Deep in the Forbidden Forest, the night was thick and oppressive. Robert's gaze was cold, and his steps were silent yet purposeful. With his exceptional night vision, the darkness of the forest seemed no different than daylight.
This wasn't his first visit here; having ventured into the forest with Hagrid before, he was familiar with its twisted paths and shadowed clearings. Every broken twig, every rustle of leaves underfoot, spoke to him of recent movement. He had been tracking Umbridge's frantic escape, and at first, her footprints were clear as crystal.
But soon, they began to fade.
Robert frowned. "Hmm?"
His eyes scanned the forest ahead. A squat, short figure emerged from the shadows—a toad-like silhouette that froze him in place. It was Umbridge.
Cautiously, he scanned the area around her. No ambushes, no traps. Just her, advancing with a strange mixture of arrogance and desperation.
"You're not running?" Robert asked coolly.
Umbridge's lips curled into a sarcastic, bitter smile.
"Run?" she scoffed. "Do you really overestimate yourself? After less than a year of magical study, you think you can defeat me?"
Memories of past humiliations flashed through her mind—the hearings, the scorn, the relentless scrutiny from Robert. She gripped her wand tighter.
"If you hadn't chased me, perhaps nothing would have come of this," she said. "But now… now I'll teach you a lesson. One that even the heavens won't forgive me if I fail to deliver."
She raised her wand, deliberately showing it to Robert. "See? I didn't bring my own wand. This one is from Knockturn Alley. Meaning whatever I cast here leaves no trace. No evidence, no witnesses. Just you… and me."
Her steps were lighter, almost predatory, yet her expression grew increasingly twisted with malice.
"At the hearing, weren't you so diligent?" she sneered. "Today, you'll learn what true suffering is."
A sudden flash of fire streaked from her wand—a third-year spell, Incendio. Flames hissed toward Robert.
"I mastered this in my first year," she bragged. "I burned scars into my roommate for calling me a toad. Do you know why? Because I hate toads. And you…" Her lips curled. "You'll learn the same lesson."
Robert shifted his feet, letting the spell brush past harmlessly. But Umbridge was undeterred. Another spell shot forward—Reducto, designed to shatter anything it touched. Robert stepped aside, and the ground beneath it exploded in a pit of dirt.
She muttered angrily under her breath, still venting decades of frustration.
"Do you know how hard it is to rise without family, without status?" she raged. "How many have I crushed to get here? You have your privileges, your connections. Everything comes easily to you. But me? I had to claw my way up, step on everyone, and still… still nothing is enough!"
Her hands shook as she cast one spell after another, each a reflection of her unbridled fury.
"This is the last lesson," she hissed. "Even if you don't know the Unforgivable Curses yet, you will now. Just like the one who stood in my way at the Ministry of Magic. Others had connections; I had none. I made them obedient."
Her wand flared with a malevolent light. "Crucio!" she shouted, voice trembling with excitement and rage.
A surge of magic unlike anything Robert had felt before exploded toward him. But he moved effortlessly, sidestepping with a calm precision honed from countless lessons with Snape, from fighting House-elves, and enduring Devil's Snare and Shadow Thorns the day before.
Umbridge's attacks, fueled by anger and obsession, were slow, predictable, and chaotic. In a real combat scenario, her skill counted for little.
With barely a flick of his finger, Robert cast a wandless, voiceless Incarcerous spell. Ropes shot out of the shadows, twisting around Umbridge and lifting her into the air, spinning her helplessly. Her wand clattered to the ground.
Robert didn't hesitate. He summoned a massive black snake with Serpensortia, its scales glinting in the dim moonlight. It crushed her fallen wand and coiled tightly around her. Bones cracked audibly under the pressure, blood trickling from her mouth and nose. The reality of death gripped her, unrelenting and horrifying.
"I… I won't die… will I?" she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.
Robert's eyes were cold, unfeeling. "Don't worry. I won't kill you with my own hands."
Relief surged through her briefly, but it was short-lived.
"Killing someone personally leaves a lingering coldness in your magic," he continued, voice eerily calm. "I won't risk that. But you will die… just not by me. There are creatures in this forest, hungry ones, that are more than willing to finish the task."
Her eyes widened in horror. "What… creatures?"
"There's a group, highly intelligent, capable of human speech, and as large as carriages," he said softly. "They have a particular taste for human flesh. Guess what they're called?"
"Acromantula!" she shrieked.
"Yes," Robert said simply. The black snake slithered, guiding her toward a dense part of the forest. She watched, paralyzed, as vast spiderwebs began to shimmer between the trees. The fear in her eyes was palpable.
Prey caught by Acromantulas experienced a far crueler fate than the Crucio curse. Flesh would be dissolved, organs liquefied, bones rendered nothing more than fragments over a prolonged, excruciating process.
"Kill me—please!" Umbridge begged, her voice hoarse, broken. "Do it quickly!"
Robert's expression remained unreadable. The snake secured her around a webbed tree, and then dissolved into smoke. Umbridge struggled, but it was futile.
Soon, massive spiders descended. They circled her, venomous fangs glistening.
"Human flesh," one hissed. "Finally."
Her screaming turned to gurgles as venom and digestive fluid worked quickly. The night swallowed her cries.
Robert, unseen in the shadows, watched until he was certain there was no chance of survival, no miraculous escape. Umbridge's final desperate screams faded, replaced by the wet sounds of the forest reclaiming her.
Satisfied, he stepped away into the darkness, leaving the Forbidden Forest to its silence and shadows.
Death had come for Umbridge, and this time, it was absolute. No luck, no second chances, no heroic rescue. Only the quiet echo of her terror and the calm footsteps of a young wizard who understood the true weight of strength and mercy.
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