Author's Note: The Grand Oak is near, and thus we all cheer! Hope you enjoy! :)


An eerie quiet lay over the forest as they returned to the path where Harry and Morrigan had discovered the ironbark earlier that day. The foliage seemed to block more light than it should, leaving everything in a haze of near twilit visibility despite it still being the middle of the day.

"I smell something," Sirius said as he raised his hand and drew them to a halt. He shifted into Padfoot and sniffed around for a moment. "Another werewolf nearby, but only one."

"Strange that they should send out a single scout," Wynne murmured. "From what we've seen, they seem to operate in groups and with regular wolves as well."

"Be on guard for more to join in," Morrigan suggested. "Could be a distraction, with a larger ambush ready to swoop in while we are investigating whatever lies ahead on the path. 'Twould be consistent with what the Dalish were saying, about the werewolves being more cunning than they had expected."

"If it is a trap, then I'll step forward to spring it," Harry said. "The rest of you, watch our flanks."

They trudged on past a small creek and found a couple of wild halla drinking there, the skittish animals running off.

"There!" Leliana pointed to a werewolf kneeling down in the shade, appearing as if it were wounded and in pain.

Harry motioned for the others to stop as he stepped closer.

The lycanthrope looked up and wheezed. "Please... help. Listen... I am not... the mindless beast I appear to be."

"From what I've seen, none of the werewolves of these woods are mindless," Harry replied.

It let out a short growl. "They... I am cursed, turned into this creature. The curse, it... it burns in me! I fled into the forest. The werewolves, they took me in, but... "

"Are you one of the Dalish who has been infected?"

"Yes, I was once an elf." It moaned in pain. "Do you know of my clan?"

"They asked us to investigate for a possible cure," he answered. "The Keeper Zathrian believes that if I can bring him the heart of Witherfang, then he could heal those who have not yet turned. But I don't think he believes there is a way to help someone like you."

"My time is short, that I already knew. Please, listen," the werewolf whimpered. "My name is Danyla. In the camp, you can find... my husband, Athras. Please, take him a message."

"He asked me to look for you," Leliana interjected. "If there is anything we can do-"

"This scarf," Danyla feebly held out one hand. "Take it to him. Tell him I love him, but that I am dead. That I am with the gods. Please, I beg you..."

"I am sorry." Harry raised his wand. "Stupefy!"

Danyla collapsed to the ground.

"Harry! What are you doing?" Leliana demanded.

"I'm not going to mercy kill her when there might still be hope," he replied as he pulled an old wooden chest out of his mokeskin pouch. Nicking one finger, a drop of blood allowed the chest to open, and Harry sorted through dozens of vials.

"A potion kit?" Sirius asked. "Some of those things won't work on-"

"We're not back home," Harry countered. "These people aren't the same as Lupin, so we can't be sure what will or won't work. But, I've got an idea that may help."

"What is that?" Morrigan asked as he pulled out one of the vials and pried open the werewolf's mouth.

"The Draught of Living Death," he replied as he forced it down Danyla's throat.

"That doesn't sound good," Leliana said.

"It should leave her in a form of suspended animation," Harry answered as he felt for a pulse. "Look, her breathing has already slowed. That's a good sign."

"We keep her that way until we can find a cure," Sirius nodded. "That might work."

"It's more of a chance than she would have had otherwise," Wynne agreed. "But we can't just leave her here."

"No, I was planning on Transfiguring her shortly, but I want to make sure the potion has worked."

"We can wait then," Wynne added.

"I'll scout ahead," Sirius offered.

"Be careful," Leliana told him.

"I will."


Padfoot returned to the little clearing where they had found the cursed elf and watched as Harry put what looked like a six inch tall doll into one of his expanded pockets. "Did it work?"

"Yeah, everything looks good."

"Great," Sirius answered as he saw the rest of the group drawing in closer. "The forest paths wind back and forth a lot past here. It felt off- like there's some sort of magic blocking the way. But, notably, Padfoot did recognize the scent of two people. A human and an elf, both of them fairly close together."

"The elf- could it be Aneiren?" Wynne asked.

"Either that or another wounded hunter," Sirius replied. "I didn't get close enough to see anyone, and thankfully, I didn't run into any more wolves either."

"Then, let's go," Leliana said. "We can make some progress while the path is clear."

"Follow me, you squishy things," Shale ordered as she stomped forward with Hagrid's old pink umbrella in her left hand. The golem kept glancing up, looking for her feathered mortal enemies, but Harry had noticed an hour ago that part of the creepiness of the Brecilian Forest was the lack of normal wildlife- he hadn't heard or seen any birds at all.

"Aneiren!"

Wynne ran to the fore as soon as she spotted the elf mage sitting near a campfire.

"I think I remember your face," the elf replied as he tilted his head. "But you were younger, more impulsive, stern... Wynne?"

"I thought the templars had killed you," she spoke sadly.

"They very nearly did," Aneiren answered. "They found me while I was searching for the Dalish. A templar ran me through and left me for dead."

"I am so sorry, Aneiren," Wynne said. "I brought this on you. I was a dreadful mentor, harsh and impatient. I am sorry for the way I treated you."

"I've put that behind me, and so should you," he said with a kind tone. "I didn't fit in with the templars and your Chantry. My path lay elsewhere."

"Irving is a reasonable man," she replied. "He will find some way for you to return. The Circle needs new blood, it needs to change."

"I have fond memories of Irving," Aneiren smiled. "He was always kind to me. I will consider your proposal and perhaps I will speak with him. However, I can promise nothing. I have found a new life for myself. But I see other mages with you. Can they not be that change you are looking for?"

"I am not part of the Circle either," Harry said. "But I am willing to work with them, just as I would be willing to help you."

"I need no help at the moment," Aneiren countered. "But there has been blood shed, old hatred from the Dalish and the werewolves. Be careful- and in particular, watch out for the old hermit who lives nearby. He is more dangerous than he looks."

"Thank you," Wynne bowed her head. "If there is anything I can do-"

"I appreciate your thoughts," he smiled at her. "I am well, but I would hope that you should think of yourself for once. I offer you a trinket, something of a lucky charm of mine. Take care of each other, for whatever time you have left."

Aneiren handed her a teardrop shaped pendant, pale gold in color and warm to the touch, and Wynne slipped it over her head. "I hope we can see each other again."

"Finish your quest, Wynne," he said. "Perhaps we will speak again once your task is done."

"May your gods smile on you," she replied.


The old hermit that they had been warned about was even closer than they had expected, around another bend in the path, with a tent and a campfire near an old tree stump and a section of log lying on the ground. With a long, messy, matted beard and a wild look in his eyes. He also had an old staff in one hand, and the fact that he was a mage was of no real surprise- it would probably take magical power to live in a cursed woods full of werewolves, spirit-possessed trees, and whatever else may skulk about in the shadow forest.

"Oh dear, oh dear," the old man muttered as they approached. "Not a werewolf or a spirit- what are the woods coming to?"

"Greetings," Harry replied evenly. "May I ask your name?"

"Questions, questions, always questions!" the hermit began to rant. "They say it was questions that drove me mad; will it be the same for you? Ask a question and you'll get a question, but give us an answer and you'll receive the same. Oh, I do so love to trade!"

"Where's a Ravenclaw when you need one?" Sirius chortled.

"Yeah, I wish Luna were still around for this," Harry agreed. "If I answer a question, would that be helpful?"

"Wouldn't I have to ask you a question first?"

"You just did," Leliana giggled. "Yes, you would have to ask a question first."

"No! That is not a question!" the hermit glowered. "Have you no sense for the rules?"

"Be cautious," Morrigan suggested, whispering in Harry's ear as she pulled him back slightly. "This is no ordinary madman. He has magic... powerful magic, I can sense it."

"Will you play by the rules or not?"

Harry sighed. "Would you like to ask me a question?"

"I think it is your turn to ask, is it not?" the hermit answered.

"Who are you?"

"Who am I? Why do you want to know?" the hermit looked around wildly, as if there were others ready to leap out and ambush him. "Did they send you? Did they tell you to ask?"

"Who is they?" Sirius wondered.

"Oh... oh," the hermit grumbled. "Did they tell you to pretend to be an innocent stranger, with a head full of fluff and nothing? I'm trickier than I look! Ha! I survive still, and the trees, they leave me be! Ha! I've won! They will never find me! Never!"

"No, I suppose they won't find you," Harry said, hoping to keep the strange man from becoming even more unhinged.

"That's good," he agreed. "I like hearing that- never find me, never. But that's all I've got to say about that! An answer for an answer. There you go."

"And I think we should go," Harry agreed. "Farewell."

They left the old man to his mutterings as the group moved further on down the winding path through the trees and uneven ground.

"I think we should have squished that madman," Shale complained.

"We may have to try to get some answers out of him later," Harry replied. "Who knows what else we'll find here?"

In response to his words, three trees tore their roots from the ground and flailed their long branches at them.

"More of these blasted tree demons!" Sirius complained as he conjured a lion and sent it towards the nearest Wild Sylvan. Shale and Oghren also barreled forward, pummeling blows against the corrupted wooden creatures.

"Be careful with our fire spells," Harry said. "We don't want to set the entire forest on fire."

"Why not?" Oghren yelled while dodging another blow from one of the trees.

"Because we're standing in the middle of it!" Leliana called out as she loosed another arrow.

Morrigan's Cone of Cold slowed the branches that were trying to attack them and she angrily taunted the dwarf. "Harry's little moron had to wonder about why we might not want to stand in the middle of an inferno. Why couldn't we have left the fool in Orzammar?"

"Oh, you love me and you know it!" Oghren laughed as he smashed into the nearest Sylvan again.

Harry wondered for a moment how well Transfiguration might work against these creatures, and thus he waved his wand around, outlining the form of the Sylvan furthest away from him. "Mutare lignum in mensa!"

He smiled as he saw the spell take hold and shift the tree into a long wooden table. It stamped one of its legs for a moment before going still.

Looking around at the others, they were in the process of completing their victories as well, the other two Wild Sylvans eventually lying motionless on the ground.

"It's too bad we aren't stopping for a meal," Sirius chuckled as he tapped at the wooden table. "I should have tried something like that."

"I never leaned as hard on Transfiguration as McGonagall or Dumbledore, but it certainly has its place in combat," Harry shrugged.

"True."

"I had not thought of using magic in such a manner before," Morrigan added as she walked around the table, examining its form.

"I had a few friends who were pretty creative," Harry replied. "There are all sorts of spells that may not seem like they have any use in the heat of battle, but sometimes they are the simplest option. In fact, I once heard of someone using a charm normally used to get a nice suntan as a way to harm a vampire."

"Really?" Sirius asked. "I guess that does make sense, in a way."

"Wait!" Morrigan halted their progress and pointed down a windy path that led up and to their left. "There is a strange magic at work here."

Harry closed his eyes and let out his senses for a moment, hearing a wind blowing through the trees. "She's right."

"The werewolf, Swiftrunner, he said that the forest could deal with intruders," Leliana said. "Perhaps getting people lost and confused was part of that?"

"Some sort of illusionary magic?" Wynne asked.

"Let's leave this area for now and keep looking," Harry suggested. "We can always come back if we don't find any other way to wherever the werewolves may be hiding."

"But it's probably behind that strange magic," Morrigan huffed.

"Knowing my luck, I would guess so," he nodded.

"Onwards for now then," Sirius turned into Padfoot and let his nose lead them down the path that was roughly straight ahead of them.


"Are we going in circles?" Oghren asked.

"Maybe," Leliana sighed.

"The path has been sloping downwards," Shale stated. "That is different, so perhaps we aren't completely lost."

Padfoot barked and trotted back to them. Shifting back into Sirius, he said, "I smell another of those strange trees up ahead. But this one felt even older."

"Great," Oghren grumbled.

"Let me see if I can deal with it simply again, if need be," Harry said.

The tree that Sirius had mentioned was rather obvious, standing tall in a little clearing. It slowly pulled up its roots and let out a deep, rumbling voice. "Hrrrm... What manner of beast be thee that comes before this elder tree?"

"This one talks," Leliana delightedly clapped. "That's so much better than blindly attacking us."

"I am a mage," Harry replied. "My friends and I are trying to pass through the forest."

"Magic very old, but also quite new," the tree spoke. "There is darkness and pain, I feel that too. Allow me a moment to welcome thee. I am called the Grand Oak, sometimes the Elder Tree."

"It's a poet tree!" Oghren belted out a laugh. "Get it? Poetry?"

"Seems some very odd sort of spirit involved in this creation," Morrigan mused.

"Unless thou thinks it far too soon, might I ask of thee a boon?"

"What... are you, exactly?" Sirius asked.

"I am an elder oak and nothing more," the Grand Oak replied somberly. "Though once I dreamt of a time before. When I roamed the world and howled with pain, not of this world but twixt and twain. Perhaps I was a spirit then? A wandering thing drawn to this glen? But then that spirit joined with a tree; since then, a tree is all I be."

"Do you have any idea why the other trees are far more hostile?" Wynne inquired.

"Of the Sylvans, this is true. They are quite mad; their virtues few. A spirit trapped within a tree, no mouth to scream, or eyes to see. A cage of bark, a prison wood, a thing of rage where nature stood. So, twisted Sylvan they become, but I am not the same as some. I accept my fated oaken home; I feel no need to rage and roam."

"What is this boon you mentioned?" Harry asked.

"I have but one desire, to solve a matter very dire. As I slept one early morn, a thief did come and steal an acorn."

"Is it a special acorn?" Leliana wondered.

"All I have is my being, my seed. Without it, I am alone indeed. I cannot go and seek it out; yet I shall die if left without."

"Oh, you poor thing," Leliana protested. "We must help him."

"I guess," Sirius hesitantly agreed.

"Go to the east to find this man. I shall await, do what thou can."

The group turned around and walked back up the path away from the Grand Oak.

"Are we going to aid this talking tree?" Shale complained.

"If the forest uses magic to deal with intruders," Harry began.

"Then what better way to get the woods on our side, than helping one of their own," Morrigan concluded.

"Indeed."

Sirius exhaled in disgust. "What do you want to bet it was that nutty old man that stole this acorn?"

"Quite likely true," Wynne snickered.

"Alright, but someone else has to deal with him. Padfoot finds his odor to be horrible beyond words."

Harry chuckled. "You can watch our back then, and I'll deal with the mad hermit."


"What's this now?" the old man huffed. "You again? Why don't you go away?"

"Perhaps..." Harry took a deep breath. "Would you like to ask a question again?"

"May I? Oh yes, I think I might." He tapped at his hairy chin. "Now, what shall be the first? Oh yes! What is your name?"

"I am Harry."

"Ah, so you claim!" the madman snorted. "But they sent you, didn't they? You're tricky, and you're trying to fool me! Well, I'm onto you. Just so you know. But it is your turn now, so ask. Ask away, I dare you!"

"Do you have the Grand Oak's acorn?"

"Ahh... suddenly it all becomes clear," the hermit said. "You here, that talking tree there, it all makes sense now. As a matter of fact, yes, I do have that tree's acorn. I stole it and it was easy. Silly tree should have locked it up tighter. If you want it, you'll have to trade me for it. And nothing from that silly tree... no leaves or branches or anything."

"Trade?" Shale grumbled. "We aren't seriously going to trade with this thieving lunatic, are we?"

Harry sighed. "My patience has its limits too. Imperio! Give me the acorn before my large stone friend turns you into a bloody pulp."

The old man grunted, trying to fight off the curse for a moment, but then slumped in resignation and walked over to the tree stump. He bent down, dug his hand inside it for a moment and then pulled out the acorn, handing it over to Harry.

"Thank you," he said as he took the acorn.

"Is that it?" Shale complained. "Can't I just twist his head off?"

"Not this time, but..." Harry speculated, "We may have to deal with him again, and next time, we'll try it your way."

"Very well." The golem accepted his vow and went back to keeping Hagrid's old umbrella carefully covering most of her body from airborn menaces. But, they still had seen little evidence of birds in the area.

A few minutes later, they approached the Grand Oak to return its acorn.

"My joy soars to new heights indeed! I am reunited with my seed." The tree took the acorn in its hand and cradled it softly before handing over a very old branch. "As a promise, a reward it be. I hope its magic pleases thee. Keep this branch of mine with thee and pass through the forest free."

The Grand Oak bowed to them, its tallest branches dropping a few leaves. "I wish thee well, my mortal friend. Thou brought my sadness to an end. May the sunlight find you, thy days be long, thy winters kind, and thy roots be strong."

"Farewell," Harry returned the bow.

"Wait," Morrigan said. "There is more strange magic nearby."

He nodded. "I can feel it too."

"Something old sleeps nearby; let it go, for if you try," the Grand Oak warned. "Its madness shall claim thee deep in the wood, nothing but corpses where once you all stood."

"Wouldn't it be better if we cleansed such a demon?" Wynne suggested.

"My warning has been given to thee," it replied. "Few shall listen to the words of a tree."

"Stay guarded, everyone," Sirius protested. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Further down the path beyond the Grand Oak, they came upon a campsite. Tents and bedrools lay on the ground with a few leaves here and there, but otherwise, it all looked clean and dry. There were a few embers remaining in the campfire, enough to easily get it going again.

"How odd," Morrigan said as she looked around. "A camp with no campers, complete with fire and warm blankets. Rather inviting, would you not say?"

"Suspiciously so," Harry agreed.

"Well, it has been a long day," Sirius said. "Maybe we should take a break?"

Oghren yawned. "I could use a little nap."

"Now that you mention it, that does sound good." Leliana began to sit down, Wynne joining her.

"Have all of you squishy things gone mad?" Shale yelled.

"It's the magic," Harry said as he saw several of them becoming drowsy. "Another sloth demon, perhaps?"

"Then we kill it!" the golem replied.

"Harry," Morrigan failed to stifle a yawn. "I am... growing tired as well."

"Be ready, Shale," he murmured as his eyes scanned the area. Harry took hold of the Staff of the Magister Lord that the Circle Tower had given him and struck the ground, emitting a blast of wild, unfocused magic all around him.

Part of the illusion gave way, and Harry channeled his strength to force a mist to clear from their eyes, revealing ancient bones of those long dead who had been lured here. As the others struggled to get back to their feet, a shriek pierced the air, and a dark, foul shade flew towards Harry.

Shale smashed into it with a mighty blow, and the spirit stumbled back as its rage faltered at seeing a couple of powerful foes. Before it could escape, the golem stomped forward and pummeled it again. Harry cast a Crushing Prison to keep it from fleeing, and it howled in pain as the spell and Shale's rocky fists destroyed the spirit.

"Illusion magic again," Morrigan hissed as she looked around the magical trap. While there was a campsite, it was a far cry from the warm and inviting scene that had greeted them.

Harry nodded and walked over to Wynne, handing her the Grand Oak's branch. "Stay in the middle of us while we're traveling and keep this held out; hopefully it will ward off any more magic that seeks to block our path."

"I do tend to let others rush into the thick of things," she chuckled.

"Morrigan and I will stay in the rear to watch our backs," Harry said. "Padfoot should stay in the front, just in case he can sniff out any more trouble before we run into it."

"I'm on it," Sirius agreed.

"Then, let's go find some werewolves."