Prologue
The Forbidden Forest was most quiet at this time of the day, rather this time of the year. There was no danger of wandering students, the summer heat had seen to that—as well as the watchful eye of the Hogwarts' staff. They were increasingly, sharply aware of danger now, perhaps more so than they'd ever been before. They were a conscientious staff these days. The only real sounds were the "normal" ones. As normal as the Forbidden Forest could be, anyway.
The thing was—the Hogwarts' staff could not keep too close an eye on what lurked in those shadowy realms because it was after all, forbidden for a reason. Somewhere along the line it had become a place for the magical beings that were wild, uncontrollable—dangerous. It was the place those things belonged. There was power in that notion, magic that made things that belong simply seem to be invisible. One does not notice the out of place pencil in the pencil box. The odd teacher could contemplate actively doing something about the dangerous creatures housed there especially given the close proximity to the student population but where would they go? It was better to navigate students away from the darkened shade and overlook the occasional dead creature obviously the lunch of something larger and more ruthless. You never saw the killing, only the dead. That was the real problem with something that started to belong in a place—it grew harder and harder to see them.
The woman puttered aimlessly along a crag of thorny bushes that ran parallel to the school, but far enough away that she could avoid being seen by any prying eyes. She could hardly still be called a woman. Her clothing was ragged in all the patches that were not already worn threadbare, and her face had palsied as though it were a computer screen glitching. Her wand, on the other hand, was in pristine condition and emitted hot, thirsty sparks from time to time as though to mirror her erratic moods. Looking at her directly, her eyes were shifty, paranoid, darting frantically to and fro. She was focused today though, moving at a steady clip as though she were thinking intently about where she should place each of her feet. As she walked, she spoke short, nonsensical words, half Latin and half gibberish, spurting half phrases that she seemed to hope might inadvertently line up into the constellation of a spell and it would cascade prettily from the tip of her wand and remind her of younger days. No such luck for the woman.
Presently, she came to a clearing in the forest, an overturned tree sprawled across its length, the roots like eager fingers rising toward the clear, blue sky. The tree served as a seat for the woman who had puttered to a stop with a decisive click of her teeth. She had arrived at her destination.
The woman had no watch, nor could she have properly used it if she had, but she fluttered her fingers across the bark restlessly as though someone were very late with an essay. The palsied side of her face drooped lower as the heat provoked droplets of sweat on her forehead. It wasn't long before a tawny owl with a slip of creamy vellum in its beak flew near and circled warily above the clearing. A look of caution gleamed in it's wide, golden eye—it sensed the natural imbalance below and balked at coming closer. Though whether the woman or the forest created the imbalance, who could say? She belonged there now.
The owl let the stationary fall listlessly from a safe distance above and then with a solemn swell of wings glided away. The woman watched in child-like wonder as the white paper fluttered like a snow flake in the radiant sun. It WAS today. She had been supposed to be in this spot. The thought came to her on the heels of a glimmer of true sanity. Those were the worst moments. The ones she remembered everything. All the pieces. All the plans. Gone forever now.
She took her time reading the letter. It took time to re-order the semblance of written language but it was as if the mere presence of the written word extended her window of sanity. As the sun brightened and the day, beautiful and warm, stretched on, a fearful laughter shook the Forbidden Forest. It began small and grew louder—shaking the leaves from trees scorched with sun. It was the mad laughter of triumph.
The laughter of a woman who was just tickled pink.
A.N. Hi friends, I'm excited to be back to publishing some fanfiction and developing a sense of community here again! It's been awhile but let me know if you like this where this is going : )