The forest remembers.
A woman glides beneath its branches, seeking solace among the trees. All the wisdom in the world, and it has led to this: a dead daughter - and with her, Rowena's heart.
Forget the diadem, never as powerful as Helena believed. Forget the man Rowena sent after her daughter, knowing he would bring her home if anyone could, never thinking what he might do to ensure this.
She throws herself from the path as a horse and rider charge down it. Saturnine, disillusioned, Salazar Slytherin rides away from his past while Rowena Ravenclaw weeps for hers. And the forest remembers.
A boy runs through the undergrowth, heedless of the monsters that lurk in its depths. What does he care for monsters? He has heard the whispers in the common room, and the laughter suppressed when he walks into a classroom. He is a monster; let the other monsters find him.
Abandoned, fatherless, oversized, clumsy. Attending Hogwarts only by the grace of Professor Dumbledore - but for how long?
He is brought up short, panting, by the man on the Abraxan: just one more hard-faced wizard that the monster-boy must face. But the man smiles and opens his palm to reveal a small, silvery egg.
Hagrid takes it, barely hearing the man's words. A forest, a good place for it. He bears it back to the castle, but the forest remembers.
A girl walks beneath the canopy, glad of a respite from the post-exam heatwave, and from Tom Riddle's knowing gaze.
War is raging; millions are dying in the wizarding world and beyond. Hogwarts itself is no longer safe - poor little Myrtle - and Minerva knows in her bones that the trouble has not ended with Hagrid.
She is ready. She's ready to leave this place, leave the school to Tom for just a year, while she learns how to fight.
Then she will return, and the castle and the forest will remember and welcome her home.
A boy skulks behind a tree, focusing on the scene playing out fifty metres away. There she is. There she is, his Lily, whom he will always love, regardless of how she treats him. Even at this distance, he can worship her beauty, adore the proud set to her mouth - and relish the way she raises her voice to tell Potter and his lackeys to get lost.
Laughter rings out, and Severus frowns. She was telling them to get lost, wasn't she? Surely she was. So why is Potter squatting beside her; why isn't she pushing him away? Why is he holding out a scroll, and why does she accept it?
Severus turns away; he can't watch Lily sitting there with those cretins as if they were friends. But he knows, as he's known but never admitted ever since she was Sorted into Gryffindor, that he's lost her, and his heart swells with bitterness.
The forest remembers.
A girl strolls along the edge of the forest, eyes dreamy with newly discovered love. Beyond Hogwarts the wizarding world is at war, but she is in love; as long as she has him, nothing can touch her. Even now, he is making his way past Hagrid's hut to snatch a few moments with her.
Soon they will return to their responsibilities. Soon Albus Dumbledore will admit them into the Order of the Phoenix. Soon the world will close in on them.
They will fight, she and James, yes, and they'll face danger, but they'll be together, and that's all that matters. She caresses the leaves of an ancient oak, reaching for her James, and the forest remembers.
A boy plods down the track. The first time he walked here, Voldemort lurked in the shadows, stealing the blood of unicorns.
It's six years ago now; he's come a long way, but sometimes he still feels like that jumpy, frightened boy. It would be nice to be as innocent as that again.
Where is Hagrid now? Hiding in the depths of this place? Is he watching from behind some giant tree?
The boy pulls his shoulders back; he has work to do. Unenjoyable, sometimes hateful work, but important. For his parents: for his family and his own honour.
Voldemort holds the power. The boy must do what is to be done.
The forest remembers.
A boy walks to his death, flanked by his ghosts. A woman makes a choice. A friend grieves. The forest remembers.
A werewolf runs beneath its branches, flanked by a stag and a shaggy dog with a rat in its mouth. The forest remembers.
A woman strolls along the edge of the forest, replete with new love. A man sets his Lily free and strides away through the trees until he is nothing but a flutter of movement. The forest remembers.
Abraxans slide into the shadows. Spiders retreat to their lair. A ghost flits into darkness, finally at peace. The forest remembers.
Two boys and a girl slip wearily into the forest. The castle is for celebrating and grieving; there are people to greet and people to weep with; and there are details to swap, because everyone has a story to tell now.
There is life for living. But for now, here in the forest, there is peace.
When Hagrid, filthy and exhausted, pauses outside his hut, Harry glances round, sharing a smile with the other two.
As they run forward, there is a gruff bellow of a laugh and a few tearful giggles, before they are ushered inside.
They are gone. But the forest remembers.
The forest remembers.