Author's Note: Dear 2020, BITE ME. Sincerely, me and just about all of the human race.

I am back, and I am going to finish this story. If it kills me. Which it might. Not a horrid way to go, all things considered. Not sure on cadence at the moment. Most of year two is mapped out, as is most of year three, but this was practically written before I even posted Chapter 12 and it took me... ten months to clean it up enough to post it? At this rate, this story might actually be done before the turn of the next century. Fingers crossed. To anyone still around reading my nonsense - HI! This will totally not be worth the wait. I am sorry.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Breaking of the Storm

Drip, drip, drop.

Juvia leaned against the Slytherin Common Room's stately grandfather clock, the solid oak beneath her palm providing her an anchor. Something stable. Something real. It was so hard to know what was real nowadays.

Drip, drip, drop.

She couldn't even be sure what day it was anymore, each day blurring with the day before and each day bleeding into the day that followed. Her tired eyes turned towards the scene unfolding in front of her, trying to focus. Hadn't this all happened before? Or had it not happened yet? She didn't know.

She was just so tired.

Drip, drip, drop.

Voices all around her blurred together, just static that pricked at her skull like the beating of the rain against the window pane, fighting to find its way in. She shut her eyes tight, running her hands through her hair to try to will the noise away.

She wished they'd all just go away.

When she opened her eyes again, Gajeel was squaring off against Laxus Dreyar. The scene was certainly nothing new - a common enough occurrence for the Slytherin Common Room, one that inevitably ended with someone on the floor and Gajeel in detention for another week. One more day blurring with the one before. One more day bleeding into the one that followed.

The opponent, however, was new. Dreyar largely preferred to pretend that neither she nor Gajeel existed, and though Gajeel had often tried to goad him into a fight, Dreyar had never once engaged or even acknowledged Gajeel's taunts. At least not until today. Now, he and Gajeel stood inches apart, shouting at one another, their voices occasionally rising above the static that buzzed about her skull not that the few bits of words or phrases she managed to hear made much sense. Dreyar's lackeys hovered just behind their leader, glaring daggers at Gajeel. Orland stood to the side, smirking. To the other side stood Totomaru Kasai, one of their fellow Phantom Lords. He was becoming a common spectator to Gajeel's fights. She couldn't tell if he was trying to impress Gajeel or impress Professor Jose. Or perhaps he just enjoyed the chaos Gajeel brought.

She shut her eyes again, trying to focus.

Gajeel might need her. Dreyar wasn't like the others. Gajeel could need help.

She had to focus.

It hadn't started with Dreyar, had it?

She tried to remember, all of Gajeel's fights indistinguishable from the others, all variations on a theme. It usually started with Gajeel prodding another student into an argument. Sneers and taunts and glares and insults until something snapped and it all started again.

But not this time.

Orland. It started with Orland this time.

It was something Orland had said. Or done? Wasn't it?

Done.

That's right.

She had thrown something at Juvia. Juvia hadn't felt it. She wasn't entirely sure it had even hit her, but Gajeel had seen it and had reacted in typical Gajeel fashion.

Dreyar hadn't minded then. He had as much use for Orland as he had for Juvia. However, Gajeel's spell had uncharacteristically missed Orland and had struck Freed Justine instead. That had earned Dreyar's ire, much to Gajeel's delight.

Everything was poised now for another fight, another stint for Gajeel in detention. Just another day like all the others. Never beginning. Never ending.

Her head ached under the weight of all the noise, the buzz of their voices leaving her tired and sick, her eyes shutting tighter as she fought against a wave of nausea. She wanted them to be silent. She wanted it all to be silent.

Ba-bump.

Her eyes opened, startled. A heartbeat?

Her heartbeat?

Couldn't be. She hadn't felt her heartbeat in months. Not since she tore her heart to shreds. There was nothing but the rain only she could hear. Drip, drip, drop. No, the sound hadn't come from within.

Ba-bump.

Her amulet. It came from her amulet. Like something within was straining against its confines, struggling to break free.

It had never done that before. The first few weeks, her heart had behaved much as it had on Inis Stoirm, tearing open and calling out for its missing parts. But never had the amulet called back.

To add to the pulsing of the amulet, the lake sang. It had never stopped singing to her, but its voice had become nothing more than white noise forever buzzing at the back of her mind. Now, however, it rang clear and strong over the static of the Common Room.

-Sink with me, my love. Down with me, my love. To the sea, the loving sea.-

It rang clear and loud, overpowering all other sound.

How could no one else hear it?

Ba-bump.

Her hand rose to grab the amulet, but before she could touch the spiral shell, her attention was drawn back to the scene in front of her. Specifically to the moment when Dreyar shoved Gajeel back. It hadn't been much - Dreyar and Gajeel were similar in stature and Gajeel, well versed now in how to handle himself in a fight, hadn't done more than stagger back a little at the impact. And yet, anger - bright and blinding - sparked inside her and caught like wildfire, untempered, unrestrained.

The amulet was forgotten, and the song returned to nothing more than white noise while her mind screamed one thought - How dare he? Her hand fell back down to her side and curled into a fist.

"I'm just saying, if you hadn't dropped the lantern, it wouldn't have caught fire and we wouldn't have been caught. So really, detention is your fault," Natsu told the blonde glaring daggers at him.

"And if you hadn't shoved me, I wouldn't have dropped the lantern," Lucy snapped back.

"Well, if you hadn't been walking so slow, I wouldn't have pushed you."

Gray groaned, running a hand through his hair. The pair had been arguing in circles for the last five minutes with no end in sight, and unlike Loke who seemed to derive amusement from the pair's bickering, all it had given Gray was a headache. "Would you both shut up already?"

"Someone's in a foul mood," Loke said with a smirk.

"I'm going to be stuck in detention for who knows how long with you three idiots," Gray growled. "I think that excuses my foul mood."

"You seemed happy enough to sneak out with us last night," Loke reminded him.

"Yeah, well, I forgot this idiot," Gray jerked his thumb towards Natsu, "wouldn't know how to be stealthy if his life depended on it."

"You wanna go, droopy eyes?"

"Let's go, flame brain. Maybe I can beat some sense into you."

"Gray, your robes," Lucy said flatly, drawing his attention away from the fight brewing.

"What? Shit!" A quick glance about and he found his discarded robe draped over the open air corridor's railing. At least he hadn't thrown it over the railing. Again.

"I may not be stealthy, but at least I can keep my clothes on," taunted Natsu.

"Shut it, ash-for-brains. It's just too damn hot."

Lucy glared at him as he passed her to go and fetch his discarded robes. "It's got to be five below, Gray."

He shrugged his shoulders. The chill of early February never bothered him even as the sun dipped below the horizon. He enjoyed the bite of the frosty air against his skin, and the cumbersome Hogwarts uniform was constantly suffocating him.

He paused along the railing, the discarded robes clutched in his hands as he looked out at the sun descending in the west, at the clouds that had largely blanketed the sky, leaving scattered patches of light to shine through. It hadn't rained once all year since they returned from summer break, which even ignoring Juvia was incredible. The sky had even largely been cloudless all that time, which was very unlike the Scottish weather he was used to. Within the last few weeks, however, dark clouds had been gathering overhead as though a storm was just waiting to break.

Frowning, he shrugged the robes back on and trotted after his friends as they headed on towards their arranged detention spot down in the castle courtyard. He wasn't sure what sort of detention Precht had planned this time, but outside during late evening couldn't be good, whatever it was. His curiosity only increased as they approached the courtyard and found a number of Slytherin students waiting, along with Groundskeeper Wakaba. The Slytherins had split into a few groups, and he quickly picked out Juvia, standing close to Redfox. Neither noticed them approached. Juvia's focus - though focus was probably the wrong word - was on some point on the ground before her. Redfox's focus, on the other hand, was on one of the other groups in the courtyard, scowling dark and dangerous at where Laxus Dreyar stood with his usual group.

"Nice eye, Dreyar!" Natsu called out as they approached. Dreyar turned to scowl at them, and Gray noticed for the first time that the Slytherin boy was sporting a dark, purple bruise around his eye. "Did you walk into a door?"

"Shut it, Dragneel," the boy growled.

"Lockser set him on his ass," a boy Gray recognized as Totomaru Kasai smirked.

Loke and Natsu howled with laughter. Gray glanced over at Juvia who seemed completely disinterested in the conversation.

"No way! Good going, Blue!" Natsu crowed.

"Yeah, I was hanging out in the Common Room, and Dreyar and Redfox start shout at each other. Someone shoves someone, and the next thing I know, Lockser lands a glorious punch on Dreyar," Kasai said.

"I get why Dreyar's stooges are here," Loke said. "Dreyar gets knocked on his ass, they're going to fight. But why are you here?"

"Well, after the punch, wands were out and it seemed like a good time to get some practice in," the boy replied with a lopsided grin.

"And what about Orland?" The orange-haired boy pointed at the irritated Slytherin girl, arms folded over her chest.

The girl sneered, "I don't know why I'm here."

"Pretty sure it's because you started everything, Orland," Kasai replied, eyebrow arched.

"It's not my fault the dumb mudblood doesn't know how to dodge."

"Watch it, Miss Orland," Wakaba said, looking up from his pipe.

"Why don't we ever get into brawls like that?" Natsu whined.

"Because we aren't unstable psychopaths," Lucy muttered, glaring at Juvia, not that the blunette noticed. Not that she seemed to notice anything. Redfox, however, clearly did and turned his blood red eyes from Dreyar to Lucy. She shrank back slightly, which then caught Natsu's attention.

"Gotta problem, tin head?"

"Yeah. You. The hell ya doing here?"

"Detention, Mister Redfox," said Precht as he and Warrod joined the group. "Same as you. I trust that everyone is ready and eager to begin?" A few groans were the only response. "Good. Tonight, you'll be serving your detention assisting Professor Warrod and myself. We have a rare opportunity to collect some reagents from the Forbidden Forest."

"We're going into the forest?" Lucy's voice came out as a high-pitched squeak as she latched onto Natsu's arm.

"What's the matter, Gryffindork? Thought ya lot were supposed t'be brave," Redfox smirked.

"Brave doesn't mean stupid!" Lucy snapped back, apparently forgetting momentarily that Redfox terrified her, something she quickly recalled when the Slytherin flashed a pointed smile at her. She ducked back behind Natsu.

"Tch, there goes my theory of how Dragneel ended up in Gryffindor."

"Watch it, tin head, or I'll hex your ass."

"Careful, Dragneel," Kasai piped up. "Pretty sure this is how Dreyar ended up on the floor."

"Sod off, Kasai."

"Enough, all of you," Precht cut through the squabbling students with his normally impassive voice - never angry, never hurried, always irritated. "Yes, you'll be going into the forest," he said, turning to Lucy, "but you'll be perfectly safe. You won't be venturing far into the forest, and you will be accompanied by myself, Professor Warrod or Mister Wakaba. What you'll be collecting is a flower called Moonlit Mercy. We'll be separating into groups to gather as many as we can before the end of the night."

"Why by the end of the night?" Gray asked, waiting for the shoe that had to be dropping soon. Picking flowers seemed far too benign a punishment. Particularly for Precht. Had to be a trick to it. Like carnivorous flowers. That still wouldn't be too bad. Easy way to get rid of Natsu. And maybe Loke.

"Miss Lockser? Would you inform the group why we're out here tonight?"

The girl raised her gaze from the ground around her and turned her weary, disinterested gaze to the professor. After a slight pause, she answered, "The Moonlight Mercy only ever blooms during a storm moon. It blooms for one night only for a few hours. Collected then, it's at its most potent."

"Very good, Miss Lockser."

"Unbelievable. Even outside of class, the mudblood's a show off."

"Miss Orland, one more day of detention," Precht said after heaving a sigh.

"Shut yer fuckin' mouth, Orland."

"Mister Redfox, one more for you."

"How many more if I punch her?"

"Gajeel..."

"Just asking for future reference, Raindrop."

"Shouldn't this be done by someone other than second years?" Lucy asked, obviously not placated by Precht's assurances.

"Normally, yes," Warrod replied. "Usually, I have my seventh years handle this as part of their training for their N.E.W.T.S., but there was a bit of an accident yesterday, and I'm still waiting on the antidotes to take effect."

"How lucky for you that half of Slytherin ended up in detention," Bickslow Kerry muttered.

"It was quite fortunate," Warrod grinned, clapping his hands together in good-natured humor.

Rubbing his brow, Precht sighed once more. "Enough. Come along now." Motioning them to follow, he led them out of the courtyard and out towards the gate and the Forbidden Forest beyond it. Warrod and Wakaba were close behind him, and then followed most of the Slytherins. His group, with Natsu and Lucy in the lead with him and Loke close behind, followed a few yards behind. Last of all were Gajeel and Juvia, lagging well behind the rest. Even as far back as they were, he could still hear them talking. Well, Gajeel talking. Juvia remained silent.

"Ain't nothing to be worried about there, Raindrop. Just trees and brambles and tall tales. That's all."

Gray winced. It wasn't true. Not really. He knew that some of the stories his father told him were simply bravado, but there was enough truth in them to know that there were things in the forest worth fearing. He stole a glance behind him. Gajeel was looking down at the blunette beside him while Juvia stared down at the ground in front of her. She didn't seem frightened. She just didn't seem to be there at all. It was an expression she wore almost constantly now.

"Why is it so cold?" Lucy groaned in front of him, drawing his attention away from the pair behind him.

"It's February, Lucy," he muttered.

"Even for February," she snapped back. "I don't know whey they're having us serve detention at night in the forest. We'll freeze to death. And it's going to start snowing soon."

Gray glanced upwards. The stars were long gone, and the moon only peaked through the clouds that swirled above. It really did seem that the storm lay in wait.

"Hey, Blue, is it gonna snow?" Natsu turned to call back to the pair behind.

"Shut th' hell up, Dragneel!" came the growled response, sparing Gray from saying the same.

"Make me, tinhead!"

"Like yer worth the effort."

"Mister Dragneel, Mister Redfox, pace yourselves. It's going to be a long night," Precht called out from the front of the group.

"I could put you on your ass with one hand behind my back."

"Mister Dragneel, let me rephrase. Be silent or I will make you silent."

"Turn around and shut up, dumbass," Gray said with a shove. The boy glared back at him but soon turned and hurried after Lucy.

Eventually, the group reached the tree line that announced the start of the Forbidden Forest. Precht came to a stop, and the group congregated around him.

"Now, then, we're going to split into four groups," Precht announced.

"There's only three of you," Natsu chimed in.

"Very good, Mister Dragneel. I'm glad that while you've yet to master the alphabet, numbers are still within your understanding," Precht said with a roll of his one eye. "Miss Lockser, I trust that you know what to look for." Gray glanced to the blunette in time to see her mutely nod in response. "Good. I'll have you take one group to the thestral grove. The thestrals will keep you protected. Nothing in the forest willingly goes up against a herd of thestrals. Collect as many as you can and then return here. Do not leave beyond the grove under any circumstances. Understand?" Another nod from the blue-haired witch. "Good."

"Come on, Raindrop. Let's get this over with," Redfox growled.

"I'm afraid not, Mister Redfox," Precht said. "You won't be joining her. She's far more sensible when you're not about, and I'd rather not have her acting like an idiot in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. No, better to have you with my group so that I can be sure you don't end up in another fight."

The impassive expression on Juvia's face faltered, and her eyes darted to Gajeel. For the first moment all night, maybe all year, the slightest hint of fear crossed her face, hand clutching the other Slytherin's sleeve.

Redfox, on the other hand, looked furious. "Oh, hell no! I ain't leavin' her with one of these idiots!"

"Miss Lockser has already proven more than capable of handling herself," replied Precht, calm and unmoved as always. "And as Mister Dreyar is well aware of just how capable she is, he will be going with her." There was a strangled sound to his left, which he assumed was from Dreyar. "Mister Fullbuster, you'll accompany them." Still watching the Slytherin pair, he saw the little blunette tense, her grip on Redfox's sleeve tightening.

"Awwww, poor baby's scared of being away from her boyfriend."

"And one more day of detention for you, Miss Orland."

"Ya can't seriously leave her with Dreyar!"

"Mister Redfox, she'll be fine. Now you, Miss Orland and Mister Dragneel will go with me. Mister Justine, Mister Kasai and Miss Heartfilia will go with Professor Warrod. Mister Kerry, Miss Oakthorn and Mister Llewellyn, you will go with Mister Wakaba." Precht retrieved his wand from his robes. With a quick flick of his wrist, a ball of white light appeared before him. He took the ball of light in his hand and strode over to Juvia. He held it out to her, and she, after a moment's hesitation, released her grip on Gajeel's arm to take the light. "It'll guide you to the glade and then back here once you're done. Mister Dreyar, Mister Fullbuster, stay close to Miss Lockser."

Gray, glancing once back at his friends, joined Juvia and Precht. Dreyar followed soon after, scowling as he approached. Redfox glared daggers at Dreyar, leaving Gray torn between feeling relieved that Redfox's ire was not focused on him and insulted that he didn't warrant at least a glare from the Slytherin. Redfox, however, was quite determined to ignore Gray's existence. "Ya touch 'er, Dreyar, they won't find enough of ya t'bury."

Dreyar merely glared back, arms folded over his chest.

Juvia laid a hand on Gajeel's arm, and the boy's focus shifted from Dreyar back to her. Some sort of wordless conversation seemed to be exchanged between them, and the boy ruffled the blunette's hair before she released the ball of light. The light floated before her a moment before heading off into the trees. Juvia followed after it first, followed soon behind by Dreyar. After one last wave to his friends, Gray's hurried after them.

The first half hour passed in complete silence, which suited Gray well enough at first. Silence was something of a rare treat when spending every day and practically every moment with Natsu, Lucy and Loke. He used the time to study the forest, comparing it to the stories his father had told him. However, it didn't seem to be anything more than a normal forest. No carnivorous plants. No wailing of the ghosts of students foolish enough to venture into the dark. No monsters waiting to pounce. It was just another forest. It was perhaps a little quiet, though late as it was, he wasn't expecting much outside the occasional night bird warbling, the chirping of crickets and the screams of foxes. But even those sounds were absent.

The silence of it all soon weighed on him. With a sigh, he turned to his temporary companions. Juvia completely ignored his presence. She was ignoring everything but the ball of light guiding them further into the dark. So, he turned to Dreyar instead, not that he seemed any more interested in talking than Juvia, but unfortunately for Dreyar, Gray was far more willing to goad Dreyar than the small blunette.

Gray smirked as he glanced at Dreyar and his purpling bruise. "She got you good, didn't she? Sad I missed it."

"Sod off, Fullbuster," the Slytherin boy snapped back.

"How did she even manage it? She's like half your height."

"Fullbuster, shut up or I'll show you how."

Gray chuckled but left Dreyar to stew. Silence set in for another few minutes, but again, it began to prey on him. However, he didn't think that continuing to poke Dreyar was a great idea. Dreyar wasn't as easy to provoke into a fight as Redfox, but the Slytherin boy was obviously wound up rather tight that night. So, he turned to Juvia. "Hey, Juvia, how do you know about this flower?"

The girl visibly tensed but after a moment's pause, she replied without looking back at him. "There's a similar flower on Inis Stoirm. The abbess would take Juvia out to collect them a couple of times before she came to Hogwarts."

"What's this flower used for?" he asked, trying to prod the girl into some sort of conversation. "Seems like a lot of trouble we're going through for a flower."

Juvia still wouldn't look back at him. "It can be used as an antidote and a cure for a number of injures and illnesses. The abbess used it largely for treating fevers."

"It's really impressive how you all know this."

"Flirt much, Fullbuster?" Dreyar said with a smirk.

"Want a matching bruise for the other eye?"

"Try it, Fullbuster. She just got a lucky hit in."

"The glade is ahead," Juvia interrupted the brewing argument, her voice quiet and soft.

Gray frowned and tried to see what Juvia could see, but it just looked like more trees ahead, just like the other few thousand trees they had passed before. "How can you tell, Juvia?"

"Juvia can see the thestrals."

"Bollocks," Dreyar said. "You can't see them."

Juvia merely shrugged her shoulders and carried on after the floating light. She led them through the trees until they hit an open space of grass, the light of the storm moon breaking through the clouds overhead and illuminating the small glade.

The girl paused at the edge of the glade and reached out into the air, holding out her hand. She smiled. Sad. Soft. Small. "Hello again," she said.

"Are you ever not weird?" Dreyar muttered.

The smile fell from her face as Gray shot a dark glare at Dreyar, wishing Precht had answered just how much a swing at another student would cost. Schooling his expression, he turned back to Juvia. "What do they look like, Juvia? The thestrals?"

Juvia studied the air beside her. "Skeletal," she replied after a lengthy pause. "Like their skin's stretched too thinly over their bodies."

"Sounds... creepy?"

"Juvia likes them. They're beautiful. In a strange way." After another short pause, she sighed and headed into the glade. "Mind your step. The flowers tend to be in areas where there's direct light," she called back to them as she picked her way around the small glade, taking each step slowly and deliberately.

Gray watched her as she marked each flower she saw with a wave of her wand and a quiet spell, a white or red light hovering over each point. "Hey, Juvia, if these things bloom in moonlight, how did you collect them at your island? Didn't the rain stop them from blooming?"

No sooner had the question left his lips, he wished it hadn't. The girl winced, pausing in her step. "The sun's there. You just need to learn how to see it," the Slytherin girl muttered. He could hardly hear her, her voice soft and distant.

"Huh?"

"The moon was never not there. It was always present. The flowers still knew it, even if Juvia couldn't see it. They weren't as potent since they didn't have the direct light they needed, but they still bloomed." She returned to where Gray and Dreyar waited once she had gone around the small glade, leaving behind a couple of dozen white lights and two red lights.

"And what are those supposed to mean?" Dreyar asked with a motion of his hand back towards the glade as she joined them.

The girl turned towards him, the now usual detached expression returning. "The white ones are flowers that aren't ready to be harvested. They won't bloom tonight. The red will."

A scowl crossed the Slytherin boy's face. "Two? We're out here for two? Why even send us here?"

"Even two flowers are useful," Juvia replied quietly. "The abbess used to be able to make enough tonics to supply the abbey for a year with just a single bloom, and they weren't as potent. Besides, this is probably the safest place to send students."

Dreyar didn't seem content with the answer, scowling, his arms folded across his chest. "There are probably more further in, yeah?" asked Dreyar.

"Probably," Juvia responded after a short pause. "She imagines this glade is pretty frequently harvested because of its location. More undisturbed areas would probably have a higher concentration."

"Then let's go," Dreyar said, brushing past Juvia to head further into the forest.

"Professor Precht said not to leave the glade," Juvia said quietly.

"Tch. Sorting Hat should have stuck you in Hufflepuff," Dreyar scoffed with a glare at the little blunette. "Real Slytherins aren't scared of a little dark."

"What do you even care, Dreyar? We'll stay here, take the two that are here and go back. Easy," Gray snapped.

"I don't want to have to deal with Dragneel crawling about us only having two flowers when his group gets six dozen or however many."

Gray winced. "Huh. Hadn't thought of that."

"Of course not, because you're an idiot."

Gray thought on it a moment, Natsu's crowing already ringing in his ears. It could go on for weeks. "How much further in do you think we'd need to go?"

For the first time that night - and probably that year, if he thought on it - Juvia met his gaze, but there was no shy smile now. She merely looked... exasperated? She was impossible to read, but it was the best he could settle on.

"You should not leave the glade. Juvia will not leave the glade."

"Then stay here," Dreyar said with a shrug. "You coming, Fullbuster?"

Juvia's gaze briefly flicked to Dreyar, but when the boy turned to Gray, waiting for his answer, her eyes were on him again. Worried. She almost looked worried.

"I don't know, Dreyar. Maybe we should just do what we're told."

Dreyar scoffed. "You should have been sorted into Hufflepuff too."

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin trash," snapped Gray, his patience with the Slytherin boy wearing thin. No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, he winced. He hesitantly turned to the girl, but as expected, she wasn't looking at him now. Her eyes were cast down to the ground. He started to apologize, but he couldn't find the words. He settled for a sigh. "Fine. Let's go, Dreyar." There was not reaction from Juvia. "We won't go far, Juvia. We won't be long." Still no reaction. He scratched the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly. "Come on, Dreyar." He headed out past the glade, Dreyar close behind. When he took one last glance at her, she was patting the air around her.

Neither boy said anything for the first fifteen minutes or so, Gray looking around for any decent-sized clearings, but it all seemed to be just an endless sea of trees. "You realize that Juvia's the one who actually knows what the hell to look for, right?"

"Worried about your girlfriend?"

"Sod off, will you? Just saying that you and I don't know what the hell we're looking for."

"Whatever. We've seen the flower. The hell I need the help of a pathetic excuse of a witch like her."

Gray gritted his teeth together, glaring daggers at the Slytherin boy's back as Dreyar cuts his way through the undergrowth ahead. "Funny, Dreyar. Never took you as a purist."

"I don't give a damn that she's not a pureblood. Muggle-born, half-blood, pureblood, none of that matters. What matters is that she can't cast a charm without there being a fifty-fifty chance of someone or something exploding. She's a terrible witch and yet she's got my grandfather, Precht and Jose wasting their time trying to help her, but she can't be helped."

"She's the best student at Potions."

"Potions doesn't count," Dreyar said as he turned back to give Gray a tired glance. "Even Muggles and Squibs like Porlyusica can use Potions."

"If she's so great at Potions, then send her back to her island. Let her abbess train her and keep her where she can't bother anyone."

"You're all heart, Dreyar."

"She's an embarrassment to Hogwarts. My grandfather should send her back rather than waste his time."

"Makarov hasn't been wasting his time with her. She's got her rain under control."

"Under control? Have you not noticed how it hasn't rained all year? She doesn't have anything under control. She's just suppressing it, and one day it's going to snap. If we're lucky, the worst it'll do is flood out a couple of Quidditch games when she finally can't hold it back any further."

"I take it you aren't buying into the theory that she's the next Zeref?"

Dreyar snorted. "If she's the next Zeref, Dragneel's the next Minister of Magic."

"First think you've said all night that I've agreed with, Dreyar," Gray said with a smirk.

"Grand, now I've got to reconsider," the other boy snarled.

Silence reigned a while longer as they ventured further in, Gray growing increasingly anxious the longer they traveled. The forest, quiet as it'd been before, made no sound outside the crunch of brambles and leaves beneath their feet, and the chill that Lucy had been dreading had settled in, each breath like frozen daggers in his lungs. And beyond all this, something else hung in the air. Something intangible. Something left his blood cold and eyes darting from shadow to shadow. "We really should turn around, Dreyar."

"Not much further. Looks like a clearing up ahead," came the Slytherin boy's response.

With a grimace, Gray followed after the Slytherin. True to his word, the forest soon opened up to a large clearing, far larger than the thestrals' glade. The little moonlight that broke through the gathering storm clouds spilled out over the open field. All throughout the glade, little white flowers poked above the blades of tall glass.

"Good," Dreyar said beside him. "Fullbuster, get that side. I'll get this side," the Slytherin boy motioned from one side to another.

Gray's immediate impulse to the order was to tell Dreyar to get them himself, but the feel of uneasiness that had been following him shortly after leaving the thestrals wouldn't disappear. Gritting his teeth, he hurried through the glade, yanking any of the flowers he saw, not taking any time to examine the flowers as Juvia had. When he had a bundle of flowers stuffed into his robes, he returned to Dreyar, the other boy similarly completing his own task.

"Should be plenty to keep up with the other groups," Dreyar said. "Let's get out of here."

Getting back to Juvia and the thestrals should have been an easy matter. Just retrace their steps back through the forest. Simple.

Except they couldn't find their tracks to follow.

Five minutes of trying to find their way back and the pair hadn't any better idea of where to go.

"Weren't you keeping track of where we were going?" Dreyar snapped.

"I thought you were! This was your dumb idea." His eyes swept over the forest floor, searching for some trace of where'd they been, but it looked the same as every other patch of ground they'd seen so far. "Know any good spells?"

"I missed the class where they taught us to go back in time and tell a dumbass Gryffindor to watch where he's going."

"You're about to get another bruise."

"You couldn't hit me if I was petrified."

Whatever Gray might have said at the point was drowned out by a lone howl that rang through the still forest night, a ragged, hollow sort of sound that seemed less animal than monster. Gray's breath lodged in his throat. He stood frozen in his step, hoping that he had imagined the sound. To spite him, a second howl, closer this time, answered the first.

"Dreyar, tell me that's just a wolf."

"The hell should I know?" came the response from the other boy. The Slytherin had gone as still as Gray, his face drained of color.

The howl returned. Closer.

"Run!" Gray hissed, turning from the sound and breaking out into as full a run as the dense undergrowth allowed. He could hear Dreyar just behind him. He didn't know where they were going, but it didn't matter then. They just had to get away.

Branches and brambles tore at them, snagging onto whatever bits of cloth they could. Gray cursed the fact that he hadn't unconsciously lose his robe somewhere. Of all the damn times for him to actually keep his robe on. A conspiring branch clutched at his sleeve and held him still while desperately tried to wrench himself free. He stole a glance behind, just making out the forms of two warped forms barreling towards them. Two wolf-like creatures, vaguely humanoid. Werewolves.

Freeing himself a breath later, he didn't go more than a few feet more when he heard Dreyar curse just ahead. His focus whipped over to where Dreyar had just been, only for him to utter a similar curse when the ground beneath his next step gave way and sent Gray tumbling down the steep ravine.

He hit the bottom of the ravine, somehow managing not to break his neck along the way. The dry creek bed was no more welcoming than the trees had been, the jagged rocks tearing at his clothes and skin. With a groan, he struggled to his feet, Dreyar similarly slow to get up again. Gray managed to find his footing first and staggered over to Dreyar to try to pull the other boy up. "Get up! Hurry!" The cascading of loose rocks and dirt down the face of the ravine announced the approach of their pursuers. Far surer of their footing than either he or Dreyar had been, the werewolves scaled down the ravine side.

Every cell in his body screamed to run, but he couldn't move. He just stood there, his grip on Dreyar's arm gone slack, his breath still in his chest. All the world seemed to have slowed, all sound drained away. Nothing existed but the ragged mass of teeth and claws that leaped towards them. And he couldn't move.

There were no flashes of his life before his eyes. No profound final thoughts. No last regrets. His entire mind went blank. There was just the twisted form barreling towards him.

This was the end.

"Stupefy!"

A blast, bright and blue, raced towards him from the left. He hardly saw it, as fast as it sped towards them, but he felt the prick of the blast upon his skin as it passed, though it hardly registered what it even was. All he was really cognizant of was the presence of the snarling blur, lunging for him, and then it was gone. Nothing left behind but empty air and the stench of singed hair. In a stupor, he turned his gaze to the crumpled heap thrown beside him. The misshapen creature stayed still for a brief moment, but it soon staggered onto unstable feet, shaking its haggard head. IT snarled low and savage, echoed by the other. They turned their focus away from Gray and Dreyar. Gray followed their gaze to the ridge above, to the small, pale blunette, her expression devoid of fear, worry, surprise or any other emotion.

"Juvia." Her name came out in a whisper, too quiet to draw the creature's attentions away from their new quarry. Only when the werewolves started to scramble up the ravine face did Gray begin to stir from his inertia. "No," he breathed out the word in hushed horror. "Juvia!" he screamed at the Slytherin girl. The empty blue eyes turned towards him. "Juvia, run!" The girl didn't move. "Run!" A second's pause more, and then she finally disappeared into the forest beyond.

The Slytherin girl gone, he turned his focus on the werewolves as they made steady progress up the ravine face, hindered by the steep descent but aided by gnarled claws sunk deep into the earth. Gray's hand went for his wand, but he couldn't think of what to use. His mind was blank. What could he even use? What spell did he even know that could help? Two damn years at Hogwarts, and he was worthless. There was nothing but the rising terror of what they'd do to the girl. It was all he could focus on. All he could think to do was pick up a rock from the dry creek bed and fling it at the retreating forms. "Get back here! Come back!" The rock bounded harmlessly against the ravine wall, just as the second of the werewolves scrambled over the ridge.

Gone.

They were gone.

And so was she.

Afraid.

She should be afraid.

She wished she could be afraid, but she felt nothing.

They were behind her. She could hear the brambles breaking. She could hear the snarling. She heard everything, saw everything. And still she felt nothing.

No fear to make her limbs move faster.

No fear to make her struggle longer.

No fear to help her flee.

She was calm. Collected.

She wouldn't be able to outrun them. She knew that. They would catch her. And soon.

It was alright.

She was going to die.

It was alright.

She just needed to lead them far enough away. Far enough for Gray and Dreyar to get away. She had to do that much.

The werewolves gained on her quickly. They were just behind her. She could feel the heat of their breath.

She gripped her wand.

As she'd done so many times with Gajeel, she spun on her heel and flicked her wand. "Protego!" The shield emerging from her wand repulsed bared teeth seeking her flesh, the werewolves yelping with the impact. The pair knocked off their feet, Juvia didn't wait to see for how long. She ran, though not for much longer. She felt the ache of her legs, the strain of every breath on her lungs. It wouldn't be much longer.

Had it been enough?

Her eyes, searching the forest around her with all the urgency of Gajeel doing his schoolwork, fell on a massive tree, long dead and rotting, standing alone in a clearing just visible through the trees. Specifically, her focus fell on a hollow formed in the rotting trunk, a hollow that seemed as though it might be large enough to hide her away.

The first of the werewolves staggered to its feet as she cut back towards the tree, darting just past it. Its twisted claws swiped out at her and snagged on to the hem of her cloak.

"Stupefy!" A flick of her wand, and the creature crumpled to the ground with a shrill yelp. Her cloak now free, she ran for the tree. She reached the massive rotted corpse just a breath before the second werewolf reached her. Thankful for her small size for the first time in her soon to be short life, she crawled into the hollow, the small entrance expanding out into a cavity large enough to put distance between her and the wildly thrashing claws that tried to force their way in after her. When the searching claws failed to find her, the creature pulled back and took to slamming against the trunk and shredding the bark, trying to tear its way in. The creatures howled and bayed and the tree quaked at every impact of their attack. Despite the ferocity of their attack against the tree, Juvia leaned back against the tree, taking deep, steady breaths, unafraid. Unconcerned.

It was alright.

They'd have time to get away.

It was all alright.

She closed her eyes.

Ba-bump.

Her amulet.

It was calling to her again.

And the sea.

She could hear it singing again. Far as she was from sea and lake, she could still hear it singing to her. For her.

-Sink with me, my love. Down with me, my love. To the sea, the loving sea.-

Was it trying to comfort her? Singing for her now? It shouldn't have bothered. It was all alright.

-Be with me, my love. Down with me, my love. With the sea, the loving sea.-

The snarls of werewolves and shredding of bark fell away, lost to the song.

-We'll be free, my love. Just you and me, my love. And the sea, the loving sea.-

Her amulet pulsed against her chest, emanating out from her chest to her fingers and to her toes, like ripples on the lake. Calling her. Wanting to be free. It didn't really matter now, did it?

-There's no more pain, my love. No more rain, my love. Trust the sea, the loving sea.-

Her hand wrapped around the amulet.

-Drown with me, my love. Die with me, my love. Join the sea, the loving sea.-

It started much as it had the last time, the emotions surging out from the amulet and inflicting on her all the pain that she had felt when she first banished them to the shell around her neck.

She sunk her teeth deep into her lower lip, trying to suppress the cry that desperately struggled to be released, keeping it stifled to an agonized whimper. She didn't let go of the amulet as every captive emotion broke free of their prison. As her heart splintered open to welcome back what had been taken from it.

But... something else slipped out as well.

Something else escaped from the seashell prison.

It didn't hurt. Whatever it was. Not like her anger, her grief, her fear. It slipped over her skin, dark and cold. So cold. As though she'd never be clean again. As though she'd never be warm again.

It did not join the other captives of the shell as they returned to her heart. She didn't know where it went. The emotions so long removed returned to her grieving heart, and she was lost to anything else. Her screams could not longer be silenced, and she double dover clutching at her chest, her wand clattering onto the ground as it slipped from her grasp. All that existed at that moment was the agony of a soul piercing itself together again. She saw nothing. Heard nothing. There was only the pain.

Once she had been made whole again and once she had finished emptying of the contents of her stomach beside her, all she could do was lean back against the tree's rotting corpse and breath, slow and deep, and listen to the beat of her heart in the quiet.

Listen to the steady beat. Free of rain. Just the beat of her heart.

Quiet.

It was quiet.

Her eyes opened slowly.

Why was it quiet?

No howling. No snarls. No shredding of bark beneath seeking claws.

Had the werewolves left?

Had they gone back for Gray and Dreyar?

Were the werewolves laying in wait for her, remaining quiet to lure her out of her sanctuary?

...Could werewolves even plan an ambush?

The questions swarmed about her head, but there was no one that could answer them for her. She only had one option.

She crept towards the hollow's entrance, pausing before she had moved more than a few cautious steps, her entire body trembling uncontrollably.

Afraid.

She was afraid.

She shut her eyes tight and tried to steady the frantic pulsing of her heart. She had to will herself forward.

Crawling out of the hollow, expecting at every moment that a gnarled clawed hand would come crashing down on her neck, she left the protection of the long dead tree. She set one hand onto the ground just beyond the hollow's opening and felt the blades of grass crumble beneath her touch, as though she had set her hand into a pile of soot that scattered to the wind once disturbed.

With a small gasp, she drew her hand back and peered out at the small glade beyond the hollow, but she could see scarcely anything at all. Her storm had wasted no time at all in swallowing up what little moonlight had been left.

Her hand groped in the dark for her wand. Finding it once again, she whispered, "Lumos!" Flickering to life, the lighted tip of her wand dispelled little of the dark beyond the hollow but what little it revealed showed a world turned black. Rotted away. Like the flower on Inis Stoirm. The grass. The trees. Everything the light fell on. Black. Rotting.

She had done it. Her spell. Her fingers grazed the spiral shell, now silent and still, nothing more than an amulet on a chain once again.

What had she done?

Fighting back the rising terror and willing herself forward despite every urge that screamed to stay hidden away, she crawled out into the glade, everything she touched dissolving and scattering like ash, leaving behind nothing but barren earth in its wake.

She placed a hand on the trunk that'd sheltered her, grateful that something had escaped whatever darkness she had inflicted on the rest, as she swept the wand over the clearing. As far as she could see and as far as the light allowed her to see, everything was the same. The werewolves were nowhere to be seen.

With a steadying breath and keeping her hand on the trunk, an anchor to keep her calm, she followed the massive trunk around the clearing. Ducking low underneath skeletal branches long devoid of life or purpose, she finally found them - forms leaning against the tree they had been so violently trying to tear a way through. Black. Rotted. Eyes empty. Jaws open in wordless screams. With a strangled cry, she fell back against the trunk and slumped to the ground.

Hiding her face in her hands, she sobbed, soft and quiet, as high above, the storm finally broke.