Author's Note: Again, this chapter was written well before the movie of Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them debuted. I pulled the Graphorn from the book Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them, not the movie. I used the description listed in the book. The film depicted the Graphorn very differently, so please keep that in mind.

~BD

Terminus

Cearo shifted slightly in her seat, feeling rather uncomfortable and unmotivated. Worse, she was unable to do anything about either problem, for it had been her idea in the first place that she and Cadmus should spend the afternoon in the library, studying.

And that had indeed been her original plan. She had mountains of essays to write and texts to read, and she needed to work on her challenge as well. But somehow, being with child made everything pile up even more then usual, she thought dejectedly.

And, unlike her, Cadmus somehow managed to stay caught up with all of his regular lessons despite the fact that he would be a father within a few months. He didn't have to carry the baby, or feel it kick and twist within his belly. It didn't make him uncomfortable or hot or cold or frustrated or angry or sad or moody. He had time to think about everything else – all of the things she would have been thinking of, were she not with child.

For instance, during the past hour of their time together today, he had been writing a series of complex equations on a piece of parchment, crossing numbers and symbols out occasionally and reworking the theory each time – because he had completed his weekly essays already. Cearo, who was behind in Herbology more than any other study, couldn't seem to focus on her essay at all, simply because she was constantly distracted by Cadmus's obvious diligence. He had always been brilliant, but the advanced level of the work he was currently doing was beyond anything she had ever seen – even if it was for his challenge, which she disagreed with entirely. She tried to refocus on her own work, and managed to write out another line regarding the best way to obtain Poisonous Hornbush berries without causing injury to oneself.

But when Cadmus suddenly muttered to himself, "No, to reverse that aspect properly, the principle of Elwyn's Sixteenth Law must be put into effect in conjunction with the number of months or years that have already past..." she couldn't help but look up in horror.

Elwyn the Fierce was a scholar from at least five or six centuries past; his history was clouded in mystery and his adult life had been one of utterly disturbing qualities. He was considered a genius, but as his theories and deductions were so horribly dangerous that the majority of the wizarding community had banned their study. In fact, it was rare to hear his name at all these days – she only knew of him because, in her third year at the Founders' school, Mistress Helga had made a warning comment about the man's foolish writings and their removal from the Hogwarts library several years prior, mainly because four students had located the documents and tried one of the theories, with disastrous results.

"Surely you are not studying Elwyn the Fierce?" she whispered.

Cadmus glanced at her, eyebrows slightly lifted. "Yes, I confess I am. His writings contain knowledge I need in order to complete the stone's ultimate power."

She gaped at him, unable to comprehend. That the man she loved would stoop to study a banned, twisted scholar was beyond her. She had thought that Cadmus was slowly becoming his old self again, but clearly not. Not if he were studying Elwyn. She stammered, "You would stoop to accepting Elwyn's methods for something like this? Cadmus, you mustn't! His theories were too dangerous! Surely there are other theories or ideas you can use!"

"None that investigate reversing spells the way Elwyn did. His writings are quite fascinating, actually."

Cearo felt herself growing pale and, for some reason, the baby kicked at that precise moment. She winced and instinctively put a hand on her stomach.

However, before she could ask where on earth Cadmus had even located Elwyn's writings, he dropped his quill and leaned towards her. "Are you well?" he asked, glancing down at her stomach.

She started to nod, but when then her eye caught his scribbles again and she scowled instead. "No, I am not!" she argued quietly, leaning away from his touch. "Cadmus, please! For the sake of our child, I beg you will stop reading Elwyn's theories! And stop putting so many dangerous spells into that stone! If you're going to make it – and you are," she added bitterly, "you should at least focus on something positive instead of something so negative! Otherwise, the stone will be worthless!"

"Something positive?" He sounded annoyed. "Such as?"

Cearo felt her ire rising. "You are consumed by the thought of Death! I know you miss your father, but that's just it! Did you not even listen to the discussion two nights ago? Your brother defended Love! You should take his words to heart and finish this stone in such a way as to make it an asset instead of a liability! Your father would not want you this determined to defeat a universal entity that cannot be defeated!"

Cadmus had already returned to his notes, as though determined to block her words. "Ignotus is young, and does not understand the ways of the world yet," he responded.

"Do not chastise him thus! Ignotus is sixteen, and more intelligent then you give him credit for! He is a man, regardless of whether he has fought in the Clan Wars or not!"

"I am aware of Ignotus's age and intelligence, but he has still not lived in the world, yet. His project is, by far, more difficult then anyone realizes – maybe more difficult than he realizes. But the purpose of the stone is to bring back the dead, and I fail to see how Love would be a deciding factor in the equations for reversing Death."

"It should be the deciding factor," Cearo insisted. "You should wish to see those who have passed because you loved them, not because you want to cheat Death of another victim! The distinction means everything! Trying to cheat Death will destroy you!"

"The distinction will empower me, not destroy me."

The baby kicked again, and Cearo bit back a cry. Cadmus didn't even look up, this time. Suddenly feeling sick and tired, she rose unsteadily and gathered her parchment, not bothering to put it in any kind of order.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, hardly looking at her.

"Yes. I'm going back to the dormitories," she answered shortly.

"Simply because I don't believe your idea is the best one?"

"I'm tired, Cadmus! The baby is unsettled and my back hurts! I shall see you tomorrow. Good night."

And before he could inquire further, Cearo stormed down the aisle and through the library, unable to ignore the tears pricking her lashes. She would have to find time to finish the Herbology essay later, as well as work on her own project: she was studying the effects of Ashwinder eggs in potion making, and if reworking a couple of potions that did not involve the dangerous things would make them stronger if she did add them.

But somehow, she just couldn't put her heart into it to work on either any more tonight.

oOo

Ignotus had been staring at the partially completed cloak for half an hour, but nothing had changed. The threads in the loom were still the same; the portion that was finished still shimmered softly in the dim light.

His shoulders drooped. He had no idea how to weave Love into the cloak. If Callisto's suggestion was accurate, Love would be the universal key to rendering him utterly invisible – the hidden, powerful magic that Godric had mysteriously hinted at when he first decided to weave the cloak the previous term. But no brilliant idea had come to him yet; no stroke of genius presented itself. Love was a feeling, not a spell or charm or curse or hex. It wasn't something he could say to the threads and the fabric, and by such, they would absorb Love the way they would absorb spells.

Frustrated, dejected, and drained, he rose from the bench before the loom and wandered to the door of the room. Until he was able to overcome this obstacle, there was no use in weaving further. He could complete the cloak, but unless he wove Love into it, he would fail.

He closed the door behind him, slightly grateful that he was no longer staring at the shining, glimmering Demiguise threads. With a sigh, he waved his wand in a few complicated movements, sealing the door carefully, so that none could enter except Callisto or Master Godric. Then he began to trudge through the corridors, wondering if the library had any texts on the unknown magic of Love. He rather doubted it, but it was worth a try. He had to start somewhere, and seeing as it was the end of the week and there were no classes today, he would have quite a bit of time to search for information on the illusive subject.

However, just as he reached the third floor, he saw Ansen sprinting up the corridor towards him, ashen and terrified.

"Ignotus!"

The younger boy skidded to a halt and Ignotus grabbed his arms before Ansen crashed into him. The panic in the youngster's face made him feel cold and unsettled.

Panting, Ansen gasped, "Some of Salazar's students...! They... they..."

"They what?" Ignotus demanded sharply. There was absolutely no bloody telling what some of Salazar's students had or hadn't done. It could be anything, and they weren't on the best of terms with more than a few students beneath the other three Founders.

"You've got to come right away!" Ansen looked on the verge of tears. "They... A Graphorn escaped the forest somehow, and some of Salazar's students challenged Ross! Said a Muggle-born was weaker then a Pureblood and told him they bet he couldn't destroy it alone! The Founders are in a meeting and no one knows where they are, and...!"

Ignotus felt his heart stop for a fleeting second. Graphorns were incredibly dangerous creatures with hides tougher then Dragons', and nearly impossible to kill for it. They rarely came so close to the school; this one must have been hungrier then usual to venture up out of the forest. He remembered what Antioch had told him the day they had fed the Thestrals – the winter was more bitter than usual, and such animals were likely to venture out of the forest. But for Ross to accept such an utterly ridiculous challenge...! He could hardly believe his best mate would do something so asinine.

Practically pushing Ansen aside, Ignotus began to sprint down the corridor, his mind racing faster then his feet. He had to get outside, to the lawns... He wasn't certain what he could do, but he had to do something...

The younger boy caught up with him, holding a stitch in his side. "Gaderian and Perseus tried to stop him," he cried, "but he wouldn't listen! He said Master Godric wouldn't have selected him if he weren't courageous and strong, and he's had it with the House of Black's barbs about Muggle-borns and how he's not as good as they are! Gaderian and Perseus went to find the Founders, if they can! You've got to stop him, Ignotus! You're the only one he'll listen to when he gets stubborn like this! If the Graphorn doesn't kill him, the Blacks will!"

Ignotus kept running, perfectly aware that no one could get through to Ross when he was in one of his stubborn moods. He had always been sensitive about his parentage, and more then once in the past five years had nearly come to blows with various students of Salazar Slytherin. Ignotus had always known that it would happen sooner or later; that it was only a matter of time before the straw broke the ox's back and Ross lost his temper enough to start a duel or do something equally stupid. Up 'til now, someone had always stepped in before Ross could get involved in a fight – usually one of the Founders, but if they were no where to be found...

A sudden thought occurred to him. Callisto had mentioned, right after Yule, how much Cantrella hated her cousins. Perhaps she would be able to step in. As he reached the marble stairs, he shouted, "Ansen! Find Callisto and Cantrella! Tell them what has happened!"

Ansen's shoulders dropped, for he was clearly exhausted from running so much, but he nodded weakly and turned to race back to the tower as Ignotus took the marble stairs two at a time. A few of Rowena and Helga's students were in the entrance hall, and they frowned at his pace, but he merely ignored them, burst through the oak doors, and began pelting down the long lawn towards the forest, his heart sinking as the sight came into view before him.

Ross was marching across the dead grass, seemingly eons away, his shoulders squared and his head high, his wand clenched in his hand. The Graphorn, clearly agitated and furious, was pawing the ground with his head down. Any second, he would run for his target, and Merlin only knew if Ross would be able to dodge the attack. Several students of the House of Black were standing well away from the scene, upon an outcrop of rock, laughing and jeering horribly, and egging Ross on. Ignotus wondered why on earth his best mate had allowed them to get under his skin so badly that he would do something this stupid to prove them wrong, but a sharp voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he, too, would have probably done something like this only five months ago himself, in order to prove a point. Hadn't he been determined back then to prove that he was as strong as his brothers? That he should have been allowed to fight in the Clan Wars? Wouldn't he have done anything then in order to show his strength?

Suddenly his legs couldn't seem to carry him fast enough. A searing pain clenched in his chest from the effort of sprinting so far already, and he watched as Ross stopped and the Graphorn charged forward.

And then, in a wink of an eye, his world froze as he watched Ross fire a spell that rebounded off of the Graphorn's hide. His friend tried to fling himself out of the way at the last second, out of the aim of those long, deadly horns.

It was happening in slow motion. Ross was caught in midair, his body thrown high as the Graphorn tossed his head. An arch of blood stained the dead grass, and Salazar's students howled and cried out with unsuppressed, ruthless mirth.

Ignotus's mind went blank. He couldn't think or feel anything except an awful numbness that had paralyzed him. Had it really happened? It couldn't be real. But his frozen state at what he had just seen only lasted a fraction of a second, because the sounds of the Blacks' laughter jolted him back to the horrible reality of what was unfolding before him. Anger rose within him like a snake and he shouted out, "Stupefy!" before he quite thought about it. The jet of red light collided with the Graphorn, which turned and slung Ross aside, off of one of it's horns, to find its new attacker.

Its eyes lit upon Ignotus, and he felt something sink inside of him. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he registered the Slytherin students' laughter growing louder as they realized his presence. He heard someone shout out that they would bet a Pureblood son of the House of Peverell could do better then a filthy, unworthy Mudblood that had deserved a slow death, and the Graphorn snorted in defiance. From the corner of his eye, Ignotus saw Ross stir feebly on the ground, gasping and grasping his side. The crimson of the blood was invisible against his red robes but bright against the icy ground and bright against his pale hand, and Ignotus knew he would need to defeat the beast quickly to help his friend.

oOo

"You need me there! Nothing you say will stop me!" Cantrella yelled.

"He told you not to!" Callisto shouted back, ignoring the way green and gold sparks flew from the end of Cantrella's wand in anger. She could duel Cantrella if she had to; that was the least of her worries. Furious, she yelled, "Get back to the tower, 'Ella!"

But before Callisto could cast a Shield Charm between them and escape through the oaken front doors, her dearest friend darted in front of her in a whirl of red robes and black tresses.

Effectively blocking the way, Cantrella said in a low, frosty voice, "I know my cousins, Callisto! I know how they think, I know how their hateful, twisted, evil minds work. You do too, for you can see their thoughts, but there are more of them than of us today, and until someone finds Master Godric...!"

Callisto felt her temper slipping away from her; her real emotions were too dangerously close to the surface. Real emotions that perhaps only Cantrella had ever truly seen, for she hid them even from her uncle as best she could. Cantrella was the only person who could understand, being a girl herself.

"If you fight," Callisto hissed, clenching her wand in one hand and grabbing Cantrella's robes with her other, to bring them face to face (for Cantrella was slightly taller than Callisto was), "we will have all-out war, Cantrella! He doesn't want that yet! No one knows Salazar's thoughts are at the moment, and –!"

"Herpo's evil sagging arse! Stop hiding behind that old argument – everyone knows that Salazar hates the Muggle-borns! War is coming whether I fight today or not!" Cantrella snarled hotly. "And if we delay any longer, Ross and Ignotus will both die! Salazar's students will see to it! I would wager my entire fortune that Salazar even put them up to it." Her voice dropped to a low whisper, despite the fact that there was no one else in the Entrance Hall at that moment to overhear the argument. "And so would your uncle. It will take both of us, Cal, to destroy that Graphorn. They cannot be defeated by a single witch or wizard!"

oOo

Ignotus could feel his breath coming in painful gasps. He knew he could not continue to avoid the Graphorn for much longer – it was too powerful and too fast. His spells and charms were doing little in the way of protecting him; rather, they were only annoying the beast further. It had turned into a sick game, for the Graphorn seemed intent on drawing the battle out and killing Ignotus as slowly as possible.

Behind him, he could hear Maponus Avery, Lycoris Malfoy, Brogan Lestrange, and the members of the House of Black – Cassiopeia, Druella, Moira, Orion, and Borealis – sneering and laughing worse then ever. Waiting for him to die. It was sport to them, to watch those they wished to eliminate die in such a fashion. They hadn't lifted a finger, and never would have to. And they were well far back enough from the fight to risk getting involved themselves, so they could always plead innocent when faced with punishment.

As the Graphorn rushed for him again, Ignotus wondered if it were worth dodging. He wondered where Ansen was, if he'd managed to find Callisto and Cantrella, or Master Godric. The instinct to survive made him throw himself aside at the last second, but his energy was so drained that it wasn't quite fast enough. He felt a searing hot pain in his side, heard the rip of fabric, felt the cold air bite his skin, felt the warm gush of blood as he rolled to the ground and tried to stagger to his feet. When his hand gripped his side, it came away covered in sticky red, and the Graphorn skidded to a halt thirty feet away, its nostrils flaring as it picked up the coppery scent.

He wouldn't be able to dodge again, and he doubted that any spell he hadn't yet tried would do any better then anything he had tried thus far. He suddenly felt as though he were the worst in his class at Defense. All of his training was nothing in this battle. If he were unable to protect himself now, he wouldn't have been able to protect himself in the Clan Wars, either. His vision swam and the Graphorn pawed the ground and slung his head, his stained horns flashing. Ignotus wondered, briefly, what Antioch and Cadmus would do when they discovered what had taken place today. Would his brothers avenge his death? He didn't even think that the House of Black could stand against Antioch Peverell, if he were furious enough. Or Cadmus.

Ignotus lifted his wand, his arm unsteady and shaking terribly as he felt an unpleasant warmth seeping down his side to his hip and thigh. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Ross's body on the ground, now completely still, lying in a large pool of red. Tears pricked his vision, blurring it worse then the physical pain. He couldn't believe Ross was actually dead – only that morning they'd eaten breakfast together before Ignotus had gone to the locked chamber to work on the cloak. The night before they had joked by the fire about playing Shuntbumps when the weather turned warmer. Perhaps there was still a chance that Mistress Helga could save him. Or perhaps he would be with his best friend again soon enough, he thought dimly, and his arm slipped a bit as his knees gave out. He could apologize then; beg forgiveness for not spending more time with Ross these past two months, while he worked on a stupid challenge instead. What was the cloak worth, really, compared to his closest friend's life?

The Graphorn began to run, seemingly in slow motion. Ignotus felt his temple touch the cold grass as his body gave out, and he hoped that perhaps he would lose consciousness before the beast killed him. Even the shouts of laughter were growing faint.

Then suddenly, two flashes of light went over his head – one red, one gold, racing together and interlocking as they went. He heard a howl of pain from the Graphorn and felt the ground vibrate beneath his body as it was thrown to the earth. Dimly, he realized more then one person would have had to cast a spell to tackle the beast to the ground. He heard a distant shout of fury and felt another vibration, as though a powerful spell had gone off nearby, and he heard several screams of anger. Amidst the shouting and additional spells, a face swam above his, but he couldn't quite make it out. He saw several more flashes of light, but he was unable to discern where they were going or coming from. And from far, far away, he heard someone begging him to hold on.

oOo

Callisto's hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly hold her wand. There was blood everywhere, all over him, the ground, everything. It was already on her dress and cloak and her hands, streaked on her face where she'd made the mistake of trying to push an errant curl out of her eyes to focus on him. It wasn't that she hadn't seen blood before, but this... This was horrifying. It took her eerily back to the day she watched her parents' deaths. She had no idea what to do, or how to stop the flow from his side. The wound was bad and he had lost enough in the seconds before she had reached him...

Then, unexpectedly, she felt a rough hand grab her shoulder and a moment later her uncle had knelt beside her, his face a contorted mixture of fury and panic. He was much paler than she had ever seen, completely drained and ashen. Then she realized she must look like the six-year-old child that watched her parents' deaths from behind her mother's enchanted loom, rather than simply feeling like that child, for she saw his teeth grit and his cheeks suffuse with sudden red.

"You must save him," he said, his voice quite and low and urgent. "Callisto, you've got to try –!"

When she just stared back at him, mute and confused, he actually shook her – the first time he had ever done so in her entire life.

"Callisto!" he snarled. "You've been studying healing spells for months now! You can heal him; I know you can! You must concentrate! Do it!"

He was more desperate then she, because for once, perhaps for the only time ever, she knew more then he did. Perhaps it was Godric Gryffindor's desperation that brought her back to her senses. The thought that her uncle was so terrified and couldn't do anything snapped her mind into action. Her eyes slid back to Ignotus's body, sprawled on the ground. She took a shaky breath and held her wand out over the wound. Her numb lips trembling, she closed her eyes to the awful sight and began to mumble the incantations she had studied for her project – studied for this purpose, so that when the inevitable war of Muggle-borns finally broke out officially between the legions of her uncle and Salazar Slytherin, she would have the knowledge to heal magical wounds so severe that Death would be a blessing for those who suffered. Knowledge to heal brave warriors that would be needed to return to the field of battle to protect the innocent. The reason she had selected the art of healing for her project was, in truth, to fight the war that had started so long ago – the war she had been dragged viciously into when she was a child of six summers. There were many who excelled at Defense. There were few who excelled at Healing. And magical cloaks would only do so much to protect their wearers. She had needed to learn this art.

As she cast her spells, she her Godric snap from behind her, "No, Helga! She can do it! You must let her!"

A low groan escaped Ignotus's lips, and Callisto dared to open her eyes. The wound, still covered in blood, was slowly knitting back together. The spells were powerful, and though she had only learned them in theory, she had been able to put them into practice in this crucial moment. Shaking, she lifted her eyes to Cantrella, who was now standing opposite of her, on the other side of Ignotus's body. Her best friend's face was colorless, framed by long, wavy, rippling black hair. Her robes had been torn in several places and she sported one long cut along her cheek that marred the perfect whiteness with a faint red line – the only visible evidence she bore as the result of her battle with her cousins. She had taken on three of them at once, eagerly even, and two of them were lying unconscious on the ground nearby. The third was nursing a fractured arm and spiting out a furious tirade to Master Salazar, who was standing twenty feet away, looking positively livid. Gaderian and Perseus had arrived with the four Founders and, in fury, they had tried to assist Cantrella against Salazar's commands. They were now standing together, almost guiltily, waiting punishment for fighting.

Cantrella's eyes flickered away, and Callisto followed her gaze. Ross's body was lying nearby, and for a second, Callisto felt nauseated. She felt her uncle touch her shoulder again.

"There is nothing you can do for him now," he whispered in a choked voice. "But you have done well by Ignotus, Callisto."

"The healing spells you selected," Mistress Rowena added quietly, as she helped Callisto to shaky feet, "Were well studied. I hardly believe you will need to complete your demonstration at the end of the term, Miss Stewart. Would you now heal Miss Dreux, please?"

As Godric levitated Ignotus's body, Callisto lifted her arm again. It felt like lead, but before she could cast the spell, Cantrella quickly but gently grasped the end of Callisto's wand.

"No. I will bear it as a reminder of this day for the rest of my life. Do not heal it. I do not wish it."

Callisto was too numb to argue; it was as though the words were coming to her through a tunnel. Slowly, she nodded, and Cantrella released the end of the wand.

"Callisto!" Her uncle's voice broke her thoughts. "You'll be needed in the hospital wing if Cantrella does not require your services. Rowena would like your assistance." He added, "Cantrella! You will come with me!"

Callisto nodded again so he would know that she had heard him, but did not immediately follow. She watched as Salazar sent his students back to the castle: the ones sporting wounds to the hospital wing, and the ones sporting injured prides back to their common room. Salazar hissed at Gaderian and Perseus to return to their tower and await Godric's presence, for Salazar would certainly expel them if they were his students, but Godric would decide their punishments for their idiotic fighting.

Anger boiled in Callisto's veins, for he was not expelling his own students for their actions today. She knew Godric would not expel his, either. But the thought that Salazar would, and without second thought, only made her angrier. The man was so bias that she wished she were strong enough to kill him herself, sometimes.

She turned to Cantrella to express her outrage, but her friend had wandered over to where Ross's cold body lay twisted on the ground, despite Godric's order that Cantrella follow him. And immediately, Callisto's outrage faded into sadness and pain. For Cantrella, who was always so strong and never showed her weaknesses, had buried her face in her hands and was weeping silently, now that there was no one left on these parts of the lawns to see her do so.

Callisto knew that Cantrella had never told anyone the truth about her relationship with Ross, for Cantrella would be disowned once and for all when she finally did. Cantrella had been waiting, Callisto knew, until she and Ross finished school. She had even stopped Ross from expressing his own feelings the one time he had tried to tell her secretly how he felt, demanding instead that he wait until Hogwarts was behind them. To Callisto's knowledge, this was the only secret that Ross had kept from Ignotus, and she only knew the secret because Cantrella had confided in her and Godric for advice. She knew that Cantrella and Ross had decided to wait, for once they left Hogwarts they would have a fraction of a chance, if even that much. A pureblood member of the House of Black and a Muggle-born that was outcaste by wizarding society would be shunned everywhere they went. But they would have had each other, if nothing else.

Now, it was too late.

Callisto felt a couple of tears slide down her own face, for there was nothing she could do to help her friend. And that hurt almost as much as the idea of losing Ignotus did.