yeh hear?"

Harry and Milo nodded mutely. Milo could do close enough with a Dancing Lights spell.

"A-and keep y-your eyes p-p-p-peeled," said Quirrell. "A-and stick c-close."

A soft breeze caused the chill night air to bite clean through their school uniforms, and Milo pulled out a warm scarf and some wool gloves (fingerless, so as not to interfere with his spellcasting gestures) from his Belt of Hidden Pouches.

"Right. I'll take Harry an' Fang, Quirrell can take Milo," Hagrid said as they reached the outskirts of the forest.

"What, we're splitting up?" Harry asked.

"We've had bad experiences with that before," Milo added.

"Best way to find what we're lookin' fer," Hagrid said. "Too big of a group, an' we'll spook it. Remember: run in ter trouble, send sparks."

"Well, Harry," Milo said. "See you on the other side, right?"

"'Course. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll be fine," Harry said. Milo was astonished: was Harry trying to reassure him?

"You know, Harry, I think that one day—when you've gone up a few levels, and get a few magic items—you'll be quite the hero. Good luck."

The two groups split up and entered the forest.

"So, what are we looking for, exactly, Professor?" Milo asked Quirrell.

"We are not yet certain," Quirrell said. "Something that's been attacking unicorns—almost certainly some kind of animal. Keep an eye out for any unicorn's blood; it has a distinctive silvery colour."

Again, Milo had the nagging feeling that he'd failed a skill check. Quirrell had his wand at the ready. It felt like they'd been walking for hours, but Milo doubted it was more than half of one.

"Bet this is old hat for you, right?" Milo asked, feeling slightly nervous. "You probably charge into the Forbidden Forest every other week, fighting monsters and things?"

"No, that's Hagrid's job. I've only been this deep twice before," Quirrell said.

"Oh. Good."

"Wait, quiet—I think I heard something," Quirrell said. "Best hide behind that tree, I'll investigate. Just stay down."

Before Milo could argue, Quirrel strode off the path with his wand held out like a weapon—which, Milo, supposed, it was. Milo shrugged and ducked behind a tree, which was covered in soft moss. He heard rustling in the darkness, and debated whether to cast Dancing Lights to see what was going on. He eventually decided against, reasoning that the light might reveal some sort of monster sneaking up on him but would certainly attract everything in the entire forest.

Then he heard another rustle, closer this time. Okay, something is definitely sneaking up on me. He moved to stand up quietly, but found, to his surprise, that he couldn't. He appeared to be stuck to the tree.

"What the—oh, gross." What he'd thought was moss turned out to be webs. He struggled against it vainly, but it was useless—he was stuck.

"Protection from Evil, Mirror Image, Invisibility," Milo cast in quick succession. He vanished abruptly, but five identical illusory copies of himself remained. Classic shell con—none of the visible Milos were the real one. He hoped he wasn't jumping at shadows, because he'd just burned through most of his daily allotment of spells.

He was mildly satisfied when one of his illusory doubles was abruptly torn to pieces by a shadowy creature. The satisfaction vanished when he realized he was, illusions aside, stuck to a tree being attacked by a monster he couldn't see.

"Dancing Lights," he cast, sending four glowing red spheres into the sky above him. On the way up, they briefly illuminated, in red, horrible compound eyes and sharp pincers.

Great, he thought. Giant spiders. His invisibility spell would end as soon as he attacked one of them—that is, cast any spell that included them in the area. That ruled out Glitterdust and Grease, Milo's two favourite spells, but not creative use of Levitate. He could move himself or up to 400lbs of objects vertically, but not horizontally. Generally the spell was used by Wizards to escape, but Milo doubted it would pull him off of the webs.

"Levitate," he, and all of his doppelgangers, said. A hefty fallen log nearby Milo rose up slowly, ponderously, into the air a foot or two. Another mirror Milo fell to the spider's attack, and Milo started to sweat. Seeing yourself being eaten by a giant spider in dim red light while alone and trapped in a forest is, probably, one of the worst experiences a kid can go through (after visiting the dentist, of course). Milo then carefully reached into his Belt of Hidden Pouches with his right hand (his left was stuck in the webs) and withdrew an old adventurer's staple—fifty feet of silk rope and a grappling hook. The rope was invisible, but would cease to be as soon as it came to be more than ten feet from Milo—and the log was about twelve feet away. Hopefully the spider(s?) wouldn't notice two feet of taut rope appearing from nowhere. He awkwardly tossed the rope at the log—and missed. Milo saw another mirror Milo wink out of existence, presumably hit by the unseen attacker.

Milo looked at the fallen grappling hook, lying uselessly in the mud, and panicked slightly. Shouldn't help be coming? He thought. The glowing lights are up above me and everything. Wish I prepared Mage Hand this morning. His plan had been to lift the fallen tree up into the air, and use the grappling hook to pull it over to above the monstrous spider, then drop it. He doubted he'd have time to pull the hook back and throw it again. Well, nothing for it.

"No sense in us both dying, Mordy," he whispered to his familiar as he pulled him from his belt. "Run back to Hogwarts, see if Hermione or Hannah want you to be their familiar. Good luck, old friend."

Fear. Despair. Reluctance. He felt through their bond. Mordenkainen reluctantly crawled out of Milo's grasp, and turned around briefly. Love, he felt, before the magical creature skittered off.

"GLITTERDUST," Milo bellowed. The spider, now covered in glowing dust, was huge. The hairy creature's legs spanned at least fifteen feet across. The thing was blinded by the spell, but that would only last for twenty-four seconds. Also, his invisibility was gone, and he was still stuck. He decided to try burning the webs off of him with Prestidigitation—he might well get set on fire, but at least he'd be free.

"Prestidigitation," he said, and a small jet of fire sprung out of his hand at the tree… but nothing happened. Milo was confused, he was sure that would work. (Milo's only experience with webs came from the Web spell, which was used frequently by his arch-nemesis Thamior, and only bear passing resemblance to actual spider silk. Notably, the magical webs burn rapidly when exposed to fire—real spider silk, as Milo would know if he'd put any skill points into Knowledge (Nature), is fireproof).

Only eighteen seconds left. The spider flailed about awkwardly, catching one of Milo's duplicates with one of its eight hairy legs. The duplicate flickered and vanished. All Milo had left was Silent Image, Feather Fall, Grease, and some cantrips.

"Grease," he cast at the ground under the spider. The blind spider's eight legs flailed about, trying to get traction on the slippery ground, it's pincers creating an agitated clicking sound. It managed to keep its balance, however—Milo had forgotten that creatures with extra legs got a bonus to stability. He felt, after casting, that it might have been more effective to cast it on himself in case the spider tried to pick him up. Ah, well, twelve seconds to live. Milo frowned, thoughtfully. One effect of Grease was that anyone standing on the slippery surface had to make a Balance check to stay standing, and one effect of Balance was that anyone who took damage had to redo the check or fall. The amount of damage didn't make a difference.

Milo grinned.

"Acid Splash," he cast, and a pitifully small orb of acid hit the spider in what its face would be if it had one. Acid Splash was one of the most useless spells in existence—it hurt even less than just punching someone would, or even throwing a small rock—but Milo, as a Conjurer, got an extra Conjuration spell per level, and Acid Splash was the only 0th-level Conjuration spell in the multiverse. Milo had no choice but to prepare it every morning.

The spider fell to the ground, and Milo had six seconds before Glitterdust wore off and the spider could see. Milo gestured at the Levitated log, still floating a little above the ground, and it flew up into the canopy.

"Hey, ugly," Milo said, reaching into his belt. "Fear me, for I hold the mighty eldritch power of an eleven-foot pole!"

He gave the fallen spider a light push, and it slid (slightly downhill) along the Greased dirt, until it came to a stop in the slight depression where the log once was.

The spider's vision returned, and as Glitterdust ended, it became stealthy again. The spider's dark brown carapace was all but invisible in the darkness.

Milo dismissed Levitate.

He couldn't see what happened, but he definitely felt the 600 XP he got for defeating a Challenge Rating 2 Monstrous Spider solo. Milo sighed. He was somewhat disappointed by that, he thought the spider was worth way more than that. Well, I guess the spiders here are pushovers compared to the ones back home, he thought.

When Quirrell, Hagrid and Harry found him, he was whistling softly to himself, stuck to a tree.

"Milo!" Harry shouted, panicked. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, totally fine," he said, though in truth he felt a little woozy.

"Yeh managed ter kill an Acromantula?" Hagrid asked, shocked. "Aragog's not gonna like this. We'd best be leavin'."

"What took you guys so long?" Milo asked dizzily as Hagrid pulled him out of the webs.

"We ran in ter Quirrell, who was in a right state, said we had ter help yeh—but we were delayed by centaurs. Them stargazers took an unnatural dislike to our Defence Professor."

Quirrell appeared to have lost his short-lived courage, and was as pale and quivery as ever.

"Centaurs… in a forest? I figured horse-y types would prefer plains… not planes, mind, 'cause of all the… weird… monsters…" Milo's eyelids felt heavy and his head drooped slightly. He felt sort of numb all over.

"Hagrid? I think something's wrong with Milo," Harry said to the giant.

"What? Can't see anythin' in this ruddy darkness. Professor, could you…?"

"O-of c-c-c-course, Hagrid," Quirrell stammered. "L-lumos."

Quirrell held the tip of his glowing wand over Milo, so Hagrid could investigate closer. It was hard to tell, because of the poor lighting and Milo's black uniform, but there was a patch that seemed slightly darker than the rest.

"Oh, no," Hagrid gasped. "He's bin bit."

Milo frowned. He definitely didn't remember that happening. In fact, he was all but certain the acromantula never got even close to close enough to him to bite him.

"Nah, hairy brute never touched me," Milo said.

"H-he's delusional from the v-venom," Quirrell said. "I f-f-feel terrible, he w-was my r-r-responsibility."

"You're stuttering," Milo said. Something was nagging at him, but it felt as though his head were packed with wool.

"I-I a-always st-st-stutter," Quirrell stuttered.

"We need ter get 'im back to the castle," Hagrid said. "Acromantula venom can be lethal."

"Poison?" Milo asked, and reached for his belt. He kept antitoxin in one of the pockets… which one? It seemed like it should be important, but he was having difficulty focussing.

"I-I'll take him," Quirrell said. "You c-c-can keep s-searching."

"Right. Harry, you'd best be goin' with 'em," the giant said to the Boy-Who-Lived.

"But, then you'd be out there alone," Harry protested. "Are you sure you'd be okay?"

"Nah, I got Fang. Don't worry yerself about me."

"Wingardium Leviosa," Quirrell said, casting the Hovering Charm on Milo, who was starting to lose consciousness. Quirrell led Harry through the forest back towards the castle.

"Shouldn't we hurry, Professor?" Harry asked anxiously. "Milo looks really sick."

Quirrell shook his head.

"N-not in a f-forest," he said, "and c-certainly n-not in a f-forest in the d-d-dark. W-we could tr-trip in j-just about a-anything, and th-then we would take e-even longer."

Harry supposed Quirrell had a point, but their leisurely pace seemed torturously slow to him.

Harry, frightened by the forest, gradually drifted closer to Quirrell as they walked. The Defence Professor was a bit spineless, but he seemed pretty competent with magic—and he had faced down vampires at some point. However, as Harry drew nearer, his scar began to ache abruptly. He doubled over, clutching at his forehead. When his hand drew away, there was blood on it.

"A-are you al-alright, boy?" Quirrell asked.

"Uh," Harry said as the pain gradually decreased. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing. It just… my scar hurts sometimes, usually around Snape."

"Th-the scar—I understand y-you got i-it from the D-d-d-dark—from H-H-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Yes, Professor. That's what I'm told, at least."

Quirrell frowned.

"Th-then I'd s-s-suggest you b-be wary around the Potions M-M-Master," he said. "H-He used to be a D-D-D-Death Eater, I-I'm told. A-and this d-d-detention was h-his idea."

Harry was surprised. He didn't like Snape, but he hadn't realized that the greasy professor had been one of Voldemort's followers. Maybe he was going to try and finish the job that the dark wizard had started? Perhaps it was Harry, and not Milo, who had been meant to be attacked by the giant spider. Good thing Quirrell had been there.

As they continued to walk, Milo's condition worsened. He started babbling incoherently about his pockets and Quirrell's stutter, before passing out entirely.

o—o—o—o

Mordy scampered as fast as he could across the cold stone floor (which, considering he was a rat (more or less), was not terribly fast) towards the Gryffindor Common Rooms.

Everything was going swell until he encountered The Fell Beast. The Fell Beast gave a cry of rage that would haunt Mordy's dreams for weeks and charged. Mordy tried to dodge, but the cat was too fast—its claws left a bloody gash down the rodent's back. It would have been enough to kill a lesser rat, but Mordy, as a familiar, had more hit points—barely. He had half as many as his master, who unfortunately decided to dump Constitution at character creation.

Mordy climbed a suit of armour (rusty, the Gryffindors hadn't got this far yet) to escape the dreadful claws. He tensed, and jumped over to the next suit, barely catching hold of the helmet's visor. The Fell Beast, meanwhile, sat on the ground, debating what to do. He saw her tense up, ready to pounce, and Mordenkainen started to wish, heartily, that his master had taken the Improved Familiar feat.

As the Fell Beast jumped, Mordy let go of the visor and landed on the ground painfully. The cat's collision with the armour toppled it to the ground, and it spread in pieces over the hallway. Mordy evaded them easily (Improved Evasion could be handy) and sprinted as the cat regained her senses. Terror, Panic, Despair, he felt through the empathic bond with his master.

He rounded the last corner before the common room, and finally reached the portrait. The Fell Beast was hot on his heels.

"Password?" asked the Fat Lady.

"Squeak," said Mordenkainen.

"Correct," said the painting, and swung open. He barely made it through the portal as the painting swung shut. He could clearly hear the irritated sound of the Fell Beast hissing in frustration on the other side. There was a promise of pain and death in that hiss. Victory, Satisfaction, Triumph, he felt through the bond with his master.

In the common room, he saw Scabbers eating some crumbs off the floor.

"Squeak!" he said to the ugly rat.

"Squeak?" the appropriately-named Scabbers asked, surprised.

"Squeak, squeak-squeak squeak!" Mordy said urgently. Fear, Pain, Dizziness, he felt. Oh, no, Mordy thought. Has he been poisoned? Is he sick? Mordy concentrated and tried to send strength through the bond. Every species of familiar had some sort of special power—and rats could convey a measure of resistance against things like sickness in their master, as long as they were within a mile.

"Squeak," Scabbers said, and gave the rat-equivalent of a shrug. Mordy gave Scabbers a solid kick to the stomach, and ran into the girls' dorms. He had to find the one with the nice teeth. She was smart, she would understand, she would help. The problem was that the humans all looked alike to him.

"Squeak?" he said hopefully to one, who woke up, looked at Mordy, and screamed. Wrong one, he thought.

"There's a rat in my room!" she cried. "Lavender! Wake up!" another girl stirred irritably.

"What?" Lavender asked sleepily. "Ack!" she shrieked. The other humans all stood up out of bed while Mordy looked at them each, carefully, trying to figure out which was the one with nice teeth. The fact that they all were screaming made it easier.

"Hey, it's that rat Milo carries around all the time," said one (Hannah, in case you were wondering, not that Mordy knew that).

"What's he doing in here?" Lavender asked. Mordy gave the rat equivalent of a sigh. This wouldn't happen if I were a mouse, he thought. Everyone loves mice.

"Squeak!" he said urgently.

"He looks kinda distressed," Lavender said. "Wait, is he bleeding?"

"He should be with Milo," said one. "And Milo's out in the Forbidden Forest…" she frowned. "We need to find McGonagall, immediately. Milo could be in trouble—and this poor rat looks half dead." As she spoke, he could see her teeth—good, rat-like teeth. Yes, this is the one, he thought as his hit points slipped into the negatives.

o—o—o—o

This is taking way too long, Harry thought. Is Quirrell lost?

"Sh-should be just past the next few t-trees," Quirrell reassured him. "Th-then we'll b-be in open t-t-territory and can sp-sprint."

Harry was skeptical. He was fairly certain they were going roughly perpendicular to the castle, but then again, he'd never been in a forest before—it was more than likely that his sense of direction was misleading him. Still, he felt that the return journey should be faster than the trip out—they were taking all kinds of twists and turns while searching for the mysterious unicorn-killer—but it had been at least that long since they'd left Hagrid.

Harry gripped his wand, for all the good that it would do. His scar still ached somewhat, so he wondered if Snape was around, creeping in the bushes.

"Hello?" he heard a familiar voice call out. "Hagrid? Harry? Quirrell? Milo?"

"Headmaster!" Harry shouted. "We're over here!"

Quirrell, Harry noticed, looked briefly frustrated before regaining his composure.

"Wait there!" Dumbledore shouted. As the grandfatherly man approached, Harry could see a glowing red light coming closer. It looked like fire, but it felt oddly soothing. Quirrell shielded his eyes from the bright light, but Harry felt fine

"H-Headmaster, th-the boy was b-bit by an acromantula," Quirrell said to Dumbledore, who had a red, glowing bird of some sort perched on his shoulder. "H-he's been p-poisoned."

Dumbledore acted quickly.

"Quirrell, take Mr. Potter back to the Gryffindor common room. Fawkes," Dumbledore said to the bird, "take me and Milo to the hospital wing." There was a burst of red flame, and Dumbledore and Harry's friend vanished with a small puff of smoke.

"Sh-showy, b-b-but effective," Quirrell noted.

o—o—o—o

Milo awoke, staring at an all-too familiar ceiling.

"I'm in the hospital again, aren't I?" he asked weakly.

"I'm sorry to say that you're correct, young man," Madam Pomfrey said. "And, don't take this the wrong way, but it would be nice to go five days without seeing you."

Milo laughed weakly.

"You'll note," she continued, "that we left you with your magical belt this time. Your… pet… is on the bed next to you."

Mordenkainen was lying on the next bed over, wrapped in bandages.

"What happened to him?" Milo asked, his voice full of concern.

"He was attempting to get the Gryffindor common room, we believe, and was attacked by Ms. Norris. He almost died, but Hermione got him here in time, bless her. His appearance was how Dumbledore knew to go looking for you."

Milo frowned.

"Why did I need rescuing, again? It all seems so foggy."

"You were bitten by an acromantula, a highly intelligent and extremely dangerous magical spider-like monster. You're lucky to be alive. It's the sort of thing I'd think you'd remember," she said. The bite wound had, largely, healed mysteriously during the night, much like his injuries had when he'd first arrived. The venom's effects, however, lingered somewhat.

"No," Milo said. "I definitely don't remember that. There was a spider, and I dropped a tree on it, but it never touched me."

"You're still very sick, and I'm sure it all happened very fast. I wouldn't worry about it," she said, while pondering his words. He thinks he dropped a tree on it? Pomfrey thought. He is delirious.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"A day and a half, roughly. We managed to stabilize you, but it took until this morning for Snape to brew the antidote," she said. "He worked all night, you know."

Milo frowned. That story didn't add up at all. Something weird was going on.