HP and the Parseltongue Chronicles - Chapter - 32

Fred and George hung precariously from the sturdy branches of an ancient oak tree, high above the dense undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest. They barely breathed as they listened, their sharp eyes locked on the massive encampment below.

Dozens of poachers moved around, setting up their weapons, preparing enchanted cages, and murmuring among themselves.

Fred shot a glance at his twin, his lips pressed into a tight line. This isn't just some small band of hunters—this is a full-fledged operation.

George nodded silently, his grip tightening around his broomstick as they both strained to hear the conversation happening below.

A grizzled-looking man, likely their leader, stood in the center of the camp, addressing his men in low but commanding tones.

"We don’t have time to waste. The Ministry is breathing down our necks, and Greengrass is a problem we didn’t expect."

There was a murmur of agreement.

"We’re going to do this fast, clean, and precise. We’ve already mapped the targets—sixteen creatures in total. Some of them are extremely rare, and once we have them, we disappear. If we pull this off, every one of us will be set for life."

The poachers muttered excitedly amongst themselves.

"We’ll split into six teams. Each one will hit a different area simultaneously. Capture, stun, extract—no wasted movement. If anyone gets caught, they’re on their own."

Fred and George exchanged alarmed looks. Six teams? They’re going to strike all at once?

Another man, younger but just as hardened, spoke up. “What about the creatures we’ve already marked?”

"We hit those first," the leader confirmed. "We already know where they are. That hippogriff nest by the western ridge, the Mooncalf burrows near the lake, the herd of thestrals deeper in the woods… and let’s not forget the unicorns."

George clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. Unicorns? These monsters were planning to hunt unicorns?

Fred nudged George slightly, whispering, “We’ve got to warn Harry.”

George gave a slight nod before gripping his broomstick. With practiced ease, the twins mounted their brooms and shot up into the night sky, soaring above the trees with silent precision.

The moment they were high enough above the tree line, they pushed their broomsticks to full speed, streaking toward Hogwarts.

Back in the Stars Clubroom, the meeting was already underway when the door burst open, and Fred and George rushed inside, panting heavily.

Harry, Neville, Hermione, Theodore, Daphne, and a dozen other core members immediately turned to them, sensing their urgency.

Harry stood, concern etching his face. “What happened?”

George pulled out a quickly drawn map, slamming it onto the table. “Poachers. At least a hundred of them. They’ve been here before, and they’ve already marked their targets.”

Fred, still catching his breath, nodded grimly. “They’re planning to attack in six separate teams—hitting multiple creatures at the same time. If we don’t stop them, they’ll be gone before the Ministry even realizes they were here.”

The room went silent as everyone processed the severity of the situation.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “A hundred? That’s not a small operation—that’s an army.”

Theodore, his usual calm demeanor shaken, ran a hand through his hair. “This isn’t just random poachers—this is an organized smuggling ring.”

Neville slammed his fist onto the table. “We have to stop them.”

Harry nodded sharply. “We will.”

Harry ran through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, his breath ragged as he ascended the staircase to the second floor. Time was running out.

Behind him, Neville, Hermione, Daphne, Theodore, Fred, and George followed, their expressions a mixture of confusion and determination. They didn't question Harry’s decision to veer off course from the strategy meeting—they trusted him.

When they reached the second-floor corridor, Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom loomed before them.

Hermione, panting slightly, finally spoke. “Harry, what exactly are we doing here? The poachers are in the Forbidden Forest, not Hogwarts.”

Harry didn’t stop. He pushed open the heavy wooden door, the dimly lit and abandoned bathroom echoing with Myrtle’s quiet sobs near the far stall.

Fred glanced around. “Unless you’ve got an army of ghosts in here waiting to help us, I’m really not seeing the plan, mate.”

Harry turned to face the group, his green eyes intense. “We’re going to the Chamber of Secrets.”

For a second, there was absolute silence.

Then:

George let out a low whistle. “That’s… bold.”

He raised his hand and hissed in Parseltongue, the ancient snake-like language that only a handful of wizards could speak.

“Open.”

A deep rumbling sound shook the bathroom as the sink began to descend, revealing a dark, gaping tunnel that spiraled downward.

Moaning Myrtle gasped. “Oh, it’s been so long since someone used that!”

Hermione, clearly torn between fascination and dread, swallowed hard. “You’re… not actually serious, right?”

Harry turned to her. “We need help. We don’t stand a chance against those poachers in a direct fight. The Aurors won’t get here in time, and if we just let this happen, the Forbidden Forest will be left in ruins.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide with realization. “The Basilisk?”

Neville, looking more nervous than ever, stammered. “Y-You want to let out the Basilisk?!”

Fred, to no one’s surprise, looked absolutely delighted. “Bloody brilliant.”

Harry shook his head. “Not let her out. Convince her to help us. And Norberta, too.”

That silenced the room.

Daphne, ever the practical thinker, finally sighed and rubbed her temples. “I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing to this.”

Harry turned back to the dark hole leading downward. He inhaled sharply, then jumped in.

The descent was long and twisting, but not new to Harry. When he landed, he quickly stepped aside to make room for the others.

One by one, they followed, some less gracefully than others.

Neville groaned as he brushed off slimy residue from his robes. “Merlin, I hate this place already.”

Fred gave him a grin, patting his shoulder. “Cheer up, mate. We’re in an actual legend right now.”

They moved forward cautiously, winding through the ancient tunnels until they reached the massive stone doors leading to the Chamber of Secrets itself.

Harry stepped forward and hissed, “Open.”

The doors shuddered, then swung wide, revealing the vast underground cavern beyond.

There, coiled around the massive stone statue of Salazar Slytherin, was Sapphira, the Basilisk. Her emerald scales gleamed in the dim torchlight, and her massive yellow eyes flickered toward them, hidden behind the protective membrane she used to keep from petrifying anyone unintentionally.

Near the far wall, Norberta, the now-enormous Norwegian Ridgeback dragon, stretched her wings and let out a low, questioning growl.

Sapphira’s voice slithered through the chamber, her Parseltongue words only understood by Harry.

“You return, Young Speaker.”

Harry stepped forward. “I need your help.”

The Basilisk’s head tilted slightly, her massive fangs glistening in the dim light.

“You are troubled. Speak.”

Harry explained the situation. The poachers. The creatures being hunted. The devastation that would come if they weren’t stopped.

Sapphira listened in silence.

When Harry finished, the great serpent uncoiled slightly, her massive form shifting as she lowered her head to regard him closely.

“You ask me to hunt those who hunt?”

Harry met her gaze without fear. “Yes.”

Sapphira was silent for a long moment, then finally spoke.

“Then I shall.”

Hermione, who had barely moved since they entered, muttered, “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

Neville, still standing halfway behind Fred, gulped. “We’re… sending the Basilisk into the Forbidden Forest.”

Theodore, ever the pragmatist, smirked. “That should make the poachers rethink their life choices.”

Fred clapped his hands together. “Well, mates, if we’re gonna start a war, might as well do it in style.”

Harry turned back to Norberta, who had been watching everything carefully.

“Will you help too?”

Norberta let out a low, rumbling growl, her fiery breath casting a golden glow across the cavern walls.

She didn’t need to speak for Harry to know the answer.

The poachers had no idea what was coming for them.

Harry and his friends hurried back to Hogwarts, ensuring that not a single trace of their presence in the Forbidden Forest remained. The corridors of the castle felt eerily quiet as they entered, but inside, their minds were racing.

Neville wiped his brow, his breathing still uneven. "That was insane. Are we sure this won’t come back to us?"

Hermione adjusted her cloak, still pale but composed. “We did everything right. No one saw us. We were in the castle the entire time.”

Theodore, calm and calculating as always, leaned against the wall of the common room, his sharp mind already working through the aftermath. “We should act normal. Stick to our routines. If anyone asks, we were here, like everyone else.”

Harry simply nodded, his emerald eyes reflecting the flickering light of the fireplace. "It’s done. Now, we wait."

The next morning, the entire castle was buzzing with shocking news.

The Daily Prophet had already caught wind of what happened in the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione opened the newspaper at breakfast, her eyes widening as she read aloud:

Massacre in the Forbidden Forest!

Tragedy struck last night as an entire group of illegal poachers perished under mysterious circumstances in the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts.

Aurors from the Ministry of Magic arrived at the scene to find dozens of bodies scattered across the woodland, with no clear explanation of their deaths. Some were burned beyond recognition, others had no visible wounds but appeared to have simply dropped dead, and some showed signs of being torn apart by a massive creature.

One Auror, speaking anonymously, stated,
"We've never seen anything like this before. It’s as if the forest itself turned against them."

Minister Cygnus Greengrass has issued an official statement, calling for a full investigation into the matter. However, sources suggest that no trace of what might have killed the poachers has been found.


By the time Hermione finished reading, the entire Great Hall was silent.

Students exchanged whispers, glancing nervously toward the Forbidden Forest.

At the Head Table, the professors were grim-faced, their discussions hushed but intense.

Hagrid, his face grim and unreadable, was the only one not eating.

Harry took a bite of his toast, forcing himself to act as if nothing was wrong.

The Aurors arrived at Hogwarts later that afternoon.

Minister Greengrass himself accompanied them, along with a team of investigators. They spoke in whispers with Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape, their expressions tense and serious.

Harry and his friends watched from the far end of the corridor as the officials prepared to enter the forest again, their wands drawn and their robes fluttering in the wind.

Theodore, standing beside Harry, murmured, “They won’t find anything. Whatever Sapphira did, she covered her tracks well.”

Fred, watching the group of Aurors with a lazy smirk, added, “Still, I’d love to see their faces when they realize they have no clue what happened.”

Neville, who had been quiet for most of the day, looked troubled. "We killed them," he muttered. "We sent them to their deaths."

Harry, turning to face him, placed a firm hand on Neville’s shoulder. "We stopped monsters, Neville. They were going to butcher magical creatures like trophies. If we hadn’t done something, no one else would have."

Hermione sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. “I still can’t believe how… efficient it was. No one saw Sapphira or Norberta. They just disappeared back into the forest afterward.”

Theodore folded his arms. “That’s why this will work. No witnesses. No proof. And now the poaching operation is over.”

Daphne, who had just arrived from a private meeting with her father, frowned deeply. “The Ministry is calling this an ‘act of the forest’.”

Fred blinked. "That’s what they’re going with?"

Daphne nodded. “They don’t have a choice. There are no surviving poachers to question, and the traces of magic are too wild to pinpoint. It’s chaos out there.”

Harry allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk.

As the days passed, the investigation continued, but nothing substantial came from it.

One evening, Professor McGonagall stopped Harry after Transfiguration class.

Her sharp eyes locked onto his, and her tone was unusually soft.

“Mr. Potter, do you know anything about what happened in the Forbidden Forest?”

Harry met her gaze evenly. “No, Professor.”

She studied him carefully before nodding. “Be careful, Potter. Sometimes the things we set in motion have a way of coming back to us.”

Harry simply nodded again and walked away.

Fred and George whispered behind him as they left the classroom.

“She suspect something.”

“Of course she suspect.”

“But she can’t prove it.”


Sirius Black had always been a man who thrived in the shadows of both law and rebellion.

Before Azkaban, before the war had turned his world upside down, he had been more than just a renegade Marauder. He had been a rising star in the Auror Department, a master tracker, a duelist feared by Death Eaters, and the heir to one of the most powerful pureblood families in the wizarding world.

Even in exile, even in the darkness of imprisonment, his network never truly died.

Now, with his name cleared and his freedom restored, Sirius had gone back to doing what he did best—hunting monsters, in whatever form they took.

And Walden McNair was next.

Sirius pulled the hood of his cloak lower over his face as he moved through Knockturn Alley, blending into the dimly lit streets filled with the worst kind of witches and wizards.

This place had barely changed since his youth—filthy, secretive, dangerous.

McNair’s operation wasn’t just a back-alley poaching ring.

It was a fully organized magical trafficking network.

Sirius had tracked the stolen magical creatures from the Forbidden Forest to a hidden warehouse, concealed with layers of wards and protections. But nothing could truly stay hidden from him for long.

His old contacts had told him that an underground auction was set to take place soon—one where wealthy collectors, unscrupulous alchemists, and even foreign buyers would be bidding on illegal magical creatures, stolen artifacts, and forbidden potions.

McNair had no idea that he was already being watched.

Sirius leaned against the bar in The Rusty Cauldron, a seedy establishment where no one asked questions. He took a sip of firewhiskey and glanced at the cloaked figure beside him.

Remus Lupin had never been fond of places like this, but he was just as invested in this mission as Sirius.

“I still think breaking into McNair’s auction and cursing everyone inside isn’t the best plan,” Remus murmured, keeping his voice low.

Sirius smirked. “We don’t need to curse them. We just need proof—something to give to Cygnus Greengrass so he can shut this thing down permanently.”

Remus nodded. “So we infiltrate?”

Sirius’s grin widened.

“We infiltrate.”

The night of the auction, Sirius wasn’t Sirius Black.

He was Lord Reginald Arkwright, a wealthy, eccentric pureblood collector of rare magical creatures. His name carried weight in certain circles, though few had ever met him in person.

Remus, in contrast, had adopted the persona of Alistair Fenwick, an old associate of Borgin & Burkes with a reputation for dealing in rare potions.

With glamour charms and enchanted robes, the two of them blended into the crowd of bidders.

Inside the warehouse, long rows of enchanted cages lined the walls. Inside, captured magical creatures whimpered, growled, or screeched—some injured, others terrified.

Sirius’s blood boiled as he saw a young griffin, its wings clipped, thrashing weakly in a cage.

A merfolk child, barely older than ten, stared at the bidders with wide, terrified eyes from within a glass tank.

This wasn’t just poaching. This was slavery.

Remus murmured under his breath, his expression dark. “We need to get them out.”

Sirius forced himself to stay calm. “First, we get the names. Then, we burn this entire operation to the ground.”

McNair stepped onto the stage, his greasy smile spreading across his face as he addressed the gathered crowd.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, to another fine evening of rare acquisitions!”

He waved a hand dramatically, and the first creature was brought forward—a captured hippogriff, its wings bound with enchanted chains.

The bidding started immediately. Thousands of Galleons were being exchanged without hesitation.

Sirius clenched his fists.

These weren’t collectors.

They were butchers.

As the bidding continued, Sirius and Remus moved carefully through the crowd, discreetly placing enchanted recording quills near the main stage and along the edges of the room.

They would capture every transaction, every face, and every name.

But then, just as they were about to leave, Sirius saw something that made his blood run cold.

McNair smirked as he stepped forward again.

“And now, for our grand prize of the evening—a creature thought to be extinct, a legend among magical beasts.”

The audience whispered in excitement.

Sirius’s stomach twisted as the curtains pulled back.

Inside a reinforced iron cage, weak but still alive, lay a young Obscurial.

Sirius had seen a lot of horrors in his life.

But this?

This was too much.

A young witch, no older than eleven, curled in the corner of the cage, her eyes hollow with exhaustion.

McNair grinned, completely unaware that Sirius was already moving toward him.

“As you all know, Obscurial are incredibly unstable, but with the right… training, they can be controlled, harnessed, even weaponized.”

Remus caught Sirius’s arm.

“Sirius,” he hissed, “don’t—”

But it was too late.

Sirius dropped his disguise, ripped his wand from his sleeve, and sent a hex blasting McNair off the stage.

The crowd erupted in chaos.

Remus cursed under his breath and immediately grabbed his wand, blasting open cages as panic spread.

The creatures began to fight back.

Within minutes, Aurors in Minister Greengrass’s robes stormed the warehouse, answering the distress signals Remus had sent earlier.

McNair tried to flee, but Sirius stunned him with a well-placed hex.

“You’re done, McNair,” Sirius growled.

“You can’t prove anything,” McNair spat, struggling against the bindings.

Sirius grinned, feral and dangerous.

“Oh, I think we can.”

He snapped his fingers, and the enchanted quills rose into the air, replaying every illegal deal, every transaction, and every name spoken in the auction.

McNair’s face went pale.

The Aurors dragged him away, and Sirius turned to the young girl in the cage.

She looked at him with wide, fearful eyes.

“You’re safe now,” he told her, his voice softer than before.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt like he had finally done something truly good.

Two days later, Harry received the letter from Sirius.

He read every line carefully, his grip tightening on the parchment as he reached the end.

McNair had been arrested.

The entire poaching network had been dismantled.

The creatures had been relocated to safe habitats.

And the girl—the Obscurial—was now under protection.