Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter etc, please don't sue me!
Written for the Hogwarts Houses Challenges: The Wonderful World of Magical Creatures. Round 2: Power of Creation.
Prompt: Create a new magical creature.
Word count: 4436.
Warnings: AU-ish.
As the light faded from the last spell that was cast in the Battle of Hogwarts, a scream of despair rang out. Desolate death eaters were quickly rounded up, fighters slumped to the ground, the injured collected, and the dead moved to a quiet place. The grounds were pitted with explosion marks, the walls of the great institution crumbling, and the lake made putrid by spells and death. Blood stained the broken grass, fires burned in the Forbidden Forest, and the smell of copper permeated the air. Every heart belonging to a sane mind was wrenched by the horror. The wind swirled around the grounds, passing all the tragedy and misery, before blowing away and moving southwards. It moved quickly, with purpose, like a messenger of the Gods, sweeping through valleys and glens in an unstoppable gale.
Fluttering in a ravine of Wales by a Muggle town was a tribe of Folanti. They were gathered around the base of a massive Muggle-made structure which moved water from one hilltop to another.
The Folanti were an intelligent and rare magical being who didn't like the word 'creature'. They had all but passed out of the wizarding folks' knowledge and, having never actually entered themselves into Muggle knowledge, only a few magical folk still believed in their existence.
Once well-known and abundant, they had been hunted for their precious wing dust; a dust that held magical properties, enticing love and forgiveness, that were used in potions.
Finally, when almost hunted to extinction, they had hidden away underground and secluded themselves from the goings on of surrounding humans. The wizarding folk searched desperately for them in the shrubs and trees, even occasionally caves, but never on the ground. So there they stayed - safe.
Their butterfly-like wings actually made hiding underground much simpler than it could have been, as their wings would glow in the dark in brilliant colours of a rainbow. When coupled with being only half the height of what Muggles termed a magic mushroom – really the vision mushroom – hiding underground for periods of time was simple enough.
They had an entire village underground, they used the roots of great trees to create open, soil-free areas to strengthen their wings. They were also gifted with echolocation capabilities which helped when they wished to move with secrecy in the dark: although it took much effort to halt the glow of their beautiful wings. The only downside to life underground was that their rather round, furry, wizard-shaped figures were not particularly nimble in the tunnels.
Nevertheless, the Folanti watched from their tunnels as war and depression ravage Muggles and wizarding folk alike – unable to help alleviate the pain for fear of being recognised, caught and then forced to live the remainder of their lives in cages before being wiped out of existence. They waited patiently as the centuries passed to drift from knowledge and memory until they were remember in naught but a child's tale.
Occasionally, a human would come searching for them. In such rare occasions they quickly returned to their underground tunnels. The last searcher had been three years ago, a blond older man and young daughter. The Folanti tribe had watched and waited as the pair scoured nearby in the plants. The young girl had caught sight of the tunnel and tilted her head – an action which had caused all those keeping watch to still in fear. Those present at the time could still recall the thudding of their little hearts and spikes of adrenaline. Then it looked like she winked, before she had turned and skipped away to the older wizard and suggested they try searching elsewhere.
But, right now, no-one was looking for them; so they were under the huge, stone-like structure, playing in the dawn mist. They floated through the sky, carefully not to get their sunshine-yellow fur wet on the dew-dropped wildflowers: fuzzy fur was embarrassing and took a very long time to subdue.
The warm gentle breeze brushed over them as they played with the tiny feather in the air. Bringing to great heights and dropping it, letting it dance on the breeze before snatching it up once more to be re-dropped. It was a game that they often played with the nimble swallows, but their friends were in currently in their warm nests.
Rummaging leaves and branches soon stole their attention from the game. And, as one, the tribe turned and looked towards the noise.
The magical trees that lived above their home looked to be fighting an oncoming gale, trying to hold it from their little ravine. When the trees finally gave way by slumping in the direction the wind wished to blow, the gale stormed towards the play area and swirled around and around: the Folanti shuddered in unison and tears gathered in their wide, bright eyes as they felt the emotions on the cold air. Bitterness stung through their fur and misery forced their wings to change to dark pastels.
Gone was the bright happiness and carefree fun of the morning. Wizarding folk had reach a peak of misery and the wind sought their help in alleviating that pain.
'We must decide,' came the voice of the tribe's teacher, Minada, the unofficial leader of the existing Folanti.
'Decide?' questioned a young Folanta named Rynita.
'Yes,' Minada replied. 'These levels of misery have not been so high since the start of the last Muggle World War, a war that came on the back of a horrid depression. We chose not to interfere then, but it made our children ill and hurt the Muggles; they still suffer and take out their anger and unhappiness on nature. Now we must decide if we use our magic and risk exposure and hunting, or if we allow wizarding folk to process their feelings and risk falling into a negative spiral of destruction which could worsen the magical emotions, risk our health, and lead the magic humans on a path of further destruction to the detriment of all magical and non-magical alike.'
The Folanti began to murmur, a horrible risk with either option. They wanted to help heal the land. Dearly so! They wanted to return the positive magic and increase the lands happiness once more: but should they risk giving their happy lives for the wizards who had hunted them before? What of the future generations, did they want to be responsible for forcing them back underground for centuries more with nary a breeze to flutter in?
'It is only two centuries since we slipped from their memory, and we are still only few, the only tribe left in existence,' Minada continued.
'Is it possible to make the change of emotions to love and forgiveness if they do not know we are there?' the outspoken Rynita questioned.
'No. While we have been able to make small healings in the past, they were isolated incidents so none would realise our interference. To fix this, it will require a very obvious approach. It would be very surprising if the wizarding folk do not realise it is us, the Folanti, who helps them.'
The Folanti in the group bit their lips and smoothed their wings, brushing dust off their fur as they tried to choose.
'Whatever we decide, it must be unanimous if we are to come out of hiding,' Minada decreed.
'We could be negatively impacted by either option, so surely we may as well help,' Nymbota, a level-headed Folanta commented.
'That is very true, Nymbota,' Minada agreed.
'But I recall the stories of old about family been stolen and kept in cages. Our powers don't remove greed and cruelty. I don't want to live in a small, barred cage and forced to produce my wing dust when prodded until I run out and die of exhaustion,' Rynita said with wide eyes and a tremble in her wings.
'Are those stories really true though?' Nymbota questioned. 'Surely they are exaggerated.'
'There is no exaggeration: the wizarding folk do not understand that we can feel like they do, and more so,' replied Narophta, an elder of two hundred and ten years. 'I remember my father's stories of the horror that he survived, the same horror that my mother did not. My father tried to rescue her from the cage, but wizard magic kept him from her. He almost died in his attempts and his heart nearly broke when he was forced to watch from the sidelines as she was used so cruelly. When she passed, they pulled off her beautiful wings and ground them into dust. Vanishing her body, not releasing her soul back into the air.' The elder's breath shuddered. 'They had no care or compassion, as though they thought it was their right to use my mother just because they'd found her.'
Others in the group nodded morosely, recalling similar stories which had been passed down through the generations. Rare were tales of happy endings or where occasional wizarding folk liberated their family.
'Perhaps they have grown and learnt from their mistakes,' Nymbota suggested.
Narophta snorted.
'Perhaps,' Minada added in a mild tone with a dissatisfied look at the derisive elder. 'We cannot know either way, given our seclusion. It is a risk, but I don't think we have time to find other beings and see what they know.'
Rynita shuddered and shifted on the daisy she had settled herself upon. The movement caught Nymbota's attention and he offered Rynita an understanding smile. She frowned in response and looked around the group, waiting for others to speak.
Nymbota shifted back slightly with a pouting lips and morose eyes. Flapping his wings, he flew up to sit next to Rynita, sprinkling dust over the young, scared Folanta. 'It is not in our nature to hold a grudge, little-one, don't try to force yourself to do so.'
Rynita huffed, but her shoulders slumped as her anger ebbed away thanks to the magic.
'Nymbota, stop sprinkling her with dust,' Minada scolded softly. 'Rynita is right to be afraid and to remember the past. Magic folk have our forgiveness, they were foolish and do not have as much compassion as us, but that doesn't mean we should not consider the consequences of our actions or inactions. The threat is very real.'
Nymbota's wings drooped at the reprimand and he bowed his head, shuffling slightly away from Rynita and flopping onto the edge of the petals – bouncing slightly as he sat.
'Do not worry, Nymbota, I forgive you,' Rynita whispered with sad eyes, her warm, furry hand reaching over to rest on his own.
Nymbota allowed his lip to twitch slightly in reply and, while he kept his distance on the flower's edge, he intertwined their fingers tightly and clasped her hand.
Another Folanta broke the silence that had fallen as everyone relived the pain and sadness of the stories, 'It is a risk either way and I so loved helping those few people in the past; could we not just try? No one has found us here, and the magical trees do their best to protect us. And that girl three years ago helped us hide, perhaps more people are like her now and we will be safe.'
'I think Clarita is right,' Nymbota added.
Others murmured in agreement.
But Rynita looked at the change in direction with alarm, catching the gaze of Narophta. The elder shook his head.
Clarita flashed a smile of pearly teeth at those who agreed with her: her gaze slowing and brow furrowing when her eyes slide passed those who didn't.
'Narophta, do you not wish to help the magical folk and by extension others they may impact?' Minada asked softly with her head lowered in respect for the elder.
Narophta looked around the group solemnly and slowly. Taking in their watchful expressions. He knew he held a great deal of power in this decision, people would be swayed by his beliefs: while the decision had to be unanimous, peer-pressure still had a strong affect.
'I think…' he began. 'I think that… perhaps… we are damned if we do and damned if we don't. While we could weather the negativity and the changes doing nothing would likely force on our lives, the times of the Muggles woes were… difficult… this, being magic, will, I think, be worse. It would be better, I daresay, to help to foolish wizarding folk and then return to hiding for a period. We can send out scouts after a month to see what we should do. This place is probably the safest and we should probably do what we were created to do.'
'Well said,' Clarita commended, clapping enthusiastically.
Minada sent an adoring look at her niece Clarita, supressing a smile.
'Rynita, what about you? Could you explain what you want?' Minada asked the slumped youth, her hand still linked with Nymbota's. Apart from a ceremony to link you both forever, Minada thought to herself.
Rynita glanced at Nymbota and then looked around the group. She curled slightly, a tear slipping from her eye and down her cheek. It dropped onto the flower, which responded to the unhappy Folanta by curling its petals upwards to hide Rynita. The movement knocked Nymbota from his seat and he glided to the ground.
'Oh dear,' Minada said, watching the flower close protectively.
The teacher caught Narophta's look and blushed slightly.
'I know, I know,' Minada muttered as she flew to the flower and brushed a petal lightly. The flower loosened its walls and allowed her entry. Her voice tinkled as it rung out around the gathering. 'I'm sorry, Rynita, I was wrong to try and persuade you. Please come out. If you wish not to speak, please do not feel pressured to. Remember we can only vote on this once, if anyone – be it you, someone else, or even a group – decide not to act, then we won't. Coming out from hiding is a big decision. I just feel it would be good to speak about it as a group, have all concerns voiced so everyone can make an informed decision, however my method was wrong. Will you come out?'
The flower opened fully and the two drifted down to the ground, arms linked.
'I am scared,' Rynita said in a strong voice. 'I don't wish to be caught and used like my ancestors. If we have a good plan to stop this, I will support helping the foolish wizarding folk who seem to constantly fall into wars, like their Muggle counter-parts. If not, I won't support leaving our sanctuary and inviting horror upon ourselves and future generations.'
'Very well spoken, Rynita,' Minada said in a rich tone. She could be the next teacher, she is wise not to rush into decisions without plans, Minada thought.
Clarita smiled and bounced on her toes. 'Okay, a plan then. Narophta suggested one – help and then hide, followed by scouts in a month following. What do we think needs to be improved?'
'We could lay daisy chains for protection around our home entrances,' a voice called from the group.
'Hmm, yes, however it might be too obvious a sign,' Clarita answered with pursed lips.
'It would,' Narophta advised. 'They were like beacons showing our homes in the past.'
'Any other thoughts?' Minada asked the gathered tribe.
'We could collect a supply of vision mushrooms, they will help us foresee any approach by hunters in advance,' another voice called out.
'Excellent idea,' Minada answered.
'We could inform the magical trees of our fear of more wizarding folk, they could help hide us and protect the area,' another suggested with enthusiasm.
'Yes, that will work,' Minada agreed.
After a while, the suggestions dried up and the group fell into silence.
'What do you think of the plans, Rynita? Do you feel they will secure us enough against the risk?' Minada asked the young Folanta beside her.
Rynita shifted slightly, furrowing her eyebrows so hard that made her fur stand on end in the crease. 'Yes, I think so.'
'Excellent,' Clarita replied spinning on the spot, unable to contain her enthusiasm.
Narophta rolled his eyes at the exuberant Folanta whipping in circles on the spot.
'Does anyone else wish to voice any thoughts?' Minada asked.
A general murmur to the negative and shuffling rumbled through the area. The wind that had been absent, suddenly rushed through the group again, causing them to shiver and flinch at the pain still evident in its breeze.
'Then we shall vote. Everyone please sit on the ground and close your eyes,' Minada instructed.
The group obliged.
Minada spoke again, 'All those in favour of assisting wizarding folk and leaving hiding please raise your hand.'
There was silence as Minada looked over the mass of hands. It looked like everyone agreed, but it was hard to tell.
'Please lower your hands. All those who wish to stay in hiding, please raise your hand.'
No one moved. Everyone had unanimously agreed to risk their safety and help those in pain.
'You may open your eyes and prepare. We will be teleporting from under the Muggle-structure to the epicentre of the pain in fifteen minutes. Gathers, please collect vision mushrooms.'
The gathers nodded at Minada and whooshed away.
'Elders, please inform the trees.'
The elders darted for the trees surrounding their home.
'Youths, please inform the swallows.'
The youths nodded enthusiastically and raced to find their friends and seek assistance in hiding from the magic folk.
'Everyone else, please gather supplies – food and water – to sustain us for a month or longer.'
The rest of the gathered nodded and quickly left.
Minada took a moment to mourn the change. Life as they knew it would change dramatically from today forth. Gone would be the safety. She didn't believe they would be completely unhunted; no matter how much the wizarding folk had changed, there would be some that were still thoughtless. But, perhaps, it would work out for the best.
The Folanti soon regathered at the base of the Muggle-structure. Each mission had been accomplished and now they were fluttering in a circle with their hands linked. It was a beautiful sight, all the Folanti in existence, wings humming to keep them in a steady above the ground. Eyes all closed as they meditated on forgiveness and love, the gifts of their power: channelling that power through their linked hands to Minada.
Minada was chanting an ancient spell under her breath, gathering the offered power to make the teleportation jump to Scotland. It was magic that took at least thirty Folanti, so was rarely executed. Tonight was only the third time that Minada was attempting the magic.
She concentrated on the scene that the wind had brought, intent on the clouds above the despair, chanting:
Nos ad locum poenarum locus tristitiae locum querela.
Curare , inducet nos in malis odio curare sana raptabat.
Eo donum petimus fata sinunt , ueritus nobis adiuvent.
[[Translation: Take us to the place of pain, the place of sadness, the place of blame. Take us there to heal their woes, heal their hate, heal their foes. Fates allow us this gift of travel we seek, help us help them with a great feat.]]
Minada repeated the lines over and over, feeling the power beginning overwhelm her deep well and threatening to burst forth uncontrolled.
She sucked in her breath and screamed.
The power erupted and swept with vicious force around the group: a bright light expanding rapidly from the Minada and encompassing them all.
They felt a shift and were soon in a misty, cold place.
The cloud above Hogwarts, Minada realised. She broke the circle and held up a hand, telling her tribe to wait. They watched anxiously as she shot from the circle and disappeared into the mist, heading downwards.
Minada pulled up as she exited the cloud.
Yes, Hogwarts, she thought decisively.
She had never been here; but seeing it now, it resembled nothing of the joyful stories she'd once heard. It was awful.
No one could heal from this without our help, she realised. We chose wisely, the devastating repercussions would have destroyed us all.
Veering back upwards, she found her tribe and said, 'We are at the source of the pain and it is terrible. We shall spread our dust in these clouds, the wind and air will help us to reach every part of the land.'
The Folanti nodded in unison, serious and joyful at once. They then began to dance, fluttering their wings in a primitive beat and releasing the glowing dust with each beat. They spun and dipped, entwined and unwound, group together or floated singly. The dust poured down to the waiting wind. The wind caught it and guided it to all below. The rain capturing the glowing specks and encasing them in glittering droplets, letting them fall from the sky and splattering on everything and everyone below.
No-one escaped the glowing matter; not wizards, witches, centaurs, trolls, giants, nor werewolves. The wind carried it through halls and into rooms, the dust even glittered onto the lake and finding the Giant Squid and merpeople. No-one escaped the love and forgiveness it exuded.
The Folanti danced and danced, allowing the wind strengthened to a storm to carry them where they were needed, across the country, north and south, they danced and danced longer than ever before.
As they danced, the wind brought the feelings of love and forgiveness back to them, spurring the Folanti on with new energy. They celebrated as they moved, delighted to be able to heal everyone below them.
'What's happening?' Hermione asked in wonder as luminescent raindrops dripped on her face.
'Oh! It is the Folanti! They have come: I had hoped they would,' Luna said, approaching her side.
'The what?' Hermione replied with a furrowed brow.
'The Folanti, they're a children's story. Luna, Folanti aren't real,' Neville replied from where he was standing on Hermione's other side.
'You are wrong, Neville, they are quite real: I have seen them before. With daddy. Of course they were hiding so I didn't tell him. Legend says that they were created when the Fates released magic into our world. Apparently, the maiden wished to ensure that love would always be strongest and forgiveness always given, so she created the little beings who look like curvy two-inch versions of us, but with fur and butterfly wings. The wings created a dust which holds the power to make people forgive and love each other. It is said that the dust was coveted by potion masters and the darling beings were hunted to extinction. But they survived by hiding, and now they are back, helping us once more and healing the land.'
Hermione frown as she looked around at the hugging wizarding folk and creatures, then back to the glowing rain. 'I think that, perhaps, I'm with you, Luna. It is the only explanation I can think of for what is happening, and I definitely feel forgiving. Right, well we can't let them be hunted again. Clearly they are happy to help where needed, so there is no need to hunt them. I'm going to join the Ministry's magical creatures department and ensure they are protected.'
'They don't they like being called "creatures",' Luna pointed out in an airy tone.
'And I'll petition the Minister to change the name to The Department of Welfare and Rights Protection of Fabulous Magical Creatures and Beings.'
'Err, Hermione,' Neville said from her other side.
'Yes?'
'Maybe work on the name – the acronym is W.A.R.O.F.M.C.A.B.'
'What's wrong with that? It says exactly what we want and tells people how wonderful they are at the same time.'
'It also could be said as War of Mcab,' he explained.
'Drat,' Hermione muttered. 'Very well, I will think of a new name, later, for now I'm going to see if I can find the Minister.'
Hermione peeled away from the group and immediately strode determinedly away. Luna watched the girl go with a dreamy smile. With Hermione, the Golden Girl of the war, determined to protect the Folanti, Luna was sure they would be safe.
I must visit them soon and let them know the good news, Luna mused to herself.
It was two days before the Folanti had finished their blanket provision of love and forgiveness. The gathered together and clasped hands tightly, ready to teleport back home under Minada's direction. With a glow of light, they faded from the shoreline and reappeared in their home ravine. The tired, but happy, Folanti crawled into their underground home and curled up on their single-feather beds with content sighs.
When they finally awoke, revitalised and energetic, they found Luna sitting outside their home, patting the tree. Luna cast a smile towards the tunnel when she saw the movement.
'Hello, my name is Luna Lovegood. I will work with my friends to protect you – and one, Hermione, has the power and motivation to do anything. I've had a friend's brother, Bill Weasley, cast strong protection wards around your home until the Ministry of Magic ensures you will be safe,' Luna reassured sweetly.
Minada stepped forward from the tunnel. 'We have seen you before. You led an older man away from us.'
'Yes, you did not look like you wished to be found.'
'Thank you for your assistance then and now. If you ever need our help, please let us know.'
'Thank you,' Luna whispered and bowed her head. Luna picked up a tiny gem and passed it to Minada. 'This is a moonstone, my friend's brother linked it to the wards. If magical folk approach within three kilometres of your home, it will emit the sound of a bell.'
Minada took the gem gently. 'Thank you, it was you who helped us to trust in wizarding folk again, I am pleased we were right.'
'You honour me,' Luna replied. The blond witch then stood-up and added, 'I am needed by my father, I will come and visit, if that is okay?'
'You will always be most welcome, Luna,' Minada replied.
Luna smiled and turned away, skipping towards the town.
'It looks like we shall not be trapped inside after all. We will, of course, maintain the other measures,' Minada said to the group jumbled in the tunnel behind her.
As Minada returned the stone to a safe place inside, the remaining Folanti fluttered to their play area under the stone-like structure. Dancing on the light breeze, they laughed at the happiness that drifted on the wind, a message of their successful task.
THE END
A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the story! If you see any Oxford English punctuation/grammar corrections, please PM me so I can fix them up. Otherwise, reviews and favouriting make me ever so happy XD