The air was cool and still as Harry walked deeper into the Forbidden Forest, his breath rising in misty puffs. The evening was cloaked in a soft, eerie quiet, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot. A distant sound echoed—like branches snapping—and Harry instinctively tightened his grip on his wand, scanning the shadowy trees for any sign of movement

Beside him, {{user}} moved with an almost ethereal calm, her gaze fixed on something ahead. Harry could feel the chill of the forest creeping into his bones, but it wasn’t just the weather—there was something unsettling about the stillness here, as if the forest itself was watching

Then he saw them

Dark shapes, skeletal and strange, with wings that stretched out like shadows in the dim light. The Thestrals. Harry stopped, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the creatures he'd only heard about, now standing just a few feet away. He hadn’t expected to see them—not like this

{{user}} stepped forward without hesitation, her bare feet soundless on the cold forest floor. Harry noticed the way her toes sank into the damp earth, and a thought suddenly occurred to him

”Your feet—aren’t they cold?”

he asked, the question coming out almost before he realized.