Jean cannot be qualified as a heavy sleeper; usually all it took was Marcus rolling over and cracking the slats of the bed, or the dull roar of a car echoing down the street for her to wake up. There wasn't much she could do about it, and fortunately it wasn't a big problem, because going back to sleep was easy for her. The events of the last few weeks made her very grateful for this state of affairs. In fact, it was particularly easy for her to be woken up by her daughter's night-time panics and terrible nightmares and to get up to go and console the girl. She could see that Hermione felt guilty about waking her up like that, but she hoped that reassuring her over and over again and telling her that she would much rather be woken up in the middle of the night to help her than know that she was suffering in silence would help.
That night, it wasn't Hermione's screams, an early-morning driver or a thunderstorm that had woken her up an hour before her usual alarm time. For several minutes now, she had been hearing a persistent scratching at their bedroom window. At first, she thought it was simply a small rodent running through the walls, as was sometimes the case, but the scratching was too regular and continuous for that hypothesis to stand up. She glanced at the other side of the bed. Marcus was there, lying on his side, his breathing slow and peaceful; unlike her, her bear was a deep enough sleeper that even if the house collapsed, she doubted it would wake him.
The ruckus at the window was beginning to get to her, and if she hoped to get a bit more sleep, it had to stop. She was about to get up to go and see, when a click was heard and the window opened. Her heart was pounding, she was petrified, what on earth was going on? Suddenly, in the bluish half-light of the first light before dawn, a tall, dark figure entered, followed by a smaller one. Jean froze, unable to react, not knowing whether it was better to turn on the light and hope that the ... burglars? would flee. Or hope not to be seen. The horrible stories she'd heard on the radio or read in the local papers were racing through her mind. Burglars beating the occupants of a house to death, hostage-taking, and other sordid events she was desperately trying not to remember now.
"I'm certain we should have knocked on the door." whispered the small shape in a dreamy, feminine voice.
"The racket might have made us stand out," replied a voice so soft and melodious that Jean could hardly believe her ears. Something about the way the second person spoke reassured her strangely, just when she should be panicking. It was as if the air carried a sweet smell of wild flowers and earth after the rain, and she felt herself relax.
"Imagine if we scared Hermione's mum?" the other voice replied.
"It'll be alright, they're not dursleys. Dursleys could never have had Hermione as a daughter. Besides, it's better than risking being seen by muggles or naughty dursleys hiding behind windows." murmured the melodious voice.
"I still don't like the idea of going in without knocking."
What were those two women talking about? Girls? Muggles..., wasn't that how wizards talked about normal people? And what the hell was a Vernon? Her breathing had calmed, she knew she should be scared, that she should wake Marcus, but it was as if there was a veil of cotton around her heart that had smothered the panic. With a calm she never thought herself capable of, she switched on her bedside lamp, cutting short the strangely calm little argument between the two intruders.
Jean blinked several times. Was she dreaming? Two girls about ten years old were standing at the foot of the bed, not far from the open window. One was a petite blonde with fine features and grey-blue eyes too big for her face, her hair tied in an amateurish plait. She stared at her, blushing, her hands playing with the fabric of her long yellow and orange dress, clearly embarrassed.
The other, whose appearance left her stunned, didn't seem at all embarrassed by the situation. She looked like one of the mermaids from the Greek myths, she was dressed in a short tunic embroidered with arabesques and floral motifs and she was by far the most beautiful child Jean had ever seen (not counting Hermione, who would always be her perfect little girl). ) But what immediately caught her eye were the two large, raven-like wings folded behind the child's back, as well as the feathers covering her arms and legs, and the talons with their menacing claws where feet should have been. The bird child approached the bed as if nothing had happened, a big smile on her lips and stars in her eyes.
"Hello, I'm Myosotis Potter, and this is Luna Lovegood. We're friends of Hermione's, we've come to visit her."
Behind the bird-child, the little blonde looked at her with a contrite expression. Jean could read on her lips, "I'm so sorry."
Once the shock had worn off, the two intruders turned out to be two harmless kids, or so she assumed, one being half-bird. Helped by the strange feeling of calm that always inhabited her, the outrage won out, and she rose from the bed, towering over the two of them. "You owe me some explanations, young ladies." She said in the tone she reserved for Hermione on the very rare occasions when she would do something particularly bad. Her dark gaze must not have lost any of its effectiveness, because she saw Myosotis swallow, her eyes wide, and Luna hide behind her. Maybe she was going a bit too far, but if these two young girls thought it was acceptable to break into people's bedrooms in the middle of the night, it was high time they got some discipline.
oOOOo
It wasn't a bad night... Not one of the best, as those only come with a good dose of Dreamless sleep, but not one of those where she woke up writhing in imaginary pain, the smell of the beast and the sound of water pipes bursting under pressure invading her senses after one of her nightmares. It was one of those where she couldn't sleep, unable to take the potion without risking an overdose and unable to close her eyes because of the terror that the very idea of having another nightmare awakened in her.
For hours now, she had been leaning against the headboard of her bed, trying as best she could to occupy her mind and divert her thoughts from the dark clouds that the night had cast over her with the help of a book. The thick book entitled " Spices, infusions and decoctions, magic in the kitchen " by André de Ménil, lay on her lap. A few days earlier, she had received it from the Tonks as a get-well present. She had been sceptical at first, but a book being a book, she had quickly started it. She didn't consider herself a good cook, but the idea of simply making all sorts of enchanted cakes and infusions appealed to her more and more with each page... Maybe her mum would see one of the good sides of magic this way.
She had been trying for a while to concentrate on a ginger cookie recipe described as being very effective against sore throats, but noises and voices coming from upstairs were disturbing her. Were Mum and Dad arguing? It didn't sound like them. Maybe tiredness was playing tricks on her and making her hear things... Her parents were coming down the stairs, and she could now hear voices in the kitchen, indistinctly, the walls of her bedroom blocking out most of the sound. She put down her book and looked out of the window, the first light of dawn had just emerged. Even on working days, her mother didn't get up this early. Curious, and unable to concentrate on the book, she got up slowly, slipping her feet into her bunny slippers. She stood up slowly, leaning against the wall, and winced. Her legs were so weak, it was pathetic, and she settled into her wheelchair, giving up trying to walk to the kitchen.
The moment she pushed open the door, the voice became clearer, her mother was scolding someone in the same tone she had used when Hermione had forgotten the bread knife in the oven, the plastic handle of which had melted, stinking up the house for days and setting off the smoke detectors. As she drove down the corridor, her mother's voice became clearer. Had Dad done something? She'd never heard Mum shout at him like that. Something about the time of day, about entering people's homes, about disrespect, about fear, about the police... she found it hard to follow.
When she reached the doorway, her eyes widened, Myosotis Potter was standing in the corner of the room, her feathers puffed out, her wings half spread, her eyebrows furrowed, either her eyes were playing tricks on her, or small discreet blue flames were dancing between her feathers. Behind her, Luna had her hands over her ears, cowering, tears streaming down her cheeks in obvious terror. Opposite her two friends, her mother was doing her best dragon imitation, and in the corner of the room, Dad was leaning against the bench next to the sink, watching Myo and Luna with caution, fear and pity.
"I can't believe you were brought up like that! Breaking into people's homes is a crime, you..." her mother shouted at a battle-ready Myo and a terrified Luna.
"Mum?" Hermione interrupted.
Her mother whirled around, flames in her eyes, but as soon as her gaze landed on her, she softened. "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you..."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you all along, now, Hermione's awake, and there's no need to get all worked up over kids like that." Her father said, shaking his head.
"It's all right, Mum, I was reading because I couldn't sleep." During this brief exchange, Myo and Luna had discreetly moved closer to her, Myo trying to shield Luna from the perceived threat with her body.
Hermione rose with difficulty to stand between her friends and her mother, frowning. "What happened?"
Just as Mum was about to open her mouth, Dad spoke up. "Maybe it's time to let the two criminals explain themselves, Jean."
With her arrival, Myo's plumage had deflated a little. "We were just coming to visit you, but as the dursleys and the muggles mustn't see me, we decided to travel by night. We landed on the roof and came in through a window. When I realised that it was your parents' room and that your mother was awake, I introduced myself, but she started shouting at us. You know the rest." She said as she hugged Luna to her chest, wrapping her between her wings and glowering at her mother.
Hermione let out a deep sigh, of course Myosotis would do things like that, her angel being completely ignorant of social conventions... like not entering people's homes through the window in the middle of the night.
There followed a long discussion between her mother and Myo, the former trying to make the latter understand why breaking into people's homes was not acceptable behaviour and the latter unable to see the logic of the matter, much to her father's amusement. As for Luna, she had gradually calmed down and was now chatting in a low voice with her, expressing how happy she was to see her in one piece. It was a good half hour later that everyone found themselves at the table, sitting down to breakfast, a desperate Jean, a deeply confused Myo, an amused Marcus and Hermione supporting Luna's head against her shoulder, the latter exhausted by the shock of being told off by a furious Jean Granger.
"How are you feeling? Myo was really worried, you know?" Luna said, staring at her with her two big eyes.
"Much better, according to the healer my legs will take a while to recover but it's getting better, I can even walk a bit." She said with a tight smile.
"Um..." Luna knelt on her chair beside her so that her head was at the right height before resting her forehead against hers for several seconds, her skin soft and cool, but the sudden closeness more than unnerving. Hermione was speechless, what... before she could even protest, Luna had already sat back down normally, nodding her head in agreement. She liked the little blonde, there was no doubt about that, but sometimes she found it hard to keep up, what had she just done?
"Luna? What the..."
"We missed you, you know? Without Eldur..."
Desperate not to talk about that, Hermione said. "By the way, where is Eldur?"
Luna gave her a playful smile before jumping to the floor and whispering something to Myo, momentarily interrupting her conversation with Marcus, her father obviously very interested in the existence of bird people. Myo reached into her scarf to pull out something she couldn't see and placed it in the palm of Luna's hands, who came skipping back to her. "Behold, Eldur the great!" She said theatrically, holding out her open hands towards her. Nestled in them was a little red and gold chick with shimmering down, just waking up from a nap.
"What's happened to him? Is he tiny?" She said, trying to restrain herself from stroking the chick's little head.
"Crying and becoming a flame exhausted him, he burned to rise from the ashes and will be big again in a few years. He's a lot less imposing, but a lot cuter." Luna said seriously.
"Can I hold him?"
Luna leaned over Eldur, as if to whisper something to him, then reached out her hands and laid the phoenix on her lap. His down was so soft... Suddenly, something very important came back to her mind. She, who already found it difficult to think clearly after a sleepless night, groaned; she had completely forgotten to explain to Mummy and Daddy. "Mum?" She said, attracting the attention of Jean and Myo, bringing the former out of her thoughts and the latter out of her discussion with Marcus. "As I didn't make the introductions, I couldn't tell you. Myosotis, it was she and her familiar Eldur who saved me from the troll."
Jean turned as white as wax, and Hermione winced, her mother had after all just scolded her daughter's saviour with all the fury of an outraged Jean after all. It was Marcus who reacted first, kneeling down chivalrously in front of a visibly surprised Myo.
"Myosotis Potter, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving my daughter. I'll owe you for the rest of my life." When Myo turned peony red, Hermione couldn't help but giggle before taking Eldur in her hands. "Dad, you have another hero to thank." The little Phoenix swelled with pride, tiny golden flames surrounding him for a brief moment.
For a good ten minutes, Hermione saw Myo risk spontaneous combustion at her parents' gratitude, thanking her and Eldur, even if her mother seemed rather wary and suspicious of Myosotis, the latter didn't seem to give a damn, given that she had joined Luna and asked all sorts of questions about her health and what the doctors had said before hugging her tightly between her wings, stopping only when Eldur let out a little chirp, feeling visibly crushed.
Hermione could see Myo's frown quite clearly as she spoke of her recurring nightmares, her therapies and panics. It was rather strange how easily she could see herself opening up about this to Myo... As she had been convinced that she would be incapable of talking about it so freely to her friends. But with her angel against her, Luna on her left, and the adorable little ball of feathers that the great and powerful phoenix had become, she felt lighter, calmer, she who had thought she wouldn't see them again for months and gradually be forgotten was for the first time really happy since that Halloween evening. (She would have to do some research on these birds, what had happened to Myo's familiar was fascinating. )
"Hermione's mum?" Myosotis asked suddenly.
Mum interrupted her whispered discussion with Dad to stare at her friend. "Yes?" she asked.
"We got a letter from Hermione recently."
Hermione slowly began to panic, what had she said in her last letter, what was it? Why was Myo talking to her mum about it?
"You're not going to let her go back to magic school?"
"Hermione? Did you tell them that?"
"No... I..."
"Why not let her continue her normal magical education?" Myo crossed her arms and frowned, her feathers puffing up a little. Hermione couldn't help but notice that she had partially stepped between her and Mum.
Mum let out a long sigh. "I know Hermione's your friend and you'd like to keep seeing her at Hogwarts, but it's not possible. That school is too dangerous, not only did a troll get in, but Hermione doesn't need to be exposed to anti-Muggle discrimination, the British magical world is not a desirable place for my daughter."
"Is it really that awful for muggleborns?" Myo asked aghast.
Hermione nodded, "They wouldn't even let Mum and Dad into Platform 9^3/4." Myo looked thoughtful for a moment, before pulling a thick leather-bound book with a pale blue cover out of a pocket in her tunic.
"This is the Beaubâton pamphlet. I remember reading that they have a special programme for disabled pupils and special integration courses for muggleborns."
"Beaubâton? Is that a French school?"
"Yes."
"Listen Myosotis, one of the reasons we don't want Hermione to go back to a magical school is their boarding policy. After... the incident, not seeing Hermione for several months is not possible." Mum assured firmly. Hermione closed her eyes, Myosotis was fighting a losing battle...
"Madame Jean." Luna said, entering the conversation with a small voice. "Beaubâton may have a boarding school, but it also has a day school... otherwise, Mum wouldn't let me go there with Myo next year, she and Dad don't want me to go to boarding school either."
"But... It's a school in France, what about the language barrier?"
"It's all written in the pamphlet, they give French lessons and have runic translation stones that they lend to the pupils until they get good French and help them learn." Luna continued with a big dreamy smile before winking at her.
Hermione blinked... she hadn't expected Luna to be so... informed. She usually stayed in Myo's shadow, especially in stressful situations. Or Myo is just over-protective... which makes an extraordinary amount of sense now that she thought about it.
Mum sank back against the back of her chair as Dad took the large pamphlet from Myo's hands, frowning before leafing through it. "We'll think about it," he said after a moment. "Won't we, darling?" Mum nodded, looking particularly exhausted. Myo smiled victoriously and hugged her tighter. Hermione was flabbergasted, had Myo really managed to get her parents to consider letting her continue her studies in magic? After breaking into her house? She looked down at Eldur cooing softly in her lap... a smile forming on her lip, a flame rekindling in her heart.
oOOOo
Hermione was sitting on a cushion on the floor, a wilted cornflower in a pot in front of her, tirelessly rereading the few paragraphs that were important for what she was going to do with her parents. Mum and Dad, after a long half hour trying to convince them to try it, had finally agreed to give it a go.
Three days earlier, after a very chaotic day, Myo had left at night, taking Luna with her. The look on Mum's face when she saw Myo take off with a few powerful wing strokes, her tail balancing her, Luna in her arms, in a faint aura of blue flame, was memorable. It was her best day since coming home, Mum had been wary, but Dad had accepted Myo straight away, and the day had been spent playing board games that Luna, somehow, kept winning. To the point where Dad had to impose handicaps on Luna so that they at least stood a chance. How was it possible for the little blonde to be so good at Settlers of Catan AND Monopoly when she was just learning the rules of the game? Anyway... Myo and Luna's visit had given her hope, and she could see the indecision in her parents' eyes every minute. Dad spent his time with the Beauxbâtons pamphlet in his hands, either concentrating or staring into space. As for Mum, she was gripped by a strange sort of active fever, between reading the pamphlet herself, doing a myriad of things around the house, and chatting quietly with Dad. Myo had planted the seeds of doubt in their minds... perhaps letting them experience the wonders of magic might tip the balance.
It was with this idea in mind that she had spent her last few sleepless nights studying the book she had picked up in the bookshop about the little magic tricks that even a muggle can do. This had the added advantage of providing a good distraction and giving her a precise short-term goal. She'd noticed that her panic attacks were less frequent since she'd started, so having a clear and precise goal must be helping. Today, she finally felt ready to guide her parents through the instructions in the dusty old book.
"Mum, I'm not just going to show you, you're going to do magic, real magic." She said excitedly as she put the book down beside her and picked up the chalk she had prepared.
"Darling... I remember Professor Mcgonagal saying that it was impossible for muggles to do magic, so how could we?" said Mum, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment.
"The magic Professor Mcgonagal is talking about is wand magic, well... all the magic that requires the wizard's own magical power, like most potions, spells, transfigurations and so on. But here, the aim is to give form to the ambient magic present in the room through a ritual. There's no interaction between us and the magic we're going to do, rather the process of the ritual will give shape to the magic and cause the magic to happen."
"So... muggles can do magic? What's all this about separating them from the wizards then?" asked Dad.
"Well... rituals and potions that only use ambient magic without the help of the wizard's own magic are very limited in terms of power, so there's not much you can do... unless you're in a place that's particularly rich in magic, like the ley lines crossroads... but then again, from what I've read, you need the presence of a wizard to draw energy from them, and even then it's still quite limited, I read that there are methods to do more, but not the how." she explained passionately.
Her parents blinked, confused, "Ley lines?" Dad said.
"Sorry ... Did you get the gist of it?"
"Yes darling, I think we got the idea, no magic big enough to be accepted among the wizards can be done with these kinds of methods." smiled Mum.
"Basically," she blushed. She held the book out to her parents and opened it for them, who looked at it curiously. "You have to start by drawing the circle and the geometric shapes around the pot accurately, and then place the different symbols," she said, handing them some chalk.
"Are you sure we can do this? Isn't it dangerous?" Dad asked for the third time.
"Not at all! The book says that even if we don't succeed, nothing serious can happen, as the surrounding magic isn't dense enough to create any dangerous backlash."
"In that case, let's go." Mum said, her eyes squinting and a gleam of excitement in her eyes.
The three of them began to draw with concentration and precision around the cornflower pot, all the while discussing things, Dad being very curious about the workings of the magic they were about to do. To her frustration, Hermione found herself unable to answer many of them, the book calling upon various concepts she had not studied. Hermione's frustration must have been visible because Mummy spent a good while laughing under her breath at her. Finally, after several rewrites and minor screw-ups (Hermione was happy to have planned for a sponge and a bucket of water), the circle, the pentacles and the various inscriptions and symbols inscribed on them were finally finished. It was actually rather pretty, a very harmonious geometric construction in which the various symbols created arabesques that broke the monotony of the design. Hermione was very proud. "Now we need to put a candle at each end of the pentacle, and surround each one with a circle of salt."
"What does the salt do?" Dad asked curiously.
"Hmmm..." Hermione grabbed the book. "The salt is supposed to help stabilise the magic around the flame to... you're teasing me aren't you?"
Dad chuckled guiltily and Hermione pouted… "Now you have to light the candles starting with the one in the north, then east, then south and finally west before reciting what is written in italics at the bottom of the page. Do you... want to do it Mum?" Hermione finished shyly, holding the book out to her mother as she pointed to the incantation.
"It's in English!" she exclaimed in surprise.
"Do you think it's weird?"
"I was expecting some sort of gibberish that sounded more or less Latin?
"I asked Professor Flitwick about it, and he told me that for certain spells, where the caster's intention is important, English is often used in recent editions... "
"That makes sense." Dad added, nodding as Mum nodded before concentrating on the text, eyebrows furrowed.
"I think I'm ready." She said finally.
"Dad? Can you carry me to my wheelchair? We need to move away to avoid any interference with the ritual." Once settled in her chair, her father at her side, a good three metres away, Mum began to read the incantation.
"Holly fruit, surround the earth, spring from a stream carried by the wind. Awaken the mists, sing of life and time, hear the call of lands..." For the first few seconds, nothing happened, but Mum continued.
"... after the shower, the light, you who sleep deep, bring us your blessing entwined..." Mum's eyes widened as the candle flames grew brighter and brighter, casting whimsical shadows on the walls of the room. Green vines grew on the chalk lines on the floor, surrounding the pot of golden-green leaves.
"... By the life of the earth, after the last shower, spring wind, lay between our hands. " Mum finished, her voice strangely deeper and more powerful, her hair lifted by an invisible wind blowing through the room despite its closed windows, the powerful flames of the candles consuming them in an instant, the body of the candle melting into drops of abundant wax mingling with the circles of salt. The last flame was extinguished as Mum spoke her last word, the vines covering the ground turning to ash. In the centre of the circle, the pot now held a cornflower with many blossoms and green foliage, more beautiful than it had ever been.
The book fell from Mum's hands, thudding as it hit the floor. "Did I... did I really do that?"
"I'm afraid so, darling," Dad said gravely.
"Congratulations Mum! You're a witch." Hermione happily laughed.
Mum stared longingly at the cornflower pot, a strange gleam in her eyes, fascination, fleeting thoughts... Hermione felt a warmth in her chest, perhaps with this, Mum and Dad would understand better what magic meant to her.
oOOOo
In the hollow of the valley, well below the steep cliffs of the perch between which the other veela fluttered, resting on one of the thick branches of an ancient oak, its trunk twisted and its leaves yellowing as winter approached, Myo took a moment's respite. The muffled rumble of the nearby torrent flowing between the large mossy rocks of the valley, the song of the birds hidden in the foliage, the beauty of the ground studded with countless spots of light as the sun filtered through the leaves... all this soothed her.
In short, Myo felt overwhelmed. Two weeks ago, Luna and Pandora had gone back to Great Britain. Even though she already missed Luna terribly, she wouldn't have to isolate herself if it was only that. After the Lovegoods had left, the flock had become increasingly impatient with her. Isabelle, Fleur and Apolline had tried to protect her from the rest of the flock so that she wouldn't be overwhelmed, but when the house was regularly besieged by the curious or those who didn't understand why she preferred to remain hidden, or at least in small groups, Apolline had to give in. Neither Isabelle, Fleur nor herself were happy about it, but the behaviour of the members of the flock was becoming increasingly erratic. So much so that three days after the Lovegoods had left, Myo was officially presented to the whole flock at a big banquet... well, what she called a big banquet, since according to Fleur, at the perch, this kind of big dinner bringing together absolutely ALL the flock was commonplace.
It hadn't been an easy evening for her. The auras of hundreds of veela interacting with hers had thrown her into an almost catatonic state for several minutes. An unspeakable chaos had ensued, and during the evening she had found herself, somehow, with two of the big, fluffy, weird birds that some veela sometimes transform into, on her lap... It hadn't been unpleasant, the food was good, Fleur and Apolline had done their best to protect her from the curiosity and impatience of some, but in the middle of the meal, Myo had run away, flying off without warning to disappear into the night sky. The flood of feelings, emotions and sensations reverberating in the intertwined auras of the hundreds of veela present had been too much for her. Completely overwhelmed, she took refuge with the oguls to sleep it off.
In the days that followed, Myo realised just how much the flock's veela were trying to control themselves around her before the party, trying to give her space, fighting against their instincts, as Fleur had explained to her when she returned home exhausted. After the "banquet", all the restraint of the flock's veela towards her had been broken, and Myo had discovered the reality of what the perch was. A feathery chaos of veelas flying back and forth between the cliffs, flying in and out of each other's homes, idle as they went about their business. In the midst of all this, Myo had found herself over-solicited. All the hundreds of veela in the flock seemed to want to get to know her personally, and not a single night had gone by since the banquet that she hadn't been invited to spend the night at one or other of them. The worst (the best) night was the last one, when she found herself sleeping in a pile of a dozen or so veelas whose names she couldn't remember after spending the evening playing an aerial ball game with unclear rules consisting mainly of throwing a ball of fabric at each other and catching it in the most acrobatic figures possible. (At least, that's what she understood.)
Even in the large library on the perch, it was impossible for her to be alone, her reading moments invariably ending on the small legion of footstools in the centre of the library, either beside or on the laps of other veela who had come to consult the books. What she had noticed about the closeness of the veela to each other when she only knew Fleur and Isabelle was nothing of the sort. It even made her feel a little bad at the idea that Fleur and Isabelle had contained themselves so much simply for her comfort since they met, for which she was grateful, she would not have reacted well at all had she been treated as she was today when she first met Isabelle. Her few sanctuaries were the seamstresses' hall, where she spent a lot of time with Adèle learning embroidery, under her supervision; it was a very calm and restful place compared to the rest. Her room at Apolline's was also a refuge, but it meant exposing herself to Gaby's infinite energy.
Myo was torn, on the one hand, being close to the other veela was something she craved terribly, feeling her aura and flames sing, her spirit soothed, when in the company of her fellow veela. But on the other hand, all this agitation, these new people, this constant buzz of thoughts, feelings and emotions was overwhelming her, so much so that she sometimes found it hard to breathe. She came to both look forward with joy, and dread terribly mixing with others. These paradoxical feelings made her want to scream. She felt like going back to flying between the cliffs, maybe playing a game of ball she couldn't remember the name of, maybe reading in the library, just drawing someone, or trying her hand at a landscape, or going off with Gaby in search of insects to capture and add to her collection... But with this feeling of anticipation and joy at feeling her aura mingling with all the others, becoming part of a greater whole once again, came the fear of being crushed, worn down like a pebble by the waves of hundreds of auras that chip away at her until she fades away... So there she remained, alone, perched on her branch, her talons digging into the rough bark of the old oak, listening to the rumbling of the torrent below.
The warm little form of Eldur asleep in her scarf was soothing, the baby phoenix spending most of its time sleeping, slowly regaining its strength after the immeasurable effort of producing enough tears of life to save Hermione, payment for the ritual that had given her back her legs and carried them over a thousand miles. Her throat tightened and a smile played across her lips as her fingers rested on the small head of her familiar, a pang of affection squeezing her heart. Even if she proved unable to acclimatise and integrate into the flock, Eldur would always be there with her.
She stiffened, sensing concern and haste that were not her own. Before she could react, someone landed on the branch beside her, and two arms went around her and squeezed her, worry turning to relief and affection.
"Fleur?" Myo asked, trying to see her face through the mass of white feathers.
"I've been looking everywhere for you, I've been so worried, you looked so gloomy this morning, I thought something bad had happened to you.
Myo relaxed, it was just Fleur, there was no need to... "Fleur, I feel bad."
"What's wrong? Are you ill?"
"No, I don't think so... I..." She lowered her head, hesitating to say more, not wanting to offend Fleur, or say anything that might be misconstrued against the Delacours.
"You can tell me anything, Myosotis". Fleur said, looking her straight in the eye, her warm, soft and comforting aura mingling with her own.
"I'm in over my head... I can't face all the flock like I have the last few days. I'd like to, I'd love to, to be able to do what Isabelle, Apolline and you do... even what Gaby does, but I just can't do it. After a while I just want to run away."
Fleur held her close, pensive, her gaze lost in the golden autumn foliage. After a moment's silence, she said, "You've got the right to run away, everyone here knows that you've grown up alone, and no one's going to blame you for feeling overwhelmed, oppressed by auras, people..."
"You won't mind if I leave?" she asked in a trembling voice.
"I'll miss you, everyone will miss you, and Gaby will make a scene, but know that we want what's best for you. It basically never happens that a veela grows up isolated, so we're just fumbling our way through. Isabelle Apolline and I agree, you have to do what you think is best for you, OK?" she said, giving her a smile.
Myo clutched Fleur's tunic, burying her face in her chest. It had been a long time since she had cried, so she realised that the first tear had fallen and she was shaken by a sob. She nodded her head against Fleur's chest as Fleur stroked her between the wings to soothe her. Fleur was right, maybe Myo did need a break... a holiday, some peace and quiet... She cried like that for a long time, out of relief, sadness and incomprehension. When she finally began to calm down, Fleur spoke. "If you're leaving, you'd better send some letters, otherwise I'll turn up wherever you are and pull your ears. And considering how much the flock likes you, I wouldn't be alone." At this point, Myo wasn't sure whether she was laughing or crying, probably both.
oOOOo
The weavers' hall was empty this morning, apart from Adèle who was embroidering a blue cloth with gold thread. Myo had no idea why, perhaps because it was simply too early... in any case, it suited her, as she wanted to spend some quiet time with Adèle. She hovered gently and landed between the weaving machines.
"Hello, Myosotis, I'm going to end up believing that you've grown fond of this old lady if you keep coming back every day". Adèle said without looking up from her work.
"I like you, I like what you do, and you're not that old," replied Myo, sitting down next to her.
"Don't tease me, kid, I'm old enough to be a dean. I appreciate that, but not telling the truth doesn't make it any less real." Adèle said with a laugh.
Myo pouted and decided not to continue on the subject. "I was wondering, can we continue with the scarf?" she said excitedly. It was their joint project with Adèle. Myosotis was taking care of the decorative embroidery, and the old veela was embroidering the runes. The aim was to create the most comfortable scarf possible that would protect Eldur from the rain, cold and wind during the high-altitude flights she often undertook.
"Of course. It pleases me to see a young girl so interested in learning the art of Veelan embroidery." Adèle said as she pulled the long ribbon of green fabric with blue and silver floral motifs out of a wooden box.
"You're an excellent teacher," replied Myo with a mischievous, happy smile.
"You're going to make me blush..." Adele giggled.
A good twenty minutes later, while she was embroidering the petals of a lily and Adèle was completing a complicated network of runes, Myo asked. "Have you got a mate? I've never seen you with anyone who could be."
Adele seemed caught off guard, remaining silent for a moment before a bitter smile spread across her face. "If Alicia were still alive, I'd have introduced you to her a long time ago.
Myo's throat tightened and she looked down. "I'm sorry..." She wasn't sure what to say, or whether silence would have been preferable. After all, she'd never been in this kind of situation before.
"You don't have to be, she didn't fly away forever because of you."
Myo nodded. "What was she like?" she asked after a moment's silence during which Adèle continued to embroider imperturbably.
"Incredibly sweet and kind, brilliant, brave beyond measure, a real hothead, her sense of justice got her killed," said Adèle simply, putting down her needles, her gaze lost in the distance, staring at something beyond the snow-capped peaks visible through the large openings in the cliff.
"What happened to her?" Myo asked, her heart clenching, but her curiosity too strong. As Adèle took a moment to answer, she was about to withdraw her question, to say that Adèle didn't need to talk about it if she didn't want to, but Adèle spoke again before she could.
"During what the British call the Great Purges, Alicia went to Great Britain to fight and help evacuate as many veela as possible to the continent and Ireland. Like so many others, she lost her life in 1946 during the Dunwich slaughter. The village was an important evacuation point and a refuge for injured and surviving veela. Several Flocks had gathered to defend the site and help with the evacuation. The three biggest flocks in the south of England and many other minor flocks had gathered. Alicia was there with the Delacours delegation on a task. The place was so well defended that it was by no means a high-risk mission."
Adèle let out a long, jerky, painful sigh. Acting more by instinct than anything else, sensing the pain and sorrow in the old veela's aura, Myosotis pressed herself against her, wrapping one of her wings around her and her soft blue flames, the latter burning to soothe and warm Adèle. As if gaining strength from the contact and the flames, Adèle resumed. "Nothing was supposed to happen, but the traitorress, may her name rot forever with the worms, sold us to the humans. Because of her, the wizards found the loophole, exploited our weakness and slaughtered adults, wounded and children... Of the hundreds of us present on that cursed day, only a handful survived to tell the tale. Alicia was not one of them."
Her heart was tight, her throat knotted, tears threatening to fall, she had heard about the purges, knew conceptually that the veela had been forced to leave the British Isles, she had read about the heroism of Sorcha Cleite luaithre in her epic defence of Cleite luaithre castle and her sacrifice. The ruined tower she had made her own was the ancient keep from which Sorcha's sacrificial wards had saved her flock. But she hadn't read the other chapters and passages, not feeling particularly curious about the horrors of the purges beyond Sorcha. And now the horror was staring her in the face, in all its hideousness. A burning rage arose in her heart, how could such a thing have happened? Why should it? Out of what justice? "We are strong, I will become strong, I can already burn a troll with my flames and my talons, how could something like this happen?" she asked, her voice trembling with barely contained vengeful rage.
"Our greatest strength is also our greatest weakness. You've noticed, I know you feel them all the time, our auras intertwine, we communicate far more than a human could ever say, our feelings, our emotions, we're constantly exchanging them. You're still young and you've grown up alone, but I know that in a few years' time, you'll be able to communicate with our sisters with your aura alone as we all can do. When the time comes to defend the flock and its lands, to protect our little ones, our auras make us almost invincible. When our sisters were fighting alongside Grindelwald to give us back our right to the sky, no other troop could match their strength and coordination. At such moments, we become one single being."
Myo hung on Adele's lips, drinking in her words, gradually realising. "But then, how? How could the purges have taken place?"
"Myosotis, at the time of the purges, Great Britain had a hundred wizards for every veela, their population is way bigger than ours, even more so because of the status war, and the attacks generally took place by surprise, and several grand-sorcerers joined in the purges. Evacuating the islands was the only solution. We couldn't afford to start another war, not after so many of our sisters had perished in Grindelwald's war. But in the case of Dunwhich, it's true that defeat should have been impossible. Our aura, our greatest strength, is also our greatest weakness. Myosotis, in your opinion, how many violent crimes, murders or assaults have there been between two veela in the last ten years?"
She widened her eyes, surprised by this sudden question and tried to think about it, she had never heard of the thing, read anything about it, nothing came to mind. "I don't know..." she said piteously.
"It's normal that you don't know, because I can tell you with absolute certainty that nothing like this has happened in the whole of Europe for well over ten years. We are completely incapable of physically harming our sisters. Oh, we fight, we insult each other, we quarrel, we have profound disagreements with each other, of course, but you'll never see a veela slap another."
"Why? How?"
"Our aura Myosotis, whether we like it or not, we share everything with our sisters, including pain. Worse still, the pain of a veela reverberates in her aura and that of her sisters, making the slightest physical violence between us immediately unbearable. That's one of the reasons why our people are masters of potions and spells to anaesthetise and reduce pain. Otherwise, the work of the healer would be unbearable for us. Do you understand?"
Myosotis nodded. A suspicion was forming in her mind, more and more clearly.
"Before the Dunwhich slaughter, the traitor sold them the secret. For centuries, no human knew the extent and significance of our aura, until a few weeks before that cursed day. They captured dozens of our sisters all over Britain, ripping off their wings, rendering them helpless, then took them to Dunwhich and tortured them in the most despicable of ways. Noémie told me that the pain reverberating in our sisters' auras was so excruciating that they all collapsed to the ground, writhing, screaming and trying to take their own lives. The wizards then breached the defenses and slaughtered our sisters mercilessly."
Adèle's voice broke at her last words, and she hugged her tightly. Myosotis trembled with rage and sadness. "What happened to them? The wizards who took part in the slaughter and the traitor?" Myosotis finally managed to ask, her flames burning brighter, her feathers slowly dissolving in a vengeful fire. Feathers had grown on Adèle's face, her features becoming more angular, a fire of red flame burning in her eyes. "The traitor was captured and dragged to Hymgaabal where she was tried and sentenced to the seks fordømmelser. The sorcerers who took part in the massacre and all those who knew of the secret were declared dead by the high council of Hymgaabal and assassinated."
Myo nodded, her all-consuming rage somewhat calmed by what Adele had just told her, her flames disappearing into her plumage. "The seks fordømmelser?" She asked.
"You're far too young for me to talk to you about something like that, little Myosotis, you just need to know that it's the worst possible punishment. Promise me you won't try to find out any more on your own."
She nodded again.
"I want to hear your answer, little one.
"I promise."
"Good. And if we're going to continue with the scarf, this kind of subject isn't something to dwell on."
"Hm!" Myo acquiesed, she hadn't liked the taste of her flames at all when anger had been the source of them... and then it wasn't as if she could do much about it. Besides, the scarf was almost finished, and Eldur was getting impatient.
oOOOo
The moon and stars shone down on the great rocky plateau. In the centre of it burned a great bonfire, its flames rising high into the sky, producing sprays of glowing sparks. Three large, transformed veela flew through the billowing smoke, playing with the embers and ash, their tall, dark forms standing out against the night sky. Others danced and sang around the fire. The whole flock was gathered for the third banquet this week... well, Myo was beginning to think of these moments more as dinners than banquets, since they seemed quite ordinary and it was only for her sake that she had been spared from them when she arrived.
At the beginning of the evening, as always, the intensity of the intermingled auras, of all those feelings of joy resonating and responding to each other, had intoxicated her. She had even surprised herself by dancing with Fleur and singing one of the songs she had learnt in Professor Flitwick's choir to an audience of around fifty enthusiastic spectators... but quickly, much more quickly than last time, she had found herself overwhelmed, mentally exhausted by the hundreds of auras vibrating in the air. So much so that she now found herself sitting cross-legged away from the crowd of veelas. Some gave her curious or worried looks, but had the decency to leave her alone.
She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against Fleur's chest, concentrating on the feel of her friend's hand in her hair, trying to use Fleur's aura as a shield against the other veela's.
"You're overwhelmed." Fleur said, with deep compassion in her voice.
Myo nodded without opening her eyes. To feel connected to the whole flock in such a profound way, especially after the ritual of the doyennes, was an exhilarating experience. Something she had missed all her life, to feel so intrinsically part of the flock was ... However, for her who had grown up isolated, in a shed with a family of monsters, then alone in her tower, it was quickly becoming too much for her to bear for long. "I feel guilty." She admitted to Fleur in a low voice.
"What do you mean?" asked Fleur with a strange start.
"I'm so grateful, to Isabelle for taking care of me, to you for being such a good friend, to Apolline for welcoming me with open arms into the flock, to everyone here for their kindness but I just... I can't do it. It's fine at first, but soon it just becomes too much."
"Myo, everyone here sees having you with us as an amazing blessing. We want you to feel comfortable with us. You don't owe us, Myo."
A new wave of excitement passed through the auras Myo could feel despite the distance. "I can't... I can't any more... I..." she gritted her teeth.
Fleur stood up abruptly and pulled her by the hand, "Come on, let's go."
Myo followed Fleur, her legs numb, she had the strange impression that everything around her was distant as if her head were in cotton wool. She felt herself being lifted up by her waist, then the fresh night air ran through her hair and hit her face in a gust. The sensation of hundreds of intertwined auras diminished as she felt herself slipping away. The warmth of Fleur's chest at her back, her arms securely around her and her aura like a great calm lake soothed her.
Soon, she felt herself being deposited on the ground, on a thick carpet, her mind clear again, far from the chaos. She breathed a sigh of relief, her breathing freer, as if she were free of something that had crushed her chest and she only realised it once she was free. She spread her wings, stretched her legs and stroked Eldur's little head sticking out of his scarf.
Fleur was watching her, concern in her eyes as she lit a candle inside her room. "You look better."
"I don't know what happened... it was worse than last time."
"I've spoken to Isabelle, she's gone to Hymgaabal to do some research and will be back in a few days. Then we'll know what's wrong."
"Fleur... I think I'll be going," she said after a moment's silence absorbing her friend's words.
"You..." Fleur sighed and gave her a strained smile. "I see, Isabelle will be coming to see you at the Lovegoods or the Tonks in the next few days. Take good care of yourself, Myosotis, and remember, you'll always be welcome here, or in any flock really. we will all miss you."
"Sorry... I..." she began, but was interrupted by a vigorous hug.
"Don't apologise, frankly, we were expecting your inclusion in a flock to not go smoothly. You'd better send us regular letters, okay? I'll explain everything to Mum. Gaby won't be happy but she'll understand."
"Thank you... I promise, and I'll visit you when it's... better."
"I'm counting on it." Fleur said as she began to help her gather her most important belongings and stuff them into her flight bag.
Before long, Myo was standing at the edge of the opening overlooking the vertiginous void of the nocturnal abyss of the cliffs of the perch at one of the window-entrances to her bedroom. She glanced back, her gaze meeting that of her friend. "I'm off, see you soon Fleur, say goodbye to everyone for me."
"Go." Fleur said simply.
She leapt into the void, her large wings pressing into the night air, her flames budding between her feathers to protect her from the cold of the late autumn night. With a few powerful wingbeats, she soared towards the stars, faster and faster, higher and higher, leaving the mountains and the territory of the Delacour flock far behind her. Once above the scattered clouds, clutching her bag to her chest, she set off towards the north-west. She already missed being close to her sisters, as Adèle used to say, but she knew deep down that she needed to return to her tower, to take a few weeks of solitude, away from those delectably overwhelming auras. The moon was bright, the stars countless, and alone in the immensity of the night sky so far above the earth that affairs on the ground seemed insignificant to her, Myo had the feeling of regaining the breath she had missed so much.
oOOOo
He stood upright on the banks of the black lake, his gaze lost in the dark depths of the forbidden forest. Today, he hadn't bothered to put on his usual glamor. Being underestimated or seen as a grandfather would be of no use to what he intended to do today. It had been years since he had donned his dragon leather breastplate and properly equipped himself underneath his most sober grey cloak. If anyone were to see him like this, he was sure they would be unable to recognise the old Dumbledore.
To his right stood Hagrid, the half-giant also observing the woods with his eyebrows furrowed, his gigantic crossbow, a weapon that some might even call a ballista, resting on one of his broad shoulders. He too was prepared, clad in a garb he hadn't had to put on since the end of Tom's terror. Plates of weathered metal, thick leather and iron mesh were sewn onto a tunic that must have weighed at least thirty kilos. He held Fang firmly in his hand by his nailed collar, the huge hound watching the woods with apprehension, whimpering from time to time. Looking at his loyal friend, Albus couldn't help but think of the semi-giant mercenaries who at the turn of the century had wreaked havoc in the mountains of the Caucasus.
To his left, Snape stood, straight as an arrow, taut as a spring, his long black robes giving him the appearance of a shadow. Albus could only interpret the fact that the austere potions master had decided to don a garb so reminiscent of Tom's elite guard uniforms as a dig at him. He couldn't blame him, really, Severus had every right to be angry after the abominable fiasco surrounding Myosotis's arrival at the school and then her abrupt departure following the troll incident. The man was probably still absorbing the information that his former best friend was at least partly a veela...
In one of his jacket pockets, Albus felt as if the letter from the Lovegood clan was made of a ton of hot metal, so serious were its implications. He, who had hoped to be finished with Tom before retiring, was not ready for such a thing.
He should have seen the signs, Hagrid telling him that centaurs and unicorns had migrated closer to the edges, Severus complaining that certain herbs, mosses, barks and other ingredients he gathered in the forest were having unusual reactions in potions. And now he had received a letter from the Lovegood clan, who were on the warpath, telling him of the presence of Háir álfar and the suspicion of corruption in the forest.
Few people realise it, but the Forbidden Forest is more than just a few hectares of primeval forest. Only a few unspeakables, the headmaster of Hogwarts, the groundskeeper and certain people at the ICW are supposed to be aware of the reality. In the same way as the hidden nations, many other territories were hidden on the borders of the world, such as dragon reserves, primordial magical forests, and many other territories too heavily affected by magic to be hidden from the muggles by lesser measures. The Forbidden Forest was one such place, a vast primeval forest that has remained unexplored to this day, with those who have ventured into its depths never to return. If the letter from the old Lovegood clan was true, it was hardly surprising.
Just as he was about to look at his pocket watch, a movement in the sky caught his eye. He squinted against the sun, the shape approaching faster and faster. Beside him, Severus had his wand out, a curse on the tip of his tongue, and Hagrid seemed hesitant to cock his crossbow.
"Severus, Hagrid, this is the person we've been waiting for." He said, putting his hand on the Potions Master's outstretched arm to make him lower his wand.
The shape in the sky became clearer, a great white snake with pearly scales and immense wings glittering in the light of the rising sun. Albus swallowed, the piercing gaze of the occami's two large, diamond-like blue eyes fixed on him. He landed gently on the ground, about twenty metres away, his wing beats causing the recently fallen leaves to fly away in rust-coloured swirls. Beside him, Hagrid was speechless. "What a beauty." He heard the giant murmur.
From the creature's back jumped a short-haired woman wearing an eye patch embroidered with hundreds of runes. A travelling cloak concealed her silhouette. She stroked the scales of the gigantic occami before pressing her forehead against his, the beast closing its eyes. In a thick cloud of white smoke immediately dissipated by the wind, the winged serpent's form dissipated, giving way to a small creature which wrapped itself around its mistress's neck.
With confident steps, Mélusine Lovegood made her way towards them. Severus stood straight, rigid, his expression inscrutable. Hagrid lowered his crossbow, his cheeks flushed pink. Of all the people the Lovegood clan could have sent, he found himself with Mélusine the fae, as he should have expected given that she belonged to the last branch of the old Lovegood clan in Great Britain, the other branches having settled mainly in the magical nations of Ireland and the Scandinavian peninsula. Among the ancient Lovegood clan, known for its seers, druids and eccentric artists, Mélusine was one of the best-known contemporary figures, her fame even surpassing that of the soul painter Maeva Lovegood. One of the most renowned duelists and battle mages, Dementor Slayer was just one of her many titles... someone he would have recognised as a potential dark lord, if she didn't spend her time travelling the world as a mercenary...
Clan Lovegood had used the seal of war and sent the Fae... he glanced towards the forest, what on earth could be going on to make the ancient druids so alarmed?
"Albus." Mélusine said when she reached him, staring at him with a look as piercing as it was icy, ignoring the presence of his two companions.
"Mrs Lovegood, I would have preferred to meet you under better auspices, but the letter I received was most alarming." he said amiably. The newcomer's coldness was understandable, he reasoned, after all, the incident with the troll under his responsibility could have put their young Luna in danger.
"You're not as shriveled as the rumours have it" she said, looking him up and down.
"Oh, you know how people often prefer to see what they want rather than what's really there". He smirked with amusement.
"Perhaps... In any case, you all seem ready, so don't dawdle, I have no desire to linger here." She said as she started walking towards the forest.
He walked after her, followed closely by Severus and Hagrid, the former watching Mélusine warily, the latter leaning his crossbow against his shoulder, trying to hide his rosy cheeks behind his thick woollen scarf.
...
They had been walking for a little over an hour in the forest between brambles, nettles and undergrowth. In this late autumn, the leaves had finished falling, giving a disturbingly skeletal appearance to the tall trees surrounding the old path. Ahead of them, Mélusine led the way, following a small amulet made of two small branches of fir crossed and tied with a red ribbon levitating in front of her. Albus had to admit that he knew very little about this kind of ancient magic, based more on the ritual aspect and the magician's intention than on the refined and rigid forms of modern magic. He really didn't like this kind of spell, this primitive way of using magic, and for good reason. The history books were full of examples of ancient magic turning against its user, of curses and unnatural things being born of it. However, at the moment, he had to admit that if the amulet did indeed guide them to their destination, Mélusine's sleight of hand would save them many hours.
As they progressed, the forest seemed to become more and more deserted... a strange adjective in this case, but one that seemed appropriate to the heavy silence that had gradually replaced the songs of birds and the rustle of creatures moving between the undergrowth. The trees had gradually become dry and bone-white, and the ground was covered in a greyish mud that gave off a strong smell of mould and decay. Even more worrying were the heavy, dense sheets of fog and the stealthy wisps of fire, whose light he could only see out of the corner of his eye. Lastly, as morning progressed and the sun was supposed to rise towards the firmament, this part of the forest seemed to be plunged into a cold, greyish twilight.
Here and there, large, worn cobwebs hung limply between the trees, laden with moisture.
Mélusine's voice startled him. "Albus, were you aware of the presence of Accromentulae in the forest?"
"No, but that seems to me to be going a bit too fast, there are many species of giant spider less large and dangerous than the one you're talking about that would be capable of making such webs." He replied, glancing at Hagrid, the half-giant looked... guilty? He didn't want to be told that... no...
"I'm not basing that on the webs. Come and see for yourself."
He approached, and froze, stunned, when he saw the carcass that Mélusine was treading on with her foot. An exoskeleton the size of a large dog, empty, its eight hollow sockets revealing the darkness inside the beast's skull. "A moult?" he asked.
"No." Hagrid said as he approached, looking horrified, his crossbow cocked. "The moults are translucent, this one..." He crouched down to observe it more closely, slipping one of his large gloved fingers inside, pulling it out covered in a blackish mucus. "... something ate it from the inside." The great hound, after sniffing the carcass, gave a yelp and went to hide in his master's legs.
Severus had his wand out, on the lookout, watching the surroundings with his piercing gaze. "I know of some rotting spells that could have that effect, but it seems unlikely to me that this is the work of a wizard." He said calmly.
"Let's carry on." Mélusine said after observing the carcass for a few seconds longer.
As they advanced, the forest looked more and more like a swamp as putrid as it was dead. The cobwebs grew more numerous, and with them Hagrid grew paler and paler. Soon they came to a large clearing covered in yellowing grass and the corpses of huge acromentulae. There had been a veritable colony here, he realised. He was going to have a long and difficult discussion with Hagrid when they got back. On the other side of the clearing lay a gigantic corpse, larger than all the others, and also empty. When Hagrid saw it, he ran towards it and broke down crying, giving up any pretence that he didn't know what had happened here. "He's completely mad..." He heard Severus murmur.
As Severus surveyed the corpses and Hagrid wept his heart out, his attention was drawn to something else. Mélusine was standing upright, wand in hand, watching a furrow in the earth that had been turned over as if by a thousand hooks, several metres wide. He raised his head, following the trace of the mark, which ran towards a denser, darker part of the forest, forming a veritable tunnel several metres high in the vegetation. On the ground, several puddles of a thick black oily liquid followed the trail. "Mélusine, what in Merlin's name has happened here?