"Perhaps, like in those wizarding plays, the residents of a wizarding village were forced to live beside Lachidien. Lachidien lived in a black castle deep within a dense forest. For many years, Lachidien and the villagers maintained a kind of truce. Lachidien ignored the villagers, and they stayed out of the woods surrounding his fortress. That truce only ended when Lachidien threatened to send Dementors to destroy the village. The villagers of Paroldo defeated the dark wizard, just like in the legend. Maybe that sinkhole contains Dementors and other dark creatures. We can't fly if we rush in recklessly. We could be in serious trouble."
Pomona paced endlessly around the erected tent, tossing an Apple from hand to hand. The blueprint she had copied lay on the dining table, and Severus was studying it carefully. It was hard to tell how much of what she said had actually sunk in.
Outside the tent, the hand-pulled roast slowly turned. Defensive magic kept any scent from drifting away, so there was no need to worry about attracting anything. From this position, they could also keep an eye on whoever was in that cabin. Pomona had a feeling it was probably the drunkard they had encountered in the tavern earlier, the one the locals called "the Drunk."
Pomona believed he was not a truffle hunter. Then why had he come to this village?
And there was that thing called a spirit vessel. Voldemort had made his to protect his own soul, imbuing it with magic. A spirit vessel was the opposite, a kind of "white magic." Couldn't the soul trapped inside simply move on like other dead souls?
"I remember Venom-Pouched Leopards being quite large," Severus suddenly said.
"That's right."
"Then this outer, larger passage was for it to walk through, while the