Agatha's apparition boomed over the fields and forests around Hogwarts. The effect, otherwise so carefully suppressed, of air suddenly being displaced, unleashed. The shockwave flattened taller grass, scared the birds out of the trees, and made a school of mermen splash and dive in fright. The early evening's peace was torn apart by demonic anger.
Her fast walk up the hill was only interrupted by her wand quickly closing the many wounds on her face. It moved around her in a blur, making the wound and blood disappear, which did nothing to make her any less frightening to look at. Curling, black smoke caressed around her skin. Clean signs of her losing some control of her abilities. Rage had that effect.
She ground her teeth, thinking about what she would say to her father. This hadn't been the first case her father had reassigned. The explanations were always different, but she wasn't a Dumbledore for nothing. The pattern became crystal clear within her first months as Executor. Albus Dumbledore didn't like his daughter going after those she could have admiration for.
"Oi! Agatha!"
The edge of her mouth twitched upwards. No. She was angry, and had some bones to pick. There was no time for softness. There was no time for uncle Hagrid.
"Agatha! I could really use ya help."
She sighed, slowed her walk, and waited until Hagrid could catch up to her. Listening to his massive footsteps coming closer she went "One… Two… aaand..."
She got burrowed in the soft beard of Hagrid, as always, smelling of the forest and the garden. His hug enveloped her and pressed her to his chest as if she was a little puppet, weightless in his arms. Like an old play, well rehearsed to the point of habit, she let herself fall to his side, sitting on his elbow. Lounging on him, Agatha saw his bright smile, but also his crossbow and Fang behind him with the spiked collar on. "What're you hunting?" she asked.
"No huntin'. We lost a student."
"Hagrid, it's summer, how did we lose a student?"
"Ran up to the school, she did, had a bit of a fight with Poppy if ya can believe it, and then ran off into da Forbidden Forest once her mum showed up."
"Well," she hopped off his elbow, righted her clothes, and drew her wand. "Who ran off. What's the student's name?"
"It's Davis. Tracy Davies, Poppy said. Loves bowtuckles, she does. I've seen her at the trees a few times, lookin' for 'em."
"How long has she been gone?"
"'Bout an hour, now."
Agatha looked up to the headmaster's tower. Her right eye twitched. "Alright. Let's go looking for Ms. Davis"
The path into the Forbidden Forest was always an exciting one. She remembered when she had been at Hogwarts for the summer, and Hagrid had taken her to see Aragog for the first time. She has been six. Her father has been furious.
At the edge of the forest, Hagrid took his crossbow, and signed Agatha to stop. His serious face told her that funny Hagrid was gone, replaced by Groundkeeper Hagrid, the half-giant that could rip you apart with one hand. "A'ight, Agatha. Can you look through the northern forest? I don' think the south likes you much."
"Centaurs?"
"Centaurs." Hagrid nodded. "Especially nasty one in the south. His name's Bane and the guy holds a grudge."
"Rightly so, if we're being honest."
"Well,"
Agatha threw her friend a look she had given him since she had been old enough to understand how much Hagrid had accepted his role in society.
"I know you're right." he grumbled.
"I know you just want everyone to get along." She patted his enormous elbow with affection. "You big softie."
He blushed a bit under his beard. "Right. Les get this done quick and easy. I got a date."
"Wait, wha-" Agatha wanted to ask him, but Hagrid, beet red in his face, stormed off towards the southern forest.
"A date?" she asked no one in particular. As she saw Hagrid vanish in the underbrush, she too walked towards the forest. For a moment she focused. Nothing in there, save Aragog, liked her much. In fact, by her birth, she had some mortal enemies in there.
For all the danger, as the first steps took her under the deep canopy, she cherished the eerie silence, the pronounced absence of life. Whatever saw her fled, no doubt alerting whatever could stop her from going deeper. Just like her imps in the bit of forest she now called her own alerted her to intruders and guests alike, the little critters, even the plants of the woods were spies for centaurs, dryads and all kinds of fae folk. No one crossed a magical forest unnoticed. One could only hope to be permitted.
More to amuse herself, rather than believing it would work, she held out her wand in her open palm and said, "Point Me." Not a spell per se, more a transfer of will alone, it did as commanded and tried to locate Davis.
Just as she expected, her wand pointed south, then west back to Hogwarts, then north, east, and so forth. Just like no one was always allowed in the woods, one wasn't always allowed to know where they were going and what they were about to find. It gave her one hint, though. The forest didn't want her to find Tracy Davis.
With renewed vigor she continued her hike through the woods. Paths became sparse after a while, until she tracked through untamed wilderness, always following the sun by the few streaks of light that made it all the way to the leaf covered ground.
She knew she was deep within the woods, when she saw the large spider silhouettes of acromantulas circle her, tasting her scent in the air, and recognizing that she wasn't food by command of the broodfather, Aragog. The command was a thin protection. One step into a web, and that command would be forgotten, overwritten by instinct and hunger.
She thanked the gods that darkness was no hurdle for her eyes, as long as there was even the last faint bit of light. Otherwise, she would have surely not seen the many, lightly glistening gossamer strings.
Deeper and deeper she walked. Eventually, when the trees grew too thick to wrap one's arms around them, even Agatha needed to cast Lumos to see.
Not much longer after that, she stopped at tracks. They were clearly visible in the hard mud. Hooves. A lot of hooves.
"Centaurs," she whispered. Closing her eyes she listened close. Underneath the wind and rustling leafs, she heard the trample of a herd, their calls and cries, far in the forest. They knew she was here, and weren't happy about it.
Agatha looked for a larger opening between mighty oaks. She needed somewhere protected, and the best choice was the side of a gigantic oak. At the very least, she didn't have to worry about an arrow in the back.
The trampling got louder and louder. Bushes and smaller trees were broken under the powerful hooves, creating a staccato of cracking sounds in the echoing forest.
She drew her wand, ready to fight, and mentally setting aside some brutal spells of fire.
One moment she was alone, and another moment she saw a herd of centaurs storming out from behind the trees. They had their bows in hand, some with an arrow cocked, ready to fire.
"Seija!" one of them shouted at her, held up a hand, and with the other presented the bow to her.
One of her eyebrows immediately shot up. Her hands soon followed, above her head. "I know a gesture of peace when I see one. I'm only here for a student. I'm Professor Dumbledore of Hogwarts."
Some arrows were put into bows.
She rolled his eyes. "I'm his daughter. Agatha Dumbledore."
"Haj!" the leading centaur shouted at his herd. Immediately, they all lowered their weapons. Then he turned to her. He was a huge man, easily twice as tall as her at his head. The bovine body reached even above her head. His nose was broken, and his torso heavily scarred. Without a doubt, this centaur was a seasoned warrior, and if she respected one thing, she respected that.
"Can we talk?" she tried.
"Talk," he bellowed back.
"I'm here for Tracy Davis. She ran into the forest, and I'm trying to get her back to her family."
He regarded her with stoic calm. Moments passed in which he sized her up, with a distinct pause and angry snort at her horns. Finally, he spoke, "I am Kuros, protector of this forest, demon. I know of your business. You shall not see it concluded your way."
"Wanna bet?" she blurted out, only to see a bunch of bows rising again.
His simple gesture lowered them back down. "You have courage. Or is it stupidity? I give you one chance. Return to your school, professor."
"You as much as admitted to me that you have her. I won't leave without her."
"The child is under the protection of the Grove Mother."
"You have to know how this will be spun by the wizards." Agatha sighed. "You just have to know you're not going to be called protectors."
"We don't care what you think of us." Kuros exclaimed. "Neither do we fear you."
"You should, though. Because if you don't, I'll go home, and the next one standing here is a duo of Aurors, asking the same questions. You'll send those away as well, and the next time, there'll be thirty Aurors. They won't ask questions. They'll just burn your village to the ground, salt the earth and desecrate your sacred groves. The child won't even matter then. It will be about making clear who's in charge."
Another centaur stepped forward. He carried a staff, with an intricate web of strings at its top. They were patterns, geometries representing the stars in the night sky. The centaur was a Seer, and given the berth some of the others gave him, a rather powerful one.
"Do you know the child?" he asked. "Professor."
"Not yet,"
"Then why are you so certain the child should be returned?"
"I am not," Agatha now fully faced the older Seer. "But why are you so sure she ought to stay here?"
The Seers brows furrowed. "Because she belongs here?"
"Belongs here?" Agatha's brows responded in kind. "What do you mean? What am I missing?"
"She is not from the world of man, but was raised there. Her true home is here."
"Alright, now without the riddles."
"She is a Faun." The Seer answered, and gestured Agatha to a stump, lovingly covered with moss that spiralled in various shades of green. "Sit. I sense we are to compare notes before we proceed."
The Seer kneeled down, with murmurs all around him growing loud. Centaurs usually didn't get comfortable in the presence of outsiders. Their heavy bodies were slow to get down, and slow to get up. Agatha made a show of laying her wand in front of her onto the forest floor.
"I don't fear your magic, but the gesture is appreciated." the Seer said. "I am Ferocost, Seer of the Suathadred, or as you call us, the Northern Hogwarts tribe." he chuckled.
"Ah, that's why I'm not already dead." Agatha also smiled. "I heard your southern kin is less welcoming."
"Bane's heart is burning. His star has begun its end."
"Let me guess. Some wizard killed family?"
"His son. Put down like an animal, as he tried to defend a family of cervitaurs."
"You got a description?" Agatha got out a self-writing quill and a notepad. "I know a few people who hold a grudge against poachers."
"Justice has been delivered." Ferocost smiled sadly, and looked up into the sky. "Yet, Bane will find no peace, and make none."
She put the notepad back. "Pity. If I don't know about it, I doubt it has been made the example it ought to have been."
"Our justice does not aim to inflict fear."
"Mine does." Agatha took her wand again, and swung it to summon a pipe set from the house. As she started to prepare it with tobacco and dried sage, Agatha saw the rest of the centaurs also begin to rest under the mighty oaks of the Forbidden Forest. "I find fear to be an effective deterrent. But I suppose I'm also naturally inclined." Flicking her finger she lit the elbow-long pipe. Smoke smelling of sage and caramel surrounded her head.
Ferocost took the pipe when she offered, inhaled deeply and blew a large cloud of smoke out. His hands swung through the smoke, creating vortexes and swirls. The centaur watched on as the air and smoke danced before him, until he eventually nodded and smiled. "Your star is the sun. Burning and devouring, hot as the deepest layers of your ancestor's home, yet without, there would be nothing. Your heat builds more than it destroys."
"Well, I try." Agatha took back the pipe, and let smoke lazily stream from her mouth. "I am currently trying, in fact. All I know is that I have a mother in Hogwarts, fearing for her daughter, some healers miffed about some procedure gone bad, and apparently a Faun girl fleeing into the deep Forbidden Forest. The Faun part was never mentioned in Hogwarts, mind you. Curious, huh?"
"I don't have to confirm what you already know."
Agatha took a deep inhale of smoke, let it out from her nose, back into her mouth. "I was fourteen when the horns began growing. My father immediately stopped the procedure and taught me a rather complex transfiguration to hide myself. I suppose for the first time in her life, Miss Davis is experiencing how the potion feels when horn is sprouting from your forehead, without anyone showing her how to continue from here."
"How does it feel?" Ferocost asked.
Agatha eyed him up. There was always old pain involved when answering this question. How does it feel to have your body altered from what it is to what it should be in the eyes of her peers? Humiliating? Yes, but not just that. It was a deeper shame built around your true self over years and years, that got confirmed and refreshed once a year, like a macabre ritual. Ferocost was an old centaur, with wisdom beyond age shining from his eyes. In some way he reminded her of her own father. In many ways, they could not be farther from each other.
She gave him the pipe, and answered. "When the horns set in, the potion becomes almost unbearable. Not only because of the clear message you receive - you are not welcome here as you are - with fourteen, you begin to understand that…but also because, simply, it hurts like a bitch. Imagine a knife, invisible, intangible, trying to pierce your skin - twisting and turning, sometimes with salt and acid rubbed into the wounds. That's how it feels. Constantly. For an entire year. Until they drag you back to St. Mungo's to do it all over."
"Why this subterfuge? Why go to the length of dealing such pain to hide your child?" Ferocost let the smoke come out lazily. He focused on Agatha, so much that it seemed to her like they were no longer in the Forbidden Forest. The stump, the pipe and them was all that truly registered.
"Wizarding wars have a tendency to - how to say? Spread? Your tribe is still famous for hosting many denizens of Hogsmeade during the biggest clashes in the village. So did many non-human magicals. You had the goblins, the trolls and gnomes in the city. Centaurs, Fauns, dryads and many others in the forests. Giants and harpies in the mountains." Agatha wore a sad smile. "Demons and Angels on the battlefield."
"You hide them because they are proof of our mercy? Proof of wizard's hatred against all who are not human?"
"Thats most of it. Not all of it, tough. There is one reason more necessitated by circumstances." Agatha pointed at her horns. "One of them is worth at least eighty thousand galleons. Attached to the skull… several millions. Same goes for Faun antlers. For its one positive purpose, the potions is here to hide halflings from poachers."
"Greed." Ferocost held his chin, thinking. "Then the forest must protect the child."
"You must do nothing, Ferocost. Don't compensate for the messes wizard's make." she said with force in her voice. "I will do my duty. Halflings gotta stick together, no?"
"What makes you think you fare better than we will?"
"I'm a Dumbledore." she answered in a tone that let no room for disagreement. Agatha was a Dumbledore, and she knew well what weight; what diplomatic, social and violent protection this name entailed.
"Indeed, you are."
"I didn't think it was possible to keep someone like a Faun hidden for this long. I wonder…" Agatha blew smoke up in the air, towards the stars above.
"If there are more? More still hidden?" Ferocost nodded.
"If. There. Are. More." she watched around them, seeing the other centaurs and their various expressions as they heard those words. Some looked terrified, some looked disgusted, some, well, some looked rather concerned. "Anyone here gonna show up to teacher - parent meetings, or?"
Ferocost roared with laughter, soon followed by a few of the older centaurs. The younger ones didn't seem to get the joke, but chuckled along. All but one.
Wiping a tear from his face, Ferocost nodded to her, and with a grin he said "Not that there haven't been… incidents, but we can reasonably say that no half-centaurs are hiding in Hogwarts."
"That so?" Agatha fully focused on a younger looking centaur who grew more and more uncomfortable with the situation. "You there. Not in on the joke? Or aren't you seeing the humor in it?" she let her head fall to the side. "Bit too personal?"
"Wha- me?" the centaur's face reddened, as the entire tribe turned their heads towards him. "I, no, I… don't… didn't… I…"
"Oh, see Ferocost? He don't didn't do it."
Meanwhile, the old seer just rose an eyebrow at the younger one. "Jekasta?"
Jekasta twirled his spear in his hands, scratching the wood with his fingernails. His eyes belied his rising panic.
"You don't punish your kind for this, do you?" Agatha asked Ferocost.
"Not too harshly." he answered. "Lying is the far worse crime." he added, focused on Jekasta.
"I didn't…" he began, but faltered under the eyes of Agatha and his elder. "It was as the demon witch said. I… It was during the second raid on Hogsmeade. She just ran into me, I didn't even… she was…"
"Right. Woman runs into the woods, sees Mr. biceps and abs there, and decided to look over the lower half. Cut to the chase, who's your kid?"
Ferocost only held up his hand to halt the rising uproar in the tribe. "Jekasta. You are a seer, a great hunter and protector of the groves. Why would you of all, lie? Do I shine to you as Mars? My friend, I see only darkness where I should see the dance of stars."
"I never meant to lie." Jekasta now stood up, slowly as his body's mass demands, but strong and secure. "But I saw how the people of Hogsmeade fared, who have been led to a centaur of Mars. Bane had no mercy. Threw them to the Dark Ones for the slaughter. I couldn't be sure that such visions did not inflict their will on this tribe." Then he looked over to Agatha. "Her name is Lilian Moon. She is in Gryffindor, and… this cannot be known of her. She knows nothing of our culture, of the forest, for her own protection. If she was…"
"She will be protected. By me, by my father, which already makes two of the most powerful mages on the planet." Agatha interrupted him. "But no matter how you hide it, it must be painful for her?"
"We have done everything we could so that it won't hurt."
"Yet she walks on two feet, not four hooves." Agatha tipped her horns again. "I really can't imagine it would feel better than this."
Jekasta was close to tears. Only his creed as a warrior kept him from weeping, and kept him on his hooves. He studied Agatha. Then he looked up to the sky, searching. "You have been an Executor before, Professor?"
"I am still, technically."
"Why do you stand in defense of laws that see you as a threat? Laws that force my daughter to not know me, and to never truly know herself?"
"The Statute prevents more pain than it causes. Centaurs remember the horrors of the arcane empires of old, do they not?"
"We remember our place in the family of the cosmos." Jekasta's voice rose. "We remember when we were oracles and prophets to the people. Your people may profit from this state of affairs, but we suffer."
Agatha shrugged, shook her head and stared somewhere into the Forbidden Forest. She looked to where Hogwarts ought to be, behind uncountable trees, unseen, but its magic ever present in these woods. "I have no answer or excuse for you. But I do promise to look after your daughter. If I am showing who and what I am, I think more should at least be given the opportunity. Lilian Moon, Tracy Davis, and if my hunch is correct, quite a few others."
Now both Jekarta and Ferocost looked up into the sky. Their eyes saw something she couldn't even hope to perceive. Somewhere amongst the stars, they read the many paths of the future, of possibilities and potentials.
Jekarta was the first to look back down, at her, and nod. Nothing more needed to be said. His eyes told the entire story. The tale of a father, who had never seen his child, but was proud and protective of her all the same. It was also the tale of a centaur, wild and free by nature, trapped in the machinations of man. She shared his frustration; his anger and doubt. "If I so much as see the shade of a hint of danger to Lilian, I swear I'll protect her."
"I believe you." Jekarta holstered his spear. "I don't fully understand why."
"Because it is not ours to comprehend, yet, young seer. Look at the positions of Jupiter, Mars and Pluto. The days ahead shall be dark ones. But the stars will shift, and alight the darkness." Ferocost said, still watching the sky. "Fire shall bring forth a new era. It's nature is still to be decided. What will burn, and what will persist?" Ferocost turned to Agatha and gave her back the pipe."You may go and see the child, Professor. Alas, I cannot speak for the dryads."
"Why let me go, then?"
Ferocost chuckled. "Because I saw it to be right."
Agatha smiled, nodded to him and stood to go. She took the pipe, the small tobacco box, and the little tools to prepare the pipe, and sat them down on the stump, next to her. "A gift." she stated. "In the hopes that I am allowed to return here and share it again."
"Always, Professor." Ferocost stood as well, his massive body rising above her again. "I apologize for our zeal. I apologize for the burdens we have loaded onto you today. But..."
"No problem," Agatha walked away, one hand in the air waving goodbye. "Believe me, I get it."
The Forbidden Forest grew dark again. Darker with every step, it felt like a soft embrace. Sound, natural or magical, dulled and eventually all Agatha heard was the wind rustling leaves, and animals in the underbrush, somewhere in the distance.
She was deep enough in to know where she had to go. At this point her nature, and the nature of what called the deep Forbidden Forest home, were at odds with each other. The closer she came, the harsher the contrast. While one could argue that Agatha was merely visiting distant cousins, it was this closeness that underlined the differences.
The smell of lilac and pond water was the first thing that clued Agatha in. The dryad's grove was close.
"Ferocost gave me permission to come here." Agatha said into the seemingly empty forest. "There is no reason for violence. Please?"
Dryads were a bunch of tricksters, Agatha knew. She had always been kept away from them, due to their shared ability to control the mind of mortals through violent magic. Subsequently, one succubus and one dryad couldn't control each other, their magic canceled out, which made Agatha, in theory, one of the few living things that could seriously damage a Dryad's grove.
The air itself felt like the dryads of Scotland were more than aware of that fact. Agatha felt their magic, pouring from every bark, leaf, flower and blade of grass, pressing down on her.
"I'm just here for Miss Davis. Trying to be a peacekeeper, here."
"Peace?!" came hissing from the flora around her. "Curious words for one like you. Are you even capable of peace, demon?"
"Half of me is." Agatha shrugged to no one.
"Tiefling?" the voice hissed, only to leave Agatha in total silence afterwards.
She wanted to get her hand onto her wand so bad. However, she knew the moment she so much as touched her holster, there would be a fight with only one left standing at the end.
Strands of dryadic magic began to caress her mind. It felt as if a shade of hands gently brushed through her hair. It intensified, becoming the sensation of a warm hug, gentle lips on her cheeks, peace within her mind. Agatha felt her heart rate slowing, waves of calm wash over her, while a slight fog came over her senses.
Once she felt the fog, Agatha steeled her mind. "This far, and not a step further" was the clear message sent over their telepathic tether.
"Why not?" she heard a voice whispering into her ears from behind her. She felt a body press to her back, and arms wandering over her body. The warm breath smelled like the forest floor, wet from rain.
"I'm just," Agatha felt herself sinking to her knees. She felt like she ought to be panicking, something wasn't right, but the overwhelming calm made that impossible. Her body, and slowly but surely, her mind fell into a motionless state of being, only interrupted by the occasional feeling of comfort, cozyness and over all, calm. ", just... the... girl."
With the last of her consciousness, Agatha understood her mistake. She looked up, and from between the trees, she saw not only one dryad stepping out, as was usually the case with a grove, but an entire group of them, all focusing their magic on her. Her body fell backwards, and into the arms of the dryad behind her. She was a beautiful sight, with hair like twigs, in their magnificent summer bloom. Rich green leafs were interrupted by flowers of the deepest red. Her eyes were the color of oaken bark, and her skin resembled the white and black pattern of a birch, yet it was soft and warm pressing against Agatha's body.
"Hush now," the dryad whispered, and as if a spell was cast on Agatha, she fell into a half-sleep, somewhere between dream and reality. She felt water around her, saw the playful fairies and wisps dancing around and over a pond for hours. Maybe? Agatha could not be sure.
Something burned in her. Something was angry. Angry and afraid. Her head lay on the edge of the pond, between moss-covered stones and flowers. Moving it was impossible, but even from her position she could see the pond shimmering with a soft, ghostly light, like fog at dawn. "What...?" she mumbled. More words would not come from her mouth.
"We are cleansing." she heard the same voice. It was accompanied by a hand stroking her cheeks, following her cheekbones with their fingers down to her chest and belly.
"No..." Agatha moaned. Something in her burned. Something in her was panicking. Panic made something think.
With everything she had, she turned her head to face the dryad. Her kind face watched Agatha, confused by the sudden movement.
"You... a few more?"
"The grove has grown." the dryad whispered. She leaned forward, and as she did so, the flora around Agatha came closer, and hugged her tighter.
"I see that." Agatha coughed. Her face scrunched up with the exhaustion of trying to stay awake. "Whats you..." another cough, "your price for the girl?"
"We do not deal in lives. You do not own a Faun. The earth owns her." the dryad whispered.
"You always deal." Agatha insisted. Her voice became stronger, as the memory of her task in these forsaken woods came back to her mind. Now the dryad used her hands to press her down into the side of the pond. From her expression, Agatha could see that she was losing control, and couldn't figure out why. Little by little, Agatha felt her magic burn through the dryadic thrall.
"No deal. The Faun will sing for the grove, and the grove alone." she tried to force her magic onto Agatha, but the depths within the Executor swallowed it whole; used it even to strengthen her resolve.
"My blood." Agatha took a deep, rattling breath. "My blood for the girl."
She stopped. Both the magic and the dryad's strength let go of Agatha. Instead of wearing her growing anger, the dryad switched to cautious curiosity. "Blood?"
"Aye," Agatha felt control over her limbs again. "One pint of my blood, into this pond. That is what you want, isn't it? Strengthen it with rare bloodlines like mine?"
The dryad didn't give away what she was thinking. She was weighing the offer, all while sitting atop of Agatha's hip to pin her down. Agatha didn't try to break free.
"Would the blood of demons not corrupt the grove, hmm?"
"I honestly don't know." Agatha shrugged. "I just figured it's an appropriate offer."
"What would we do with your blood?"
Agatha just rose an eyebrow as an answer. Dryads knew well that the type of fluid given to the grove didn't matter when it came to making new dryads. In fact, blood was preferable.
"Make us grow horns, is what you want?" the dryad now smirked, and leaned closer. "We don't need blood for that?"
"I honestly doubt a dryad would grow horns because of a little Tiefling blood." Agatha and the dryad on top of her followed the voice to a magnificent dryad coming from beneath fruitful elderberry bushes. She herself wore white elderberry flowers on her head, blooming on her softly brown skin reminding of linden trees.
The dryad on top of Agatha jumped off, and retreated from her catch. Agatha forced herself to stand up. She had already noticed that she was naked, but had to chuckle when she saw her clothes neatly folded next to the pond.
"The grove does not make a habit of hurting the people of Hogwarts." the linden dryad said. "My sisters have only reacted to the arrival of a demon. I must apologize. Ferocost has clued me in, now."
"And who are you?"
"You may address me with San. I am the grove mother. May I have your name?"
"You may address me as Agatha. Nice try, tough." she smiled, even tough she wasn't sure if the grove mother had been playing. She would be powerful enough to steal a name like any fey, that was for sure, and apparently she wasn't above trying. "How come you have not one, but dozens of dryads in this grove. That is unusual?"
"To your eyes, it may be. But it is bloom. Celebrations are in order, and celebrating means gathering." San spread her arms, and on her command, all around Agatha, dryads came out of their natural camouflage, disguises and invisibility. From the yellow aspen, to the ash, every sort of tree was represented. Agatha could only wonder if every forest of Britain has sent the guardian of their grove, their heart, to these celebrations.
Agatha, still standing hip-deep in the pond, tried to swallow the rising dread in her. Her wand was sticking out beneath her stack of clothes, so any magic powerful enough was impossible, and if she'd try to summon it, she'd be made to mulch sooner than she could say "sorry".
"Well, if Ferocost has clued you in, you know why I am here?"
"Yes. Tracy is safe with us."
Agatha grew tired of explaining it. "That's not my problem. My problem is that you are not safe with Tracy."
"Her mother has forced her to take that abominable concoction these butchers at St. Mungos dare administer. I shall not permit that to happen again."
"I won't let them."
"How will you stop them?" San demanded. Her hair of twigs bristled, shaking free a few flowers. The magic of the grove mother flared, and swirled around the clearing with the promise of violence. "You who defends the laws of man?"
"I…" Agatha closed her eyes for a second. Frustrated growls escaped her, her fists tightened, and her fangs began to bite into her lips. The worst? It wasn't because of the dryad, or the centaurs. It was because San was right. "I promise I'll do my best. I cannot promise that it will be enough,"
"No one can."
"But neither can you." Agatha stepped closer, finger pointed at the grove mother, only to stop immediately as she felt the sheer mass of angry dryads radiating warnings to stay where she was. "Neither can you." Agatha said again, and took that one step back.
"I have heard. Ferocost has reported to me what you have said. I do not fear the Aurors. I do not fear the Ministry. If it's a war they want, they can have it."
That something within her, exploded.
"They want that fucking war, you bloody idiots!" Agatha shouted over the clearing. Birds fled from the canopies, and the little critters hid back into their holes. Even some dryads took a step back when flames and shades began dancing around Agatha. Others readied their magic. The hum of it could be heard throughout the clearing like chimes in the wind. However, Agatha didn't care. "Are you seriously this dense? Do you believe you can win? Have you forgotten who I am, what I am? More of me with less morals are out there, and guess what, the Ministry won't have a problem asking for our help when it's against sex-crazed menaces to society like you."
Some dryads hissed at her, but Agatha would have none of it. "That's what you are in the eyes of our worst. They have long since turned the tale around. Groves raped and tortured into giving boons? Enslaved dryads? No, no. The tale we hear in the newspapers is that a bunch of dryads seduced the poor, little wizards, and some even killed them afterward. The horror!" she threw a hand over her head, theatrically. Then her head snapped back, eyes focused on the grove mother, and with blackened eyes and flaming breath she spoke from a dozen; a hundred tormented voices from deep within her. "You are powerless. Keep the child, and you will have signed the death warrant of your grove, this forest and everything that lives within it."
She saw that her words had hit their mark. The dryads were whispering amongst each other, and scared faces looked back at her. She sighed, and let her anger cool. With her anger, her demonic magic also settled, but still swirled around her, ready to strike. "I know the laws by heart. I can maneuver through them. It won't be easy for her, but it would be much harder if you all die because of her. Because Minister Fudge used her name to justify their bloodlust."
"How many of us could you kill, you think?"
"All of you," Agatha immediately answered.
"Arrogance."
"The truth. Nobody is dumb enough to engage in a fair fight with dryads." Agatha shrugged. "I reckon the muggles messed up some weapons testing, you know?" She left a pause. "You remember?"
"I do," the grove mother whispered. "I remember all too well." A single tear rolled off her face, got caught in her hand, and carefully dropped into the pond.
"How did it feel?" Agatha asked, her voice carrying her true, deep pity. "How did it feel to be removed like a pest?"
San stood looking into the pond. Still as the trees she protected, she stared into the water, down to the ground where all sorts of small fish and plants lazily followed the ponds movements. Suddenly, she let herself fall in with a splash. Dryads around the grove came running to her, only to stop short when San resurfaced, with what looked like an old, algae covered palm-leaf. She held it out to Agatha like a sword to be taken. "You want to know how it feels? Experience it yourself."
She was sure San expected her to be cautious, but that had been out of the window for hours now. She grabbed onto the palm leaf and tried to concentrate. Instead, she was overwhelmed by visions of dryads, angry and in open revolt, fighting against wizards and slaughtering them by the dozens, if not hundreds.
The wizards were oceanic people. Some were south-asian, some australian and new zealandic. All had in common that they were trying to keep a careful balance alive that had been shaken to the core by the muggle's war. The islands that had once hosted americans or japanese, were now claimed by wizards, never given back to the tropical dryads, and that had been the straw that broke the camels back for the dryads.
The Bikini Battle, they called it in history. Agatha stood in the middle of it, next to wizards desperately trying to retreat, while large mangrove treants came stomping at them, and raging dryads sent roots and earth to crush them. She felt the island's grove rejoice in the face of victory. Such emotion spread across the world, to other groves, and the smell of worldwide revolution was in the air.
The wizard's plan was simple. Just keep the dryads busy. Just don't mess with the muggle's plans.
Agatha stood there on the white beach, and saw the last wizard disapparate, just as the sun was outshone by a white ball of lightning and fire. The emotion: confusion. The dryads had never seen such a thing. What was this new sun; this magic?
It didn't hold long, the confusion. With the snap of a finger, there was only silence. The dryads, the grove, the island as a whole, silent.
It felt like the world taking a breath in shock, sucking in air only to release it into the terrible scream of agony Agatha heard without, within, all around her. It didn't stop. It wailed, screamed, cried out its pain. Dryads across the world fell to their knees in grief. It was only then that Agatha realized she was screaming, and wailing, and crying until her voice became hoarse, until her own magic rose.
Her hand slipped from the leaf. Her knees gave in, and she fell into the water. The screams were still so loud in her mind, she could barely understand that she was back from the vision. Her heavy breath slowed, but the images remained.
"We remember well." San whispered, yet the entire clearing could hear her. She let the palm leaf fall back down into the water.
"Then don't make the same mistake." Agatha sobbed. Tears blurred her vision. "Don't give them the reason they need."
San held her gaze. Her hazelnut eyes, so beautiful and terrifying at the same time, seemed to read her soul. Slowly, the grove mother came closer to her, wading through the water to where Agatha had sunken down.
"The reason you're not dead is because of your father. Do you know this?"
"What?" Agatha sniffed, still shaking from the images that slowly faded.
"Demons may be able to talk themselves through the centaurs, but we are more sensible to that. Yet, when you stumbled through our woods, your father's deeds paid for your safety."
"Ah. I see." her head hung, she tried to stand up, but couldn't find the strength in her knees. Just as the visions were gone, the ugly knot of defeat became larger in her guts. "He would tell you the same, though." she pressed out.
"Yes, he would." San took Agatha's face, and made her look back at her again. Agatha could see no malice, no ill intent. Sadness was all Agatha could see. They shared a moment together, both grasping with their own feelings of failure. "He would." San said again with a sad smile forced on her lips.
Her hand wandered from her face, down to Agatha's arm. "One pint of blood, was it?"
Agatha's eyebrows shot up in suprise. "Ye- Yes."
"My counteroffer is one drop." San took one of the twigs on her head, broke it off, and held it to Agatha's fingers.
"I see," she said, nodding, and held out her pointer to be stung.
It was over in the blink of an eye. One drop of blood fell into the pond, mixed with the water and vanished in the greenish depths.
"You are part of this grove now, Agatha Dumbledore." San kissed her left cheek, her right cheek and her forehead. "If time and the forest will, new dryads will come from your blood and these waters. Children of the Earth, made from you."
"I'll take care of her. Promise." Agatha was helped up by San. "Tracy is under my protection. After all," Agatha said and touched the water. "She's family now."
"In many ways, young Dumbledore." With both hands, San cupped Agatha's face, like a mother taking in her daughter. "Now, you have earned your rest. Over there," San pointed to something behind Agatha's back, but when she looked, nothing was there. She turned around again, and suddenly stood in front of Hagrid's hut.
Still naked.
"Oh, motherf-" Agatha shouted. Soon enough, she found the pack of clothes in the pumpkin patch, and made haste to get decent again. She shook her fists towards the forests, but couldn't help but smile. Merlin be damned tricksters.
"Professor?" The faint voice of a girl came from between some oaks and firs.
"Tracy Davis?" Agatha jogged towards the young girl, already scanning her for injuries or other ailments. The question was rhetorical, of course. No other girl would have the legs of a goat, the antlers of a deer and patches of soft, brown fur all over her. Deep, green eyes, blinking like crystals in the light, rounded the picture of a faun as a hundred stories described them. She couldn't help, but stand in awe of the girl. Faun were rare, even in the realm of fey. Seeing one in the flesh, in the mortal world, was almost unheard of.
"The grove mother said you'd help?"
"I promised as much. Several times over. To…" Agatha shook her head. "To so many people… what the hells was I thinking?" She held up her pointer finger, still with a little bleeding wound. "I sired some dryads. Why not? When in Rome…"
"Uhm,..."
"Right," Agatha took a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm going to work through this once I get you taken care of."
"Not the potion!" Tracy shouted. "Please."
Once more on this day, Agatha pointed to her horns. "I know the potion sucks, kid. Especially with the antlers now."
"It's like twigs are trying to sprout through my face."
"Yeah, imagine these bad boys trying to rip your skull apart." Agatha pointed at her horns and chuckled. "The potion is fine for kids, but once you reach the teens,..."
"It always hurt." Tracy objected. Her eyes wandered towards her faun hooves. "Horn is horn, I guess."
"I guess so." Agatha laid a hand on the young girl's shoulder and led her into Hogwarts proper. "I should not assume our experiences are the same. I do apologize."
"No, I need to thank you. You got me out of the forest, and…" Tracy trailed off.
"Speak your mind, Tracy."
"And you," she trailed off again, thinking the words over. "I saw you in the newspaper, horns and tail and all. They wrote horrible stuff about you, but the photo showed people smiling at you and I…"
Agatha didn't say anything, just a little squeeze of her hand on her shoulder.
"I thought: what if I just, you know? Show myself?" Tracy's voice shook when she continued. "Mum didn't like that."
"You are not and have never been your mother's property. Even if you're not 17 yet, you have gradually gained more rights since the day you became eleven."
"But,..."
"But she needs you to be human, to not embarrass her."
"I- Yes. How did you know?"
Agatha took her time with an answer, just like every time something shone a brighter light on her father's parenting. "The moment I asked to not take the potion, and told him why, my father threw the vial away. But I have heard the healers, and people talk behind his back, the few times we were seen in public."
Tracy nodded. "But he is Albus Dumbledore, and my mum isn't."
"Precisely. 10 points to Slytherin, I suppose." They both walked over the wooden bridge, towards the staircases of Hogwarts. The summer school loomed dark over them. Barely any window was lit, and for most of their way, their wands needed to light the way.
"Why Hogwarts?"
"Huh?" Tracy had been silently walking next to Agatha, and got shaken out of her own thoughts by the sudden question.
"Why did you flee to Hogwarts?"
"I don't know. I guess it's just… Hogwarts, you know? If you're in trouble, just vanish in the dungeons, or the lake, or the roofs, or the forest."
"I don't have to ask why you chose the forest out of these options." Agatha chuckled a bit. "I do have to ask, though. What do you expect to happen now?"
"I don't know that either." she sighed.
After a while they reached the gargoyle in front of the headmaster's office. Winding stairs coming out of the ground carried them upwards, where both could hear the voices of several people in the room, arguing and debating. The words were muffled, but Agatha had the scent of Aurors and Ministry in the nose since they had climbed to this floor.
"Whatever happens, I'll stick around." Agatha said, turned to Tracy. "I live in Hogsmeade, in a house. The only one on Foundling path. If you get into trouble like this again, go there instead of the forest."
"I-" Tracy's wide eyes teared up, but the words got stuck in her mouth.
"I know. Halflings gotta stick together. Hagrid, Flitwick and me, and now you. Stay close, stay safe. Alright?"
"I will,"
When they entered the room, all talk suddenly got quiet. Her father was, of course, sitting behind his desk, holding court. Minerva and Snape were present, with two Aurors and a Ministry employee. They argued with them about some parchment, that now just wiggled in the skinny Ministry-man's hand.
It felt wrong to be one of those watching the bad kid, instead of being in that position. Agatha remained close to Tracy, some steps behind, just in case.
The adults, all with serious expressions, beheld the Faun walking into the room. Those expressions quickly changed to surprise, shock and other forms of astonishment. It wasn't every day that you saw a Faun. In fact, most people live and die without ever seeing one.
Albus stood from his regal chair, and held his arms out. "Ms. Davis, it is good to see you safe and sound."
Agatha wasn't the only one who recognized the blatant absence of surprise at the fact that Davis was not quite human. McGonagall and Snape seemed equally unsurprised.
While Tracy tried as hard as she could not to meet the eyes of her Head of House, Agatha spoke up, even though the implication was clear already, to her. "Father. Where is Mrs. Davis?"
Before her father could speak up, Snape took a half-step forward, and scowled at his charge. Though the scowl held no malice, and what was usually such a rigid pose and stance, sank into itself as he spoke. "Ms. Davis, we have been informed that your mother has since filed the necessary forms with the Ministry to remove herself from her parental duties."
The young Ministry employee, red-faced and wanting nothing more than to be anywhere else, handed Tracy a letter. She opened it, and soon enough, as her eyes roamed over the lines, tears began to fall onto the parchment. She was rocked by a heavy sob escaping. She looked up into Snape's face, and only saw pity. Albus, Minerva, the two Aurors and the young Ministry worker all couldn't stand watching the young girl realizing that her mother had abandoned her.
"Cruel, isn't it?" Agatha came close, and held the young girl's shoulder.
"Why?" Tracy's voice shook and the tears had long since turned into snot and water running down her face. She sank to her knees, with the parchment tightly in her hands like a lifeline.
"Stand up." Agatha commanded the girl at her feet.
"Dumbledore," Snape growled.
"Agatha, really." Minerva shook her head at her. All her father did was give his patented disapproving look.
Agatha didn't pay attention. None of them knew. None of them could understand. Did she emphasize? Of course. However, reality pulled no punches. One could whine and grief about their lot in life, but that luxury was not for them.
"Davis," she said louder. "Stand up!" she shouted at her, loud, pushing all her anger into it. "You wanted life without pain, and that wasn't good enough for your mother. Shows you what a worthless piece of sh-."
"That is quite enough." Albus rushed around his desk, towards Tracy and Agatha. Once he was close enough, he whispered to Agatha. "Not while the Ministry is present, my dear."
"I- Yes." she sighed and stepped back, towards a leather armchair in the corner, where she could fall into. Her claws dug into the brown leather armrests so hard they left scars.
"How?" Tracy could barely from a sentence. "How is that even...? What do I do now?"
"Well, by bylaw 34 of the Anthropomorphic Act, a parent..." the young Ministry worker began, only to trail off when everyone in the room threw him the most baleful look. "Uhm, alright. I've done what I came here for. I'll better leave and, well, yeah." Quickly turning, he fumbled with the Floo powder, and vanished through the green flames.
Both Aurors also took that as their cue. "Headmaster, Professors." he tipped his bowler hat. "Ms Davis. I am sorry for..." he gestured broadly at the situation in front of him, nodded and followed through the Floo.
"Cowards," Agatha hissed.
Both Minerva and Albus led Tracy to another armchair, where she fell into herself. The sobs have stopped, and were replaced by an unbearable stillness in the girl. As if all fight had left her, she sunk into herself.
"The Anthropomorphic Act has been advertised as an equality bill, you know?" Agatha began, now barely talking above a whisper. All anyone could hear next to it were her claws ripping into the armrest. "Smoke and dust. Almost every law in the Act is made impotent by its bylaws, clauses and caveats. One of those says that if a parent 'cannot be expected to keep their social status as a parent of a half-human', they're free to just give up on it. No repercussions. No punishment. Not even a filing fee."
"She just left?" Tracy had a thousand-mile stare on her face.
Agatha was about to answer, when she almost jumped behind her chair into cover. There had been a storm brewing, and its origin were Scotland.
"That unbelievable troglodyte o' a mother wull ne'er set foot intae Hogwarts again if tis up tae me! Tae lea a daughter behind lik' this! Scum o' th' earth!" Minerva raged, her face beet red from the sheer amount of anger that couldn't even find release through her words. "Och, Ah see 'er oan th' alley, I'll..." she kept ranting on, but Agatha had to surrender to the scottish brogue. At that point it had become a different language to her.
Agatha just kept looking at the lost girl. Her claws were already in the stuffing, just as deep as she was in thought. Why did she come here again? Lestrange, right. That seemed rather meaningless to her now, after all this. Let the Ardling have her.
Her gaze traveled to her father. Albus was trying to calm Minerva, but Agatha could see that his mind was elsewhere; that he too was trying to make sense of the situation. For all intents and purposes, they had an orphan in the room and no plan on what to do with her.
"I shall lead Ms. Davis to her room in the dungeons." Snape said in such a low voice, it sounded like a growl.
"Severus," Minerva came over to him, overtook and left the office in a hurry unbecoming for the otherwise so regal woman. "I'll inform the castle." came from the staircase as she left.
After Snape followed, Tracy in tow, Agatha and Albus remained sitting in his office. Both leaned back into the chair, and deflated like popped balloons.
"I came to Hogwarts today because I had a bone to pick with you." she leaned into the upholstery, and quickly noticed just how much her body longed for comfort and sleep. "Seems rather childish, now."
"We all had an exhausting day. To find a child orphaned in the end leaves a sour taste."
"Is Hogwarts taking care of her for now?"
Albus sighed. "Hogwarts is a dangerous place during the summer. Repairs and maintenance is…" he trailed off, took in the scene before him and shook his head. "I will instruct the houselves accordingly. One of them should just walk with her and keep her safe. She shall find shelter here for the next few days until we know what to do."
"I noticed you didn't even blink when a Faun came into the room."
"What have you deduced from this observation?" he asked with his jovial voice, reserved for when he got excited to be found out.
"How many halflings are currently students at Hogwarts?" Agatha gave him a glare. "Truthfully. A number."
"Forty-four."
"Wha-" Agatha's words got stuck in her throat. She had expected to hear "five", or "ten" maybe. "Are you telling me well over four percent of Hogwarts is half-human?"
"Most are in sixth, fifth and fourth year, now, marking their birth somewhere during the most brutal years of the war."
"When most had sought refuge. Makes sense." Agatha mumbled, while letting those new information sink in. "Panicked Britain is horny, by Merlin."
Albus snorted a laugh, began to chuckle, until he laughed in earnest, with deep belly-laughs rumbling through the headmaster's office.
Agatha did not have the energy to laugh. Truly, she chuckled along but preferred to just watch her father, laugh like she had seldom seen the man laugh. His polite chuckle, or controlled laugh - never breaking that last wall; that last defense - were usually how Albus Dumbledore presented himself. Now he was wiping away tears of laughter as he caught himself.
"I feel like I've scratched the surface of an onion. How many layers would I have to pull before I see the core of the issues?"
"I do not know. I have little confidence that I know all."
"Nobody does, but you're usually someone who starts where others stop. So… what's Albus Dumbledore thinking?"
"Albus Dumbledore thinks…" Albus gave himself a moment, and let his eyes wander over the many trinkets and knick-knacks on his many shelves. Eventually, at the end, his eyes came to pause on her. "He thinks that his daughter has shown great skill in diplomacy today. That he is looking forward to seeing her teach young minds."
"Right," Agatha rolled her eyes at him. "How long until this dam breaks? How long are we hiding all those halflings?"
"By Ministry mandate, forever."
"Yes, and if the british Ministry had it their way, the source of magic would be Fudge's boot itself." Agatha turned her hand around, and looked at the still slightly swollen puncture on her finger. "Two dozen, or even more, dryads in the Hogwarts grove. That's not a celebration, is it? That's a fortification."
"As always, your mind is quick to connect these happenings."
"Voldemort. Lestrange. The war past and present. An inevitable half-human revelation in a few years and a Ministry ill prepared for that. For anything, truthfully." Agatha held her forehead as she tried, but couldn't quite end up at an answer. What did all these things have to do with each other, if anything?
"What is Agatha Dumbledore thinking?"
"She is thinking that she messed up." Agatha spoke through her fingers that had begun to softly claw at her skin. "Voldemort wasn't supposed to be revealed yet, was he?"
"Wrong." Albus smiled, and looked over his half-moon glasses at her. "His reveal has moved him into an impossible strategic position. Lucius is ruined. Bellatrix is revealed to be gone. The wardens around the rest of the Death Eaters have been tripled. However, I loathe that you almost died revealing him."
"I didn't mess up your plans?"
"No," Albus opened a drawer in his desk, and produced a large binder with all sorts of parchment and paper stacked in it. "You have accelerated them. Many lives will be saved through your proactive, hm…"
"Prodding?"
"Prodding. Let us call it that." he laughed again. Then he flipped open the binder, and browsed until he found a section with quite a few Ministry logos on the files.
"All quiet on the western front, so you move east?"
"Indeed. With Tom in such a weakened position, but still in hiding, our best course of action is defense. Which means the removal of the weakest part of our fortress."
"The Ministry. Fudge."
"Umbridge, Lucius, Greengrass, Skeeter, and many, many more. The swamp has created quite a few monsters lurking in shallow waters."
"The next vote is when? Three years? Four?"
"Which means our attack must lead to an early election."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Undermine Cornelius' position by removing his greatest sychophant."
"Umbridge." Agatha twirled her wand in her fingers. "How proactive should this removal be?"
"Agatha,"
"What? I'm not above an assassination." she shrugged. "You know that. You've seen my reports. I figured that was what you're about to ask of me."
He sighed that deep, disappointed sigh he had mastered over the years of being a father. There were no words more cutting than this sigh. Agatha righted herself in the armchair, her eyes narrowed and her nose flared. "What do you wish of me, then?"
"To enjoy yourself."
"Right, of course, enjoy myself. What do you want me to do?!"
"As I said, Agatha." Now he looked at her like she was eleven again, as her right eye began twitching. "Enjoy yourself. Go to your students, visit the Alley, your new neighbours. Maybe spend time with your new roommate and enjoy the little beach you bought?"
"Ah," she wagged her finger at him. "Now I get it. Alright, I'm in. I'll be your halfling poster child and show myself in society. As long as you keep me in the know about your plans."
"You shall be informed of any new developments."
"It's settled, then." Agatha stood, stretched, and couldn't help but yawn. It had been an exhausting day. Days, even, at this point. "I'll head off. I got students to visit tomorrow."
"I wish you a goodnight. Please, use my Floo…"
With one reverberating crack, Agatha disapparated from her father's office, right into her own bedroom.
Albus remained in his office, sorting through his thoughts before he too would seek out his bed. Fawkes sat next to him, and scooched over closer, sensing his friend's distress. The old mage looked his age, sitting there in the candlelight. "What have I done for her to have become this?"
Fawkes pressed his head against Albus', with a soft song soothing the old wizard's mind.
"Anyway, if finally taking a summer holiday requires a command, she shall be commanded."