On the other side of the battle with the Death Eaters, Molly stood guard over the children, ensuring their safety.

Everyone stayed close together, wands at the ready, and Molly’s protective presence kept even Fred and George from wandering off in search of adventure.

Aaric was alert, wand raised, ready for any threat. Luna was beside him, eyes wide and scanning every shadow.

“I’m going to help the people here,” Aaric said to Molly, determination in his voice.

“No,” she said, voice stern and unwavering. “We stay together.”

Aaric let out a resigned sigh. “I can protect myself.” He moved to a child who had fallen, gently cleaning the wound and performing precise healing magic.

Molly looked on, her heart softening. She didn’t have the courage to object as Luna, Daphne, and Harry began assisting the injured. Ginny gave Harry a determined nod, rushing to help him wherever she could.

Molly’s eyes swept across the chaos. People ran in panic, faces twisted in shock or pain. Bloodied hands reached for help, and the flickering lights from the main battle—where Arthur had sprinted off—illuminated the scene in unnatural, broken pulses. Even the other children hesitated, unsure what to do, before eventually following her example. Molly herself stepped fully into action, organizing the frightened, protecting the vulnerable, moving with authority.

Aaric guided them toward the temporary shelter established by the Ministry, forming perimeters, ensuring no one wandered too far, guarding against any unforeseen danger.

Once most of the civilians were safely inside the perimeter, he looked around for his companions. Everyone was accounted for—but Luna was not.

Panic rose briefly, but he quickly spotted her silhouette slipping toward the trees. Without hesitation, he ran after her, catching up as she ventured deeper into the forest.

He gently took her hand and turned her back. “Where are you going?” he asked. Luna blinked, coming back from some distant trance.

“There’s something… there,” she murmured, pointing further into the dark woods.

“You should go back to the shelter, i will check whatever it is” Aaric said, glancing at the shelter.

She shook her head. “Whatever it is… its dark,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”

Aaric exhaled, half in frustration, half in exasperation. “One day, you’ll be the death of me.”

Luna let out a soft, mischievous giggle and clasped his hand. “Let’s do it.” She led the way. At his signal, Chaya slipped from Aaric’s sleeve, coiling snugly around Luna’s neck, radiating warmth.

Luna felt Chaya’s heat against her skin and gave Aaric a smile.

They pressed deeper into the forest, where shadows thickened and the temperature dropped sharply. The air grew heavy and cold, carrying an acrid, metallic tang. In the center of a small clearing, a thing squatted, pulsing like an obscene heartbeat.

It resembled a cocoon—swollen, lumpy, grotesque—but the surface stretched thin over writhing shapes within. Its flesh was mottled gray and black, slick with viscous ooze that dripped steadily onto the dirt below, hissing as it touched the ground, as if the earth itself recoiled.

Thick, veined tendrils unfurled like diseased roots, wrapping around the surrounding trees. Wherever they touched, bark split and blackened, oozing pitch. Impaled along those tendrils hung corpses—skin stripped away, muscles torn and stretched, faces frozen in silent, eternal screams. Jaws were cracked wide, tongues shriveled and blackened, eyes staring blankly into nothing.

The ground beneath the horror was carved with jagged, arcane symbols, packed with bone dust and coagulated matter. Blood had soaked the soil until it formed a thick, black sludge.

Chaya quickly wrapped herself over Luna’s eyes before she could drink in the full atrocity. Aaric moved to shield her, stepping in front of her to block the view.

When he lifted Chaya from her eyes for a brief moment, he cupped Luna’s cheeks in his hands. “You will stay back, with Chaya,” he said, voice firm yet gentle. “I will deal with… that—and I will return.”

She instinctively glanced over his shoulder, but his hand moved her face to prevent her from seeing.

“I… do not take too long,” she whispered, clutching his wrists.

Aaric nodded once, covering her with his body, pacing her head on his check so she will not be able to see.

They moved slightly further back, Chaya radiating a soft, comforting heat. He conjured a platform of leaves for Luna to sit upon, with a wave of his hand.

He then took out his wand and circled around her once, waving his wand as patterns were formed in the ground, they shimmered one and then disappeared.

“Do not leave this area until I return,” he instructed, then stepped cautiously toward the clearing.

Aaric then returned to the area, looking back at intervals to see Luna was just sitting there with Chaya in her arms.

Aaric bent slightly over a corpse, examining it carefully. A dark mark, crawled across its arm. They sacrificed their own? he thought. Some had fangs—vampires, perhaps, or werewolves.

Then, a cracking noise drew his full attention. The cocoon at the center of the clearing twisted violently, making a sound like bones snapping under immense pressure.

With a tearing, wet crack, it split open.

A massive shape lurched out, moving in jerky, horrifying motions. Eight limbs stabbed into the soil with enough force to leave deep scars. Its legs were long, warped, barbed at the joints, built for impaling and tearing. Grass blackened where it touched, and the earth beneath rotted instantly.

The thing raised its head slowly. Clusters of glossy black eyes glimmered, cold and sharp like shards of obsidian.

Mandibles spread wide—jagged, dripping, lined with serrated edges—and the creature shrieked. The sound was high, piercing, and brutal, like metal nails dragged across brittle bone, echoing off the trees and making the clearing itself feel smaller, suffocating.

Aaric stepped back, measuring his distance. He was not afraid—disgusted, yes, and wary—but fear had no place here. A mutated Acromantula, he noted clinically, eyes locking with the creature’s.

The monstrous thing crouched low, muscles tensing, its gaze fixated on him like a predator sizing up its prey. Its eight limbs twitched, barbs scraping into the ground, ready to lunge.

A/n: I tried adding a bit of gore, Please leave feedback.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep