She was shaking like a leaf in the dim light of the small cubicle, flattened against a cold, hard wall. The stench of rotting carrion and filth that filled the air made her want to gag, while on the other side of the thin wooden partition, she could hear heavy footsteps, something being dragged across the floor. An unspeakable terror gripped her chest, leaving her unable to breathe, she could feel silent tears running down her cheeks.

Outside, the thing sniffed several times, the sound of its ragged breathing and vile gurgling making her want to throw up. An enormous greyish hand, its skin covered in wedges and warts, its nails worn down and crusted with dirt, old blood and mould, came to rest on the top of the door before tearing it open with a deafening sound of wood being torn and metal twisting. She let out a scream of terror, gasping for breath, hoping perhaps that someone would come to her rescue.

The creature poked its head through the opening, a huge, bloated child's face with a moronic grin revealing rows and rows of decaying, rotting human teeth exhaling an dreadful stench. His small, black, idiotic, porcine eyes were riveted on her, a gleam of madness and hunger gleaming within them.

She couldn't tell how, but her wand was in her hands, and she waved it at the creature, trying to shout incantations, but the wood, normally so warm and vibrant between her fingers, felt like a dead branch, cold and rotting. There was no magic to answer her desperate call. The humanoid reached out its long, disproportionate arms, grabbing her by the waist mercilessly. She screamed in pain as she felt one of her ribs break under the pressure, and a warm liquid began to drip from the corner of her lips. The troll sniffed the air, his disgusting grin widening. She struggled with all her might, hitting the thing's hand, her wand snapping like dry wood.

The thing didn't care, just opened its cavernous maw wide before biting her savagely on her thigh. A cry of terrible pain escaped her, as she begged and fought back with every ounce of strength she had. The thing snatched a large piece of meat from her upper leg before swallowing it greedily. Hermione was sobbing, crying and screaming in pain, she felt like she was going to faint. The thing then began to pull on her other leg, harder and harder. She screamed, hoping for help that would not come, a new cry escaping her sore throat with each new tendon she felt rupturing, each new muscle she felt tearing. Her body gave way, her skin lost its colour and was torn from her in a spray of blood. The thing placed his catch in its mouth before turning towards her again, holding out his hand...

Suddenly, her eyes opened to see a wooden ceiling, she was struggling, screaming, feeling pain tearing her apart, terror, death, so close. A hand was on her shoulder, much smaller than the troll's, and she felt as if she could smell the terrible stench of the thing, but at the same time, she could no longer see it.

"Hermione! Hermione! Listen! Focus on the sound of my voice!" she heard someone say. She felt a hand close over hers, squeezing gently.

"Hermione! You're home, you're safe. You're with Mum." The voice continued. Her breathing was ragged, her heart was racing, she felt a cold sweat trickle down her forehead.

"Mummy?" she asked in a weak, raspy voice.

"Yes, darling. I'm home. You're at home, in bed. It was only a nightmare."

Through tear-fogged eyes Hermione could see the form of her mother bending over her. "Mum!" She said with a moan as she clung to her mother's waist, crying her eyes out, her body shaking with sobs. She felt a hand making soothing circles on her back, another in her hair. "I'm here, I love you, my daughter. It was just a bad dream, just listen to the sound of my voice."

Hermione felt herself gradually relax, the terror and horror replaced by total exhaustion. "Try to get some sleep darling, you'll feel better tomorrow."

"Please stay with me." She said in a small voice.

"Always..." was the last word she heard before exhaustion swept her off into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

oOOOo

In a large, high-ceilinged medical office whose white walls diffused the golden morning light filtering through the high windows overlooking a busy street, Hermione advanced, step by step, on her wobbly, weak legs. Mrs Magrit was right next to her, wand in hand, ready to cast another cushioning spell in case she lost her balance. Hermione hadn't believed it at first when she'd woken up in Flamel Hospital with both her legs intact, so much so that she'd thought she was either dreaming or dead, which had triggered her first panic attack of a long list.

Today was the second time she had managed to walk the length of Mrs Magrit's office without holding onto the rail. Her mother was sitting in a corner of the room, her eyes rimmed with dark circles, but her gaze full of pride. Hermione took a few more steps, grimacing as she felt as sure on her feet as a newborn fawn.

"You're doing very well, Hermione." Mrs Magrit said with a smile. "I'm used to doing rehabilitation for similar cases, and you're finding your bearings with a great deal of ease. I would like to remind you, however, that you must lie down for at least 15 hours a day for the next three months to allow the effects of the ritual to stabilise."

Hermione frowned, which didn't escape Magrit's notice as she added. "I know miss, it's difficult, especially at your age, but you must take care of your new legs, and your magic needs a lot of energy to continue their regeneration."

"Yes ma'am." She said, trying to think of all the books she would be able to read with the amount of free time she would have laying down as the healer directed.

"Couldn't Hermione do with a little exercise to help her legs?" Her mother asked.

"A good suggestion, but not for the first few months, Monsieur Betois' ritual certainly gave Hermione back her legs, but to regenerate them completely will take a lot of effort from Hermione's magic, which in turn will take up a lot of her energy. I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that this is not the time to go on a diet. Hermione, you'll need to eat a lot over the next few months. So I recommend that you don't exercise more than you need to for rehabilitation."

Hermione nodded, and took a few more steps. It was strange, she who according to the healers had only lost her legs for a few days felt as if she had been separated from them for years. It was as if her two new limbs weren't responding properly, hence the long period of re-education. Suddenly, her legs gave way and she fell to the ground, blessing Mrs Magrit's foresight when she hit not the boards but a comfortable cushion of air.

She let out a long, exasperated sigh as Mrs Magrit levitated her onto the examination table.

"Are you all right, darling?" her mother asked worriedly.

"I suddenly have no strength in my legs," Hermione sighed.

"That sort of thing is normal at this stage of healing." Mrs Magrit explained as she began to massage her. She could feel Mrs Magrit's rough hands testing her joints, checking the elasticity of her muscles, but there was always something foreign and indefinable. Hermione was infinitely happy to have been treated in France, blood magic being formally forbidden in Great Britain despite its very wide medical applications, which, from what she had understood of Magrit's acerbic diatribes against the government, forced most poor people or those with conditions that could not be treated by legal magic to call upon the local priesthood, using rituals whose results were less than guaranteed, calling upon local Celtic divinities.

Magrit thought that these were surely rituals based more on the magic of the pagan priests and their faith in the effectiveness of their approach than on the existence of any pagan deities responding to their call, and Hermione was inclined to subscribe to the same opinion as Magrit, which seemed to be very well-founded. This kind of medical technique seemed to work, certainly the ritual aspect was at least a little grounded, but the results could be rather uncertain. Mrs Magrit had told her that a man in a similar situation to her own had ended up with goat's legs after calling in a Welsh priesthood. In short, she considered herself more than lucky to have benefited from the talents of a blood alchemist rather than end up in a wheelchair, with expensive magical prostheses that would never be worth real legs, or entrusting herself to the priests of a pagan cult...

"Right, you just need to rest now Hermione." Magrit concluded after her examination. She casted a mobicorpus, and gently placed her in her wheelchair. "That'll be all for today Hermione, Mrs Granger, don't forget, plenty of rest, do your rehabilitation exercises, and eat well."

"Thanks again Mrs Magrit." Jean said.

"Once again, it's normal, it's my job, have a good day, you two."

oOOOo

Her gaze was lost in the cottony clouds dotting the sky visible from her bedroom window, she was laying down, her back propped up on pillows, a sheet covering her from the waist down, a book open in her lap. Last night, one of her nightmares had woken up the whole house again, except that this time, instead of being awoken, or ending with the troll's mouth closing around her throat, it had actually finished with the troll disappearing in a tornado of blue flames, with a soft, reassuring warmth that made her forget the pain. For two hours now, she had been overcome by a strange melancholy, her heart squeezed, yet by something other than fear, or the traumatic memory haunting her day and night. She missed her friends, her angel, Luna, Elvetia, Nym... She who had been alone or surrounded by liars all her life had found a group of people close enough for her to really call them her friends. She was dying to see them again, so she had set up a correspondence with Nym and Elvetia, and had sent a letter to Luna a week ago, hoping that she would be able to contact Myo to explain her situation.

Her parents had made it clear that they had no intention of letting her go away to a magical school where she would face a lot of discrimination and danger, not after what had happened to her with the troll, and even less since they had found out about the heavy discrimination faced by muggles and muggle-borns in Great Britain. Hermione understood the reasoning, and in fact agreed on certain points, but the idea of not seeing her friends again and of having her magical education limited to what she needed to know to control her magic and be able to live her everyday life as a witch made her want to cry.

She didn't want that, no, she was a witch! And she didn't want to find herself in a different world from that of her first real friends and abandon the wonders of magic. A new determination was born in her, perhaps, now that more time had passed, she would be able to convince her parents.

She placed her tome of the adventures of Sherlock Holmes on her bedside table before turning onto her side and pushing on her elbow to find herself in a sitting position. Her head spun for a moment but after a few deep breaths she steadied herself. Gingerly, she rose from her bed on shaky legs, taking a few steps towards the door. She looked at her wheelchair for a moment, hesitating to use it to go to the kitchen where she could hear her parents having breakfast, but changed her mind, her determination driving her to show them her strength. She left her room and made her way down the corridor, leaning against the wall regularly when it became too difficult to move forward.

The kitchen door was open, her mother sitting at the table in front of a big bowl of tea, reading the paper, her father at the gas burner cooking fried eggs and humming a tune. Her mother was the first to notice her presence.

"Hello darling... Hermione? Where's your wheelchair?"

"Hello Mum, I was feeling well enough and thought a bit of walking wouldn't do me any harm." She said as she carefully sat down at the table.

"Don't forget what your carer said, you mustn't overdo it." Marcus said without turning around, concentrating on cooking the eggs.

"In any case, I'm glad you've got enough appetite to come and have breakfast with us today." Jean said before reaching out to grab one of her hands and give it a gentle squeeze. "Darling, did you manage to get some sleep after your nightmare?"

Hermione winced, her nightmares were almost a daily occurrence and made her scream at night, the dark circles under her mum's eyes being undeniable proof of that. "I managed to get a little sleep after you left..." she said.

"You'll have to talk to Mrs Merry about that, she was very clear, if the nightmares don't get better and cause problems with your recovery you'll have to talk to her and she'll prescribe you something."

"Of course, Mum…" Thanks to the help of Nym's mother, Hermione had found herself in good hands, she had been directed to Madame Merry, a muggle born who had decided not to pursue a career in the magical world to become a psychiatrist in the muggle world whilst, keeping in touch with her wizard acquaintances and friends to provide better mental care than what the magically trained mind healer could offer. In terms of psychology, the magical world was well over a century behind, most disorders being treated as madness or hysteria and dealt with by invasive potions or spells. Hermione had been horrified to learn from Mrs Merry that to treat trauma, it was not uncommon to simply remove the memories of the traumatic event from the patient's consciousness.

She was drawn out of her thoughts by two perfectly cooked fried eggs placed on a slice of bread in front of her. "Here you go, darling", said her dad, before repeating the operation for her mum's plate and his own.

"Thank you." She replied with a half smile before forcing herself to take a few mouthfuls. A few minutes later, spent listening to her parents discussing the news from the neighbourhood and gathering her courage, she spoke up.

"Mum, about my education..."

"Hermione, we've already discussed this, you're not going back to Hogwarts," said her mum, at the mere mention of the school, a shiver ran down her spine, her pupils dilated and a drop of cold sweat trickled down her forehead. "Look what the mere name of that bloody school gets you all worked up about!"

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Mum, I'm sure there must be a solution! I've made enquiries, there are plenty of other magic schools in the country!

Jean and Marcus looked into each other's eyes for a moment in a silent exchange before turning to their daughter. "My sweetheart," began Marcus. "Your mother and I have been making enquiries of our own. We had a long chat with the mothers of your friends Nymphadora and Elvetia. And from what we've learned, meddling too closely in the affairs of wizards as normal people, or even as the children of normal people, is not a good idea in our otherwise beautiful country."

Jean put a hand on Marcus's shoulder before taking her turn to speak. "Few magic schools accept the children of normal people, and those that do are all boarding schools, and we can't imagine being away from you for so long after what happened. What's more, from what we've concluded, there's no future for the children of normal people in the magical world, so it would be wiser for you to get an education that will enable you to find a stable job rather than hope to find a place for yourself in such a discriminating environment, not to mention the dangers and other monsters that seem to swarm around wizards!"

"But Mum! Maybe next year you'll be reassured enough to let me find a school, and what's more, I'm sure I can get a normal education and a complete magical education at the same time! Anyway, whether I'm in the wizarding world or not, evil creatures are always around, so wouldn't it be better for me to learn how to defend myself against them?"

"Remember what the healer said, it will take you several years to fully recover, overworking yourself trying to follow two courses in parallel will only make you sick. And I would remind you that with the status of secrecy, there are no magical threats to which normal people are exposed. The only way to have bad encounters is to be in environments where these dangers are present, in other words, with wizards... "

"I don't want to be so far away from my friends and risk losing them!" Hermione exclaimed, on the verge of tears.

Jean got up and walked around the table before hugging her daughter. "I know, my darling, I know, it's difficult, but you can see them, you know, send them letters, if they're such good friends, they won't forget you..." Hermione nodded weakly, wetting her mum's shirt with the tears she could no longer contain... it all hurt so much...

oOOOo

The tall, straight trunks of the oaks gave an impression of grandeur to the undergrowth, as if it were an immense living cathedral. Which was not far from the truth, given that this was the ancient forest of Llandecwyn. The moonlight barely pierced the thick foliage through which the night wind whispered. As so often in ancient forests preserved from the greedy hands of the muggles, many magical creatures and plants thrived there, phosphorescent mosses, sprites and gnomes, little firefly fairies giving the dark undergrowth a whimsical atmosphere.

From her perch on one of the high branches of one of the great oaks, Elvetia scanned the ground. Not in the hope of spotting a parisette or one of the honoured members of the tiny people of the mosses, but to finally give free rein to her hunting instincts.

During her few months at Hogwarts, she had refrained from going hunting or taking her other form... trying to explain to the other girls in her dormitory that she was as much an owl as a witch, without one aspect supplanting the other, would have been futile. Unlike the animagus, she wasn't a witch who could transform into an animal, and unlike the people of feral descent, she wasn't an animal who could transform into a human. She was an animalys, the perfect balance of one and the other, and neither, and that was something her classmates couldn't understand. How she envied Myo for fully assuming her nature to the point of hiding nothing about herself, or rather... for being far too innocent to realise that what people said about her was often insults or mockery cruel enough to make her turn pale with rage in Myo's place.

She had gone to Hogwarts in the hope of representing an outstretched hand to the other noble families, but found herself faced with a wall of contempt, prejudice, fear and incomprehension. She was immediately ostracised by her peers, and her only friends were a muggle born, a metamorphmagus and a veela... which is to say that the plan to raise the profile of the animalys community and the Llandecwyn clan in particular had been an abject failure... Grandma was right, Mum had tried too early, and the magical community, although on the right track, was not yet ready. However, the fact that 'the girl who lived' was a veela, and in addition to having defeated Voldemort, had saved Hermione's life by ridding the school of a terrible threat, was going in their favour. It was all over the papers, most of them flattering, some questioning the wisdom of having a creature dangerous enough to defeat a troll in a school, others theorising about where their heroine had been, or calling for her return to the country as soon as possible...

Mum jumped for joy when she read this, even Grandma shed a little tear, Latina, as usual, didn't understand the importance of the news. If a veela could be so important, then it meant that society was slowly but surely moving in the right direction. Mum had offered to send her back to Hogwarts to keep trying, but Grandma had vetoed it, deeming it too early and too much trouble. And frankly, Elvetia was grateful to her, Hogwarts was no place for herself, she had no desire to spend the next seven years alone, especially knowing that neither Myo nor Hermione would be returning there.

Leaving the castle after the awful incident had been a liberation for her. She had spent the next two weeks in her owl form, coming home only rarely to see Mum and Latina before returning to flying and hunting, her instincts having been contained for months, struggling in her chest to free herself, to fly, to feel the wind in her feathers, to hunt, to preen her feathers under the moon, to fly with her friends and cousins in the clan... She had missed it all so much. Maybe she could invite Nym, Myo and Hermione to her house... once one had been found and the other had recovered... In the end, maybe it would be better if she simply went to visit Hermione, as a simple owl, she wouldn't arouse suspicion.

Movement caught her attention, her two wide yellow eyes staring at the small rodent trotting obliviously through the undergrowth. A vole... A delicious, juicy, healthy little vole... She took to the air, flying as silently as a ghost towards her prey, unaware of the imminent danger. She closed her talons on the warm fur before flapping her wings again to land on another branch and savour her prey.

oOOOo

"At last!" Nym exclaimed.

"Have you read any news of interest in the Daily Prophet?" Emily asked, her mouth full and her bowl brimming with cereal.

"No talking until you've swallowed " scolded Andromeda as she poured Ted a cup of tea.

"Sorry, Mum," Emily said boldly after swallowing. "Well, Nym?"

"They've finally published the results of the investigation at Hogwarts."

"Oh?" Said Ted, suddenly interested.

"Yes, they've even got a suspect."

"I suggest you start at the beginning," said Emily, raising an eyebrow. Nym glowered at her, her childhood friend had a particularly well-developed knack for stating the annoyingly obvious, and her years at Boggart Hole clough had done nothing to curb her impertinence. Even so, Nym loved her.

"Apparently, the troll was brought into Hogwarts through an old disused sewer system leading into the dungeons. They are certain that a wizard cut the enchanted bars that normally close the entrance before luring the troll using a bait inside the castle. Professor Dumbledore confided to the authorities that he had borrowed the Philosopher's Stone from his friend Nicolas Flamel in order to carry out advanced alchemy experiments with it. It is suspected that somehow the information leaked out and someone wanted to use the troll as a diversion to steal the stone. Dumbledore returned it to Monsieur Flamel after declaring that its presence in the school represented a danger that he had not realised."

"What a story..." muttered Ted.

"I'm sure it was Hagrid who let the cat out of the bag... Dumbledore always put an inordinate amount of trust in that man." Andromeda sighed.

"So, who's the suspect?" Emily asked, stars in her eyes. "I bet it's a teacher! Maybe it's the Snape you told me about, he looks like a cartoon villain!" Nym chuckled, Emily had very definite ideas about her future career as a detective in the DMLE, and if the little brunette with freckles and blue eyes as extravagant as her personality succeeded, Nym didn't know whether to pity the criminals or the DMLE.

"He is indeed a professor..."

"Yes!" exclaimed Emily.

"But it's not Snape," continued Nym.

What?" sighed Emily. Oh..."

"Professor Snape..." corrected Andromeda.

"Sorry, it's not PROFESSOR Snape. She repeated, rolling her eyes. "It's Professor Quirrell."

Ted spat out his tea, Andromeda had a coughing fit, and Emily dropped her spoon beside her bowl, spilling a mixture of milk and cereal onto the wood of the table. "What, you mean... the lousy Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher you told me about in your letters? The one who babbles all the time and is afraid of his own shadow? The one who stinks so bad of garlic that your friend Myosotis just decided not to go to his class? The one who..."

"It's all right, Mimi, I understand." Tonks said, her eyes laughing as she watched Emily make an adorable pout after being called the cute but hated nickname.

"Do they say what led them to that conclusion?" Andromeda asked.

"Yes, apparently Professor Quirrell disappeared completely just a few days after the attack. Nobody has seen him since. All he left was a completely empty room. Furthermore, a thorough investigation aided by a DMLE seer has detected traces of the use of class A dark magic, and what they call ... trails of murderous intent."

Nym and Emily looked at Andromeda with expectant wide eyes, hoping for clarification from her. She seemed determined not to bother with it, until Ted joined in the joint effort. "Not you too Ted..." She sighed.

"Please Andy..."

"All right, fine, but if you don't understand everything, I invite you to go stick your nose in a book, it'll do you a world of good. Especially you, Emily."

Emily grinned guiltily.

"The DMLE employs seers, and nothing to do with the nonsense Trelawney's teaching you. Seeing the future and making prophecies is only a small part of the vast field of divination. Almost anyone can practise some aspect of it, but only true seers can really use it. Sorcerers with the gift of clairvoyance are people who are able to feel the echoes and vibrations of the world's magic, who are sensitive to it. We don't really know why, or how the gift works, but some have it, others don't.

A seer can perceive echoes of different possible futures, or receive an echo so powerful that it declares a prophecy, but this branch of divination is the most uncertain of all. I won't go into detail, but it is theorised that there are an infinite number of worlds parallel to ours, and it is very difficult for a seer to know with certainty whether the echo he has perceived comes from our world, or from a parallel one.

What is much more reliable, and is used by the DMLE and other police organisations, are echoes from the present and the past. For example, a seer can perceive an event taking place in another place by scrying, or perceive echoes from the past of a place, person or object. For example, some seers are unable to eat certain muggle foods because of the suffering caused by their production, which they perceive as echoes. In the article, what they mean is that a seer was able to detect, reliably enough for it to be published, that he perceived the echo of Quirrell's murderous intentions when he was at Hogwarts."

"My head hurts..." groaned Emily.

"You asked for it." Said Andromeda, rolling her eyes.

"I see. So a seer can spy on anyone anywhere?" Nym asked.

"Please..." groaned Emily.

"No, these days it's the norm for all living quarters to have an anti-scrying screen, and a seer can only scry where he remembers going, and often doesn't have access to all his senses when he does," replied Andromeda before taking a sip of tea.

"It's still creepy," said Nym. Emily nodded vigorously at this statement.

"Nym, by the way, are you going back to Hogwarts for the rest of the year when it reopens?" Emily asked.

She didn't see the devilish smile on Andromeda's face at this question, which she hastily hid behind her mug. Nym, who had been waiting for this question for some time, made a monumental effort to stop herself from giggling evilly. "No, I've been on bad terms with my friends there ever since they tried to keep me away from Myo under the pretext that she was corrupting me with her perverse veela powers. I don't want to see them again until they've sincerely apologised to Myo... and unfortunately that's not going to happen."

"Not to mention that I have less and less faith in the management of Dumbledore's school and the legitimacy of some of its teaching staff. Frankly, the ghostly history teacher who bores his pupils to death, a potential criminal as a defence teacher, and Professor Snape is an excellent potions master, but his pedagogy really leaves a lot to be desired from my point of view. No, Dumbledore will not have the honour of seeing my daughter at his school again." Andromeda added.

"How are you going to make it to the end of the year then, Nym?" Emily asked with an innocence that made it even harder for her to suppress her urge to chuckle.

"The Boggart Hole clough academy has agreed to my request for a transfer for the rest of the year." She said, finally letting her devilish grin show.

Emily turned as pale as a sheet, her eyes wide with horror. "Oh no, please!"

Nym let out a sadistic laugh, Emily burying her head in her hands, despairing at the thought of reliving school days in the company of the ball of chaos she called a friend.

oOOOo

What was supposed to be a short visit to draw, feed and pet the oguls, soon found itself changed in unexpected ways. She and Luna had decided to take advantage of a beautiful, cool morning to head off just after breakfast towards the high cliffs in the crevices of which the oguls were nesting, according to what Fleur had told them. Luna had been so excited, vibrating on the spot at the thought of seeing the huge, adorable chickadees again. Little Gaby had wanted to accompany them, not surprising given that the little veela seemed determined to follow her everywhere, but Fleur hadn't let her, declaring that she needed a moment with Gaby and that she couldn't let her steal any more of her little sister's time.

The two of them took off, well... rather, Myo caught Luna and flew with her between the high rocky peaks of the Perch. The Ogul cliff was a fascinating place, a great rock face towering immeasurably above a scree slope, a wilderness of rock with razor-sharp edges, shrouded in shadow, hidden from the morning sun by the gigantic stone spine. The heights of the latter were studded with karst openings around which succulent plants, lichens and high altitude grasses grew.

Luna let out a cheerful cry of excitement when she saw several large oguls coming and going around the openings. Some entering gaps that Myo would have thought were too small for such large birds. "They're cave dwellers! Grandpa was right!" exclaimed Luna before explaining at length why this way of life was interesting for such creatures. Myo couldn't claim to have understood everything, but she had at least grasped that as well as protecting them from predators, this way of nesting enabled them to conserve heat much better for their young and to help keep their living environment healthy by easily evacuating the droppings outside. She then postulated that the veela might use the guanos as fertiliser for their agriculture.

Even Eldur, curious as he was, had decided that what she and Luna were doing was interesting enough to poke his baby phoenix head out of her collar and observe the cliffs, letting out a melodious, soothing little chirp. Vague images of a nest and a large flaming shape flashed through her mind as she became familiar with the baby phoenix, perhaps the cliff reminded Eldur of their first hatching and their parents... She didn't know enough about phoenix biology to say for sure, but she was almost certain of this fact.

When their group approached one of the larger cavities, the oguls approached with curiosity. The smell of the treats in her bag must have attracted them. As advised by Fleur, Myo landed at the entrance to one of the caves and placed Luna on the ground, both standing still to let the oguls inspect them. Seeing one of them approach, Myo opened her bag and took out the string containing the fat balls mixed with seeds, nuts and pieces of fruit. At that moment, there was no sign of what was about to happen. Luna had taken out her sketchbook to continue her sketches of the animals, while she distributed the treats to the ever-growing number of cooing oguls around her. Luna was ecstatic: the sketchbook had been abandoned on the ground, and the little blonde had buried her face in the yellow breast feathers of a large ogul. As for Eldur, he occasionally asked for small pieces of treats.

Myo blamed herself a little; if she hadn't been so concentrated, she would have been aware of what was about to happen. She hadn't realised until it was far too late that the oguls had slowly moved them into the cavity until they found themselves at the bottom of a large nest of branches, leaves, dry grass and feathers, in the company of young oguls watching them curiously.

"They're adorable," said Luna, looking at the chicks, who were completely oblivious to their situation.

"Luna, do you think they're going to let us go back? she asked worriedly, noting that the exit had been blocked by a large ogul.

"Hmm... eventually they'll have to go and get something to eat, or get materials for the nest, or stretch their wings, so we'll just have to slip away then. In the worst case, Fleur, Mum or Apolline will come and get us" replied Luna wisely.

"You're probably right." She sighed as she sat down in the nest, accepting without flinching one of the baby oguls who had come to rub affectionately. "Do you think they've mistaken me for one of them?" she joked.

Luna turned to watch her for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Myo couldn't help but squirm under her piercing, inquisitive gaze, her eyes strangely devoid of their usual dreamy look. "Maybe... it wouldn't be surprising, you are feathery after all."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "I hope feathers aren't their only criteria for adoption." She said as she took one of the baby oguls on her lap.

Luna smirked at her before picking up her notebook and pencils and starting to draw her. "Maybe not, no... please don't move, you're too cute with Eldur and the little one on your lap."

Feeling her cheeks flush, she desperately searched for a subject to hide her embarrassment. The decision she'd made last night came back to mind, and she needed to talk to Luna about it... but before she could formulate a sentence, Luna spoke up.

"So, what are we going to do about Hermione?"

Myo blinked, Luna could be really perceptive. "I was going to talk to you about that. Remember the enchanted map we used to go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes! That was so exciting!" Luna exclaimed with a bright smile.

"Well... I was thinking of using it to visit Hermione and her parents. I'm sure I can convince them to let Hermione go to school with us."

"You'll have to be careful not to be seen by the muggles, the wrackspurt are wreaking havoc among them, and it's said that when they see something in the sky they don't recognise, their brains go limp and attract provnipies."

"That's terrible!"

Luna nodded gravely.

"In that case, we'll just have to go at night! I'm very good at opening windows." She replied, remembering her first robberies of houses in the villages near her tower.

"Good idea! What's more, Daddy has discovered that wrackspurts are less active at night!"

"In that case, it's decided. Now all we need to do is figure out how to escape from here…"

oOOOo

Perched on a high beam in the large room, Myo made herself small and watched. Below, several veela were busy. Some behind large weaving machines, others embroidering runes and designs as beautiful as they were complex on magnificent fabrics.

Earlier today, in a particularly good mood after Isabelle had finally told her that she could call her flames again without risking harm to herself, she had gone flying on her own, with the aim of stretching her wings, feeling the air between her feathers, and exploring the Perch further. It was so good to feel her flames enveloping her again with joy and affection, to see her blue fire running between her feathers and fingers, across her face... Eldur had seemed fascinated by her flames, watching them with interest as they poked their head out of the beige woollen scarf she had borrowed from Fleur to give her familiar a more comfortable place to stay than the inside of her tunic.

She then spotted an opening in the mountain with open curtains. Having learnt that it was customary to leave the curtains open to indicate that the occupants of the house were willing to entertain, which was almost always the case. On learning this, Myo had been a little intimidated... she didn't think she would be able to receive other unknown veela unannounced like that. To be surprised by someone in a place she considered to be her nest of safety seemed terribly unpleasant and frightening. However, she had no qualms about visiting the homes of the other veela in the flock, especially as they had quickly got into the habit of offering her biscuits and other delicious little things when she visited. In exchange, she would present them with pretty stones or found objects, as well as skulls from her most recent hunts. She remembered with fondness the joy of Apolline, Fleur and especially Gaby when she brought them a large freshly hunted hare a few days after Isabelle had allowed her to fly again.

So... it was with curiosity and the hope of receiving a treat that she rushed into the opening in the cliff. Here, the auras of the ten or so veela at work intermingled, giving off an impression of focus and calm, although some were talking to each other in hushed tones. She recognised Sylvie and Annie, two sisters who had come to dine with them the other day. Both of them had taken an instant liking to Luna, so much so that Myo had decided to take Luna to her room, as she couldn't stand the looks the two newcomers were giving her. For some reason she hadn't been able to explain to Luna when she asked, seeing her being watched in this way by Sylvie and Annie had been very unpleasant for her. She had seen some of the other veela present from a distance when she had been in the Perch, but most of them were strangers to her.

Were they the ones who had made the clothes on her back? Probably, given that the fabric of her tunic was quite similar to the one they wove. In any case, she was glad to have been discreet enough not to have disturbed them.

She was about to sneak out when she stiffened. Someone had just called her. "I know there's someone up there". Said a young veela with big white wings and blonde hair. Perhaps one of Fleur's cousins, she supposed.

"Come on, show yourself, don't be shy," she added, now that all the others were looking in her direction. Conceding defeat, Myo leapt off the beam and glided to the ground, landing in front of the white feathered girl.

"Hello, I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you, how did you notice me? " She said shyly. She felt a little oppressed, all the veela in the room having stopped their work either to observe her or to approach her, with the exception of one, who was particularly old and still concentrating on her work, perhaps a great-great-grandmother, Myo thought.

"It's hard not to notice your aura, little Taïvaalta". Said her interlocutor with a broad smile and a fond smile. "I'm glad you decided to come and see us." Said another. "She's so cute..." added a third. "Can I keep her?" asked one as she hugged her. Myo realised with horror that she was surrounded, with no hope of escape. This situation had happened several times before, first with Fleur's cousins, aunts and grandmothers, then with the regulars in the Perch library, not forgetting the elders... She should have expected it. After a good five minutes of cooing, her assailants dispersed when the very old veela who had remained seated at her embroidery cleared her throat.

"Can I stay and watch for a while?" Myo asked the one she assumed to be Josephine, the white-winged veela who had turned out to be a distant cousin of Fleur, if she remembered correctly what had been said in the tornado of introductions she had been the victim of.

"Of course, don't touch anything without asking first, that's all, needles sting, and weaving looms can be dangerous if you don't know them."

"Yes ma'am!"

"It's Sephi for you, little Myosotis," laughed Joséphine.

"I'm not little... " Myo said with a pout, much to the amusement of everyone present.

The noise and chatter quickly died down once the excitement of her arrival had passed, and Myo was finally able to walk between the looms and the various works in peace, lingering over those she found particularly beautiful, or those in which Eldur showed a particular interest.

She stopped behind the very old veela, whose grey eyes were fixed on a piece of work more beautiful and subtle than anything she had seen since her arrival, the gnarled old hands seeming to make the needle and thread dance in a ceaseless and graceful ballet.

Suddenly, the old veela stopped her work and turned to her, looking straight into her eyes. "Do you want to try?" she enquired.

"Can I?" said Myo shyly.

"Of course you can. I'm Adèle Masha Delacour, the master craftswoman."

"Myosotis, Potter" she replied, a little intimidated by the intensity of the former.

"You seem interested in embroidery, what caught your eye?" asked Adèle, gently putting down her work before standing up.

"The idea of sewing runes into clothes... I've heard of runes, and I know it's a subject taught at Beaubaton, so the subject interests me and knowing how to sew them just sounds really good. And then... you make such pretty and cute things..."

"I see... You'll have to talk to your teacher, or one of us, about it, sewing runes to make enchanted clothes can't be improvised and can be dangerous. However, what you can do now is learn to handle the needles." She said as she walked into an adjoining room filled with materials, fabrics, coloured threads and tools of all kinds.

Adèle picked up a wooden circle and a square of white fabric, which she attached to the circle, then took a box and opened it, revealing a collection of spools of coloured threads, blues, greens, reds, pinks, violets, even silver and gold ones. "Pick a colour! She said, giving her an encouraging smile. Myo glanced at the white fabric before grabbing a spool of dark blue-green thread. "Good choice." Adèle observed.

They both returned to the main room, and Adèle sat cross-legged on her footstool, before patting her lap. "Come on, settle down so I can show you.

Myo blushed, but settled into Adele's lap anyway, folding her wings in the least awkward way possible, arranging her tail upwards so as not to damage the feathers. Adèle put her head over her shoulder before taking hold of her hands, the thread and the fabric on the wooden stand, before explaining the technique slowly and clearly and guiding her patiently. Myo felt an immense joy as she watched the design of a bouquet of forget-me-nots slowly take shape on the fabric.

After a while, when Adèle had stopped giving her vocal directions and had settled on simply preventing her from pricking her fingers with the needle and guiding her movements when necessary, Myo let her curiosity do the talking. "So, you make all the clothes in the flock?" She asked to confirm her theory.

"Yes, but not only that." Adèle answered with audible pride.

"What do you mean?"

"We also make the tapestries and sheets, and honour the commissions of certain trusted customers from outside the flock, the runic garments enchanted by the veela rituals are recognised as some of the best in the world."

"That's brilliant! Isn't that a lot of work?"

"It is indeed a lot of time, but the fabrics we make last for centuries, and the prices of our enchanted garments are so high that we can't be bothered with too many commissions."

"I really love your embroidery." Myo said shyly, glancing at Adèle's work.

"Thank you, little flame. It means a lot to me, you're honouring an old lady."

Myo blushed redder.

A few hours later, when Myo returned, she found Fleur, Luna, Gaby and Pandora playing tarot on one of the mats. Gaby was clearly winning, if her satisfied expression was any indication. She sat down next to Luna, under Gaby's jealous gaze. "Where have you been?" Pandora asked. Fleur nodded with a frown.

"At first I just went for a wander, but then I found the weavers."

"I hope you didn't bother them." Fleur said.

"Myo wouldn't do that." Luna said aerially.

"Thank you, Luna. No, Adèle showed me how to embroider, and we made this." She said as she took out the square of fabric on which was embroidered a bouquet of forget-me-nots under the moon.

"Oh, it's very well done! Can I see it?" enthused Pandora.

"Of course," she replied, handing her the fabric.

"I see that Adèle has taken you under her wing." Fleur smiled.

"Literally." Gaby chuckled.

"You'll have to introduce me to her, I'd love to talk embroidery with her." Pandora added.

Myo was about to reply when she felt Luna's hand on her shoulder. She was staring at her with a look that was both dreamy and intense. "Don't let time fly." she said casually, before turning her attention back to her cards.

oOOOo

Dawn was just around the corner, the sky still the deepest blue, the stars obscured by the lights of the immense canker of stone, fire and smoke swarming with humans far below, but the horizon was slowly reddening like the embers of a dying fire.

Luna was in her arms, the map in her hands, but she seemed more interested in the blazing horizon than in her guiding task. Several times already, she had had to call her to order. "Little Moon, are we almost there?" she asked. A smirk appeared on her face as she saw the usually impassive Luna blush.

"It's down below, you can start to go down, but watch out for the scratches, there are lots of them above the town." She said loud enough for her voice to cover the high wind.

Myo nodded and smiled mischievously, from what she could remember, Luna loved swooping, didn't she? She thought before spreading her tail feathers, tucking in her talons and forming a V with her wings, letting herself fall through the air at dizzying speed, like a feathered comet. Finally, it was time, she missed Hermione.

oOOOo

Slumped on his sofa, dressed only in a bathrobe, his bulging abs on full display, Albus felt as good as he could feel. A long pipe stuffed with elven leaves rested in the palm of his hand, forming whimsical wisps of smoke. Everything could have been perfect, but Alastor had decided to return home for the night, deeming the Hogwarts wards insufficient, Fawks wasn't there to give him the appalled looks of a far too prudish bird, and his countless worries prevented him from fully enjoying the moment. His plan had failed, Quirrell had disappeared, he found himself at odds with Nicolas, and Myosotis Potter had left never to return... He heaved a deep sigh, fortunately his incredible succession of bad luck seemed to stop there...

Then, a great white owl approached the window, a letter between its talons. He had thought too fast... Maybe his karma was finally catching up with him, in the course of his life he could be proud of many great and good things, but also of many failures, sacrifices and actions that many would consider immoral if they ignored the even greater evil he was trying to prevent.

Although now, he was coming to regret many of his choices, having wanted to preserve the stability of the government to avoid more victims in the immediate aftermath of the war having formed a huge time bomb and a wizengamot capable of exasperating him enough that even his legendary calm could not prevent him from dreaming of setting fire to this rotten institution.

The great white owl landed on his desk and carefully and elegantly detached the letter from itself, before bowing in his direction and flying off again without even asking for a treat. What kind of new problem was this? Did the universe have no mercy? Was he not burdened enough as it was?

He took out his elder wand, the wood feeling like ice between his fingers, and five minutes and thirty or so detection and analysis spells later, he put his wand away. The letter didn't seem to be a trap that would significantly shorten his life.

He picked it up and looked at the seal. A moon with one eye open behind a dead tree... in blue wax. He dropped the letter, letting it fall back onto his desk, as if the paper had burnt his hand. He would recognise this seal among a thousand others, he had hoped never to see it in real life.

"By Merlin..." he muttered into his beard, the ancient war seal of the Lovegood clan, mentioned on rare occasions in certain history books, used only when THEY appeared. He sank back in his chair, his head in his hands, something far worse than what he had been preparing for all those years was about to happen if the old seal was used. And in one way or another, it involved him.