The dense canopy of the Forbidden Forest loomed overhead, allowing only slivers of golden sunlight to pierce through the thick foliage. Shadows danced across the forest floor, casting eerie patterns over the damp earth.
A faint rustling filled the silence.
Shff, shff, shff...
Leaves rustled underfoot as the group moved cautiously through the maze of towering trees and twisted roots.
Ian and Wanda strode forward with effortless calm, their steps steady and composed. By contrast, Harry's expression was distant yet razor-sharp—his eyes scanning the surrounding darkness with quiet vigilance, always prepared for an unseen threat.
Behind them, Hermione and Ron trailed closely.
Unlike the composed frontliners, both looked uneasy.
They had ventured into the Forbidden Forest before, but only the edges—never this deep.
Everyone knew the deeper you went, the worse it got.
Legends whispered of creatures lurking within—beasts that never stepped beyond the tree line, horrors hidden beneath the roots, waiting, watching.
Dangerous.
That was the word for the Forbidden Forest.
And yet—here they were.
Ron swallowed thickly. His fingers twitched against his wand.
"I suddenly regret coming," he muttered, his voice tight with unease.
His gaze darted to Wanda, then flickered toward Harry. "You do realize this was originally Wanda's mission, right?"
His voice was strained. "Why did Professor Credence send you instead of coming himself?"
Beside him, Hermione brushed a low-hanging branch aside. Her brows knit together in thought.
"It was always meant for Harry," she pointed out. "We chose to follow."
Her voice dropped slightly, almost hesitant. "Maybe... Professor Credence is testing him."
A flicker of something crossed her features.
Worry.
Ever since returning to Hogwarts, Harry had changed.
He was still there—still spoke with them, still trained with them, still fought alongside them.
But it was different.
There was a distance now, a cold layer of detachment that hadn't been there before.
They had heard whispers—dark magic's influence.
Professor McGonagall had tried to reassure them that it was temporary.
But to Hermione and Ron—
It wasn't just dark magic.
It was losing their best friend—piece by piece.
Suddenly—
Snap!
A sharp crack echoed through the trees.
Hermione's grip on her wand tightened.
Rustle.
The sound came from the surrounding undergrowth.
Something was moving.
Her breath hitched. "Harry, Wanda!" she called urgently, amplifying her voice with a spell. "We're not alone!"
But to her surprise—
Neither Ian, Wanda, nor Harry reacted with alarm.
If anything—
Harry's lips curved slightly, a dangerous sort of smile.
A voice—deep and amused—broke the tension.
"Harry," Remy's voice rang out smoothly, "want to make this interesting?"
Hermione blinked.
Was he—excited?
Remy's eyes gleamed with mischief. "How about a competition?"
Harry exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.
"Alright," he said, his tone eerily calm. "Whoever takes down the most wins."
His emerald eyes flickered with something sharp.
"If I win," he added, "I want a real offensive spell."
Remy smirked. "Fine. And if I win—I want a bottle of that enhancement potion you brewed last time."
Before Hermione could even process what was happening, Ian joined in.
"Count me in," he said lazily, stretching his fingers as if warming up for a fight.
The exchange was so casual—so calculated—it was as if they weren't in the middle of a potentially life-threatening ambush.
Hermione's stomach twisted.
They weren't concerned.
They were waiting.
And then—
The shadows moved.
The clicking started first—
Click, click, click.
Low, rhythmic.
It echoed through the trees, bouncing off the thick trunks like a whisper of something ancient.
Then—
The figures emerged.
Eight-legged. Glossy black bodies.
Clusters of green, glinting eyes.
Hermione's blood ran cold.
Acromantulas.
Huge—bigger than hounds, their thick, hairy legs moved with a disturbingly smooth grace.
The forest seemed to breathe as they poured from the undergrowth, their massive pincers clicking, their eerie green eyes locked onto the group.
Dozens.
And still more coming.
Ron's breath hitched—
His face drained of color.
His wand trembled.
He had always hated spiders.
This wasn't just fear.
This was terror.
Click! Click!
More fangs clacked together—communicating, waiting, circling.
They were intelligent.
Hunters.
Their massive bodies swayed slightly, sensing, testing their prey's reactions.
Waiting for the right moment to strike.
"Ron—!"
Hermione barely had time to react before Ron froze.
His legs locked. His face turned ghostly pale.
And then—
The spiders charged.
Hermione's wand flashed.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The nearest Acromantula jerked—then collapsed, its legs twitching as the spell froze it in place.
"Impedimenta!"
Another spider reeled back, struggling against an invisible force.
"Incendio!"
A burst of fire erupted, scorching the ground as flames licked toward the creatures.
But—
It wasn't enough.
They adapted.
Even as she fought, thick strands of silk shot toward her from all directions—threatening to bind her before she could cast again.
For every spider she pushed back, two more rushed in.
Her throat tightened.
This wasn't random.
This was tactical.
They were testing her.
Finding weaknesses.
As Hermione fought, her eyes flicked toward the others—
And froze.
They weren't casting.
They weren't moving.
Wanda, Ian, Remy, Vera, and Harry—
They were just standing there.
Watching.
Waiting.
A loud, panicked voice broke the tension.
"Harry! HARRY! Do something! They nearly bit me just now!"
Ron's yell echoed through the trees, raw with fear. His back was pressed against Hermione's as the two stood, wands raised, facing the encroaching horde.
Hearing the plea, Harry flicked his gaze sideways. His emerald eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the chaos.
So much for waiting...
He had planned to hold back—let the spiders cluster, trap them all at once.
But—
It's Ron.
A faint sigh escaped his lips, laced with both exasperation and—beneath it—affection.
Even now—even with Voldemort's shadow lingering in his soul—some things hadn't changed.
His wand flashed.
The spell tore from his wand with a sharp hiss—
Dark green liquid formed mid-air, shaped like countless slender, glistening arrows. Bubbles sizzled on their surface, releasing an acidic hiss.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The corrosive missiles shot forward, faster than arrows—like bullets.
The first spider didn't even screech.
The arrow speared through its armored body—
And kept going.
The wound sizzled violently, the thick carapace dissolving in seconds, flesh bubbling as it collapsed into itself.
The spider twitched, legs curling inward—dead before it hit the ground.
And—behind it—
The arrow had pierced through, striking more in its path.
One after another—
They dropped.
In seconds, a dozen Acromantulas lay lifeless—green foam bubbling from their bodies, the air thick with the stench of burning chitin.
Hermione's breath hitched. Her wide eyes stared at the carnage—
At Harry.
Ron, his face pale, swallowed hard. "Bloody hell..." he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "Harry... since when..."
The raw efficiency—the sheer lethality—of Harry's spell left them rattled.
But Harry only lowered his wand slightly, his expression blank. His voice, however, carried a familiar wryness.
"Did you want me to leave some?"
Before Ron could respond—
A low, excited chuckle broke through the tension.
"Heh—"
Remy's voice, brimming with competitive thrill:
"Trying to steal the show, Potter?"
The grin on his face sharpened into something feral. His wand rose, but he didn't cast—
Instead—
A ripple of heat shimmered from his body—
"Ignis Arma!"
Fwoom!
Purple flames erupted—
Not from his wand—
From HIM.
The mystical fire curled around his form, armor-like—fitting to his body as if forged from living heat.
His eyes flashed, reflections of wild, violet fire dancing within them.
He licked his lips—
Then charged.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The ground trembled under his sprint, purple fire streaming behind him—
Then—
A punch.
The blow met the nearest spider—
And erased it.
The contact point—
A nova of purple flames.
A shockwave erupted—
And the spider was gone.
Not smashed—
Not broken—
Gone. Reduced to a column of ashes that scattered instantly into the air.
But the fire—
The purple blaze was not content with a single kill.
It spread.
Like liquid oil, a single ember upon another spider's shell ignited a chain reaction.
In a blink—
WHOOSH.
A dozen Acromantulas burned—consumed—reduced to dust.
The fire clung—relentless and hungry.
From behind, Vera's voice shot through the chaos:
"HOLD IT!"
Her sharp tone sliced through the battle.
"Leave some intact!" she barked. "The venom's priceless!"
Remy—still mid-swing—grinned, his fanged smirk flashing through the haze of heat.
"Aw, Vera—" he called back, his voice teasing and wild. "You didn't say that BEFORE I started!"
But he eased his next strike—just a fraction—letting his flame-coated axe carve through without fully incinerating.
Vera, already eyeing a twitching spider carcass, muttered:
"Finally."
Her eyes gleamed with opportunity—already calculating how much venom she could harvest.
Then—
Another voice—calm, deliberate—cut through the fray.
"Let me help with that."
Ian.
His wand rose—high above his head. His voice—smooth, cold, commanding:
"Fulmen Tempestas."
The sky—darkened.
The battle paused—
As if the Forest itself held its breath.
Crack.
A single spark—
Then—
The heavens opened.
BOOM!
Lightning.
A storm of it.
Arcs of jagged, dark-blue electricity poured from the clouds, threading through branches, igniting leaves—
And crashing into the spiders below.
Zzzt—BZZT—BOOM!
The battlefield fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the crackle of dying flames and the faint hiss of scorched earth.
The paralyzed Acromantulas, still twitching with residual electricity from Ian's thunder spell, began to vanish—
Not burned.
Not dissolved.
But—
Erased.
Like words wiped from a page, their massive forms disappeared one by one, leaving behind only crushed grass and scorched earth as proof they had ever existed.
The culprits?
Harry's dark magic—ruthlessly efficient.
Remy's purple inferno—unstoppable and consuming.
And Ian and Wanda—coordinating in silent harmony, capturing what the flames did not destroy.
From the sidelines, Hermione and Ron—
Simply stared.
Their earlier fear was long gone—
Replaced by shock.
Ron broke the silence first—his voice a hushed, disbelieving murmur: "Blimey..." He couldn't tear his eyes from the scene— From Harry—who had wielded black magic with such precision—cold, sharp, and devastating.
From Remy—whose entire body became a blazing weapon—unstoppable and fearless. From Ian and Wanda—who moved with such synchronized power that it felt like they were hunting gods, not monsters.
Ron's throat felt dry.
And then— That ugly, sinking feeling. The kind that gnawed from the inside. They're our age... but look at them... A sharp pang of self-awareness hit him. Compared to that—his fumbling spells, his frozen legs— He felt...Pathetic.
Ron lowered his head, his fists clenched tightly. Shame swirled in his chest—a heavy knot of frustration and inadequacy.
Beside him, Hermione's lips pressed into a thin line. Her heart pounded from more than just adrenaline.
They're stronger... leagues ahead. But instead of despair— Determination. Hermione Granger never backed down from a challenge. They're powerful, yes... but knowledge is power too. Her eyes burned with resolve.
When we get back... she thought fiercely, I'm living in the library. And the professor's office. I'll learn everything— Her gaze flicked to Harry— Her jaw set. Harry performed no worse than them. And that, to her— Was all the motivation she needed.
Meanwhile—
Harry's wand still pulsed faintly, traces of dark magic dissipating from its tip. His emerald eyes, cold and sharp moments ago, softened slightly. The blackened, corroded remains of Acromantulas littered his path.
"Corrosive Arrow"—it had been a ruthless spell, a high-level curse of destruction. He hadn't hesitated. Couldn't hesitate. Even if the magic felt... darker. Even if it left his skin cold afterward. But it worked. And he had won.
Just ahead— Remy was still in his element. The purple inferno surrounding him surged and thinned—concentrating into weapons. A burning axe in one hand— A shield of living flame in the other. His style was brutal—raw and unrestrained.
A brawler, wild and deadly—
The earth blackened where his feet fell.
Another swing—
A wave of purple fire, sweeping across the fleeing spiders—
Screeches—
Then ashes.
His flame wasn't just hot—
It was alive.
Clinging—spreading—
A single ember was a death sentence.
Yet even as the spiders fled—
Remy grinned.
"Running already?" he taunted, his voice edged with adrenaline.
His body was scorching, steam rising from his skin, but his eyes—
They burned hotter.
Vera's voice snapped across the battlefield, sharp and urgent:
"Remy!" she barked, her tone dripping with frustration.
"Leave some intact! The venom's priceless, you hothead!"
But—Remy was already deep in his rhythm, and—Control wasn't exactly his style.
His voice, rough and laughing, called back: "Ain't my fault! The fire's just... enthusiastic!"
In the distance—Ian and Wanda watched the chaos, their teamwork seamless. Ian—calm and calculating—Shifted his magic immediately.
"Fulmen Tempestas—Limit Suppression."
The sky, still heavy with storm clouds from his last spell, crackled. But— This time, the bolts didn't kill. When the lightning struck—The spiders froze. Their bodies twitched and seized, legs buckling beneath them— Paralyzed.
The electricity left them alive—barely. But they were caught. Wanda, her scarlet eyes flashing, stepped forward. With a wave of her hand— A ripple— The spiders stopped even their twitching— Their movements locked—Their wills suppressed. The battle—Was over.
What was left— Was the spoils. Wanda's laughter broke the tense silence.
She was counting—And her smile grew wider with every tally.
"Vera—" she called, barely hiding her excitement. "Fifty! Alive!" Vera's eyes sparkled, her lips curling into a delighted smirk. "Half a hundred," she echoed, her voice practically purring. Her mind was already racing—calculating. Venom—in abundance. Research—experiments—potions. And—profit.
Wanda, still grinning, added with a chuckle:
"Not bad for a day's work. Gold Galleons are practically falling from the sky."
Vera crossed her arms, her smile sharp and predatory.
"Very good. With this supply... I can play without holding back for months."
Meanwhile— A familiar voice, calm but edged with triumph, spoke up: "Remy—" Harry's voice—cool and measured.
"I won."
Remy paused— Then snorted, amused despite himself.
His armor of purple flame flickered—then collapsed, dispersing in streams of heat and smoke.
His body, steaming from the dissipated magic, rolled his shoulders, a grin tugging his lips.
"Yeah, yeah," he replied with a smirk. "You got me. This time."
Harry's lips twitched—just slightly—
But in his eyes, a flicker of satisfaction.
"Next time, then," Harry replied smoothly, the challenge already set.
Remy's grin widened. "Damn right. You're on."
Without hesitation, he reached into his pocket—
And produced something small—
A gray orb, swirling with dense, ghostly mist.
"Your prize," Remy said, tossing it to Harry.
Harry caught it effortlessly.
The orb felt...
Cold.
The aura of death seeped through his palm, even through his glove.
His expression—
Shifted.
Slightly wary.
But— Interested.
Without a word, he pocketed it.
Next— Ian stepped forward—In his palm— A dark red orb, its glow deep and ominous—like a cursed ember. "Mine," Ian said simply, handing it to Harry. His eyes, calm and unreadable, met Harry's.
Harry accepted it. The air around the orb... Hummed. Harry's voice, quiet but certain, broke the tension: "Thanks."
Remy, cracking his neck, interrupted with a mischievous grin: "Now—" he said, voice rough and eager— "How about we meet... their boss?" Wanda, her eyes glinting, smirked: "The King, huh?"
Vera's lips curled: "Books say—control the King... you control them all."
Remy's grin sharpened.
Harry's eyes—glinted.
Ian's lips—curved slightly.
And Wanda— Her fingers flexed, power humming at her fingertips.
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Marvel : The God Of Punishment System
I Am Raditz
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