The group moved cautiously through the Forbidden Forest, equal parts nervous and excited.
Compared to sneaking around the castle at night, this was an entirely different level of thrill.
"Oi, Ron! Keep up! You don't want to lag behind out here," Ted called back, smirking. "The last thing you want is to get caught alone when the Acromantulas come out."
Ron, who had been yawning and trailing at the back, immediately straightened up. "What—what did you just say? Acro-what?"
Hermione sighed, already anticipating his reaction. "Acromantulas, Ron. They're enormous, highly intelligent spiders native to the dense jungles of Kalimantan. They're carnivorous, highly venomous, and some can even talk."
"Talk? Like Anzu?" Jerry asked, glancing at Ted's summoned raven-like familiar.
Ted chuckled, reaching out to scratch Anzu's feathery head. "No, Anzu's much smarter."
The proud little creature puffed out his chest, looking as smug as a magical bird possibly could.
Ted continued, "There's actually a whole Acromantula colony deeper in the Forbidden Forest. Even the centaurs avoid that area. I hear there are hundreds—maybe thousands—of them."
Ron's face went pale. "H-hundreds? Thousands?"
"But their venom is worth a fortune," Ted added casually.
"A single vial sells for a hundred Galleons. Problem is, you either need to milk a live one—which, you know, good luck with that—or collect it before it dries up after they die."
Ron's expression wavered between sheer horror and the undeniable temptation of that much gold. "Y-you're just messing with me. Right?"
Ted just smiled.
Two days into their nightly excursions, the excitement was starting to wear off for most of the group.
Sure, the Forbidden Forest was thrilling at first—dangerous creatures, rare herbs, the thrill of breaking school rules—but exhaustion was catching up fast.
In just two nights, they had encountered over a dozen magical creatures, battled a few aggressive ones, and gathered all sorts of valuable ingredients. But the lack of sleep?
That was the real enemy.
Yawning through classes, barely staying awake during lectures, and sporting dark circles under their eyes—it was all taking its toll.
Even Fred and George, who prided themselves on surviving off adrenaline and pranks, had to admit defeat.
"I swear, if I have to fight off one more bloodsucking leech, I'm gonna start hexing first and asking questions later," Harley muttered, rubbing her temples.
Neville, barely keeping his eyes open, groaned. "I think I fell asleep in Herbology today. Like, fully asleep. I woke up hugging a mandrake."
"You're lucky it was a juvenile," Hermione said dryly. "An adult one would've knocked you out permanently."
Ted smirked. He had been expecting this. Unlike them, he had ways to recover quickly—deep meditation, controlled mana regeneration, even certain potions—so he didn't need as much sleep. But his friends? They were human. Well, mostly.
"At this rate," he mused, "I give it another two nights before you all give up sneaking into the Forest just to get some proper sleep."
Jerry yawned. "You're not wrong."
As they rested near a cluster of towering trees, Jerry suddenly perked up. "Hey, Ted, what about the northern part of the Forest? We haven't explored there yet."
Ted's expression darkened slightly as he glanced toward the north. "Do you know about the professor who used to teach Care of Magical Creatures?"
Harley immediately responded, "Yeah! I heard about him. Saw him once, too. Old guy, missing a hand, wooden prosthetic leg."
"That's Professor Silvanus Kettleburn," Ted confirmed. "He actually started teaching before Dumbledore, if you can believe it. But he's still technically an 'interim' professor."
"Why?" Neville asked.
"Because he's had sixty-two disciplinary warnings." Ted grinned. "The man is… let's just say he has a thing for dangerous magical creatures. His missing limbs? Probably a result of his 'hobby.'"
The group immediately exchanged looks, all of them remembering last year's incident with Norbert, the baby dragon.
That tiny menace had nearly burned down half of Hagrid's hut, and Ron still had a faint scar from where it had bitten him.
"If Kettleburn is anything like Hagrid," Ron muttered, "then it's a miracle he has any limbs left at all."
Ted nodded. "He doesn't even live in the castle. Prefers his wooden hut up north, surrounded by magical creatures. That's why I stay away from that part of the Forest."
"I mean, it can't be that bad, right?" Jerry said, trying to sound brave.
Ted smirked. "This is the same guy who once cast an engorgement charm on an Ashwinder and burned down half the Great Hall. That's why Hogwarts hasn't had a proper feast event in ages."
Harley groaned. "Ugh, no wonder the Yule Ball food was so underwhelming."
In the original book. After he retired, he moved to Hogsmeade, but during the war, he still fought in his own way.
He climbed onto his roof and started throwing Flobberworms at passing Death Eaters.
He's a funny old man.
While exploring the Forbidden Forest at night, Ted knelt down and plucked a handful of cool grass, examining it under the moonlight.
"This stuff isn't common," he murmured, rolling a blade between his fingers. "But I've been studying its properties, and it might come in handy."
Seeing an opportunity, he called out, "Hey, help me gather some of this. Might as well make this trip useful."
The group spread out within a few feet of each other, crouching to pick the grass.
It wasn't much different from pulling weeds, but at least it gave them something to do.
Ron, however, sighed and turned the small handful of grass over in his palm.
It was cold to the touch, almost unnaturally so.
He wasn't in the best mood lately.
He was still short on money for a new wand, and every time he attended class, he had to watch his classmates practice spells while he could only mimic the movements.
"I wonder if this stuff is worth anything…" he muttered under his breath.
Before he could dwell on it further, a small shadow dropped silently from a tree branch above.
Without warning, a tiny hand snatched his wand straight from his pocket.
"Huh? Hey! Give that back!"
His sudden outburst startled everyone.
They turned to find Ron locked in a tug-of-war with a mischievous, long-tailed monkey that was hanging upside down from a branch, clutching his wand with surprising strength.
The creature wasn't particularly large—maybe forty centimeters tall, with sleek white fur and a long black tail that it used to swing effortlessly from tree to tree.
Hermione gasped. "That's a Thieving Tail Monkey! They're native to Southeast Asia. How did it end up here?"
Ted's eyes narrowed. "Same way Acromantulas did—someone brought it in. Probably Kettleburn."
Meanwhile, the "battle" between Ron and the monkey escalated.
The little creature, frustrated at Ron's resistance, let go of the wand for a split second—only to use its free hand to slap Ron across the face.
SLAP~
A stunned silence followed.
Then, with his face turning red, Ron retaliated.
He smacked the monkey right back.
The monkey, undeterred, delivered another slap.
And Ron, now fully committed, slapped it again.
For five solid seconds, the two exchanged blows like some ridiculous duel, neither backing down.
The group stood frozen, watching in disbelief.
"…Is this really happening?" Jerry whispered.
It was Ted who finally stepped in, raising his wand.
"Alright, enough of that." With a flick, a freezing spell encased the monkey in a thin layer of ice.
Ron quickly snatched back his battered wand, panting.
The embarrassment hit him all at once.
He had just been in a literal slap fight with a monkey.
"I'm done. I'm so done with this stupid forest!" he blurted, turning on his heel and stomping off toward the castle.
Ted chuckled and turned to the rest. "Yeah, let's call it a night. Get some proper sleep for once."
No one objected.
As they walked back, Ted hefted the frozen monkey in his hand.
"Stealing from wizards, huh?" he mused. "Bad idea."
He had been looking for a new test subject for his latest magical experiment.
And as luck would have it, one had just delivered itself right to his doorstep.
Since Ron's slap duel with the monkey, none of the group mentioned night tours of the Forbidden Forest again.
In fact, even if Ted had invited them, they would have refused.
The exhaustion had finally caught up with them, and the price of lost sleep was simply too high.
It was like having their brains churned by an invisible blender, making them desperate for proper rest.
Even with the help of vitality tonics, it took them four or five days to fully recover.
Ron, in particular, remained uncharacteristically quiet for days. The monkey incident had wounded his pride.
Neville and Jerry tried to cheer him up by sneaking extra food from the kitchen—specifically, a plate piled high with chicken legs.
Still, nothing stung quite like seeing Malfoy gloating around the castle.
Ever since he was chosen as Slytherin's Seeker, he had been insufferable.
Not only did he land the prestigious position, but his father, Lucius Malfoy, had also "generously" donated seven brand-new Nimbus 2001 brooms to the Slytherin team, securing his son's place.
The message was clear: money talked.
Ron seethed. "So that's how Quidditch works now? Just throw some gold around and buy your way in? No shame at all."
He ranted for a while about the injustice of it all—how brooms should last longer than a single school year, how ridiculous it was that talent mattered less than wealth, and how the whole system was unfair.
But the real source of his frustration ran deeper.
If it weren't for Lockhart scamming him, he would have had his own broom this year.
Maybe even made it onto the Gryffindor team.
Instead, he was still stuck with a barely functioning wand, a flying car incident he'd rather forget, and a bruised ego from a monkey smackdown.
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Word count: 1649
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