A/N: For those of you wondering if Hermione will have a "normal" second year, I think I'm leaning towards no. She will never trust "people" in the way she did before. Too much has happened, and she has learned that adults were there for her when those her age did nothing to help her. This is not to say she won't make friends, because she can still do that. It will just take longer, and it will start with those that didn't stand by and watch her get thrown down the stairs and have her cane stolen from her.

On a happy note, thanks to all who have sent positive wishes on my final exams. I have managed to pass last semester when things were looking damn grim. Thank you all for your understanding and support in a very difficult time.

Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, & Commander Shepard (who has been displaced from space to infiltrate my stories hehe)

Kiss of the Basilisk

Chapter 3

Cerberi, Basilisks, and Spiders, Oh My!

Just as the snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past over and over again.

-Buddha

"Stand still, Mini," Draco said as he had his arms up as the seamstress measured him all over.

"How can I stand still when she keeps tickling me!" Hermione complained, fighting the urge to squirm.

"Pretend that you're a snake," Draco suggested.

Hermione shot him a wry glance.

Draco flushed. "In a tree, frozen, waiting for a bird to fly by."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but held very still. "I didn't have to do all this last year."

"You weren't getting custom tailored robes either," Draco reasoned.

"Do I really need custom robes? Hermione asked, slightly exasperated

Draco turned his head and mouthed "transformation" silently.

Hermione flushed and stopped questioning.

It took an hour or so for all the measuring to be done, and Draco seemed to be glad he had company being measured. She did have to admit that it was pretty boring to suffer through all by one's self.

Ice cream was on the menu shortly after the robe fittings, and Draco and Hermione took bets on how long it would take Lucius to lick down his ice cream cone. Somehow, he managed not to drip any over himself, and both children wanted to know how he did it.

The most telling of all of the social acrobatics was that Lucius was wearing a short-sleeved suit— something he hadn't done since he was less than twenty— and he was doing it with great flamboyance. The children were quite sure he did it just to make people that knew him slam into walls, carts, and racks in their utter shock at seeing him (and his arms) exposed in such a way. It was positively scandalous. Whispers went through Diagon Alley that Lucius Malfoy's arms were showing in the same type of hushed, disbelieving whisper that one might mention a witch's ankles showing in public. Then, to be even more socially obvious, he made sure everyone knew that his new goddaughter was always under his watchful eye.

Hermione wore the her own smaller version of the Malfoy signet ring, just as Draco did, and the people who paid attention to such things couldn't help but stare, but Hermione knew that Lucius did everything for a reason, just as Severus did. Putting her out in the open, protected by him, was a clear statement to those who knew him or even knew of him. She wasn't quite sure what that statement was, and Draco wasn't sure either, but they were willing to bet it involved protection of some sort, status, or the standard mess with my family and I will see your family raised to the ground with nothing. There was the backup "Mess with her and you will deal with ME" general threat, and Draco and Hermione speculated how long it would take his father to shift and eat someone if they were stupid or suicidal enough to try.

Lucius' basilisk form was a glorious ivory with his trademark silver eyes set on a black field. Hermione would often gaze into them and soothe his scales in the morning during the morning sleepy waking up ritual. In the sun, he had an almost cloudlike pattern to his scales, and when Hermione curled up around him, her glossy black scales made him stand out all the more. Instead of a red feather crest on his head, he had a vibrant sapphire blue one, matching his peacocks, and Severus seemed to think he was just showing off.

Hermione loved to soothe Severus' feather crest, caressing his emerald feathers with a smile, but that usually happened just before he snapped her up and carried her off to the bath to have her morning soak. Hermione would lurk under the water like a crocodile with her just eyes and part of her nostrils showing, trying to be cunning and sneaky, and Severus would slither by, pretending to not notice her. She would, of course, pounce him, and he would mysteriously dodge. She never gave up, though.

Severus and Poppy worked on a form of lenses for Draco and Narcissa to protect them from random basilisk gazes, and Hermione sneakily suggested that perhaps they could have Cadmus give Poppy a pair for herself. And, she added, he could put them on for her.

Lucius and Severus proclaimed their little basilisk a proper Slytherin, and Minerva managed to demonstrate that basilisks could indeed drop their heads against other objects like a faceplant.

Minerva was a beautiful silver and gray cloud patterned basilisk, and she had a crest of red and gold feathers on top of her head (defying the supposed rule that only male basilisks had feathered crests), almost as if she was daring Severus and Lucius to say something about it. They, wisely, did not. Hermione was feeling slightly ordinary next to her, but Minerva reminded her that black went with everything. Severus, of course, heartily agreed.

Draco and Hermione became very close by swimming together. Hermione would be in her basilisk form, and she would close her eyes. Draco would guide her with his feet, legs, and his hands, telling her where to go, when to turn, and when to slow down. They crashed into the giant squid a few times, but quickly managed to come down to a way of doing things. Draco told her that she made the world's best beach chair, and would flop on after they swam for hours until someone came to fetch them or hunger lured them back.

Sometimes, Hermione felt like Draco was sad that he couldn't join the serpent cuddles, and part of her was starting to feel like he was close enough emotionally, but Sithiss warned her that younger people had to do a little growing before making such a life-altering decision. It was one thing to claim an adult, but children often changed their minds, and Hermione realised that what the older snake said was true. She didn't want Draco to ever regret being what he was later. What he wanted to get married, after all? How would that play out? While Hermione wasn't an expert on human relationships in any way, she knew that finding people to trust was hard enough— finding ones that would stay with you for life— an exceedingly long one at that— would be extra-special. Minerva, however, offered to teach Draco how to be an Animagus if he truly wanted to have another form. There was no guarantee, of course, that he would be a snake, but Hermione said maybe he could be a falcon and fly through the skies with her and Fawkes. Draco confessed that would be appealing too. He hadn't taken the plunge yet due to the entire run around with a mandrake leaf in his mouth for a month requirement, but Hermione seemed to think the lure of having another form would eventually win out.

They caught a glimpse of Harry shopping with Sirius, and after seeing him getting things from the second year list, it seemed as though Harry had put his life back on track from his first year shenanigans.

"Hey, Mini!" Harry greeted, hoisting a stack of new books with him.

Hermione flushed, still unsure how she had gone from Hermione to Mini-gonagall in such a short time. She had begun to appreciate it more. I reminded her of Minerva and the name wasn't immediately associated with ridicule and falling down staircases.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione greeted. "Why are your glasses broken?"

Harry slumped. "I mispronounced Diagon Alley."

"To what?" Draco asked, taking up position to protect Hermione. Her discomfort in crowds was still very high, and while she was branching out, she was still very cautious.

"Diagonally," Harry replied. "I ended up in some shop in Knockturn Alley."

"Tough stuff there, Potter," Draco mused. "You didn't end up in the brothel did you?"

Harry flushed. "No! Sirius figured out what happened quick. I was in some old shop with really weird stuff like shriveled hands and dusty everything."

Draco just shook his head. "No place in Knockturn is a safe place, Potter. Good thing Sirius got you out of there right away."

As Sirius approached, Hermione's fight or flight instinct shifted into panic, and she immediately affixed herself to Lucius, who was just making his way out of Eyelops to get a fresh supply of feed for his owls.

Lucius blinked, wrapping his cloak around her, looking around to see what had disturbed the young witch, but as he saw Sirius and Harry he put the numbers together. Though Sirius had not done anything to her, Hermione always preferred to take in the world around her from a place of safety. The safe places pretty much equalled people with scale and fang alter-egos. Hermione, he knew, had no grudge against Sirius specifically, but he was no fellow snake.

Narcissa arrived shortly after, her left arm laden with a huge basket of snacks that would be the envy of everyone on the Hogwarts Express.

"Lucius," Sirius greeted, his voice sounding somewhat awkward and unpracticed. "Narcissa."

Hermione huddled behind Lucius' body, unsure how the confrontation would go.

"Sirius," Lucius rumbled, extending the name out with a strange, elongated, pseudo-hiss.

"Hello, cousin," Narcissa greeted with a bow of her head.

"Hey, Mini-gonagall," Sirius greeted, trying to lure the girl back out of her shell.

Hermione peered around Lucius. "Hello, Mr Black."

Sirius chuckled. "I get the Mr and my baby brother gets the Lord. Why is that?"

"Perhaps it is your canine duplicity, Sirius," Lucius mused.

Sirius shook his head amusedly. "Once a dog always a dog, is that it?"

Lucius gave a gallant shrug. "If you prefer, I can call you Lord Scruffy."

Hermione perked. "Lord Scruffy!" Hermione, Harry, and Draco exchanged amused glances.

Sirius slumped, realising he was fighting a losing battle and it had only just started.

A sly smirk was spreading across Lucius' face.

"I suppose I'm already Auror Scruffy. Why not Lord Scruffy?" Sirius relented.

"At least you gain the Lord, cousin," Narcissa mused, distributing apples to the group.

Sirius's expression changed into something far more sombre. "I wish to speak with you, cousin, if it pleases you."

Narcissa tilted her head with curiosity. She handed the snacks over to Lucius as they exchanged a meaningful glance. "Lead on."

The three children stared off after them as they walked off to a small cafe down the alley.


"They dismantled it, " Sirius said after a long drink of his coffee. "They purified every single brick in that place."

Narcissa's face tightening before she seemed to let out a long sigh. "Thank Merlin for that," she finally said at last. "Far too late for my sister, but she was doomed from the moment our father threw us in that awful place— Andromeda and me. It was the last good thing she ever did. It was the last sane thing."

Sirius scratched the table with his fingernails. "I'm sorry I never put it together. I blamed my family for everything, I never even thought, in my narrowed focus, that you— that all of us were victims."

"Our family's Darkest legacy, Sirius," Narcissa sighed. "So shameful that none of us feel as though we can speak of it. It never got better. Is the young Weasley doing any better?"

Sirius shook his head. "Too soon to say. He let it in once, and we both know what happened to those who willingly sit in that chair."

Narcissa's eyes were haunted. "Bellatrix— I miss her. The real Bellatrix is long gone, but I still miss her."

Sirius put a hand on his cousin's. "I wish I remembered her as you do."

Narcissa nodded. "I truly feel for Molly," Narcissa admitted. "I am certain that she never expected to see such things from any of her progeny. Perhaps if she were a Black she might have, but Prewetts were hardly ever—"

Sirius shook his head. He looked over to where the children were playing amongst the clothing racks and discount tables. It was obvious that Harry was trying very hard to make things better between himself and Hermione, but the young witch was once bitten, twice shy. She clung to Lucius like a guardian turret, and then stayed close to Draco. She wasn't shunning Harry, but she was very cautious. Sirius had to admit he'd never seen Lucius in such full protective mode, save the few months after Draco had been born— where everything had to be washed five times over before holding him and even the house-elves had to take care not to sneeze on the newborn infant.

"I had the Aurors come clean out the place, Narcissa," Sirius said. "the relics of the Dark that the Blacks have collected there over the years are all gone, and good riddance. Alastor said he had no idea how much of the stuff I had been harbouring, and Merlin's pants, I didn't either. I certainly don't want any of that rubbish being around if there are going to be children about. Never, ever again."

Narcissa nodded with understanding. "Didn't get in any trouble for it?"

"Nah, most of it was buried under a decade's worth of dust," Sirius replied. "You should have seen Harry trying to do his homework while scads of Aurors were roaming about, poking and prodding everything in the house."

Narcissa chuckled. "I'm surprised the Prophet wasn't there to accuse you of abusing your godson by exposing him to the evil Black family secrets."

"Oh, I am sure they wanted to, but Hermione was there visiting, and that is a no-touchy subject for the Prophet after Rita's last attempt to shame her." Sirius sighed deeply. "I wish I could crack that formal sort of exterior she has. She opens up a little around Harry, but only when Severus or Minerva are there with her— or even Lucius." Sirius seemed boggled by that last.

"She was abused by her peers, Sirius," Narcissa chided. "By Harry, specifically. No matter the sincerity of his apologies, it will still take a while for her to recover from that. And, since you are close to Harry, she probably suspects you will do much the same as he did."

"For once, I am innocent of such things," Sirius sighed.

"Consider it a learning experience, Sirius," Narcissa suggested. "She's this sensitive after a relatively short time of abuse. You tormented Severus for years. And you tormented more than just him year after year. Severus was simply too stubborn to give up, unlike poor Mayfair Abernathy. His parents ended up sending him off to the States for the rest of his education."

Sirius paled slightly and looked down. "I am— only starting to see the error of my ways, Narcissa. I'm not perfect by any means, but I need to be an appropriate role model for Harry, without trying to turn him into a clone of James or myself."

Narcissa sipped her tea and nodded. "At least you're seeing what you used to do for what it was."

"Aye, Sirius said with a nod. "I'd like to think you can teach an old dog new tricks."

Narcissa's face became serious. "Draco told me that last year, Harry ended up in the infirmary— mauled by a bear? What really happened, Sirius?"

Sirius frowned. "I'm not quite sure, Narcissa. He said that Ron and him found a place that was supposed to be off-limits. They explored—" Sirius winced, recognizing the all-too-familiar pattern," and they found something they didn't expect. It was a three-headed dog."

"A Cerberus? Truly? I haven't seen or heard of one outside of Greece in a long time."

"Yeah," Sirius said. "At one point, father had thought of getting one to guard the house, but we didn't have the room. They only stay small, cute, and adorable for so long. Then they start eating people."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "Perhaps you should speak to Severus about this. He might know why such a creature was brought to Hogwarts."

"You'd have to want something of real importance to be heavily guarded, Narcissa," Sirius sighed. "Harry admitted it was his fault for being somewhere he shouldn't. "No one else went the infirmary with bear maulings, so I tend to agree. Still— I have to wonder what Dumbledore is guarding."


One happy basilisk was slithering through the high grass around Black Lake minding her own business when she was flung into the air by the trampling of a very large something on a mission.

Hermione immediately closed her eyes. It was almost always safe to go slithering through the grass and sun herself on a rock somewhere before the rest of the school was up. How had she not seen that coming?

Ugh.

Now she was dizzy.

Hermione tried to raise her head and thought immediately better of it.

Flump.

Pant.

Pant.

Pant.

Merlin, she was surrounded by wolves!

She looked through her eyelids, trying discern what she was looking at.

slurp! Slurp! SLURP!

Smack. Tongue to the face. Once. Twice. From the other side.

Hermione wobbled dizzily.

Whine.

She saw energy swirling in three patterns— three heads— yet there was only one body? What kind of thing had three heads and only one— oh.

Good job, Hermione. Forget all the stories your dad used to read you from his giant book of Greek mythology to get you to go to sleep?

If Hermione had hands at that particular moment, she would have smacked her face into one.

Well, unless she planned on making the rather large animal into an even larger basilisk companion, she should probably try to—

Suddenly she was being carried in its mouth. The large animal loped across the fields with loud pants and screeched to a half "somewhere." She was set down almost tenderly, smooshed between his legs.

More panting.

Again with the slurping.

Somehow she doubted if this was in the natural order of things. Didn't dogs tend to go after snakes?

She really should change back. Changing back was not always a smooth process, and she had never tried to do it trapped between the paws of a giant three-headed dog, but she was going to have to risk it.

She writhed a little, letting her body twitch and strain as it attempted to reverse her molecular structure. Her body shuddered, shrank in places, elongated in others, and the bones in her face cracked as they shrank. Her fangs folded into her mouth as one would close a desk drawer. Scales turned to smooth skin. Her arms stretched out first, then her legs. Her head felt awkward, as though it didn't belong where it was, and then the bones snapped into place with a slight crack, and she shook her head.

She had heard the older students talk about what happened when they drank too much— firewhisky? She'd never tried it, but if how she felt right now was any indicator, she had no interest in it. Her brain felt like she had just shoved it into a box and shook it around.

Slurp!

Ack. Hermione looked around blearily.

Three very large canine heads stared at her intently from above.

She found the sight discombobulating, so she closed her eyes, shutting down the signals of light and sun-basked colour. She reached out her hands and felt for where she saw the rivers of magic— life— until she met flesh. She ran her hands over the canine's muzzle, teeth, tongue, and ears, stopping only when she was pegged by a random slurp.

Whine.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked. She felt something— a tingle in her head. She cocked her head and as if to listen.

Name me, and I am yours.

Hermione's eyes widened even as they were closed. No pressure.

Whatever you do, Hermione, don't pick the names Spot, Dog, Fluffy, or Dinky. Don't be like your cousin James who named every kitten Fluff, Fluffy, Fluffmeister, Fluffarino, and Flufftastic. Those poor kittens—

"Daemon is a Greek name that means guardian spirit, does this please you?"

There was pressure in her head as though something were moving around outside, wanting to get in.

I accept.

The pressure around her head reached the terminal point and she felt a sudden burst of heat rushing into her brain. It felt as though someone was filling her up with tea and she was the teacup.

She landed flat on her back with a startled cry, but she was lying between four warm legs and three heads were nuzzling her gently.

She opened her eyes, again feeling odd to see what she did much better feeling. She felt his muzzle and it was as soft as velvet. He leaned down so she could scratch his ears— all three sets of them.

"Where did you come from?" Hermione asked.

Greece.

Well, that certainly made sense. "Can— er— do all cerberi speak?"

Daemon scratched behind all of his ears with his rear paws, one after another. Mum spoke to us all the time. She taught us how to guard, how to protect, and how to know when we found someone we could respect. He whined. I didn't get to learn anything else. I was stuffed into a sack and taken away.

Hermione was horrified, her face growing pale. "That's so awful!"

Daemon wuffed. It's okay. I have you now.

Hermione looked embarrassed. "I have no idea how to take care of you! What if… What if I'm a horrible dog-parent?"

You're not horrible. I'm already eating meat, so I don't really need a parent any more. Mum taught me how to hunt. I was the best in the entire litter! The three-headed dog beamed with pride.

"Please don't eat any of the owls or the castle's familiars," Hermione asked. "People would get very cross with me— and with you too."

Three heads cocked in different directions, seeming to think her request over. Okay.

Hermione winced, the bright light was affecting her more than she expected. Her hand passed over her eyes instinctively, and the magical circlet that had been with her since being sacrificed in the Chamber of Secrets appeared, protecting her eyes from the sun's brightness. Blessed relief. It was better to be in the dark seeing only magic, heat, and energy than all that with blazing, painful colour.

She clutched Daemon's fur, pressing her nose into his surprisingly soft fur. It smelled like earth and spice, almost as if she was in the room where her mom used to bake biscuits for the holidays. He felt like a warm living pillow, and she just wanted to snuggle into him.

Daemon seemed to greatly approve. His mental warmth filled her mind and the beat, beat, beat of his tail in the air sounded like the low blades of a helicopter.

Frowning, Hermione realised something. Where was she going to put a huge three-headed guardian dog? Whose dog was he supposed to be? Were they going to come back for him? Then what? Would they take him away?

Daemon growled as she thought someone might take him away from her. She hugged him a little closer, rubbing his belly with her hands.

"Let's walk along the edge of the forest?" Hermione recommended. "I'm not allowed to go into the forest."

Daemon gave her a puzzled whine.

"It's dangerous," Hermione insisted.

Dubious thoughts from three heads poked at her brain.

"One day, maybe," Hermione told him with a smile.

One head nudged under her arm. Get on.

"Hrm?" Hermione questioned.

Get on, he repeated. Here. My head is down, crawl behind it. I will carry you.

"You can—"

Amused canine thoughts tickled her mind. I am not a pup anymore. You cannot hurt me by climbing on me.

Hermione felt around, sensing the warmth of his body to tell where the "back" of his closest head was. She pulled herself up and tucked behind his neck. She felt around, her hands grasping his fur somewhat nervously.

Hold on tight. It won't hurt me.

Hermione didn't have to be told twice. She clutched his warm fur and pressed herself down onto his body like a jockey. She could only imagine if someone saw her out here like this— good thing it was early morning.

She felt his energy gather just before he bolted off in some random direction, carrying her with him.

Ohgodohgodohgod— Merlin, Hecate, and Nimue!

Daemon was laughing in triplicate, his joy coming from three different heads. Wind was blowing through his ears, his mouth, and fur. The sense of him as he ran— the merging of their senses— caused no small amount of joy. She could feel his huge paws hitting the ground, the swish of his tail, and the swivelling of six different ears. As she clung to him, eyes closed and covered— it was then she could truly see. She could feel the very life thrumming around her, and three separate visions merged into one clear picture.

Hermione gasped as the hills rolled around her, the tall grasses and wildflowers waving as they flew by. She felt them tickle Daemon's furred sides as they bounded together through the undergrowth. The forest was zooming by on the right at a crazy, breakneck speed, and Hermione was laughing with pure exhilaration. As she got used to the rhythm, she loosened her grip on the canine's fur and lifted her hands out to catch the wind through her fingers.

Daemon bounded even faster, but this time Hermione didn't fear. She threw herself into the feel of the ecstatic pleasure of having everything going by so fast, the pure joy of living, and the triple happiness coming from all three canine heads. After a few minutes, he began to slow down, but they had covered much ground in-between times.

Daemon was sniffing the air, ears perked, and Hermione cocked her head, listening.

At first she thought she was getting a ringing in her ears, but then she realised Daemon was sharing his own senses with her. There— deep in the woods— she could hear children screaming.

Children screaming was never, ever a good thing.

Hermione twitched.

Thou shalt not go into the Dark Forest.

Twitch. Twitch.

Hermione hugged Daemon's neck tightly, pressing herself into his fur. She tried to focus her mind and reach the right person. She concentrated really hard, trying to form the face of Minerva in her mind's eye. She focused on the children screaming in the forest. She focused on how it made her feel, but she also focused on that she was safe. The danger came from within the Dark Forest.

We come!

Stay where you are, Minerva's mind voice joined Severus' in a very firm demand.

Hermione twitched. Oops. She meant to just tell Minerva, but she had instead gotten everyone in the "family." She hunkered down on Daemon. "Company coming, don't be alarmed."

The three-headed canine snuffled her from two sides. Friends?

Hermione snuggled into his fur. "Family. Friends. Cherished ones."

Will remember, Daemon promised. I am quite good at scenting. Mum said it was because I was always thinking with my stomach.

Hermione chuckled, rubbing his neck with his hands.

Don't be alarmed, Hermione concentrated her words carefully. I made a large canine friend this morning. He won't hurt you.

Anti-Apparition Jinx is lowered and endpoint visual locked, Minerva's voice came clearly. Just for this. Count of one, two—

"Incoming," Hermione whispered to Daemon.

Three cracks in rapid succession came one after another.

Minerva, Severus, and Lucius arrived together.

Fawkes arrived in a swirl of flames.

Hermione sat up. "Daemon, this is my mother, Professor Snape, Lucius, and Fawkes." She looked into the forest with concern. "We should go now. The screams were a few minutes ago."

Daemon snuffled the gathered humans and one flaming bird and seemed content with the meet and greet.

Hermione tilted her head. "There is Sithiss too, but she's— under my skin."

Daemon's ears swiveled. Where else would she be?

Hermione stared at the left head, and he stared back. "You knew?"

She could hear Sithiss hissing chuckle inside her head. Of course he knows. He's a cerberus. He was born and bred to be allies of Death's Chosen.

"Not feeling the Chosen part right now," Hermione confessed. "Feeling kind of stupid for not making the connection."

Hermione perked. She heard the sounds of distress. "We have to go. I can hear them crying!"

The adults looked torn. She obviously heard something. The giant three-headed dog heard something, but they could not.

Tell them to sit as you are. Daemon wuffed, eager to go. I will carry as I track. He lowered himself, pressing his heads to the ground.

"Daemon says to get on!" Hermione translated.

Dubious looks met with trust in Hermione over the rather ludicrous situation they were in. Trust in Hermione won out, and they all clambered onto the back of the giant hound. He rose up immediately, waiting only long enough to feel their hands cling to his fur.

And they were off, tearing off into the woods at high speed astride a very large thrice-headed hound. Daemon let out a long, triple-bay that rang through the forest. Hermione snuggled into Daemon's neck as Minerva pressed into her back, trusting Daemon's senses to guide them to the screams. Even as she relaxed, knowing that Daemon would take care of her, she felt the sheer amazement coming off her mother, Severus, and Lucius.

What amazed Hermione, however, was not that she was clinging to the back of her newfound three-headed friend. No, the fact that Daemon fit between the trees is what amused her the most. Save for his intentional bays, his paws hit the ground with an eerie silence.

The great dog skidded to a halt at the end of a clearing, his legs locking just enough to send him sliding across the forest floor like a cat sliding over a loose rug while chasing after a toy. He lowered his heads so each wizard and witch could climb down. Minerva patted Daemon on the head, having him stand back up to keep her daughter safe.

"Stay with him, Hermione," Minerva guided. Something seemed to pass between the elder witch and the huge cerberus.

Daemon snuffled her, pegged her with his left head's tongue, and then looked forward. Each head seemed to take up a turret position, filling in the range of where he could see.

Severus studied the dog with a wary eye. There were not that many three-headed dogs around Hogwarts, or rather, he knew of only the one. His misgivings, however, would have to wait. At this moment they had a mission, and the cerberus was scrupulously taking care of Hermione. That was all that really mattered to him. He looked up to Hermione, who looked ahead, even with her blinders on. She turned her head, eerily, facing him. Her lips turned in a smile as she extended her hand.

Severus gently touched her hand, squeezing it slightly to let her know he was close. Her eyes, even while covered, seemed to smile. The skin around her blindfold moved and wrinkled with smile lines. "Be careful up there," he whispered.

Hermione nodded to him, the chimes on her makeshift eye-covering tinkling with a light chime.

The cries were coming from around them, but they were muffled if not almost impossible to hear outside of the immediate area. Lucius had his wand out, but he charmed his cane to elongate. He set it up and placed it into Hermione's hand. The moment Hermione's hand wrapped around the silver snake's head, she smiled, nodding gratefully to him.

The adults seemed to realised the only reason he could hear the "screams" was due to a certain cerberus's connection to Hermione, but they walked together, watching each other's backs as they advanced forward. The forest floor turned to white as the ground became covered in fine, shimmering strands of silk.

The moment their feet touched the outer strands, however, the ground seemed to vibrate. Hermione sat up straighter, clutching the elongated cane in her hands. She grasped her wand, clicking it into the special cavity that kept her wand safe and unnoticed, yet as she held it, a soft green glow travelled down the length of the cane. Fawkes sat on her shoulder, a trail of red, orange, and blue flames moving down his body to his tail.

Spiders came surging forward from the light-blocked and shaded areas, erupting from holes both great and small. Minerva, Severus, and Lucius put their backs together and cast a ring of fire around them and began to wave great arches of magic and flame to deal with the onslaught. But, as the spiders moved forward, Hermione perked.

Heat signatures— small like children, but—

Centaur foals.

Lucius had often gone over battle tactics with her along with Draco. Draco always thought it was as boring as hell, but Hermione— well, her father had been a dentist. Battle strategy was definitely not his thing.

One, Sithiss couldn't come out to play as long as the centaur foals and any other unknown victims who might still be alive needed to be protected. Coming out to rescue potential victims only to end up petrifying them— not a good way to impress anyone. That also left out changing or even taking her blinders off. Who knows who or what she might accidentally look at. Two, rushing in blind on a giant three-headed dog— probably not a good way to not distract her guardians, who were very busy fighting off multiple waves of spiders. Lucius would have called tactic two very Gryffindor. Hermione curled her lip. He was probably right. Three, going in without someone was not going to keep her safe either. That left out sneaking out to them and bringing them back. She was also twelve. While she knew she was far better mentally focused that the typical twelve year old, who knows what spells would be flinging, be flung, or were going to be flung in her general direction, and she would have no idea whatsoever how to counter them. Running in and getting zapped by battling wizards and witches? Please. That was a horrible way to be remembered. "That Hermione— sadly, she died trying to save those centaur foals. Such a waste." Hermione shook her head. Nope. Moving on. Four, was that a clear path around to the other side because of… sunlight?

She scanned the webs that were everywhere. Seemed as though everywhere the sun directly touched the silken fibres, they broke down— or they spiders had been careful not to go there. Which, however, was it?

Hermione watched the battle more closely, eyes focused on the flow of heat, magic, and life— and dark areas like voids that she was beginning to feel were the very opposite of life. Even the dark of night had a feel of life to it, but she had no time at that moment to ponder too closely.

Think, Hermione. Where do Acromantulas come from? Dense jungles, rainforests, caves in— Asia. Dense… always dense. Places that were typically dark and moist, with little to no natural sunlight. Acromantulas were not arboreal. They did not like to leave the ground. Some even made pit traps like trapdoor spiders, but most were like funnel-webs, their much smaller non-magical cousins. Lucius had pointed out from one of his library atlases that Acromantulas were a wizard-bred species that had gotten free and soon "out of control" as well. You could not command a spider, no matter how much you might try to breed some intelligence in. A spider did whatever the heck it wanted to— and if you were smaller, that meant eat you. If you were bigger, well— that meant you came with lots of friends, ensuring you could overwhelm any possible opposition you might run into.

Sort of like what was going on down below— Thankfully Minerva, Severus, and Lucius were not unarmed everyday humans armed only with large knives or limited ammo. Hermione tapped Daemon on the neck. "I'm going to get down so I can maneuver. I'll stand between your legs, okay?"

Three-heads looked down at her as she hit the ground. Okay. Be careful. If it gets scary, climb back up.

"You got it," she promised.

First, all she had to do was cast the spell over the adults. That would protect them. That will allow her to get the message to them without fearing that the interruption would endanger their lives. She had a feeling though, the spell required a little, literal, grounding.

SNAP!

One head snapped a spider in two, and the other two heads tore the legs off a very, very large spider that was unlike the others down below. How large did Acromantulas get, anyway? Twelve, maybe fifteen feet? Large enough to think a twelve year old witch was worth trying to take out despite her overly large canine guardian?

She'd have to work fast. The less she was on the ground the better. In fact, she might have to just sleep with Daemon for a week after this was said and done. Just in case, well, anything happened.

She tapped her cane out in front of her and drew an arch. "Daemon, lend me your eyes?"

Of course.

Triple vision blurred and made her dizzy, but then it solidified into one highly-detailed panoramic scene. Excellent.

She took her cane and drew it across the earth as she circled Daemon. When she came back to the front she dropped to her knees and tried to remember what Professor Babbling had said about runes. Her hands, thankful for the muscle memory of countless repetitive scribings, traced out Naudhiz for need, Eihwaz for strength, Sowilo for sun, and Algiz for protection.

"Runes must be charged to be effective," Babbling had said. "This can be from you, a moving energy such as water falling or rushing, solar or lunar energy, or the very energy of the earth. The earth is the longest lasting but the hardest to gather. Solar, however—"

SNAP!

SNAP!

SNAP!

Three sets of jaws tore into three different spiders above her, and each head shook wildly as the unlucky spiders made their death rattles.

She had never been so glad to be on the ally side of a cerberus before.

Hermione pointed the cane up, lifting the silver serpent head up so the emerald eyes blazed out. "Lumos Solem!" she cried.

The spell was bright. Even with her blinders she had to close her eyes under the cover to keep from wincing. Daemon whimpered a little, but then seemed to shake it off. The air above her blazed like the sun and activated the runes. A bright protection circle formed around them, glowing with radiant solar energy. She could feel the heat of it even without seeing it.

Using her cane, she guided the orb of sunlight over to her professors and mother. Screeeeeees of annoyed spiders told her she was going the right way. She focused on the thermal signatures of her cherished ones, and flung the solar orb over them.

Spiders rapidly scurried out of the way. Others seemed to shrivel up and die immediately. Others smoldered and slammed into each other in their haste to leave.

Sunlight hurts them— drives them away, Hermione projected clearly. There are foals to the northeast of you. Centaur foals.

None of the trio needed to be told more than once, and they set into action, flinging up orbs to mark their path towards the frightened foals who seemed unable or unwilling to risk a bolt in any direction. Dead spiders from the battle were scattered everywhere, so it was unlikely that the frightened foals were going attempt making an escape through the spider carcasses that might prove to not be so dead, after all.

Daemon nudged her, and she climbed back on his back to hug his neck, holding her borrowed walking cane with somewhat shaking hands. Minerva was focusing on the forest canopy, giving it a judicious trimming so that true sunlight could bake down on the area. Lucius burned a path through the spider corpses to clear a way for the centaur foals to move, and Severus magically "shovelled" the corpses down into the spider burrows, effectively plugging the entrances— at least for the moment.

There was a scree from above, and Hermione sensed it an instant before she saw it. One last determined spider had decided that taking her out was more important than fleeing. Whether it was motivated by hunger or insanity, she'd never know, because her walking cane snapped backwards as she thrust it deep into the spider's cephalothorax and deep into its brain.

The cane hummed with fury as the spider's body suddenly exploded, shreds of legs and random green bits flying everywhere. The colour faded as the life in them faded—from the green of life to the dull black of death. Hermione stilled, trembling slightly, torn between fright and incoherent babbling about horrible things that she could never unsee.

At least you didn't see it in three-dimensional colour? She thought to herself. Thanks for that, at least.

"Hermione! Are you okay?" Minerva called out as the trio rushed up to her. No less than seven young foals stuck to the adults like glue, nickering and pressing up close for comfort.

Hermione slid off Daemon's neck and found herself around Lucius' neck. "I'm sorry about your cane, Lucius," Hermione apologised.

"Witchling, you impaled a giant spider with it and caused it to blow up," Lucius laughed. "Believe me, you are forgiven."

Hermione smiled, using her hands to feel for Lucius' face to test whether his face was really smiling.

Severus tapped her eye cover. "Are you well?"

Hermione nodded. "My eyes hurt in the sun."

Severus touched her hands and squeezed them so she knew he was there, and she smiled at him.

Daemon growled, his voice low and powerful. The ground shook as he did so, and they all gathered under his legs: foals, adult, and witchling combined.

"Halt, strangers from Hogwarts," a voice boomed. "You are not welcome in this place."

Foals poked their heads up from between Daemon's legs and bolted up the path, squealing in sheer excitement.

"These are the missing foals, Magorian," a voice said.

"They slipped away from their dams during the early morning siesta," another said.

"Bluebell, Thunderbolt, Leafhopper— Dapples, Sixfeet, Cloudburst—"

A little filly whinnied loudly, directly into his face.

"Yes, Raindancer, we see you too," another voice said.

All of the foals were chattering at once, sounding very excited and trying to share everything that happened at exactly the same time.

"Lay down your weapons, brothers," Magorian said stepping into the light. "We stand before the ones who saved our foals from certain death. They are, from this day forward, herd-friends forevermore until the stars themselves burn out."

Excited nickers spread between the gathered centaurs.

Magorian stood in front, walking down the path of blackened and charred spider corpses. "Come, we would prefer to parlay away from this place that eats our foals. Will you honour us with your presence that our peoples may come to know each other better?"

Hermione, who climbed up on Daemon's head like an elephant's mahout, peered up at Magorian curiously. She waved her head back and forth like a cobra and the flute— taking in his energy, the imprint of his temperature, and the thrum of his lifeforce. The centaur slowly extended his fingers to her. Hermione, whose hands were barely large enough to wrap around his fingers, took his hand and squeezed it.

"Human filly, can you not see?" Magorian asked.

"Not like normal people can," Hermione replied honestly.

"Our farseer would say that this makes you see the furthest and the clearest in times of need," Magorian said, placing his other hand on hers. "Will you join us?"

"I will," Hermione said earnestly, "but mother has to say it's okay," she added, pointing down below to where Minerva was trying to add two and two together and coming up with one hundred and forty-seven point six.

Magorian laughed and snorted. "My apologies for the rudeness earlier, my human friends. We had been searching for our missing foals, and when they are missing, we assume many things. I fear I tend to assume the worst when humans show up in our forest shortly after this happens. I am Magorian, leader of the Dark Forest Herd. I greet you as herd-friends for your saving our endangered foals from a blight upon this forest that we have never been able to drive away."

"Minerva McGonagall," Minerva said with a slight bow. "This is my daughter, Hermione."

Magorian smiled, taking her arm to clasp it.

"Lucius Malfoy," Lucius said with a politely bowed head. They, too, clasped arms.

"Severus Snape," Severus answered, lowering his gaze as he bowed respectfully. "I do not know how long the plugs will last. The spiders will eventually escape again."

Magorian shook his mane and sighed, taking Snape's arm as well. "They do not belong in our woods," Magorian said after a while. "Long my father and his father— never have they had such a thing in the history of these woods. Yet, now, our foals must face such dangers on top of finding that their territories are no longer just for them. They have giant spiders, lost and drunken trespassers, and other animal rescues that the half-giant dumps within the forest to 'set them free.' Until now, we did not think that this one," Magorian explained as he pointed to Daemon," was even anymore more than one more danger to our foals.

Minerva, Severus, and Lucius turned to stare at Daemon, who was slurping the little filly Rainchaser up one side and down the other. She was giggling happily, reaching up to scratch the ears on his third head. Daemon's back leg was twitching, thumping against the ground.

Slurp.

Slurp.

SLURP!

Each head pegged her squarely with its tongue. The little filly was somewhat drenched, but she giggled the entire time.

Minerva cast her eyes up to Hermione. "I will confess. We, too, were surprised at this."

Hermione paused in the scratching of the giant canine's ears. "Please, can you not hear him?"

Shaken heads answered her.

They have to want to, Daemon said somewhat sadly, and trust you as you trust me. The stronger our bond, he faster others will hear me too.

"Oh," Hermione replied, saddened.

"We hear him!" the other foals chimed in, rushing up to pet the giant cerberus' sides, and heads.

Daemon made himself busy snuffling each one over and giving them a bath that practically knocked them over.

Magorian's eyes widened with wonder. "Let us leave this place, my friends. It seems we both have much to learn together."


"Hagrid set the Acromantula's loose in the woods?" Minerva practically came to pieces as the herd gathered around in a circle.

They had been brought to the middle of their most main encampment— the heart of their fall-camp. Daemon was attracting a lot of foal attention, each wanting the pleasure of joining the others that had befriended him had. The cerberus wuffed lowly, sniffing everyone that passed by thoroughly and memorising their scents.

"First, there was only one," a chestnut centaur with a blaze that went down his face. He had introduced himself as Bane. "But the half-giant— he had to give it a mate. That was when the danger truly started. That was when the creature no longer just hunted and hid from us— it settled and bred."

All three human adults looks horrified, their faces growing paler as the gravity of the situation set in.

"Dumbledore told us to keep the children out of the forest unless we were with them," Snape said grimly. "He never truly told us why. We had presumed, perhaps in error, that was out of respect for your people."

"Foals do not endanger us," Magorian said with a shake of his mane. "Foals are foals, regardless of species. They often think with their sense of adventure before their heads."

The gathered foals all whickered apologetically, and Hermione joined them in looking sheepish. They had all glomped together with Hermione, taking turns guiding her hand to the base of their manes and guiding her around, pressing her hands to "interesting things" that were all over the encampment. They were even teaching her how to make certain centaur sounds by repeating them until she could repeat them back. The centaur mares looked amused— for once their roles were reversed and the child was the teacher.

Each foal was adamant about Hermione learning "their" dam, and Hermione had literally felt the faces, ears, and bodies of each mare with her searching fingers until she knew every scar, softness, and notch in the ear as clear as a visual. Minerva watched with interest, but she had long since relaxed. The centaurs were not as she had been told. The centaurs seemed to think that the three of them were not as they had believed humans were once grown.

As the day went on, the adults had all bonded quite closely, and the foals of both species were gathered around their own fire, smoking their own fish and teaching Hermione how to roast a squirrel properly after preparing the skin to make a protective pouch for her "special magic."

Each of the foals had given her something small to place in her bag to start her off. River stones to fill the eyes, petrified stems to make the pull clasp, herbs to line the bottom, and small bones to symbolise respect for animals of the air, land, and water— all of it went into the bag. And what fascinated Hermione the most was that they knew a silent spell that expanded the inside of the bag to be deceptively roomy. Vaguely she remembered that the older students mentioned they wanted to charm their bags to do something of the sort, but she couldn't remember what the charm was. They had often complained it was too complex to just add to anything, but the centaur foals scoffed as they showed her how to do it. It was so terribly simple.

Each of the foals gave her hairs from their manes, and she stuffed them in her bag, and she leaned over to allow them to pluck her head for hairs. They all nickered in apology as they plucked, but then they rubbed her head afterwards, causing her eyes to roll back in pleasure and she flopped over. This caused the foals to giggle, and they made up a game on who could get Hermione to flop the fastest by rubbing her head just right. Hermione, of course, was no slouch either, and she found the special places between the ears and just beyond where the centaur could reach on themselves to do exactly the same thing to them.

Hermione seemed to find the peer group she had always wanted in the foals. For once, there was no ostracizing going on. They didn't care she covered her eyes, and, if anything, they seemed even more determined to help her feel her way across their home with her other senses. They all teamed up to brush and comb Daemon after scrubbing him down in the river. The cerberus seemed baffled to be so clean and smelling of herbs, but his tail was wagging happily and he tagged every foal in range with his tongue.

As the sun finally went behind the clouds, Hermione pulled her eye-cover off, sighing with relief as the pain of having her eyes exposed was painful no longer. Each foal gleefully introduced themselves again, guiding her hands over their ears and backs so she could associate the visual with her other senses. Then, it was back to inspecting all of the mares, who tolerantly allowed the process all over again. Finally, when Hermione was about ready to fall over, the mares pulled her in and made her lay down with the other foals for the required siesta. So, while the adults prattled on talking about official and important things, Hermione was passed out with a pile of foals, mares, and one spectacularly clean cerberus.

By the time Hermione awoke from her peer pressure-induced nap, and Hermione had never thought she'd ever have positive peer pressure like that, the adults had seemed to come to an agreement as to the solution, and only one last formality remained.

Magorian stirred a mortar with a strangely bright pigment within. He drew lines across each of the human's faces, mimicking the stars and blazes of his people. They braided part of their hair to mimic the way they tied back their manes, weaving in leather ties, shells, and brightly-coloured fibres. To each adult, they gave a new pouch, but to Hermione, who had just made her own, they gave a small polished black stone that seemed to hold a universe's worth of stars inside.

"From this night forward, with the stars and planets as witnesses, we of the Dark Forest centaur name you our brothers and sisters under the same sky. For you have protected and honoured our foals— so we, too, shall protect and honour you," Magorian said formally. "As all centaur do, they are given a name when come of age, but this time is not as it is in human ways. To come of age is to realise you are a part of the herd, to accept you are responsible for more than yourself, and to know that your heart beats with others. This does not always happen quickly, but when it does is a time of great celebration.

"By whatever name you go by outside, we name you Starfall, for your mane is like the trails of stars," Magorian told Lucius, putting the magical bag around his neck. Blaze your path to the future with us, and light our way in darkness.

"By whatever name you go by outside, we name you Whiskers, for your softness of foot treads as lightly as the wildcat who knows that size is not everything. There is wisdom within you we could speak for many moons and never tire. Share with us your wisdom that we may share ours.

"By whatever name you go by outside, we name you Nightscale, for your eyes are always watching, and your scales are the colour of the deepest night, so our Seer does see you. Share with us your knowledge of tincture and salve, and we, too, shall share our knowledge of earth and grass and how it aids our people.

"And by whatever you name you go by outside, brave foal of Hogwarts, filly of our Whiskers— we name you Sunbright, for you summoned the glory of Helios into the forest, and his magnificence is hidden within your true eyes," Magorian concluded, pressing his lips to each of their foreheads. "Forevermore you are kin to us and friend. You are welcome in our lands for they are you lands. Protect them and protect us, as we shall do the same."

Magorian approached the panting cerberus and drew out the pigment again. He raised the bowl up high and then allowed the canine to sniff it. Then he dipped his thumb into the bowl and drew markings across Daemon's head, under his eyes, and across his flanks. "We name you, Daemon, our herd-friend. Welcome you are in our lands, for you have protected us in protecting our foals, and you continue even when the danger has passed."

The large canine lowered his head, and Magorian gently pressed a kiss to his foreheads, one at a time. Then, the large dog pegged the centaur leader with his tongue, once from each head, causing the foals to giggle and Daemon's tail to wag even faster. Even Bane, who had remained perfectly stoic and intimidating for the entire ceremony, snorted into his hand in amusement.

Just as the ceremony was done, the air grew colder, and a breeze to match chilled through the forest. Mist gathered, swirling around their feet as the light of the moon seemed as bright as was when full. Shadows and shapes moved in the forest, coagulating as their bumped into each other, and splitting as they moved into other objects. A figure materialised in the moonlight— dark over light— a man, a beast, something in-between both— transforming into the form of a centaur. His masculine frame was set upon the darkest of horse bodies. His skin was as pale as sun-bleached bone, but his mane was a silken black tipped with silvery ends. His face was finely chiseled, strange foreign runes rose from his skin, all all the marking returned to the eyes. His eyes were black starfields, set with a glowing pupil that seemed like planets hung in the vastness of space. As he blinked, the planet would shift— changing from Venus, to Jupiter, to Mars, to Saturn, and beyond.

"Worldeater," whispered some.

"Lord Hades," another whispered.

All the centaur bowed on their front legs, casting their eyes down. Even Minerva, Lucius, and Severus laid themselves low, prostrating themselves in front of the being who so manifested in such a manner. In power, there was no doubt of its presence, and in respect and recognition, the centaurs were more than sure. Even if they did not believe, to disrespect their beliefs would have been a great insult.

Hermione's face lit up like the sun, joy filling her face with undoubtable adoration, and she ran forward despite the gasps and hands trying to hold her back. Fawkes few to alight upon his shoulder, and Sithiss rose up around him, wrapping around his legs in a figure eight. Sithiss closed her eyes, but she lay her head on Death's unoccupied opposite shoulder.

The tall centaur grasped her in his arms as she jumped up to greet him. He hugged her close, his eyes shining with the glow of the planets. "I see you have picked your champions, dear child," he rumbled lowly. "I approve of them. Shall we give them the mark of our favour that shall never worry that your gaze never harms those you love?"

Hermione shook her head rapidly up and down. "Yes, Lord Father."

Silver hooves, glistening as though made of pieces of the moon, rose up as he reared up and he slammed them down to the ground with a clarion bell-like tone that thrummed in the air.

"People of the Forest and Centaur of the Dark Forest, lend me your ears," Death purred, his voice like velvet sliding across velvet. "The daughter of my heart has made her choice of home and chosen. From this day forth, I grant you my mark. All that bear it shall be immune to to her true gaze— the gaze of my chosen— that you may live in peace and harmony and without fear. Teach her, my youngest, of your ways and your magic, and she will protect you when times are dark and your vision clouded. From now until the end, your people shall bear this mark as covenant to her and to me. If broken, and intentional harm should come to her, the mark will fade that all may know of your treachery.

"This is my promise," he continued.

"This I do swear," he said, rising up again into a rear, and he slammed his front hooves down to the earth once more.

CLANG!

Death walked forward. "Raise your heads, People of the Forest. Open your eyes again and see. Gather round, and I shall tell you a story— a story with an end and a beginning. I shall tell you of one of the first betrayals between friends. Gather close, and listen to the stories only the stars and eldest gods remember."


The Lands of Death were not all barren and grey, but once, they were lush and green and as fertile as they were dangerous or peaceful. None were more dangerous than the Outer Rim of His domain, for that was what separated the living from the dead.

It was said that if the living were to come to the land of the dead they would never wish to leave, and there were often the dead who wanted no more than to return to the living.

Death, who did not wish for any who did not want to, sent out for those who would be willing to devote themselves to His service in protection of the Outer Rim. All times before, he had summoned for protection of the beings within the deeper areas, but the Outer Rim called for a different sort of guardian: ones that struck fear in both living and the dead. He desired those to help guard that which had been branded the Underworld from those who were not dead. Only three species answered Death's Call to Arms: the loyal cerberi, the royalty of all serpents : the basilisks, and the arachnid families.

To the innermost ring, the noble cerberus and all his kin guarded the first challenge any who died would face in trying to pass back into the lands of the living. To the middle-lands, cloaked in perpetual darkness of the hidden moon, he set the basilisks, giving them vision that could pierce the darkest of darkness but at the cost that all who were not of Death's chosen would be frozen in place forever unless the touch of Death released them.

To the outermost rim of his domain, he loosed the arachnids, and they spun their webs, made their trapdoors, and settled both in and out of the water. Their webs acted as the first and last sensory net for those who dared to come or go without Death's blessing.

Many lifetimes came and went in the word above, and all were at peace. The borders were strong, and so the dead and the living did not mingle. Long this peace lasted, but it was not forever. Eventually, the people above grew restless, and they believed that the forbidden was only different words for power that was hidden.

Three brothers, masters of Dark magic, ruled over all they had managed to conquer with their might and magic. Even that had not been enough for them. They then set off to challenge Death himself and steal his power, vowing to never to bow to any being, whether it be god or power. So confident in their reign of terror, they left together.

When they reached the borders of Death's domain, they noticed that the largest spiders were far above, casting their webs across sky and tree, and perhaps to the very mountains themselves. The brothers, however, were cunning, and they avoided the silken strands by summoning a mist to reveal the silken webs to normal eyes. As they went in further, they recognised the trip wire silks of the trapdoor spiders, and they stepped over them. Then, once they were passed, they set the holes on fire with their magic, roasting the spiders in their own holes.

They continued on their journey, and they noticed in the sunniest spots, strangely high, dark brown, almost furry looking spiders with distinctive pale bands across the legs. These spiders seemed to notice them, but they were gathered around a glistening, fresh egg that put the largest egg of the human word to shame. The large spider covered the egg lovingly with its body, egg legs gently moving and making sure it was rotated, and then, when the temperature got too hot, the spider would stand high, shading it with its body from the sun. The spider was enormous, and it's multiple eyes stared at the three brothers. Yet, even as it knew they were there, it did not leave the egg.

The three brothers hid themselves as the ground began to rumble, and a pair of giant serpents slithered in. Their heads reached towards the tops of the trees, or so the brothers believed, and they quaked in their boots and didn't move.

Expecting a fight, the brothers waited, but the serpents loosed a large lizard. The spider struck, dragging the body up to the egg and began to devour it. The serpents coiled around the egg and spider, hissing, rubbing, and flicking their tongues. Then, the second serpent dropped another offering— this time an overgrown locust that greatly resembled the size of a small pony— and the spider struck again, happily feasting on the food they brought.

The brothers watched the giant serpents leave and decided that it was best to leave the egg alone. It was after this, the three brothers came across a smaller type of ground-roaming spider that looked very much like a larger sort of tarantula from the world above. The spiders skittered as if outcast to the outside of the land of spiders, avoiding the other spiders' hunting grounds.

"Perhaps, brothers," the eldest brother said. "Perhaps, we need allies."

"These allies would be weak," the second brother scoffed. "Even their allies shun them to the outside."

"Hrm," the third brother said, tapping his wand to his nose. "We can make our allies as we will."

The other brothers turned to stare at him.

"They say the unborn life bestows the greatest power because of the potential of what could have been," the third brother said with a knowing smile. "We could use this to our advantage."

"Oh, ho! What do you have in mind?" the first brother asked.

"Find what they want more than anything," the third said, drumming his fingers together, "then make them into our vehicle for success."

The other brothers smiled in agreement.

Days passed, and the brothers tinkered— weaving their Dark arts into the spiders to give them rudimentary intelligence so communication was possible.

"Free! We wish to leave!" the spiders clacked. "Set us loose upon the world and let us feed there. Do this and we shall aid you to pass into the lands of the dead by distracting the others."

The three brothers did heartily agree.

The first order of business was the covenant of power— their contract— and the brothers were very experienced in such things. They backtracked to the egg they had seen guarded by a spider. They teamed up on the spider, slaying it, and took the guarded egg. Dragging the carcass of the guardian with them, they threw it to their new allies, and wove the Dark around the unborn egg, turning it into the vessel for their new allies' power.

The unborn egg screamed and writhed within, warping with the power forced into it. The small serpent within trashed under the shell, its mental anguish turning to hatred and rage.

"Perfect, brothers," the first brother approved. "Let our new allies feast."

They cast the engorged egg into the carpet of moving spiders, and they descended upon the egg in all haste. The sound of cracking, trickling, and chittering mandibles filled the air. The spiders grew, and grew, and grew. They feasted on the seemingly boundless energy of the perverted potential, making it theirs.

And so, in this darkness, the Acromantula was born.

The three brothers set their newly-improved allies off to distract the other spiders, no longer restrained by the great difference in size. While the other spiders were larger, the Acromantulas were legion, and they spilt over the hills and swallowed up their "enemies".

As promised, they carved the way for the brothers to pass into the lands beyond, and the basilisks had moved into the outer rims, desperate to save their eggs from the ravenous Acromantulas. Guardian after guardian of the eggs went down under the tide of legs and mandibles, and the gaze that was useful in service of Death did not work on their supposed brethren in protecting the borders of the Underworld. Waves of Acromantula surged into the inner boundaries, and they sacrificed themselves to distract the cerberi in order for the brothers to pass.

The brothers did make their way to the chasm— the final barrier between the lands of the living and the dead. Dark water swirled below, and the brother knew it was the meeting of great rivers Styx, Phlegethon, Cheron, Lethe, and Cocytus. The rivers merged together into a vast and blackened marsh that fed its nutrients into the land above, sharing its fertile loam to the surrounding lands. They knew to end up in the churning water below would be their end— if not their life but their memories. All would be wiped away by the waters of Lethe, which was the land's first defense to keep the dead from remembering the lives they left behind.

The brothers crafted a bridge made up of vines, mud, stone, logs, and magic, spanning it across the vast chasm. They knew they would succeed. They knew victory was within their grasp. They would enter the land of the dead without having died—

Ultimate power over death itself would be their reward. They would bring back the forbidden secrets of life over death to the waking word above. People would kiss their feet and swear themselves to their service.

Darkness swarmed around the middle of the constructed bridge. Mist swirled as voices whispered. Creaks of ancient trees met the sound of moving bones. Bones extended from where flesh and bone should have been. A skull-face stared out from the dark of wispy robes.

"Brothers of the mortal world above," Death's low, velvet voice rumbled. "What brings ye to my domain— brazen and fearless?"

"Oh, Death!" the first brother cooed. "We are here to visit your grand domain, for we have long heard of its splendor."

The bleached skull turned to stare into the first of the three brothers. Elongated finger bones traced the edge of his jawbone.

"You came without invitation," Death answered. "What sort of host would I be without even the most late of warnings?"

"Most gracious Death," the second brother replied. "We bear you no ill will, but wish to see the splendor of your domain that we might take reassurance back to the world above. Allow us to see the lands beyond, and we shall leave in peace."

Death's eyes glowed— a bright, white flame-like glow set in dark sockets. "If I were to allow you this, I must, as a good host, warn you that nothing must leave my domain that began here, for it would curse your lines eternal beyond your mortal understanding."

"Oh, most merciful Death," the third brother said. "All we wish is to see the truth with our own eyes that we might take this to reassure our people who fear what becomes of them and their loved ones when you come to bring them to this place of eternal repose."

"Yes, yes," Death answered, drumming his finger bones together. "So you are here on a quest for knowledge to bring succor to your greatly beloved people?"

"Of course," the first brother soothed.

Death's smoldering eyes flickered as he watched the brothers confidently pluck and eat the fruits from the still-growing vines that made up the bridge. "Tell me, then, my," Death's voice grew quiet, "...friends. Tell me why such benevolent ambassadors from the world above would bring foul Dark magic into my domain, murder the unborn of my most loyal guard, and twist the very nature of a species to the end of bending them to your will?"

The three brothers took a simultaneous step back, seemingly realising that pulling the wool over Death's eyes was not like deceiving their fellow men in the oft credulous human world. "Three boons from you, oh Death," the third brother demanded. "Three things we would have of you in exchange for what you desire."

Death narrowed his eyes, the glow in his eyes dimming. "What would three mortal wizards have that I desire?"

Each wizard drew out a small pebble from their robes and tapped it with their wands. The pebbles enlarged into a distinctively iridescent green egg. Glossy black scale-shaped spots covered the entire surface of the shell, which gave off a faint scent similar to that of tea leaves and bergamot.

Death's posture straightened. His eyes smoldered with undeniable displeasure. "What do you want in exchange for these eggs?"

The first brother stood forward. "Give me a wand— the greatest and most powerful in all the world. A wand that can never be beaten."

Death did break a branch off from the bridge's formed trees, crafted the wand, and handed it to the first brother. The first brother snatched the wand away, tossing the egg at Death.

The second brother stood forward, wishing for both power and humiliation upon Death. "I wish for the power to recall loved ones from the grave."

Death did pluck a stone from the churning waters below and passed it to the second wizard. The second brother clutched the stone tightly, tossing the second egg to Death.

The third brother stepped forward. "I wish to remain concealed from all eyes that may be looking for me," he stated. "Both from the living and the dead— the insignificant or the divine."

Death was silent, but he drew his talon-like finger across his cloak and cut off a piece, fashioning it into a second cloak. The third brother put it on, promptly disappearing from sight. One egg went flying through the air, barely caught by Death before it smashed to bits on the ground.

The three brothers smirked with smug satisfaction, taking their prizes from Death. "Now we will leave you, Death, but before you think us vulnerable, we still hold one egg, which we will release only once we successfully leave your lands."

Death's voice was venom and honey merged together. "What you take from the Domain of Death, mortals, will mark you and your lines forever. That which was created here was never meant to walk between the worlds. Return to me my items and the last egg, and I swear to you I will let you leave unharmed and unpursued. Take with you what stories you wish." Death gestured, and a glowing portal opened behind them— the world above beckoned beyond.

The three brothers stepped into the portal into the world beyond, disappearing— taking with them everything. Once they reached the world above, they drew out the egg sac of the Acromantula and turned it loose in the forest. They corrupted the last egg with power, giving it to the Acromantulas as the last payment for their covenant, and the spiders did devour it— growing even larger, the likes of which humankind had never before seen.

The three brothers parted ways, never to be rejoined, for they were all cunning, but they were also all mistrusting of each other. Each set off unto a different path; each were determined to avoid Death forever.

The brother sought out a wizard he had been quarrelling with for far too long. Forcing the other man into a duel, he dominated the fight, boasting that he was much too powerful to be beaten. Many tried, but he remained undefeated. Finally, he settled down with a great beauty of a wife, hand-picked from hundreds of sycophants, and they had a child. Then, when all the challengers to his power finally died off, his nearly-grown son stole his wand while he was sleeping and slit his throat to ensure he would never be forced to give it up.

The second brother used the stone, turning it over twice in his hand, and summoned the love of his life— his beautiful Leah, she who had died tragically long before his trip to the domain of Death. He married her and they had a single child, a son, but their joy was very short-lived. Within a year of his son's birth, his wife died— murdered by some random madman, leaving him with only his son for comfort. He then slowly went mad, only to be killed himself when he convinced himself that another wizard's lady was his own dead wife and tried to steal her away in the night.

Chased relentlessly by his own people rather than Death, he bestowed his family ring to his son and fled into the night. Only the mobs dragged his carcass back, having dealt out justice in their own way, and Death did then claim the second brother.

The third brother lived his life on the run, forever fearful that should he take off his cloak, Death would then find him at last. He finally took himself a wife, who died in childbirth after giving him a son. The boy grew to become every bit as avaricious as his father before him. One day, the father became conscious of the fact that he was no longer alive, but not precisely dead either. He was trapped in a miserable existence, a cursed half-life because his son had stolen his precious cloak and then left him for Death to claim at long last. Only Death was no longer interested in him— for he had wasted his entire life so very determined to avoid his grasp. Death chose to leave him, alone and caught forever in-between worlds, doomed to haunt the lands where neither the living or the dead existed.

It is said that, even now, long after the time of the original three brothers, all those who carry the weight of the Deathly Hallows are doomed to suffer the mighty curse of any who dares to take from the lands of the dead. But, because curse spanned far beyond the scope of one man's avarice, the entire line was made to carry the brunt of three brothers' selfish manipulation of Death.

It is said that all those that descended from the three brothers were doomed to suffer the effects of the curse Death had warned them about. For a mortal to take that which was created in the domain of Death was to bring death into their very lines. Premature death, tragedy, sickness, madness, weakness, and infertility would follow each line until the lines themselves flickered and finally went out. Each line, once contaminated, would be doomed to fall, lest they regain forgiveness from the lines of Death, and Death, it is said, has a very long memory, indeed.


As Death finished his story, four basilisks rose up before him, their scaled heads bowed in respect. Death pulled each serpentine head towards him, pressing his bony fingers to their cranial ridges. As each submitted, the colour from those spots grew pale, drained of colour, leaving a line of pearlescent scale-like marks. Death pressed his mouth to each. "You and your lines are forgiven. For just as the basilisk once trusted the spider, so shall I entrust you with my beloved. As long as the peace remains between you, so, too, shall your families. Together, may you flourish in life until the time I bring you Home. This is my promise. This is my covenant. If harm should come upon her, the mark of my favour be lifted to the transgressor, and may her fangs strike true and deep. For if they do not, my wrath shall be a score times worse."

Death tenderly took each foal into his embrace, pressing his bony fingers to their temples as he pressed his mouth to their forehead. A single bright anemone flower bloomed in their manes, growing behind their ear— brightest white of the silvery moon splashed with the crimson of blood on their petals. He released them gently before repeated the gesture for each centaur.

Magorian, who stared up into the glowing eyes of the gathered Basilisks, raised his bowl of pigment to each. Each lowered their head once more, and he drew the pigment across their heads, calling them by their herd-names once again.

"One last gift— this from my daughter to you," Death purred. He gently pressed up under Hermione's jaw and she opened her mouth. He ran one bony finger across her upper and lower jaw.

tick. tickTCK. TckTCKtick. TCKtickTCHtchTICK!

One by one, ivory fangs neatly dropped to the ground only to be immediately replaced by the row behind them. Hermione hissed pleasantly, rubbing her head against Death's hands.

Magorian and the other centaur elders stared at the offering of basilisk fangs—perfect daggers that would be rendered even more usable with a little handcrafted love. The centaurs dropped their forelegs and bowed, arms spread to their sides in a gallant bow.

Death rose up and reared, the moonlight blocked by the span of his seemingly impossibly huge body. "Treat each other well, my children," he said, swinging his forelegs out in salute. "You walk a new and clear path, free of the curses of your ancestors. Be at peace, both within yourselves and with each other, so when I come to bring you home at long last, we shall meet not with fear and trepidation, but with the joy of greeting a long lost friend.

Death arched his hands together over his head where Fawkes hovered above him, and in an explosion of almost unbearable radiance, he was gone. Fawkes perched in the middle of Sithiss' head as Hermione, Minerva, Lucius, and Severus smoothly and quickly transitioned into their human forms for the first time. Their hands touched the small anemone flower behind their ears and wrapped each other in a mutual hug. The centaurs circled around them like the spokes of a wheel, swallowing them up in warmth and a joyous beginning.


Hermione sat with the foals, dutifully attempting to mimic the movements and directions of the elder centaur. The aged mare had a long, silver haired mane that draped down her back. Her dappled white coat was flecked with darker grey markings. She had started the lesson with proper mane and tail care, teaching them how to dig the proper roots and squeeze them for their juices, then she taught them how to combine it with rendered tallow to make a tonic for their mane and tail to rid themselves of tangles and snares without a fuss.

Hermione had fully rejoiced in that particular lesson, at is seemed her hair was indeed a mane and not just a head of bushy human hair. The foals helped her pull it back, taught her how to tame it with carved sticks, and then put bird-shaped ornaments to set in her curls.

Now, however, the lesson was practical and important in the extreme. They sat together, learning how to craft a hilt for their personal dagger, set the fang into the hilt and set it, and then carve the intricate marks into the metal while it was soft enough to do so. She taught them how to work the skins into a consistency so soft that it felt like silk, and then they wrapped each hilt to make it comfortable to wear and grip.

"I had no idea that the elder mares taught the crafting of one's personal knife," Severus commented. "I mean no offence."

Bane shook his mane. "The stallions master the bow for hunting and to protect the herd, but it is the mares who craft the arrowheads and the knives. They sharpen the edges to flesh the skins. They insure our knives never fail us on the hunt. The oldest mares know where all the special plants are in the forest and when to pick them. The oldest stallions know where all the prey hides and roams throughout the year. Together we are strong."

"Once the young ones are done, it will be our turn to craft our fang-knife," Magorian said with a chuckle. "The foals are given this task first to learn the importance both in learning and before their attention span wanders away to the stars."

Lucius snorted politely. "Foals and children. They truly are one and the same."

Firenze was examining the large fang in his hand with no small amount of wonder. "If it was not in front of me, I would say I imagined the entire thing. To hear the voice of Lord Hades himself is a thing we could only imagine until now."

Minerva shivered. "I had no idea that my daughter had a bond to him— not so intimately. And yet it explains so much. She told us all, but, until we saw him, did any of us really believe it? Miracles happened down in that chamber below Hogwarts. We knew that. This feels so much more than a miracle."

Firenze stomped one hoof. "We often say that the star burns brightly long after the light has gone out, Whiskers," he said kindly. "Perhaps, Lord Hades knew that you were not ready, just yet, to embrace the full story. Here, however, amongst friends also newly embraced, it was time."

"You confuse our new friends with speech such as that, Firenze," Magorian chuckled. "It is a gift we all were given, and he gave it us together. To have friends such as these is a gift beyond measure, and we shall honour it till our herd is but a memory."

The other centaur snorted in agreement, tossing their heads.

The foals, including Hermione, ran up to show the centaur elders their new knives, and Magorian led them over to the large fire. He lit a bundle of herbs and wafted the smoke over each knife before putting the neck-sheaths over their heads.

"We are one in our covenant with Lord Hades" Magorian said. "Honour it well, my foals, for a people without honour are no people at all. All we are then are beasts."

All of the foals nickered and nodded, and Hermione looked up to Magorian with no little wonder.

The elder centaur gently placed his fingers to the line of pale dots along her hairline— barely visible to those who did now know what they were looking for. "Why don't you take Sunbright with you to the river and teach her how a real centaur catches fish?"

The foals whinnied excitedly and tossed their heads, dragging Hermione with them with joyful enthusiasm. Hermione shot Minerva a desperate look, begging for permission even as she was being dragged away.

Minerva laughed and nodded to her, giving her belated permission.

"Come," Magorian chuckled as he guided the wizards and witch to sit down with the rest of the herd. "Time for us to work on what the foals have already mastered."

And with that, the adults settled in to do their own bit of learning together.