1998-11 July

Luna was humming a tune I couldn't follow while skipping ahead of me. We were following a path carved into the undergrowth by pack of wolves following pattern over the years to find a prey.

The Tongass National Forest in Southeast Alaska was the largest national forest in the United States at 16.7million acres, 68,000 square kilometers. Most of its area was part of the temperate rain forest, itself part of the larger Pacific temperate rain forest. Naturally, the forest was so much bigger without actually occupying the planet's surface that it was hilarious.

The last part was what muggles didn't know; they were sure of the rest, however. And it was even mostly true. The important element few considered, was that the forest had been there since the last ice age, with a few humans walking on the outskirts of it only in the last centuries. In a place full of life, like that titanic forest was, nature sings its own tune. And where humans do not thread, magic learns to dance.

Never constrained, never marred by muggles or wizards, the forest had grown. Every single tree, young or old, held more sway in the deep of the forest than any human could ever hope to understand. It was defined as an old-growth forest, also termed primary forest, virgin forest, primeval forest, late seral forest, or forest primeval.

Not to say that the forest or the single trees were sentient, no, but they were undoubtedly aware. I walked with the same calm and caution I used to soothe down Fleur at the end of the tournament I refused to stray from the path, because while I knew I could survive anything that forest had to dish out, I also knew that disrespecting it would be just as damning as killing a unicorn's foal. I had never been one for respecting what others see as holy, but that place was a sanctuary. As a wandmaker, I felt it clearly as I could feel the earth beneath my feet, the dampness of the air. I also knew that while I could treat the forest as the treasure trove it was, I shouldn't take more than what was offered. So, when I found a few strands of hair that I recognized as belonging to a Wampus Cat, I did not try to follow the trail, I gratefully picked those up and kept quietly enjoying my walk with my younger friend. Raven was being a coward and sat on Luna's shoulder, preferring the quiet acceptance the forest was offering her to the slight contempt I was being hold in.

Luna was Luna however, and where the air around me felt watchful, the leaves seemed to shift slightly to better allow her passage or swayed gently to the rhythm of her tune. If a fairy ever achieved higher neural functions, it would behave like Luna. That was another reason why I was walking in the cold forest without a single defensive charm wrapped around me, and without any of the clothes made from a magical creature that I owned.

Walking so deep into that forest wearing basilisk hide? I would feel like an invader, come to become the king of the forest in the same way the basilisk was the king of snakes. Dragonhide? I would feel like a bringer of fire, it did not belong to that place. Sphinx leather? Sphinx were the result of experimental, ritual interbreeding between humans and lions, and as such, an abomination in the eyes of that vast forest. Veela were beings of fire and as such Fleur didn't feel at ease in there and had preferred to stay to the camp Xenophilius and his merry band of researchers and explorers had set up moths before.

Knowingly or not, Luna was the one leading the two of us, not otherwise. Even if she kept dancing around trees that were impossibly high, old, strong, beautiful, and watchful. From time to time, we walked under a tree that recently lost a few branches or twigs. I picked up something here and there only when it felt right. However, I didn't think I would find the right wood for Fleur's wand there, she would be chosen by a beautiful and almost delicate wood, with hidden strength.

The ground did not make any sense. Sometimes I was walking uphill, sometimes I slid down what felt like a grass covered cliff. It was maddening. Or it would have been, if not for the kindly reassuring tune Luna was keeping up. It was almost like she was humming for my benefit, letting the forest know me through her eyes.

After a while however, I felt like Luna had held my hand long enough. I was respectful, but not cowering. So, I let myself stretch outwards, tasting the air, the leaves, the bark, the pebbles. I was there. And Luna was a little sister I never had, and I loved Fleur fiercely, and I could be the stormy sky and the rider of the rising tide. I was not going to hide.

I started humming too, very much like Luna, only with my soul-voice. Where she was kind like a fluttering leaf, and sweet like morning dew, I was stubborn like a never ending rain, and loud like booming thunder. But I was also as purposeful as the wind that carried pollen, as youthful as spring rain and as old as the idea of snow.

All of that, in hindsight, makes me sound like a megalomaniac hippy on an acid trip. I'm well aware, however words can only do so much to describe what it was to be there.

There were thousands of western red cedars, Sitka spruce, and western hemlock everywhere. Limestone and granite that made the ground beneath the soil also made hills and caves. Creeks became torrents and ended up in little waterfalls.

We reached the pacific coast, and when Luna stopped humming, I knew we had left the forest's area of influence and entered something that belonged to someone else. And it was quite clear, since we were suddenly walking into a garden that held a distinct Mediterranean feel: myrtle, elderflower, laurel trees, I even spotted an olive tree or two. The hut had grass over its roof and was situated was a few hundred meters from the sea, where the artificial climate seemed to return normal, with the lush green grass leaving space to the barren coastline. There was even a little rowboat, resting at the end of a frail-looking pier. Another sign that something was off were the fluffy bunnies scuttering around, and a bloody goat munching on the roof of the hut.

A man left the hut, raising is hand in salute. A salute to Luna since he didn't know me. If I didn't know better, I would have thought him a half giant. He was bald, with a nose so crooked it was clear it had been broken several times over the years. His head was covered in scars, probably each could tell a different story. They were little and crisscrossed him completely, even his closed eyelids sported tiny silvers of scar tissue. His magic felt... sure? Like a river, he knew where he was going. But it was more... big? Maybe? It confounded me. The fact that he was keeping his eyes closed added itself to the mystery of the hermit.

He brought his closed eyes on me, humming a deep tone of disapproval. "I know Luna." he said. "Who are you?"

At that point Luna started talking about gibberish, like she did when she was extremely happy about something and didn't know what to say. It was probably her way to show to us that she felt comfortable enough to talk, and so that there was nothing to worry about. I was saddened by the fact that she felt she had to calm us down (in her own way) before we even started to talk. I eyed the white crystal butterfly she carried in her hair, thinking about a way to reassure her that neither I or her other friend would cause harm to each other or the rest of the forest.

"I am a fellow wizard, and I don't know why I am here." I introduced myself.

Luna stopped talking when the old giant (in all but blood) slowly nodded, since he knew Luna, that I followed her there without questions made perfect sense. "Let's talk quick." He rumbled. "It looks like it's about to rain."

Luna went silent, smiling happily, picking up a rabbit that scuttered around her feet and snuggling it into her neck. I didn't expect a hermit to offer me tea and cookies, but I did hope we would sit inside to talk with some measure of calm.

I sighed. That man was old, even if he looked only sixty, everyone develops his own quirks. Hell, I had those, and If someone came uninvited at Rabbit's Hole I sure as hell would not let him inside, common friend or not. So, I calmed down.

"I am here because Luna thought we could be... friends?" I concluded, making my statement sound like a question, and looking at Luna, who most helpfully hummed a catchy tune. The old wizard arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

I sighed, thinking about why Luna would lead me to meet this hermit. She was playing riddles with Raven when she had suddenly asked for a stroll among the trees. And she had been fidgeting for a few hours before.

Why does Luna do things? I asked myself.

The only event that popped into my mind was when she gifted me the mermaid's hair for one of my wands, and the necklace made with butterbeer cups.

What do I know about how Luna thinks? I then asked myself. And I realized that everything she did, or told, in her mind was extremely important. When she walked following the shape of a shade on the ground, when she put her wand behind her ear, when she talked and when she stood silent. All of those were extremely important things. So important that she left whatever place she inhabited in her mind only to make sure those things happened exactly as she pictured them. So, it stood to logic, and even to Luna's unique brand of logic, that the meeting between me and the old wizard had to happen. And she made sure to lead me there in the (probably) best circumstances. So, maybe she was trying to help me with something important. The only 'important' thing I was working on was gathering of very capable witch and wizards.

I should go with that maybe. It's not liked a hermit would tell anyone. I thought. I only knew that Luna believed this to be important, so I would try my dimmest to get him on board.

"I think the Statute of Secrecy is going to fail in the next thirty years. And the muggles are slowly killing the planet with their machines and pollution. I am putting together a group of fellow concerned wizards and witches to prepare ourselves the best we can. And I think Luna brought me here because you would be interested." I explained.

The big old wizard hummed thoughtfully for a couple of seconds. Then he finally opened his eyes, showing me blank pupils that could no longer see, surrounded by irises of the deepest blue I ever saw. Not the blue of the summer sky, but the one of the deep seas, heavy and unknown.

"Muggles are always killing the planet. It was true when I was a young lad, and it will be true after I am dead. I don't care about the Statute. I stay out of their way; they stay out of mine. I've been living here for more than a century, never seen a muggle that someone looked for after he disappeared." Answered the man.

"You have been here for more than a century?" I asked, not in disbelief, but to buy myself time. A century alone with only his wand for company could make strange things to the human mind, magic or not. He closed his blind eyes, humming disapproval once again.

"So, you know nothing of the nuclear warheads. Of the two world wars the muggles fought. Or that if a third one begins; the planet will become a poisonous wasteland. There won't be trees, or seas, or animals. Only barren land, with air charged by the radiations that will kill everything. Wards or not, places like this will vanish." I slowly explained.

But I knew while I was saying it that he didn't care enough, he was old, and the world survived before him. So, it would survive even after. And he couldn't understand how much the world had changed in the last century. Luna brought me here to help. Maybe to help not only me, but this man that refused to tell me his name too? What could I do?

"I can make you knew eyes. So that you can see how much everything has changed." I offered, in what I felt was a brilliant solution. I knew the difference between 2019 and 1995, he was in for a shock. And it would give me a reason to try out some of the solutions I had devised when I still thought about crafting myself a new eye. I love it so much when I can play with magic.

"If I wished to steal myself new eyes, I would have taken them already." He grumbled. "They wouldn't work."

I was flabbergasted. I didn't even think about stealing eyes. Who was I? Madara fucking Uchiha? No thank you.

I frowned but answered with a kind tone nonetheless: "I would make them. Not steal them, it's true that they wouldn't work, eyes as a part of you need to be attuned to your magic, stealing them may work on the short term, but they would start failing a year after at the best. I did find out a better way while I was researching how to find a good replacement for my left eye. Besides with the eyes of another you couldn't even change shape, so if you're an Animagus like in my case it would be annoying."

I didn't know what, but I said something right. The old wizard posture changed completely, and I passed from being hold in contempt to being regarded with something akin to interest.

1998-04 September

Nathaniel Hathaway was a strange, strange wizard. The hermit Luna presented me vanished in the moment we started talking about building a new Atlantis at the bottom of the ocean.

I still wanted to colonize the moon, but it would be good practice managing to create a little safe environment deep underwater. Turns out Hathaway had been a sailor. A half-blood from an unknown wizard, he was birthed on a ship sailing through the Atlantic. He was born on the 16th of July 1775. So yes, he was old. It clearly was something magically enhanced, wizard didn't age more slowly than muggles, Dumbledore was born in 1881, and he showed all his years.

I didn't think he was an immortal, but it would have been rude of me asking. I sure as hell wouldn't want just anyone knowing that I had a Philosopher's Stone. So, I speculated that he tied himself to the area where he had built his hut. In a way that reminded me how I bound together Dawnshard and the newborn Chinese Fireball. There were probably drawbacks. I didn't believe he could leave his home for more than a season for example, and I suspected he couldn't sustain himself with food that hadn't been produced on his land. It was something I did never consider before.

I would never do something that dangerous if I were to unleash Fiendfyre on his home I would also kill him. I didn't think anybody could destroy Wonderland, but in my opinion was a stupid risk to take. For now, I would keep going with the Stone in my left orbit. A solution would present itself.

He attended Ilvermorny, had a few lackluster years in the MACUSA, working at the department of control of magical creatures, before heading out to the sea on a stolen sailboat following the coastline up until Alaska, where he built his hut, in 1788.

He told me a bit of history I didn't know. Surprisingly, Ilvermorny was founded in 1627, and the school was originally just a rough shack containing two teachers and two students. Ilvermorny was originally a stone cottage constructed by Irish immigrant Isolt Sayre, and her No-Maj husband James Steward. And he told me that he had even smuggled stuff across the country for a couple of years, apparently it was fun. Muggles had no idea they were trying to catch a wizard.

He was the worst case of muggle baiting I ever heard of, but since the jeans I wore were stolen, I had little room to complain.

Then he told me he started to sink whaling ships. Because the 'disgusting practice' was the worst example of greed he had ever witnessed. And I agreed with him, mostly. Whales had been hunted almost to extinction, but sinking ships was, in my opinion, not a very effective way to deal with it. And I guessed history proved me right.

I naturally asked Nathaniel how he managed to sink ships without the MACUSA finding out. Say what you want, but at least one survivor would remember a wizard destroying a bloody ship. From what I could tell of his story, he went on for years. He gifted me a feral smile and brought us on his little boat.

So, I watched, as once we reached what he deemed was a 'safe distance' from the coast, he dived into the chilly ocean.

I kept looking into the freezing waters for minutes, and finally, I noticed a grey shadow moving from the depth.

Less than 10meters from the boat I was standing on, a white whale rose from the waters.

I had little doubt that it was Nathaniel, since the sperm whales had been hunted to almost extinction, and the scars that covered the entirety of the beast were clearly the same ones that marked Hathaway's. I couldn't be sure, but he was easily 20meters long.

When he broke the surface of the waters, I simply stared, dumbfounded.

Luna set me up with Moby Dick.

2000-07 January

Miðgarðsormr had grown, but it was understandable, given that during his whole life in Wonderland, his time had flown faster than mine in unpredictable ways. I speculated that he was now three or four centuries old. He obviously remembered me since my magic permeated the air and at the centre of it all my Gubraithian Fire burned brightly. Besides, in a sense, he was my familiar, and he was born from an egg gifted to me by Raven. My familiar for some inexplicable reason laid eggs only when she chooses to. Her biology was a clusterfuck as a side effect of the ritual I used to hatch her. I was glad that for some reason the biological imperative that led animals to mating was completely absent in her. I shuddered at the idea of murder of ravens with her inherited behavior. Riddles were fun but asking them all the time was tiring. And somehow the passion for riddles was in the blood, since even the now 15 meters long Miðgarðsormr seemed to love them. I had to limit myself to the ones that used terms that he knew something of, since he hadn't been hatched in a Pensieve full of my memories that somehow would have been absorbed.

I shook my head, focusing once again on the problem at hand. Miðgarðsormr was growing fast, and I was glad that Wonderland managed to sustain his hunger without problems. Between the population of predators that constantly needed thinning and the packs of deer that crossed the land, there was no shortage of food. Once I finished adding to it the animals and magical creatures, I collected during my travels around the world however, space was going to become a problem. While I could keep digging, I had the feeling that it would be better if Wonderland became functionally independent from me. So, the point was turning my creation in something that would grow in the function of what it needed. I rubbed tiredly my forehead. It promised to be a nightmare.

Starting from what I knew about eternal independent enchantments: they existed only for things that had been built while the magic was being woven into them. Since I wanted Wonderland to be able to grow, a static enchantment wasn't going to cut it.

Eternal dynamic enchantments worked for homes were their master resided. Like for Nathaniel's abode. They could be tricked with the presence of the owner's Gubraithian Fire. And it was what I had done to Wonderland. The Eternal flame would die with me, however, and it did nothing beyond keeping in place enchantments I built previously, helped by the elves I bound to me. Perhaps using the elves as a focus could help. After all, at Hogwarts they were bound to the castle, that kept its enchantments always going thanks to their presence, along with the wizards and witches that spent so much time in it. Maybe we were going somewhere. The elves had a symbiotic relationship with Hogwarts. The castle magic fed off their presence and benefited from their care in the same way the elves were fed and nurtured by the castle. However, the elves followed Dumbledore's orders as the Master of the castle. Which was an inherent title that came with the Headmaster position.

So, finding a way to bind together elves and Wonderland was a sound idea. However, the number of elves necessary for it would be around several hundreds. And elves worked at their best in domestic environments, primaeval magical forests were not what they thrived into. And they would still need to answer to a master of some kind. And the whole point was making sure that Wonderland found a way to grow, survive my death, and to keep it protected from the outside world.

The Tongass National Forest was somewhat alive, meaning that all the souls born in there were somewhat tied to the one of the much greater forest. In the same way cells were part of a human body. And the forest protected itself, in a way. At least in the more magical areas of the forest, fires died faster than normal, and I had felt extremely unwelcome.

I remembered suddenly about Rick Riordan's novel. He wrote one, in his saga of demigods, about an ever-growing, ever-changing labyrinth. I remembered it was tied to the life of its creator, Dedalus. and that was something I wanted to change for my Wonderland. The idea of finding a way for my creation to grow worldwide, with some everchanging doors appearing and vanishing in random patterns, was mouth-watering. But I wanted something that could outlive me.

With enough time Wonderland would come to be alive like the Tongass National Forest. But even with the overwhelming number of magical creatures I was introducing, it would require several millennia, I hoped that the time-bending enchantments would speed up the process, but I couldn't be sure.

The point was still finding a way to make it not reliant on my 'voice' to survive. Nathaniel's way to immortality had been binding himself even more strongly to his home, and however he did it, it wasn't what I wanted.

But I did bind a Chinese Fireball to Dawnshard. So, I just had to find a way to make the relationship more symbiotic between Miðgarðsormr and Wonderland.

I didn't know if a basilisk could die of old age. And this one had unicorn and wizard blood in its veins, so I had no idea how that would turn out. I just needed to find a way to tweak my Philosopher's Stone so it could produce an elixir that worked for the basilisk, I would be reassured twice that Wonderland would not die. Better yet, crafting a new modified Stone, that I would somehow make sure only Miðgarðsormr had access to, a solution similar to mine would be the best one, maybe encasing it into his palate.

The problem was that the Stone could not be 'programmed' to synthesize the elixir on its own. I used my will to direct it in the correct way, but while Miðgarðsormr was certainly intelligent, he was only a magical creature, and as such, magic seeped into his body, and he could not direct it in the way I did.

I could find a way to make Miðgarðsormr capable of parthenogenesis, maybe triggered by his own death. I didn't want a rampaging army of immortal basilisks running around after all.

2000-04 April, London

He remembered that place, I could tell. He was almost disoriented by the changes he could see. And upset, I believe, even if only for a silly little thing like that. He had always been tightlipped about his life before he learned about magic at eleven.

He told me about Hyde Park once. When we were still on the Lookfar in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, years before. It had been between the Fiendfyre experiments I conducted in the morning and the music lesson I gave him in the afternoon.

I smiled wistfully at the memory. It was still when he believed he could learn how to weave enchantments into a song.

I had been explaining him that you need a 'place' in yourself where you can root your mind before starting on such a branch of magic, otherwise the music can steal you away. He laughed then, with his full, uncaring laugh that today made the dew itself dance. But he listened to me, like he was supposed to. It was then that he told me about Hyde Park. It was a place where he went before knowing about magic, where he could sit under a tree and try to move the leaves. He called it 'bubbly' in the summers but still 'not pretentious' like the Hogwarts grounds.

Nobody but me could have noticed it, but his tells had become 'loud' to my listening, as he insisted was the proper name to define sensing. His soul voice was stirring, digging deep underground to bring up its memories of what happened. But it wasn't in the way his magic moved, it was in the quick blink of his eye, in the silence of Raven, in the invisible tensing of his right shoulder, like he was prepared to summon forth his silly spear.

"Dumbledore royally dropped the ball." he then said. I didn't answer, I had known he would have wished to return home someday, for all his talking about leaving people suffer the consequences of their actions, he still cared about his home country. Or about the home of Filius and Minerva anyway. His tone was grave, and I couldn't tell if he was referring to his home country situation, or more simply to the destruction of the place he had once considered the right one to make his first experiments with magic.

The park was burned grass and uprooted trees, scorched earth over which weighted the smell of smoke. It was a cauterized wound in the middle of London. Luckily, the muggles believed to the gas leakage story, but to anyone who knew where to look, every cracked stone screamed 'magic'.

"This can't be allowed to continue." I murmured, gently running my fingers up and down his left arm. I know he didn't wish to interfere, and I understood him, mostly. He said once that wrath is for the young, and that he was old enough to have lived twice. He wasn't one to fell prey to blind fury, it was one of the things that I liked most of him. But he was saddened to see the war of our war spill among the muggles, and ...irked that they destroyed that park in particular. "The Statute is going to fail if they keep this up. We're not ready."

He sighed, patting my hand. Patting my hand! As if I am the one that needs to be reassured now! I scowled briefly, he should learn to recognize loss, and caring only about me and magic, while largely true and flattering, was not the way I wanted him to live the next day, even less the next millennium. I didn't even know if it was healthy.

When he watched me with a raised eyebrow, I knew he had understood the true reason beneath my scowling. And he was reminding me that I behaved the same. I wrinkled my nose in response, he shouldn't be able to reprimand me with only a glance. But well, I did the same.

I huffed "We'll have this conversation another time." I warned him.

He smiled then, and that tiniest bit of coldness that the wounded London caused him vanished.

We were about to apparate away, when I stilled, looking to our left. Following my gaze, he tilted his head toward the new possible threat. We stood still for a second, then the figure apparated away.

"Lord Voldemort knows that I am back, it seems." He commented with a thin smile.

Hogwarts did change. Not in the way the castle looked, no, the walls were still the same as I remembered them, even he didn't dare to assault it, not with the old warlock still in his seat. Even if, after the rumours we overheard, that particular obstacle in his plans would disappear soon. I didn't miss the stone warrior with the bloodstained spear that was standing on guard in front of the doors.

I smiled openly. I did miss Minerva and Filius both, and I could recognize their hand in the tweaking the result of my craft had been subjected to. I listened to it, and it was clear, that whatever had made the spear extraordinary in my modest opinion, had been extended to the stone warrior, that sported a crack on the left side of his face that had took away his eye. I didn't know if it had been done purposefully, or if I had poured too much of me in the spear when I made it.

The doors opened for me without problems, it looked like they still remembered with ...fondness? The castle seemed to remember my tenure as DADA professor. I smirked a bit. I bet that the other professors are not held in the same regard.

Fleur interrupted my musings: "The sooner we finish here, the better."

She was right, letting myself fall prey of sappy moments would only slow us down. I had a war to finish. The question was only for which side I would be fighting for.