Draco: "…"
Wentworth couldn't be bothered with the two academically-challenged students' bewildered expressions. He drew his wand from his robes and turned to Draco and Harry, advising:
"I suggest you hold your wands tight!"
Hearing Wentworth's warning, the two hurriedly gripped their wands with tense fingers.
Following the trail of unicorn blood on the forest floor, the three ventured deeper into the Forbidden Forest.
Before long, an unusual noise reached their ears. The trio exchanged glances before silently creeping forward.
Finally, they spotted a cloaked figure in the distance.
The figure was hunched over the ground, and beneath it lay a unicorn—its snowy-white body, ethereal and otherworldly, now barely clinging to life.
Yet the figure seemed entirely unfazed. It was greedily sucking at something, producing an unsettling, serpentine hissing sound.
Draco turned to Wentworth and whispered urgently,
"That person… they're drinking the unicorn's blood? What should we do?"
But Wentworth seemed distracted, his gaze scanning the surroundings as if searching for something.
Hearing Draco's question, he instinctively responded,
"Now we just wait for the centaur to— wait, hold on a second! Draco, why are you whispering? Shouldn't you be screaming right about now?!"
In that moment, Wentworth snapped to attention.
According to the original sequence of events—and, more importantly, given Draco's well-known cowardice—he should have screamed in terror, attracting the cloaked figure's attention. Then, fulfilling his role in the story, he would take off running, leaving only Harry Potter behind.
After that, Firenze, the centaur, was supposed to descend from the heavens, playing the savior to the savior himself.
Yet now, Wentworth examined Draco from head to toe and found that he showed no intention of shrieking in fear.
On the contrary, Draco's eyes were filled with excitement.
Wentworth even noticed a flicker of anticipation.
A gust of wind blew through the Forbidden Forest, leaving Wentworth slightly disoriented.
Something's not right here, Draco. This isn't your character at all! You've got the wrong script, haven't you?!
Oblivious to Wentworth's internal screaming, Draco puffed out his chest when he noticed Wentworth looking his way. He then pointed at the cloaked figure and whispered eagerly,
"Wentworth, why don't we take him by surprise while he hasn't noticed us? We can use Levicorpus to trap him—what do you think?"
Wentworth: "!!!"
Wentworth could never have predicted this turn of events.
Right now, Draco was brimming with confidence—having survived the troll incident and obtained his Secret Order insignia, he was suffering from what could only be described as a delusion of destiny.
And on top of that, Wentworth was standing beside him.
Currently, Draco placed unquestioning faith in Wentworth.
But before Wentworth could say anything, Harry's trembling voice broke through,
"Draco… I think it's too late. I'm pretty sure he's already noticed us."
At Harry's words, both Wentworth and Draco snapped their heads forward.
Sure enough, the cloaked figure had lifted its head.
Though his face remained obscured beneath the hood, Wentworth could feel the weight of his gaze locking onto them.
A moment later, the figure sprang into motion, leaping toward them at an alarming speed.
Wentworth took one last glance around.
Where's the centaur?!
At that moment, Wentworth finally realized one thing—he'd completely messed up the sequence of events!
As their pursuer rushed toward them without hesitation, Wentworth immediately staggered backward and shouted,
"RUN!"
The confidence on Draco's face instantly froze.
But he was quick to process what this meant—if Wentworth was running, then there was only one explanation: they were no match for this enemy.
So, despite his brief hesitation, Draco did not let his ego get the better of him. He grabbed a visibly dazed Harry Potter and bolted.
And Wentworth was right.
Draco and Harry might not have known who their pursuer was, but Wentworth did.
It wasn't just Quirrell that concerned him—Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, was unlikely to be as powerless as some might assume.
Wentworth refused to believe that Voldemort, of all people, would appear in Hogwarts completely defenseless. His paranoia alone would never allow it.
And even if Voldemort was disregarded entirely, Quirrell himself was no pushover.
Wentworth knew better than to underestimate him.
That stuttering, nervous act of his? A façade.
Did people really think every single Ravenclaw graduate who became a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts was as incompetent as Lockhart?
Yet as they ran, it became painfully clear that their pursuer was faster.
Wentworth stole a glance behind him—they were closing in.
Without hesitation, Wentworth raised his wand—not at their attacker, but toward the sky.
"Lumos Maxima!"
A brilliant beam of light shot straight into the night sky.
Seeing this, Draco seemed to catch on. Without wasting a second, he raised his own wand and mimicked Wentworth's actions.
"Lumos Maxima!"
A faint glow flickered at the tip of Draco's wand—barely illuminating the three feet of ground before him.
"XXX!"
Draco cursed under his breath and pulled the trembling, forehead-clutching Harry along as they fled.
Wentworth's burst of light had drawn every sleepless gaze in Hogwarts toward the Forbidden Forest.
Firenze, watching from a distance, turned to Ronan and remarked,
"I'd really like to see whose spell that was."
Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall hurriedly emerged from her office—only to cross paths with a hastily striding Snape.
At the same time, Professor Flitwick, with his considerably shorter legs, was doing his best to catch up behind them.
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