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VIRGILIUS HILDEGARD
Location: Forbidden forest (Late night hours)
The clear night sky and the intense light of a full moon meant nothing to the dense crowns of trees deep in the Forbidden forest. Even during the brightest of days, barely any ray reached the ground the deeper it went. A flap of wings disturbed the evening cacophony of sounds as the red-eyed raven descended and morphed on the ground. With trees becoming progressively denser, the idea of navigating the Forest from the air was quickly abandoned.
He was an anomaly. A well-assembled pile of flesh and cloth too tidy to belong to the Forest floor, and he understood its wilderness enough to respect it. Hildegard moved almost silently despite his heigh, with an impeccable balance, across the uninviting forest floor. Under the dim light, he paused a couple of times, listening and subtly sniffing the breeze blowing his way. Firmly imprinted manners remained even on the hunt, although the search he was on now was nothing primal.
Instead of a recognizable animal scent, his senses were focused on a sweet aroma of young wiggentrees nesting in small nooks and crannies, bathing in the moonlight. Surely enough, his nose hadn't failed him this time either. While it was a naturally acquired advantage to locate them in such a way, every time he would, Virgilius felt pride over the accomplishment. It was one thing to theoretically be able to smell them out. A completely different thing was to isolate the scent and follow it correctly. With each time, he did it just a little bit better than previously.
A young tree peeked from the shadows of its taller cousins not far from the initial point. As the collecting process dictated, Virgil approached, lifting a pouch of fairy eggs. Soon after, a small branch of bowtruckles peeked out, curiously eyeing the man, albeit as wary as always of his intentions. They were such wonderful, admirable creatures. Stubborn and resilient even though they looked easy to break, and he held them in high regard. Because of that, his offerings were always generous. Soon, the pile of goodies managed to spark some interest. One by one, the creatures emerged patiently waiting for him to step away at a respectable distance.
The rest was relatively easy. A routine. Virgilius took his time to select the appropriate pieces of the plant and store them properly. It continued, as usual, in silence only broken every once in a while by bowtruckles arguing over the feast.
Except, the branch of bowtruckles soon switched their chattering to a more alerted one, giving up on the rest of the food and climbing high on the tree, holding tightly in a group. Admittedly, magical creatures were Anderson's expertise, but bowtruckles were relatively simple predictable creatures. Seeing such an immediate change of behavior seemed like something to note. Even more so because he no longer seemed to be the focus of the branch's concern.
The chattering quickly died out, and the muffled sounds of the forest took over, tensing all of Virgil's senses. A rustle sounded nearby. Specific enough for him to acknowledge the potential hazard in the situation.
Then, a thundering sound of hooves, rushing through the foliage. And with it, a well-familiar smell of prey. Blood.
For a moment, the scent engulfed him. As the large stag appeared rushing towards him, the sudden urge to dive onto the animal's bulging neck hazed his mind if only for a moment. Resisting, he swiftly moved out of the way, letting the animal through. While one set of hooves left, another followed suddenly multiplying in numbers.
In a minute a whole smaller herd of deers rushed through, forcing Virgil out of the way. For once the suddenty of all of it took its toll on Hildegard's usually calm demeanor, and he stared attentively at a bunch of startled animals fleeing through the forest before he started to notice the peculiar details. Some were simply scared out of their minds while the others carried deep-seated cuts and tears across their bodies - mementos of what seemed to be a rather savage attack. Something he was certain he had never encountered during his time in Hogwarts.
But even when the last animal passed following the others, the smell of free-flowing blood did not subside. It was still carried by the wind opposite of the direction the animals just ran towards. There were more. Some not so lucky to flee. And while relatively far from the Hogwarts' grounds, it was still not far enough. If there was an animal able to attack so viciously without exploiting its prey, it was a reason enough to be a safety concern.
Without much hesitation, Virgilius headed forward, leaving bowtruckles to return to what was left of their feast in peace.
************
He stopped at the edge of a clearing, deeper in the forest where the smell seemed to be originating from and for an obvious reason.
To the center of it, small trickles of blood glistening here and there on the moss-covered ground turned into rivers, rivers to puddles and, finally, pools. At least a dozen of animals laid scattered around lifeless, some in better condition than others, but all of them savagely slain and left to bleed out. It was carnage for the sake of it, and it made his stomach turn with anxiety.
The potent smell of gore and blood hit harder, forcing him to resist by turning away, up the wind, staring at the moon through the pupils tightened into feral slits.
It isn't the time.
Regardless of the fact that his entire being protested, his mind stubbornly stuck to the rule: only feeding on schedule. No exception.
But isn't it so beautiful? Greasy. Fresh. Nobody would know...
Not the time.
Shame, for it will all go to waste.
The thrill of a hunt was one of the joys of feeding, and certainly one of the thoughts that still managed to efficiently distract him from scavenging instead. But with Virgilius pushing the limits of his fast further and further, it could have only done as much. It was enough. For now.
Whatever it was that suddenly rustled in the bushes, it had Hildegard's gratitude at least to an extend. Quickly drawing out his pale beech wand, he was successfully distracted by the presence.
"Show yourself!" he had ordered, ready to defend if his hand was to be forced.
Location: Forbidden forest (Late night hours)
The clear night sky and the intense light of a full moon meant nothing to the dense crowns of trees deep in the Forbidden forest. Even during the brightest of days, barely any ray reached the ground the deeper it went. A flap of wings disturbed the evening cacophony of sounds as the red-eyed raven descended and morphed on the ground. With trees becoming progressively denser, the idea of navigating the Forest from the air was quickly abandoned.
He was an anomaly. A well-assembled pile of flesh and cloth too tidy to belong to the Forest floor, and he understood its wilderness enough to respect it. Hildegard moved almost silently despite his heigh, with an impeccable balance, across the uninviting forest floor. Under the dim light, he paused a couple of times, listening and subtly sniffing the breeze blowing his way. Firmly imprinted manners remained even on the hunt, although the search he was on now was nothing primal.
Instead of a recognizable animal scent, his senses were focused on a sweet aroma of young wiggentrees nesting in small nooks and crannies, bathing in the moonlight. Surely enough, his nose hadn't failed him this time either. While it was a naturally acquired advantage to locate them in such a way, every time he would, Virgilius felt pride over the accomplishment. It was one thing to theoretically be able to smell them out. A completely different thing was to isolate the scent and follow it correctly. With each time, he did it just a little bit better than previously.
A young tree peeked from the shadows of its taller cousins not far from the initial point. As the collecting process dictated, Virgil approached, lifting a pouch of fairy eggs. Soon after, a small branch of bowtruckles peeked out, curiously eyeing the man, albeit as wary as always of his intentions. They were such wonderful, admirable creatures. Stubborn and resilient even though they looked easy to break, and he held them in high regard. Because of that, his offerings were always generous. Soon, the pile of goodies managed to spark some interest. One by one, the creatures emerged patiently waiting for him to step away at a respectable distance.
The rest was relatively easy. A routine. Virgilius took his time to select the appropriate pieces of the plant and store them properly. It continued, as usual, in silence only broken every once in a while by bowtruckles arguing over the feast.
Except, the branch of bowtruckles soon switched their chattering to a more alerted one, giving up on the rest of the food and climbing high on the tree, holding tightly in a group. Admittedly, magical creatures were Anderson's expertise, but bowtruckles were relatively simple predictable creatures. Seeing such an immediate change of behavior seemed like something to note. Even more so because he no longer seemed to be the focus of the branch's concern.
The chattering quickly died out, and the muffled sounds of the forest took over, tensing all of Virgil's senses. A rustle sounded nearby. Specific enough for him to acknowledge the potential hazard in the situation.
Then, a thundering sound of hooves, rushing through the foliage. And with it, a well-familiar smell of prey. Blood.
For a moment, the scent engulfed him. As the large stag appeared rushing towards him, the sudden urge to dive onto the animal's bulging neck hazed his mind if only for a moment. Resisting, he swiftly moved out of the way, letting the animal through. While one set of hooves left, another followed suddenly multiplying in numbers.
In a minute a whole smaller herd of deers rushed through, forcing Virgil out of the way. For once the suddenty of all of it took its toll on Hildegard's usually calm demeanor, and he stared attentively at a bunch of startled animals fleeing through the forest before he started to notice the peculiar details. Some were simply scared out of their minds while the others carried deep-seated cuts and tears across their bodies - mementos of what seemed to be a rather savage attack. Something he was certain he had never encountered during his time in Hogwarts.
But even when the last animal passed following the others, the smell of free-flowing blood did not subside. It was still carried by the wind opposite of the direction the animals just ran towards. There were more. Some not so lucky to flee. And while relatively far from the Hogwarts' grounds, it was still not far enough. If there was an animal able to attack so viciously without exploiting its prey, it was a reason enough to be a safety concern.
Without much hesitation, Virgilius headed forward, leaving bowtruckles to return to what was left of their feast in peace.
************
He stopped at the edge of a clearing, deeper in the forest where the smell seemed to be originating from and for an obvious reason.
To the center of it, small trickles of blood glistening here and there on the moss-covered ground turned into rivers, rivers to puddles and, finally, pools. At least a dozen of animals laid scattered around lifeless, some in better condition than others, but all of them savagely slain and left to bleed out. It was carnage for the sake of it, and it made his stomach turn with anxiety.
The potent smell of gore and blood hit harder, forcing him to resist by turning away, up the wind, staring at the moon through the pupils tightened into feral slits.
It isn't the time.
Regardless of the fact that his entire being protested, his mind stubbornly stuck to the rule: only feeding on schedule. No exception.
But isn't it so beautiful? Greasy. Fresh. Nobody would know...
Not the time.
Shame, for it will all go to waste.
The thrill of a hunt was one of the joys of feeding, and certainly one of the thoughts that still managed to efficiently distract him from scavenging instead. But with Virgilius pushing the limits of his fast further and further, it could have only done as much. It was enough. For now.
Whatever it was that suddenly rustled in the bushes, it had Hildegard's gratitude at least to an extend. Quickly drawing out his pale beech wand, he was successfully distracted by the presence.
"Show yourself!" he had ordered, ready to defend if his hand was to be forced.