Hermione was not going to think about the wolf.
She was being silly, overanalyzing as she always did. There was nothing to worry about! Wolves were no match for a fully grown witch, let alone a decorated war heroine. Of course, she didn't want to hurt it, but that didn't stop her from compiling a list of spells in her mind that could be used if she needed to defend herself. Old habits die hard.
The Ministry had a strict no-harm policy when it came to dealing with magical beings: Flee, don't fight. The policy was agreeable enough, but it made fieldwork a bit unsettling. Department field training was mediocre at best: three days of lecture with only an afternoon handling beasts… none of which exceeded XX classification. Hermione was hopeful the DMCR would have splurged for Newt Scamander, but was predictably disappointed.
No matter, she was used to finding required instruction materials to be insufficient. As if a basic introduction to anything was ever sufficient. Hermione had always found herself seeking more, striving to understand, and putting in the work to do so long after most others would have given up. When something piqued her interest she would be tenacious in her pursuit of knowing it, unraveling the complexities until she had formed a clear web of information from which she could draw conclusions.
Sometimes that tenacity could mimic borderline obsession, an uncontrollable part of her that would stop at nothing to find the answers she sought.
It's why striving to not think of the wolf made her consider the animal that much more. It's why all morning her mind kept straying, searching for flashes of luminous white in the dark shades of the forest.
No, she had to focus. Hermione was here with a job to do. She felt as though she were at the precipice of something greater than herself, to be found in the depths of the forest. There was much more to consider, more important things, than just a wolf.
But the print, the discrepancy… it grated at her.
She fought the instinct to explore her thoughts, ultimately spending most of her trek toward Hogsmeade pointedly not thinking of the wolf. Besides, she had told herself, anatomical anomalies or a perfectly side-adjusted step on top of the previous footfall could have caused such an impression.
She caught herself again and shook her head to clear her mind. She wasn't thinking about it, she wouldn't. No, she was certainly not thinking about it much at all.
Instead, she took notes on her map, which had divided the Forbidden Forest using a coordinate system. She was camping near the Moon-Gazer Clearing, E6. The southeastern trail would lead her to the edge of the forest where she would take Hogsmeade Lane into the village, exiting the map at G8. Bet the Marauders would have gotten a good chuckle out of that one.
She made notes of the area as she traversed the winding path, indicating the areas that looked hospitable enough to house beasts. Frustratingly, Hermione had not come across a single creature by the time she reached the edge of the forest, where the trees were less densely packed. Based on this observation, it was extremely unlikely that she would encounter any creature with a sense of self-preservation near this outskirt of the wood, unprotected in the thinning proximity of the trees. A note of such was made on the edge of the map.
To find anything of interest, she would have to go deep within, to the heart of the forest.
Her mind began to spin again, a vortex of possibilities as to what it was that hid in the forest behind her, as she joined Hogsmeade Lane and began the two-mile journey toward the village.
Much was unknown about the Forbidden Forest. Home to many beasts, but predominantly occupied by the centaur herd. Their land a self-governed entity not under the jurisdiction of the Ministry. She'd have to gain access through their gates or request tabulations of their population, neither of which offered much promise for success. Hermione had a bit of a history with the forest herd; hopefully, they weren't the type to hold a grudge.
But before she could begin the census count, Hermione first needed supplies.
In theory, her wand and field journal were all required to complete the task at hand. However, Hermione had come up with a list of items that would make her job infinitely more manageable. Of course, none of the items had been mentioned as useful during field training, but Hermione had found several secondary sources that outlined such provisions and their uses in more adequate detail.
First, at the apothecary, she purchased Bite Repellent water. When consumed, her skin could be impenetrable to fangs and stingers. She hoped it would save her a lot of pain when it came time to catalog the vampyr mosps. After a moment of hesitation, she also grabbed up a few vials of Beautification Potion to keep on hand for when she explored areas of the forest closest to Hogwarts, where Red Caps may have taken up residence under the remnants of battlefield from the Second Wizarding War where, undoubtedly, blood had soaked into the soil; she suppressed a shiver at the thought. A few other basic remedies, as well as emergency must-haves, like a bezoar, rounded out her order. She was thankful for expansion charms as she filed the items into her leather bag.
Next, she stopped at the grocer for perishables followed by Honeydukes for a supply of chocolates; she had far too many memories involving Dementors in the forest and wanted to be prepared in case any were still lurking... hiding from justice.
Afternoon was settling over the village, the streets having cleared considerably from the lunchtime rush. It was quieter than the weekends she had visited in the past and made the village seem more quaint. As the sun began its descent past the apex, dark shadows from the castle loomed over the village, though the chill in the shade was still more tolerable than the tree cover of the forest. Hermione crossed the street to where the shadows had not yet consumed the light, allowing the warmth of the sun to sink into her skin as she carried on down the lane.
She caught sight of herself in a shop window and paused before passing by. Her reflection was so similar to the teenaged Hermione that had last stood before these shops. The woman in the reflection now was so akin to the girl from before, but Hermione felt that the two were much more different than they were alike. She had once been so righteous, uncompromising in her morals. But along the way, the teen had morphed into the woman that came to understand the grey area of morality. That woman learned what the younger version of herself could never accept: you can't save them all.
A gust of wind assaulted her, tousling a few strands loose from the braid. Her feet moved with the direction of the breeze, pulling herself away from the thoughts of her younger self, from the troubling question of how it had all changed so quickly… how she had changed. With guilt and anxiety threatening to set in, Hermione recited her grateful list as she carried on down the lane.
At last, Hermione approached her final destination: Madame Marian's Magical Menagerie. She could smell the building with the door shut, but the odor was nothing she hadn't come accustomed to after years of working with creatures. In fact, the scent served to remind Hermione why she was here in the first place: her job, a promotion. Everything she had been working so hard and sacrificing for was so close, within reach, and ready to be seized. With renewed determination, she ducked into the menagerie, a bell tinkling as the door shut behind her.
Madame Marian was an elderly woman with a deep love for animals. She told Hermione all about her six kneazles within three minutes of greeting her after she entered the shop. When Hermione admitted to no longer having any pets, nor being in the market for a new one, the shopkeeper had become extremely inquisitive to the nature of her visit to Hogsmeade.
"Ministry business in the Forbidden Forest," Hermione told her proudly, placing a small parchment into the womans' waiting hand, "just came into town for supplies."
"Oh finally," Marian whined, "thank goodness they've finally read my letters and sent someone."
Hermione furrowed her brow, confused. "Erm, what letters, Madame?"
"The letters," she emphasized, bustling toward the sales counter at the back of the shop. She disappeared momentarily as Hermione followed after her. The older witch had reappeared, setting a shoe-box worth of handwritten letters onto the counter with an audible plop.
"I've noticed over the last few years that more beasts from the forest have been coming to Hogsmeade for food. Can't tell you how many times I've let the kneazles out and not all of them have come back. Neighbors have also reported their pets getting hurt, going missing… It's clear to me that beasts from the forest are coming out here to get their fill."
Hermione's mind began rapidly analyzing Marian's claim… with a forest full of niches for the beasts within, there should be no reason to hunt away from the trees. "Why do you think it's a beast? Has anyone ever seen it?"
Marian shook her head, "Never seen it… hardly ever hear anything either. 'Course it's hard to hear anything around here at night, over the hooves of the herd and the howling of the wolves..."
Brown eyes widened as she turned her head with interest toward the shopkeeper, "Wolves?"
Marian nodded solemnly while she conjured Hermione's requested items, tucking them all properly into a neat package. "I think they're wolves at least… unless werewolves howl on any night other than the full moon."
"No, certainly not." Hermione agreed.
"Pack came around a few years ago," Marian explained as she tabulated Hermione's purchases in the ledger. Hermione stared at the woman intently, hanging on to every word of her explanation. "Used to hear the lovers calling for each other most nights, but the last year or two… sounds like it's just the one out there now. Must have lost its mate." Marian added with a sad smile.
"Poor thing," Hermione muttered as she tendered the galleons for her items, the gears in her head beginning to spin together once more. Marian carried on about the dangers of the forest, but her warnings fell on deaf ears. Hermione was only able to snap out of it long enough to thank the shopkeeper, promising to return for more glow feed in a few weeks.
Before leaving, Marian plucked a velvet pouch from a shelf behind the counter, convincing Hermione to accept the gift despite many protests. She only finally agreed to take the item when Marian threatened to lose sleep knowing she was alone in the forest without it. Outside of the shop, Hermione peeked into the bag, her eyes widening at the sight of the silver blade within.
A chill shot down her spine as an image of the wolf flashed through her head, the blood in her veins running cold as the alabaster wolf slowly morphed into the form Fenrir Greyback. No, it wasn't possible. Greyback couldn't be hiding in the woods. He was dead. All the Death Eaters were dead. The animal in the wood was just that: an animal. Practically harmless to a witch, nothing to worry about.
Hermione was just being silly. Overanalyzing things. Defaulting back to her conditioned behavior shaped by the war. The Forbidden Forest was protected, policed, by the centaurs. There was no way that anything out of the expected, but still admittedly unordinary, was happening in the dark woods.
Despite these affirmations, Hermione stowed the dagger in the interior pocket of her jacket where it could be easily reached in an emergency. The last words of the shopkeeper echoed back at her: just in case.
The castle looked the same as it always had from the gates at Hogsmeade: tall, proud, and imposing. Staring up at the place she had called home for many years, Hermione felt mixed emotions. Hogwarts had always made her feel so alive, like the first time she found out that magic existed and that she was a witch: energized and otherworldly.
Unfortunately, Hermione was hardly able to enjoy the splendor before her without experiencing flashbacks to the Final Battle of Hogwarts. If she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to shift freely, she could still hear the cries of the fallen. If she allowed herself, she could almost smell the smoke from the burning ramparts… even when occluding, she could feel the weighted blanket of death pushing in at her from all angles.
Restoration efforts had taken three years to return the castle to its former glory in the aftermath of the war. At first, there was a great volunteer force, which Hermione had taken part of. But Hermione had found it very difficult to erase the evidence of what had happened at the castle as if removing the physical evidence of destruction was a risk that would allow the next generations to forget about the war. She feared that those able to forget would doom history to repeat itself. But mostly, she couldn't step foot in the courtyard without seeing vivid flashbacks of Harry, limp in Hagrid's arms.
An onslaught of emotion hit her, but she was prepared to meet it with facts. Harry is fine, he was not dead. Harry lived. Voldemort is dead. Hogwarts is safe.
She tucked the memories away uncomfortably, reciting her gratitude list again in its stead to ease her anxiety. Hermione didn't need to feel unsafe or afraid, she was only here for a visit with number three on her gratitude list: Neville and Luna Longbottom.
She hadn't seen the couple since the New Year's Eve party at Harry and Ginny's, where Luna had brought party favors that, unbeknownst to the group, were spiked with an aphrodisiac potion. Hermione had found herself abnormally aroused by the couples kissing at the stroke of midnight. It was evident something was amiss when the kissing had turned into snogging and one couple even seemed to be dry humping each other on the couch.
Hermione had been able to deduce Luna's folly, but the others were too… distracted to be bothered with the truth. That night Hermione had gone home alone, opting to take care of her frustrations personally rather than finding another lonely soul to share her sheets.
Tonight she'd be aware of what she was consuming, hopefully the house elves had done the cooking.
Hermione hadn't seen Neville approach, only coming back to herself with a jump at the creaking sound of the swinging gate. She had done it again, gotten lost in her own thoughts. So much for constant vigilance.
"Neville!" She gasped, a hand coming to her chest to ease her rapidly beating heart. "Sorry, didn't see you there."
Neville chuckled as he wrapped her in a hug, "S'alright Hermione, a brilliant mind like yours must be an interesting place to get lost in."
Hermione gave him a proper squeeze; she could always count on him to be patient and understanding. Neville was always so consistently supportive and understanding… a rock, infallible and easy to rely on. All his best qualities were perfectly suited to his wife's needs. Together they found true balance. While she was up in the clouds, he was grounded to Earth.
"So happy to see you, Hermione. You look well." Neville commented with a grin as he released her from his embrace.
"Thank you, Neville." She glanced around behind him, searching for his ethereal counterpart. "Where's Luna?"
"Up resting in our greenhouse," he motioned his head to the octagonal glass dome that was attached to the west end of their cottage. "She's looking forward to seeing you," a blush crept onto his cheeks, "we have a surprise to share, actually."
A small smile toyed with her lips at his countenance, reminding her of the boy who lost a toad on the train. Her memories of other Luna surprises came to mind and she narrowed her eyes at Neville inquisitively. "I hope it isn't another hybrid of hers. The Ministry strictly prohibits cross-breeding, no matter the circumstance or inquiry."
He shook his head quickly, the blush had reached his ears, signifying his full embarrassment. "No, it's not a hybrid she's bred this time." He motioned his head toward their abode, "C'mon, you'll see when we get up there."
Hermione followed behind her friend, having to double her pace to keep up with his long strides. The sun was beginning to set, enhancing the magical quality of the Hogwarts grounds. The Longbottoms' had a quaint cottage on the edge of the lawn, just past the Quidditch pitch but before the stream that runs from the Forbidden Forest to the Black Lake. A small footbridge had been constructed over the stream, leading to a sizable barn nestled against the school boundary, butting up against the shade from the Forest.
Professor Longbottom's private greenhouse emitted a soft glow, shadows of fern-like leaves swaying slightly against the panes. Neville opened the door for her and a blast of warmth, accompanied by a light manure odor, greeted her upon entrance. He took her coat, motioning past a group of Mimbulus mimbletonia to where his wife was meditating in the rays of a refractory rainbow.
Luna looked like Mother Nature herself in the center of the greenhouse. Cuddling Ferns laced their way across her abdomen, cradling a protruding stomach that Hermione had not noticed on New Year's Eve. The blonde was chanting quietly, the air around her visibly rippled with the reverberations of her words. Somewhere in the greenhouse, a gong was struck gently by a rhythmically moving hammer.
Hermione turned suddenly to Neville, lowering her voice to a whisper so as to not disturb Luna's tranquil state, "This?! This is the surprise?" She gestured toward the ethereal woman behind her.
Neville beamed excitedly, "It is! And wouldn't you believe it, the healers say it's twins!"
"Oh, Neville, congratulations!" She hugged him again, feeling overcome by joy for her friends, even if she couldn't relate to the feeling of wanting to be a mother. It was good to see all the wonderful things happening to her friends since the war; they all deserved to be happy.
The gong clashed more forcefully, snapping Luna out of her trance. "Hermione," she smiled, beginning to rise with some difficulty before her husband was at her side to assist her. "I'm so pleased you could visit, it's been too long."
"Of course, thank you for having me."
Neville led Luna to a nearby table that was set for tea. Hermione followed, her mind still reeling with the idea of Luna and Neville being parents to not one, but two babies. Luna reached for her wand, presumably to set the kettle to boil, but Hermione was quick to intervene.
"Please, allow me. Tell me all about this," she gesticulated. "How long?"
Luna and Neville carried on with all the details of the pregnancy thus far — four months along, craving steak and kidney pie, increased libido, and swollen ankles. They were having a baby shower in a month, which of course Hermione would attend, even if she had never cared much for such events in the past. Surely witches would have a more exciting party than Hermione's cousin, Jolene.
Listening to the couple and asking questions at appropriate pauses spared Hermione from showcasing her comparatively boring and not as successful life. Luna and Neville had it all: impressive careers, happily married, a home of their own, and children on the way. What could Hermione say? She was a lowly Ministry employee with little personal life to speak of; opening up about herself would only be pathetic and boring.
So instead, she sipped her tea and munched on cucumber sandwiches (from the castle, thank Merlin) while cooing over name ideas and gender predictions.
"Speaking of predictions," Luna reached across Hermione, snatching her teacup off its saucer and setting it down before her, "how about I read your leaves?"
Hermione wanted to groan in protest. Divination was utter rubbish, but she decided to humor Luna: what could it hurt anyway? None of that nonsense was real anyway. Hermione acquiesced, and Neville rewarded her with a beaming smile. Surely Luna wouldn't come up with something more ridiculous than Hermione's last encounter with tessomancy in third year.
Luna turned her cup thrice counterclockwise and then once the other way. With the handle at the six o'clock position, the blonde peered into the cup for several moments. Hermione was set on edge when Luna didn't immediately comment on what she saw.
"Don't tell me," she smiled coyly, glancing conspiratorially at Neville, "you see a Grim? An omen of my future?"
Luna considered her question for a moment. "No, not a Grim…" she set the cup back on the saucer in front of Hermione, "looks more like a wolf to me."
Hermione frowned, her level of alarm rising slightly. "A wolf?"
She rotated the cup as Luna had before, setting herself up for her own reading. With the handle at 6 o'clock, Hermione bore down at her own leaves. Her eyebrow wrinkled with disappointment at the profile of a wolf, howling up at the moon, sitting in the cup before her. A peculiar paw print flashed through her mind.
"What does it mean?" Neville asked, his eyes fixated on his wife.
"Death," Hermione widened her eyes and leaned forward, giving her best Trelawney impression. "DOOM!"
"Actually, the wolf can mean quite a number of things," Luna explained. "It can stand for loyalty and protection. Intelligence and curiosity — that's quite fitting for you, Hermione." She focused on the teacup, wrinkling her brow, "But it can also mean aggression and darkness. Often the wolf represents a menace, a predator… What did you say you were doing in the Forbidden Forest, again?"
"I'm-," Hermione cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, "performing a Being census for the Ministry."
"Ah, I'm sure it means protection then. It must mean that you're safe in the Forest, especially on nights when you can see the moon." Luna assured her.
"I am camping near the Moon-Gazer's Clearing," she added thoughtfully.
"Sounds like you have a good camping site," Neville smiled encouragingly. "Luna and I have visited there before."
"Where you proposed," Luna reminded him with a teasing lilt. The Longbottom's shared a quick kiss, the love and warmth between them palpable. Hermione looked away instinctively, allowing the couple a private moment. Her attention turned to an iron cage across the greenhouse that enclosed a group of five potted plants. She examined the plants: tiny green leaves with slightly shriveled edges and from the side she noted that they did not share a central stem. They seemed familiar, something she had seen in her lessons at Hogwarts.
A pair of fuzzy, purple earmuffs hung from the horizontal bar, jarring her memory and allowing her to identify the caged specimens. "Surely you remember those," Neville commented. Apparently, Hermione had gotten distracted during her mental probe, not noticing that the married couple was staring at her… since when had she been so unfocused, so easily distracted?
Hermione wanted to scold herself but would save it for later. She decided to scold Neville instead. "Mandrakes can be dangerous," she reminded him (as if the Herbology Professor didn't already know all the facts about mandrake safety when cultivating the species in his personal home). "You should have this area properly warded. Someone could break in and hurt themselves!"
The cheerful pigment in Neville's cheeks had drained, apparently expecting the lecture after being Hermione's friend for over a decade. "You can relax, Hermione. They're just babies, not capable of hurting anyone yet. I'll get them under more security once they're a bit older, yeah?"
"Before the twins are born," Luna informed her. "The doctors say they'll come near September if they don't make an early debut. Perhaps they'll share a birthday with you, Hermione!"
Luna was efficient at changing the subject as the group had gone back to talk of babies once again. Hermione noticed the cotton candy skies of sunset had faded into the purple-black dark of night. "I should be getting back," she announced as she stood from the table, "want to make camp before it gets too late."
Her friends nodded sympathetically, offering her invitations to return whenever she'd like, to which she only promised to attend their baby shower as she suspected she would be quite busy with census tasks for the next few weeks. The Longbottoms' walked her to the door, bidding her farewell with hugs and promises to see one another again soon.
"Go on past the barn," Luna instructed Hermione as she departed, "there's a one-way exit to the Forest there. You should be able to find something worth noting on the other side. And Hermione? Be careful out there, your leaves could have been a warning."
"I'll be fine," she assured her friend, having already deemed the results of their tessomamcy to be unreliable. "See you in a few weeks!"
Hermione felt owlish, her head swiveling from side to side in search of the something Luna had mentioned. Knowing the Professors' penchant for riddles, Hermione had taken extra time on the short walk from Longbottom Cottage to the exit point that would lead her back to the forest, even stopping to check for a creature under the footbridge. It felt silly, as any creature at Hogwarts was not to be included in the census, but the need to decipher Luna's riddle, the need to know, was stronger than her sense of reason at the moment.
After having found nothing - and becoming thoroughly irritated with her friend for perplexing her, for taking advantage of her inquisitive nature - Hermione had accepted that she would probably never understand Luna and her cryptic ways. It was probably payback for her reaction to the aphrodisiac roofies from New Year's Eve. It'd be best to just head back to camp, safe in the moonlight, and tuck in for the evening.
A cool sensation washed over her as she stepped over the threshold of the grounds at the edge of the forest. Intrigued, she turned to prod at the castle wards, finding that they would indeed not allow her reentry. She retrieved her map of the forest from her bag so it could be updated, snickering at the memory of her earlier map pun.
She found her coordinates and marked the Hogwarts exit point at the appropriate square, B8. Heat flooded her face, Luna's tea reading coming to mind, 'the wolf can mean a lot of things… curiosity… aggression... predation…' And here she stood, bait. A strange shriek sounded from a short distance, a bit deeper in the wood. Through the trees, Hermione could see black shadows passing by, one after another, but the lighting wasn't sufficient to make out what it was.
Her heart was suddenly in her throat, beating so intensely that it was difficult to breathe. Hermione drew her wand, swiveling around in a semi-circle in search of a threat in the woods. She was doing it again… overthinking, overanalyzing. The war is over, the war is over. She repeated to herself over and over again, until her breathing was no longer constricted and her sense of danger diminished. When she had finally calmed, a shrill cry rang out once more. Instead of panicking, Hermione pushed through the trees toward the shadows; wand at the ready.
Magic thrummed through her veins as she broke through the tree line, prepared to face a foe as she had Snatchers and Death Eaters in the past. Scanning, assessing… Hermione let out a gasp, dropping her wand arm at the skeletal figures before her. Of course, this was something worth noting! How stupid had she been to have even considered that her friend would lead her to danger?
Gaunt snouts were aimed at the ground, curved bird-like beaks rusting in the grass. A few flapped their large wings as they stood at full height when they noticed Hermione in the shadow of the trees. Luna had led her directly to the Thestral Paddock. A good friend after all. Of course, she had always been a good friend to Hermione, who was not the best at appreciating those around her. It seemed Luna wasn't the only good friend she'd contact that night as one of the Beasts approached her jovially, throwing its head back with an affectionate screech.
Hermione patted the snout of the thestral that she recognized as having ridden it to London all those years ago. She fought off a chill at the memory of the Department of Mysteries, pushing it off to the back of her mind where she could deal with it later. "Hello, old friend," she spoke gently, with a smile, "do you remember me?"
The thestral bowed gracefully, perhaps a social custom learned from the Hippogriffs, which Hermione returned in kind.
"I'm here for work," she informed the thestral, "would you mind if I study your herd?"
Seeming to understand, thestrals were such intelligent creatures after all, the beast gave a shriek and a few wing flaps to the largest member of the herd, who shrilled back in reply. Shadows weaved from between the trees, heading into the shaded paddock. Mothers with their babies headed toward the middle as the male thestrals formed a protective ring around the most vulnerable.
Hermione dug out some glow feed, which illuminated the abdomens of the thestrals as she cataloged their attributes. It was amazing to be among their pack, given such liberties to inspect even the foals, as thestrals could be dangerous when handled incorrectly. By the time she had finished with the herd, she had gathered detailed information about 37 thestrals and was able to remove the Beasts from her list of species that needed to be accounted for.
She walked with the herd toward the stream she had crossed on the footbridge hours before, the glow of their abdomens washed away as they drank. Hermione noted that the water split here, one path heading north toward the mountain and the other going west, deeper into the wood toward the centaur territory. Between the two waterways, there was a cliff five meters high. Atop the cliff stood a massive oak tree, its limbs gnarled projections hanging well past the precipice. She marked the intersection on her map, coordinate B4, before returning to her camp in the safety of the Moon Gazer's Clearing.