HP and the Parseltongue Chronicles - Chapter - 31

The Stars Club had gathered in their private meeting room, tucked away in a forgotten section of Hogwarts. The walls were covered with maps, parchments filled with research, and magical creature sketches. They had been discussing their upcoming broomstick production expansion when Hagrid burst into the room, his massive form nearly filling the entrance.

His face was red with urgency, his beard bristling with agitation.

"Harry!" Hagrid bellowed, making several members jump in their seats. "We've got a real bad problem."

Harry, who had been flipping through a parchment, immediately looked up, concern creasing his forehead. "What is it, Hagrid?"

Hagrid stomped inside, lowering his voice only slightly. "It’s the Forbidden Forest—poachers. A group of ‘em. They’ve moved in since the Acromantulas left."

The room fell silent.

Neville, who had been sitting beside Hermione, stiffened. "Poachers? In the Forbidden Forest?"

Hagrid nodded gravely. "Aye. They never dared come before—too scared of Aragog’s colony. But now that the spiders are gone… they think they own the place. They’re huntin’ unicorns, mooncalves, thestrals—anythin’ they can get their hands on."

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth. “That’s—that’s horrible!”

"They're not jus' huntin' for sport, neither," Hagrid growled. "They're smugglers—sellin’ magical creatures on the black market. And if we don’t stop ‘em soon, they'll start wiping out entire species before we even realize what's happening."

Fred and George exchanged dark glances.

“This is bad,” Fred muttered.

"Really bad," George agreed. "If they're organized poachers, they won't leave until they’ve gotten everything valuable."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. The Forbidden Forest had always been dangerous, but it had also been a sanctuary for magical creatures. And now, with the Acromantulas gone, the balance had tipped.

He clenched his fists. "We need to do something."

Daphne nodded furiously. “Absolutely. But how? We can’t alert the Ministry—they’ll just send officials who will bumble around and probably make things worse."

Theodore added, “Not to mention, some officials might be working with the poachers.”

The entire room turned to look at him.

Theodore shrugged grimly. "You don’t think poachers operate without inside help, do you?"

Harry sighed. "We’ll have to handle this ourselves."

The Stars Club split into groups, each assigned to different tasks:

Fred and George would scout the forest for traps or camps.

Daphne and Hermione would study tracking spells to help locate the poachers.

Hagrid and Harry would patrol the forest to warn the creatures and gather intelligence.

Susan, Tracey, and Blaise would use magical techniques to predict where the poachers might strike next.

Fred cracked his knuckles. “Time to test some experimental pranks on real criminals.”

George smirked. “Poachers won’t know what hit them.”

Hermione, however, looked worried. “We need to be careful. These are not school bullies—they’re dangerous criminals. If we’re caught…”

Harry met her gaze. “We won’t get caught.”

That night, Harry, Hagrid, and Theodore ventured into the Forbidden Forest, armed with their wands and enchanted tracking charms.

The air was cold and thick with tension.

"Stay close," Hagrid whispered, leading the way. His crossbow was loaded, and Fang padded silently beside him.

They moved carefully through the dense underbrush, stepping over roots and fallen leaves.

Theodore suddenly froze, holding up his hand. "Wait."

Harry turned to him. "What?"

Theodore knelt, brushing aside some leaves. “Look at this.”

In the dirt, there were large boot prints—not the kind Hogwarts students or even professors would leave.

“These tracks are fresh,” Theodore muttered.

Hagrid leaned in. "Blimey, there's at least four or five o' them."

Harry's jaw tightened. “Then we’re close.”

A sound in the distance made them all go still.

It was a soft cry—a creature in distress.

They followed the sound deeper into the forest.

When they arrived at a small clearing, they saw something that made Harry's blood boil.

A unicorn—a young one—trapped in a net, its silver hide streaked with cuts. The creature whimpered, struggling against thick ropes infused with dark magic.

Standing around it were four men, all wearing dark hunting gear, wands at the ready.

One of them, a burly man with a scar down his cheek, grinned. "That'll fetch a fortune on the market."

Another, a wiry man with cruel eyes, laughed. “Think we should bleed it here or sell it whole?”

Hagrid growled low in his throat. “I’m gonna break their bloody skulls.”

Harry grabbed his arm. “Not yet.”

Theodore whispered. "We need a plan."

Harry’s mind raced. They couldn't attack head-on—they were outnumbered.

But they didn’t need to fight fair.

He grinned.

"Fred and George, you there?" Harry whispered, tapping his enchanted mirror.

A second later, Fred’s voice crackled through. “We’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

"Get ready," Harry said. "Time for some chaos."

A moment later, mayhem erupted.

Fred and George set off enchanted fireworks, which exploded over the poachers' heads, sending blinding sparks flying everywhere.

The poachers panicked, stumbling back.

“What the hell—?”

Then invisible tripwires activated, sending two poachers crashing into each other.

Harry and Theodore launched disarming spells, yanking the wands from the remaining two.

Hagrid charged forward, punching the biggest poacher in the jaw. The man went flying.

Harry darted forward, cutting the net open with a flick of his wand. "Go!" he whispered to the unicorn, and it bolted into the forest.

The poachers scrambled to escape, but Fred and George had other plans.

Their sticky-fire potion exploded, coating the ground in a magical goo, trapping the criminals where they stood.

By the time the chaos settled, three poachers were bound and unconscious, while the last one was crying for mercy.

Harry knelt down, his eyes cold.

"You don't belong here," he hissed. "You’ll be turned over to the Ministry. If I ever catch you again..."

The poacher gulped.

Hagrid clapped Harry on the back. "Yer brilliant, lad."

Fred dusted off his hands. “Well, that was fun.”

George nodded. "And very profitable."

They piled the stolen magical contraband, including illegal hunting gear, onto a floating cart.

Hermione shook her head. "This was just one group. There could be more."

Harry’s expression hardened.

"Then we’ll stop them all."

By morning, the poachers had been delivered—bound and silenced—to Minister Greengrass’s office.

But Harry knew this was just the beginning.

The Forbidden Forest needed protection.

And if the Ministry wouldn’t do it, the Stars Club would.

Theodore Nott sat in the Stars Club’s meeting room, his fingers steepled as he listened to the chatter around him. The air was tense, thick with the aftermath of their latest mission—the capture of the poachers in the Forbidden Forest. Though they had managed to rescue the unicorn and disrupt the immediate threat, Theodore knew this wasn’t over.

He had been raised in a pureblood family, steeped in tradition, cunning, and survival. Before Hogwarts, he had been taught that blood determined one’s worth. But now, after two years in Hogwarts and countless experiences with Harry Potter and the Stars Club, Theodore had seen the cracks in his beliefs.

And he had learned to adapt.

The door to the meeting room swung open, and Harry strode in, followed closely by Neville, Hermione, Fred, George, Susan, Terry, Daphne, and Blaise. They all took their seats around the circular table, their expressions expectant.

Theodore cleared his throat, looking at Harry. “We have a problem.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “We know. We caught poachers in the forest, but we also know there’s more out there.”

Theodore nodded. “It’s bigger than you think. Walden McNair is behind this.”

A chill settled over the room.

Hermione stiffened. “McNair? "

“Yes” Theodore confirmed, his voice even but grim. “He’s the Ministry’s official executioner for dangerous creatures—but that’s just a cover. He’s organizing and leading the poachers.”

Neville’s jaw clenched. “And you’re sure?”

“I got the information from a contact inside the Ministry,” Theodore said. “And I’ve known McNair since I was a child. My father dealt with him on multiple occasions.” He leaned forward, his eyes flicking to Harry. “This is not some ragtag group of criminals. McNair has connections, resources, and funding. He’s not just hunting magical creatures—he’s running an underground market for them.”

Harry exhaled sharply, his fingers tapping against the table. “That explains a lot. These poachers weren’t just hunting for sport—they were capturing creatures for sale.”

Fred scoffed. “So the Ministry’s own man is running an illegal magical creature trade?”

George shook his head. “Not surprised. Most of the corrupt Ministry is still in there.”

Theodore’s gaze darkened. “It’s worse than that. McNair isn’t just working alone—he’s part of a network. And if we go after him without a plan, we’ll be walking into a hornet’s nest.”

Harry nodded. “Then we’ll need a better plan.”

Daphne crossed her arms. “If McNair is so well-connected, how do we even begin to take him down?”

Theodore smirked slightly. “By doing what Slytherins do best.”

Fred and George exchanged a glance. “Cheat?”

Theodore rolled his eyes. “Gather information. Play the long game.” He looked around the table. “We need to know his operations inside and out before we move against him.”

Harry agreed. “We should track their movement. Figure out where they’re selling the creatures.”

Blaise leaned back in his chair. “I have some family contacts that might be useful.”

Theodore turned to him. “Then use them. McNair’s market is too big for us to just shut down by catching a few poachers. We need proof—undeniable proof—that he’s committing crimes.”

Hermione chewed her lip. “If he’s got Ministry protection, we’ll need more than proof. We’ll need the right people to see it.”

Neville nodded. “Which means Greengrass.”

Daphne tensed but nodded. “My father is busy trying to fix the ministry. If we show him evidence, he’ll make sure it’s acted on.”

Harry clenched his fist. “Then that’s the plan. We gather evidence—we expose McNair and his whole operation.”

Later that night, Theodore met with Harry alone near the Gryffindor common room.

“Why are you really doing this?” Harry asked.

Theodore met his gaze, expression unreadable.

“You think I’m still some pureblood Slytherin, don’t you?”

Harry didn’t answer.

Theodore smirked slightly. “I joined the Stars Club for selfish reasons at first. But now? I see things differently. You and the others—you changed my perspective.”

Harry studied him. “So you’re saying you’ve had a change of heart?”

Theodore leaned back. “I’m saying that the old ways are crumbling. And I plan to survive the new world.”

Harry considered that, then nodded. “Good. Because we’ll need every ally we can get.”

Theodore smirked. “Then let’s take McNair down.”

Harry’s eyes gleamed.

“Let’s do it.”

Daphne Greengrass sat at her desk in the Stars Club meeting room, her quill scratching across parchment. Normally, she sent her father formal letters discussing her studies, Hogwarts politics, and their family affairs. But this?

This was different.

Her father, Cygnus Greengrass, the newly elected Minister of Magic, had promised reform, promised justice. Now was the time for him to act.

She folded the letter neatly and sealed it with the Greengrass family crest. She turned to Harry, who stood nearby, arms crossed, reading over his own parchment.

“I’ve explained everything,” Daphne said. “I told him McNair is running an illegal operation under the guise of Ministry work and that his poachers are moving freely in the Forbidden Forest. If he’s serious about cleaning up the Ministry, this is the perfect place to start.”

Harry nodded. “Good. If we provide the evidence, he can launch a formal investigation and shut McNair down before he even realizes what’s happening.”

She handed the letter to Hedwig, who hooted softly before taking flight.

Meanwhile, Harry finished his own letter and called Norky.

The house-elf appeared with a pop, dressed in his usual neatly pressed tuxedo, his ears twitching in attention. “Master Harry, how may Norky be of service?”

Harry handed him the sealed parchment. “Take this to Sirius. Quickly. Tell him it’s urgent.”

The letter contained clear instructions:

Investigate McNair’s network discreetly.

Find out where the captured magical creatures are being stored.

Do not engage—just gather information.

Sirius was one of the best at tracking and stealth, and Harry trusted him to find answers without tipping off McNair.

As Norky vanished, Harry turned to Theodore and Daphne. “Now we wait. But not idly.”

Theodore smirked. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

Harry’s eyes gleamed.

“We’re going to hit them before they even realize we’re onto them.”