Can't be either of those. At least if book 7 is real. Harry used sacrificial protection on the defenders of Hogwarts when he let Voldemort kill him.
Spells in Silence (Harry Potter)
- Thread starter Silently Watches
- Start date
feauxen
I know everything and nothing. I'm very confused.
- Location
- Yes.
- Pronouns
- Human/Person/Thing
Given the context I suspect you meant "Duplicating spells I could already cast with a wan just to do so was not worth my time.
Found this tonight and read it all in a few hours. This is wonderful. Its kinda interesting that despite being at hogwarts, basically no elements from book one have shown up. Not even Hermione, who would either absolutely hate Hazel or be a friendly rival.
- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
I mean, I think there's also a fair chance she just stays out of it.boyboy180 said:
Right.Zakara said:
Ohh, right, that's quite possibly still in the future. Good point.
- Location
- Bogota
You know, reading the chapter again I'm actually low key dissapointed about this part, for her entire time at Hogwarts Hazel has been miserable and/or bored in all her classes with the exception of Herbology and maybe Charms (the latter mostly for Flitwick attempts at helping her even if she thinks she is not learning much there) and pretty much complaining non-stop about how dissapointing Hogwarts is, comparing it to a prison that is not teaching her anything useful, and she finally gets a class that she finds fun and teaching her something she considers old school magic from the stories she read about witches.
And the entire thing was skipped, with only a paragraph summarizing it, like, I didn't expect a full chapter dedicated to her flying lessons, but I honestly think it should have been even a small part of one, there's just enough stuff, when Hooch told them to move next to their brooms, extend their hands and say UP did Hazel thought that it might be wandless magic? It couldn't just be the broom as a magical artifact being enchanted to do so since some had difficulties in calling it, did she use her "Invisible Hand" to raise it for her or she did she manage to call it to her hand by thinking up, which might come back later when Tom told her about how wandless magic was about willing things to happen, and her first flight itself, in canon it was such a happy memory for Harry that he tried using it on his Patronus training, it failed but the fact that it was the first thing that came to his mind shows it was important to him, even if Hazel is not into sports you don't need that to find flying exhilarating.
I understand you cannot show every little thing, but I think putting some levity into the story, like the scene with the unicorn, is important, and showing some things that Hazel might actually like about Hogwarts might make it easier to understand why she would stay.
Probably one of the few things Ron could actually teach her is the knowledge of how and where to buy things second hand to save the money she does have in general, an old used broom would also be much cheaper, and even if she still decides to steal they would probably have less security.
Also while I could believe a Nimbus could cost as much as a car I don't think a basic model would, unless it was a really cheap used car.
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Silently Watches
Professional Stalker
- Location
- Right behind you
Sadly I did this for a few reasons.
1) It was uneventful. It wasn't identical to canon, but that difference was an ABSENCE of events, not something new. Emphasizing a lack of something is hard to do.
2) I had so many other events that I honestly considered more important or at least more interesting to show that flying class got pushed to the back burner.
3) By the time I seriously considered showing it anyway just as a palate cleanser, we were already in mid-late October so too late to actually have the class in real time, and trying to fit it in as a flashback or something would have been awkward as hell
- Location
- Bogota
Not necessarily, I doubt they could teach them everything there is about flying in just 2 lessons, they probably still have some lessons every couple of weeks or so, otherwise Neville would have never learned to ride a broom properly after his fall, and I doubt Hogwarts would have a full time professor that just teaches 4 lessons a year, maybe you could show one of the latter classes with Hazel remembering some of her thoughts on the first one and what she learned since then.
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I'd think she did it by thinking "up" to the broom, just as she uses the Floo, or talks to Morgan.
By the way. she should theoretically be able to talk like that to most people, but I understand she doesn't want to.
It would be inconvenient if each time you say "up", you activate the broom. Or ALL brooms around. So it could be enchanted to respond to intent to fly that specific broom, and maybe it must be quite firm, to keep false positives down.
- Location
- Hug the Moebot; Save the world
I would guess its more of a matter of will and intent. The 'up' thing is probably just to teach new students how to focus their will properly to activate the broom they are thinking of. Once they get used to it they can just hop on the broom and go without even thinking about it. Like when driving a car you get to the point where your body handles most of the controls automatically.
- Location
- Versailles
I guess that explains why Voldemort despises other wizards. He views them as unworthy of their gifts. Most wizards are no different from Muggles in his eyes. They have magic, and they squander it to live no differently than Muggles.
Hazel is an explorer, delving into the unknown for lost magics. She has struggled for everything, and she desires more. I think Voldemort views her as a worthy chosen of the prophecy.
Hazel is an explorer, delving into the unknown for lost magics. She has struggled for everything, and she desires more. I think Voldemort views her as a worthy chosen of the prophecy.
Kadath
Sinnamon Roll
- Location
- Somewhere
I just caught back up and hoo boy is this last scene reminding me about the thing you said early on about homeless children being extremely vulnerable to being abused. Hazel is ticking all the potential abuse victim boxes here.
[✓] Emotionally vulnerable
[✓] Has no social support network of peers or trusted adults
[✓] Physically confined to the space
[✓] In a socially subordinate position
The only thing missing is that she's not dependent on the institution for housing/income/social interaction.
As much as I want to believe that she'd see right through him, emotional abuse doesn't follow consistent logic, and the emotionally abused often don't even recognize it.
Or maybe I'm just seeing things, but a scene of an adult lying to get closer to a crying child gives me the willies. Well done on that.
[✓] Emotionally vulnerable
[✓] Has no social support network of peers or trusted adults
[✓] Physically confined to the space
[✓] In a socially subordinate position
The only thing missing is that she's not dependent on the institution for housing/income/social interaction.
As much as I want to believe that she'd see right through him, emotional abuse doesn't follow consistent logic, and the emotionally abused often don't even recognize it.
Or maybe I'm just seeing things, but a scene of an adult lying to get closer to a crying child gives me the willies. Well done on that.
- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
Hm. Those are some interesting observations, but I will point out that she's not actually physically confined to the space. She has to get to the hole in the wards she found or otherwise get past them (and not be caught by anything else), which is a vulnerability, but if she can do that, she's gone, with multiple options for for-her-easily-reachable much more supportive environments and the option to just go back to wandering the world.
Ch. 43, Momento Mortuum
Silently Watches
Professional Stalker
- Location
- Right behind you
Hazel felt eyes and thoughts on her as she sat at a small table in the common room alongside Sally-Anne, so it was not a terrible shock when she glanced up to find Sidonia Smith approaching them. "Hi, you two," the prefect said with a smile. "Good to see you down here for once. Perks I see every now and again, but Potter is like a bleeding ghost, I swear. What are you two working on?"
'Potions.'
"Hazel's trying to help me with Snape's assignment," elaborated Sally-Anne, "but I think I'm getting more confused. We're supposed to write 10 inches on the interaction between moonstone and elderberry sap in the Ebullient Emulsion, but I don't understand Hazel's explanation at all."
Sidonia frowned to herself and glanced above their heads. "I think I remember that essay, actually. Which is sad on all its own that it's stuck this long. That was one assignment I think everyone failed. It turns out there's a principle in potions that certain substances combined in certain ways can act like an entirely different substance. I don't remember exactly what that combination acts like—"
'Ratatoskr venom.'
Sidonia glanced at the words that appeared and snapped her mouth shut. "That… sounds right, actually. How in the world do you know that?"
'Because all three have essences that resonate with the moon, but we can't use ratatoskr venom both because it's exceptionally rare and because it is also associated with Venus. That would cause it to counteract the mint due to its own connection to Jupiter. Using moonstone and elderberry lets us get around that limitation.' Now Sidonia was staring at her with the same look of confusion and incomprehension that Sally-Anne had on her face, and Hazel glanced back and forth between them. 'What? One of the people who taught me potion theory before I came here told me essence resonance and diffusion were fundamental concepts. I'm surprised Snape hasn't given a lecture on it already.'
It was not quite the first thing Gertrude had taught her, not if she included their initial brewing session as a lesson, but by the third lesson that was definitely something the hag had taken to pounding into her head.
"I don't take NEWT Potions," Sidonia began slowly, "and wouldn't want another two years with that bastard even if I had gotten an O, but in the five years I was in class we were never taught anything like what you just said. I almost want to tell you to include that in your own essay, but I don't know if Snape knows what you're talking about either."
A pause, then Hazel wrote, 'I already finished. I thought that was what he wanted us to base our explanation on.'
Sidonia burst out in laughter a moment later, and while she forced it down with a shake of her head her shoulders still jerked in time with her giggles. "Don't worry about rewriting it, then," she managed to get out. "Dear Merlin, I wish I could see his face when he starts reading it. Since I haven't seen them having their tutoring sessions out here before, is this a new thing or…"
Sally-Anne shook her head. "Not really. She's been helping me for the last few weeks, but normally we're in the library."
"So what changed?"
"Granger," they both replied. Sally-Anne continued, "I mean, I don't mind her studying in the library too, that's what it's there for and everything, but she makes it all dreary and angry-feeling …uncomfortable."
Interesting. Hazel had felt similarly in Granger's vicinity, but she was also capable of hearing thoughts so that was just par for the course. Since Sally-Anne did not have the same ability so far as Hazel could tell, it was fascinating that she could still pick up on those emotional projections.
That said, the thoughts whirling around inside of Granger's head were a little more complicated than Sally-Anne could appreciate. The Gryffindor girl seemed to be feeling a low level of fear and insecurity all but constantly now, but any time anyone got near her Granger snapped at them with a surge of anger and something not-but-similar-to jealousy. Her behavior was perplexing, honestly, and Hazel would rather not have to deal with the surges of emotion elicited by someone else just walking past the other girl.
"You can study wherever you like," Sidonia said with a shrug. "Even the classrooms as long as there aren't classes going on at the time. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. Your classes are of course important, but just as important is spending time getting to know other students and maybe learning a few things that aren't in any class curriculum."
Hazel sighed to herself, suspecting she knew where this was going. She did not need someone else telling her she needed to come out of her shell and play nice with a bunch of other children who refused to believe her about the most basic facts of her own life, thank you very much.
"Have either of you given any thought to joining the Gardening Club?"
…Although credit where it was due, this was a different tactic than had been tried on her before.
Sally-Anne's expression and thoughts revealed her own reluctance, no surprise considering her distaste for Herbology as a subject, but Hazel found herself curious. 'What is this Gardening Club?'
Sidonia gave her a brilliant smile. "It's fairly unique. A few different classes here have their own 'clubs', like Transfiguration and Charms, although those classes are more like study hall to help younger students who have trouble getting the material down. Then you have things like the Divination Club, which is supposed to be dedicated to helping witches with the Inner Eye refine their abilities." The sixth-year girl glanced to both sides and then continued in a stage whisper, "Although it's mostly for a few addle-pated dummies to sit around giggling.
"The Gardening Club, on the other hand, isn't meant to review material taught in Herbology class. It actually focuses on the practical realities of dealing with magical plants and managing a garden filled with them. This means things like proper pest control, how to predict the results of cross-breeding, and even which plants are most likely to fight with each other. Useful stuff. If you have an interest in Herbology and Potions, and I remember you were positively overflowing with questions about both subjects on the first day of class, I think you'd find it very interesting."
That… hmm. Setting up her own herb garden was not something Hazel had considered before, in part because it was an expense she did not have the money for and in part because she was rarely in the same place long enough to set up any permanent foothold, and that was what a garden would turn into. Of course, just because the garden would be in a fixed location did not mean she would be stuck there as well. All she had to do was make sure it was somewhere she could get in and out of easily, and she would be able to check on it and then jump back to wherever she had come from.
And considering how many potions ingredients could grow out in the wild with little to no human intervention, as Elfriede's gathering components from the Black Forest could attest, a garden that was nearly wild itself would be a useful place to have in her back pocket.
"Why would anyone want to spend more time in the dirt?" she heard Sally-Anne wonder to herself. "I know Hazel enjoys Herbology, and it sounds like Sidonia does too, but I just don't understand how. It's so gross. Are there other c-clubs here? Besides th-the ones you mentioned already."
"That's a good question," praised the prefect. She twisted a lock of purple hair around one finger as she thought. "Let's hope I remember all of them. Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Divination are the only proper classes that have specific clubs that I remember. Potions used to have one, but that was disbanded when Snape took over the class. History, Astronomy, Defense, Runes, Arithmancy, Magical Creatures… No, I think that's it.
"There are some other clubs that aren't related to any class, though. If you're interested in games, there's the chess club and the Gobstones League and the Islay Hangman teams—"
'I've heard of that one,' Hazel cut in. Mr. Filch had explained it almost absentmindedly when McGonagall gave her detention with him. 'Islay Hangman. It's a card game, right? And the school team has to travel to other schools for competitions or something?'
A blink, then Sidonia gave her a satisfied nod. "Exactly right. The Gobstones club also has to Floo to other schools, as does the broom racing club. And speaking of brooms, there is a very unofficial Quidditch league that crosses house boundaries." She lowered her voice, tone more serious this time than had been the case when she was badmouthing the divination club. "The rumor is that they only play after curfew when no one is going to see them because Hooch won't let us set foot on the pitch because 'it's only for the real teams', but you don't know anything about that. Got it?"
They both nodded at the sudden seriousness in the older girl's voice, and she looked them in their eyes before leaning back. "Those are the big clubs— Ah. I guess there's also the… Oh, what is that word?…" She gnawed on her lip for a moment as she searched her memory. "The tekkomancy club, I think? It's a mostly Muggleborn club about mixing Muggle stuff and magic. I don't know any of the details. I think it's the only official club that doesn't have a real mentor, mostly because nobody outside the group understands a thing about it, but I think Flitwick pokes his head in every once in a while to make sure they haven't blown themselves up."
'He would be the best to do so. I've talked with him after class a few times. He's really bright when it comes to magical theory. He'd probably find their experiments interesting.'
"How come nobody told us about these clubs earlier?" Sally-Anne almost demanded. "Some of those sound interesting, but if they don't tell us about them how are we supposed to join?"
A shrug was the only answer Sidonia gave them. "I'm not involved in the other clubs barring one exception, so I can't speak for them. As far as the Gardening Club goes, most of the time there's no point inviting every first year when nobody – not even them – knows whether they have interest in Herbology in the first place. This year there are a few who immediately attracted attention, but that's the exception, not the rule."
While that was good information to know, it did not answer the underlying question at hand. Was joining this club worth the time it would eat up? On the one hand, she did find Herbology interesting, and this club sounded dedicated to practical knowledge, which was always useful to know. On the other, she had no idea how much time it would actually take from her, and with how unsuccessful her search for druidic history had been so far, she needed every minute she could get.
…Although. With how much time she had put into her search only to come up with nothing, perhaps she could use a regular diversion. And unlike a lot of other things these wizards did, it would be something that she could do both now and in the future.
'I guess I could go to a couple of meetings. Try it out before I commit. When and where?'
Once more Hazel found herself sitting at the edge of a lake, although this time it was not the lake on Hogwarts's grounds. Instead it was the Mermaid Pool in Derbyshire, the same inland lake that was said to to house a mermaid who could grant immortality one day a year, that she chose. Did it make any real difference to what she was attempting where she did it? Probably not.
Nevertheless, for her first stone-casting she felt she deserved to be somewhere less wizard-y.
Before she performed the final, physical act of divination, she needed to finish the mental portion. Her eyes were closed, her staff laying across her lap and Morgan on her shoulder, but it was in her mind that she was working hard. Just as she always did when she wanted to commune with the natural world, she had imagined roots spreading out from her crossed legs. Unlike normal, however, from her arms and her hair she could almost feel leafy branches sprouting and reaching towards the sky. She was one with the world, with the wide-reaching magic of nature that wizards had so little consideration for.
She was not separate from the cycles of the seasons, of night and day, of life and death. Nobody was, no matter how the wizards and even normal people pretended themselves to be. She was one more living creature walking the earth, one more beating heart, one more leaf on the infinite World Tree.
Within her mind was stillness, and only now that she was totally and completely centered and accepting of both her importance and her insignificance did she breathe out and think of the question burning in her heart. The stones she had collected over the last couple of weeks, unpolished and imperfect but still exactly what she needed, prickled against her palms, all but demanding to fall and speak to her in silent voices.
Where can I find the druids I seek?
She spread her hands, feeling the stones fall away, and a few seconds later she finally opened her eyes. The stones she had thrown were scattered randomly, some of them landing on solid ground but others sunk halfway into the muddy shore. Most of the stones had some distinguishing mark, but only a couple of the dozen stones had those marks visible.
And none of them spelled out a clue or formed an arrow or showed any other sign of an answer.
Part of her felt disappointment welling up, but most of her mind was still in that strange crystalline calm that accompanied her meditations. Hazel reached down almost idly towards the nearest stone, unknowing whether to put them away or try again—
Her fingers touched lake muck—
Pinpricks of bright green moss poked out of the mud in the shadow of her hand and swept over the stones and the shoreline and the lake water. Behind the moss were tiny plants that sprouted as well, thin trunks and blackened branches rising only a short distance before stopping and staying stunted and puny. A thin ribbon of water snaked its way from the lake and through the sea of moss, defying gravity as it crept up the shoreline even as it flowed down hills that did not exist.
—and sank into the brown mud, unchanged from how it had appeared when she first arrived at the Mermaid Pool and probably for years before that.
She pulled her hand away from the shore before she glanced at the guilty appendage and then the stones she had thrown that were still sunk in the mud. That was not what the book had said a successful stone-casting would be like. It had described a vague sense of connection that would need to be pondered and interpreted, not a full-blown vision of all things!
With a shake of her head, she pulled all the stones out of the mud and cleaned them with the blue ripples of her magic. I really don't know what to make of that, she told Morgan, but at least I have a hint for where to continue my search. Even if it makes me feel like a dummy. Once she had risen to her feet, she wrapped herself in the deep purple fog of the spirit world and watched it fade away to reveal a familiar landscape of moss-covered stones and stunted oak trees.
Wistman's Wood was reputed to be the site of long-past druidic rituals and human sacrifices. She had been here before, not long after she ran away from Little Whinging. It was in fact one of the very first places she had visited in her search for hints of druid culture, and while she had encountered a surprisingly friendly – or at least tolerant – hellhound during her hours here, she had not found anything that was related to her quarry.
If her vision was to be believed, she had simply been looking in the wrong spots.
The boots on her feet splashed into the little stream she had arrived next to, the same stream where she first attempted her current method of meditation and had met the aforementioned hellhound, and she glanced around with a thoughtful frown on her face. Where do you think we should start? I don't know exactly how big this wood is, but I suspect it's big enough that blindly wandering around won't do us much good.
Morgan chirped and clacked his beak at her staff. Running her fingers over the wood, she mulled that suggestion over. He had a point that her staff had successfully guided her places before, but she could not remember it ever leading her someplace new. Back to somewhere she had already been, particularly somewhere she had stopped to rest and set up a basic camp? That it could absolutely do. But going somewhere when she did not even know where that somewhere was?
…On the other hand, did she have any better ideas?
Shrugging, she tapped the butt of her staff against the ground. Lead on, I guess. I hope you know more than I do.
The sun drifted across the sky, and several hours later Hazel scrambled up another rocky hill before wiping sweat off her brow. At least she had not heard the hissing of hidden snakes like she had half an hour or so before. These woods were said to be full of adders, and she was in no mood to test whether her healing spell was strong enough to purge venom from her blood. She would much rather have more of the splashes and rustling and snapping of twigs to her sides; that at least was probably just a few hellhounds stalking her through the bush.
Her brow furrowed as she reflected on that sentiment and frowned to herself. Loath as I am to give the average wizard credit, the other kids at Hogwarts might be right. Maybe there is something wrong with me. She shook her staff and gave it a glare. And you aren't any help either. You're lost just as much as I am.
More cracking came from the deepening shadows in front of her, and a creature stepped into view. It looked like a massive black dog, but only if dogs normally had glowing red eyes far too big for their faces and wisps of smoke drifting off there fur in places. The beast was holding itself low to the ground, and with its lips pulled back she could easily see yellowed fangs dripping with saliva.
Normally a massive hellhound prepared to pounce and rip out her throat would be a terrifying display. Hazel would not say she felt no fear at the sight, but she also remembered how another hound had stared quizzically at her before accepting a handful of trail mix. It was hard not to look at her creature in front of her the same way after that.
Raising the hand not holding her staff, she gave the hellhound a smile without showing any more of her teeth than she had to. She did not want to flee unless absolutely necessary to keep herself safe, but that did not mean she should take no precautions. Hello. I mean you no harm. I'm kind of lost, actually. Do you know if there are any druids nearby? Or anything related to them?
The massive canine relaxed its snarl a little and blinked at her, its strange horizontal pupils dilating. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? She was not sure. A moment later, the hound sniffed at her several times before it rose to its full height. Giving her a gruff chuffing bark, it turned its back on her and started walking deeper into the woods.
It also gave her some reassurance that she was not crazy. It was completely normal to prefer hellhounds to snakes considering the former could actually be reasoned with.
The hellhound quickened its steps once she had caught up, and although she lost sight of it a couple of times it was never hard to find afterwards. Several minutes into the walk, however, she started to wonder if she should be concerned after all. Not for her own sake, exactly, but more because the wisps of smoke had turned into flickers of actual flame that were spreading across its fur. It did not seem bothered by the process, though. Maybe it was something that regularly happened to hellhounds?
Or, she realized with embarrassment halfway to their destination, maybe she was not dealing with a hellhound at all.
The spirit, now a wolf standing taller at the shoulder than she did and composed entirely of flame that had yet to set even a single leaf or twig alight, came to a stop in the middle of an otherwise unremarkable clearing and turned around to face her for the first time. Hazel swept her gaze around, a frown forming as she tried and failed to see what the spirit wanted her to see. A few mounds and dips scattered around, but that was all.
I don't understand, she admitted after a moment.
A blink of its coal-black eyes, and the spirit took a step towards her, then another. She felt herself tense, images of any number of places far away from here flashing through her memories. She knew she historically had more luck with non-human spirits than those in human form, but she also knew she was making many assumptions from relatively few interactions. Would it be like the windy spirit who had given her her fairy lens and the butterfly spirit who guided her to the magical boar troubling her werewolf friends, or it would it lash out like the spirit of the scoured clearing?
Ever so gently – cautiously, even, if such a word was even appropriate for an entity such as this – it pressed a brilliant white nose against her forehead.
The spirit vanished without a trace, and then the sun streaked across the sky. Backwards. Everything was the black of deepest night before the sun reappeared and vanished again and reappeared and vanished and reappeared. The repeated nights and days merged into a pulsating purple sky, the very sight of which filled Hazel with an overwhelming nausea. She fell to her knees, her eyes squeezed together to block it all out.
When she opened them again, she found the dead waiting for her.
She fell backwards onto her butt with her instinctive flinch. A dozen skeletons lay on the ground in front of her, and with each pulse in the sky flesh crept farther up the bones like strangling vines. Once muscle and skin had fully formed, the sky finally stopped the sickening light show.
The mounds she had noticed had become piles of exposed rock sometime during all this, and now they burst into flame. Ashes became chunks of wood that in turn became branches and short logs, and the fires lifted them into place and sprouted stalks of hay or something like it that weaved themselves into thatched roofs.
Five men appeared from nowhere, each of them wearing robes of brown or black except for the one in the middle who was wearing instead a robe of deep plum. They raised their wands and siphoned away the flames from the now-intact homes. Several of the men walked backwards into those same homes and soon after ran back out with far more haste. The dead then stood as jets of light of all different color flew back to the wizards.
All but three, specifically the three closest to the middle of the clearing. A moment later, two of those rose up with staves in their hands, a crescent of purple flame ripping itself out of the man on the left while a beam of acidic green light did the same from the woman on the right. A woman who had tongues of lightning arcing between her empty hand and the head of her staff for a brief instant before she straightened into a wary stance. That was when the center figure fell upright to reveal an older man with hair nearly fully grey but somehow still possessing the muscular form of a man decades his junior. He wore neither shirt nor robe, but rather rough-spun trousers that reached just past his knees and an animal pelt across his bare chest.
Another beam of green left him, this one the first and only spell that returned to the wand of the wizard in the purple robe. That wizard had a snarl on his face as he shouted wordlessly at the older man, whose snarling expression showed him to be just as angry about whatever was being said. Another minute of shouting and violent gestures later from both leaders, the group of wizards vanished as quickly as they had appeared.
Her vision wavered, and a sluggish blink brought her back to the real world and the fiery spirit who still stood staring at her. She shook her head and glanced around the clearing with new and unsettling understanding.
Why? That was the question circling around and around in her head, a question with nary an answer to be had. Perhaps she would know better if she could have heard what the older druid and the wizard in the purple robe were screaming at each other, but she had not. Planting her staff into the ground, she pushed herself slowly to her feet and stumbled forwards.
It was only a few feet until she reached the spot where the leader of this tiny hamlet had fallen, and she knelt down and pressed her fingers into the soft dirt. I don't understand, she admitted to the spirit. I know what happened, the facts of it. But why? That is what I can't understand. What argument could possible be so bad that it was worth murdering an entire village over?
The wolf spirit padded closer and pawed repeatedly at the ground close to her hand. Confused, Hazel reached over to that same spot and felt around until she found something small and cold and hard beneath her fingers. Not a pebble; it was too regular to be that. Picking it out of the sparse grass, she turned the thin red rectangle around in her hand. It looked almost like rusty metal, but what was it and why would it be here?
Blue ripples surged once more from her skin and swept over the rectangle, peeling flecks of rust off a few at a time. When the spell ended, she was left with a piece of black iron with a hole through one end. The light from the setting sun glinted off the surface to reveal a crudely carved design, a single curved line that overlapped itself in multiple places to form a knotwork design.
A pendant, she realized. But the significance? That escaped her.
What does this mean? No answer came to her, and she looked up to ask the spirit her question once again.
Except there was no spirit waiting for her. She was all alone.
"Hazel? What's that?"
Sally-Anne's question caught her friend off-guard, and the black-haired girl looked up from her half-eaten dinner and blinked at her. Sally-Anne lowered her gaze to indicate a dark metal pendant that hung from Hazel's neck on a strip of leather. She had never seen Hazel wear anything like it before.
It was most definitely not something Hazel was wearing when the other girl went off on her own after Herbology class.
Hazel reached up to toy with the pendant for a moment, a strange twisted almost-scowl on her face. Taking a deep breath in through her nose, she let go of her new necklace and twisted the index finger of her left hand in a tiny circle. Golden sparks flew off that finger and formed words in a display of magic that might have become familiar but still astonished Sally-Anne whenever she took the time to actually think about it.
'It's a reminder. Of the lost and the forgotten.'
Hazel broke eye contact and looked back down at the plate where she was not really eating but just playing with her food. Sally-Anne waited for another moment before reluctantly turning her attention back to her own dinner, appetite forgotten. She did not think Hazel meant to shut her out, not like her first friend in this strange new world did to most other people at Hogwarts, but it felt similar. She did not want to pry too hard, but she was more than willing to offer whatever support Hazel needed. If only Hazel would let her.
Golden light glinted in the corner of her eye, and she turned her head to find more writing waiting for her. 'Maybe I'll be willing to talk about it later. Just not now. I'm still figuring it out for myself.
'But thank you for caring.'
A smile touched her lips, and she reached for a dinner roll. Later was not as good as now, but it was much, much better than never.
This is the problem I have making OCs. When I let myself go, I wind up having entirely too much fun with them.
I have a whole theory about Harry and divination that I won't go into now, but suffice it to say I don't consider this to be giving Hazel a new ability.
'Potions.'
"Hazel's trying to help me with Snape's assignment," elaborated Sally-Anne, "but I think I'm getting more confused. We're supposed to write 10 inches on the interaction between moonstone and elderberry sap in the Ebullient Emulsion, but I don't understand Hazel's explanation at all."
Sidonia frowned to herself and glanced above their heads. "I think I remember that essay, actually. Which is sad on all its own that it's stuck this long. That was one assignment I think everyone failed. It turns out there's a principle in potions that certain substances combined in certain ways can act like an entirely different substance. I don't remember exactly what that combination acts like—"
'Ratatoskr venom.'
Sidonia glanced at the words that appeared and snapped her mouth shut. "That… sounds right, actually. How in the world do you know that?"
'Because all three have essences that resonate with the moon, but we can't use ratatoskr venom both because it's exceptionally rare and because it is also associated with Venus. That would cause it to counteract the mint due to its own connection to Jupiter. Using moonstone and elderberry lets us get around that limitation.' Now Sidonia was staring at her with the same look of confusion and incomprehension that Sally-Anne had on her face, and Hazel glanced back and forth between them. 'What? One of the people who taught me potion theory before I came here told me essence resonance and diffusion were fundamental concepts. I'm surprised Snape hasn't given a lecture on it already.'
It was not quite the first thing Gertrude had taught her, not if she included their initial brewing session as a lesson, but by the third lesson that was definitely something the hag had taken to pounding into her head.
"I don't take NEWT Potions," Sidonia began slowly, "and wouldn't want another two years with that bastard even if I had gotten an O, but in the five years I was in class we were never taught anything like what you just said. I almost want to tell you to include that in your own essay, but I don't know if Snape knows what you're talking about either."
A pause, then Hazel wrote, 'I already finished. I thought that was what he wanted us to base our explanation on.'
Sidonia burst out in laughter a moment later, and while she forced it down with a shake of her head her shoulders still jerked in time with her giggles. "Don't worry about rewriting it, then," she managed to get out. "Dear Merlin, I wish I could see his face when he starts reading it. Since I haven't seen them having their tutoring sessions out here before, is this a new thing or…"
Sally-Anne shook her head. "Not really. She's been helping me for the last few weeks, but normally we're in the library."
"So what changed?"
"Granger," they both replied. Sally-Anne continued, "I mean, I don't mind her studying in the library too, that's what it's there for and everything, but she makes it all dreary and angry-feeling …uncomfortable."
Interesting. Hazel had felt similarly in Granger's vicinity, but she was also capable of hearing thoughts so that was just par for the course. Since Sally-Anne did not have the same ability so far as Hazel could tell, it was fascinating that she could still pick up on those emotional projections.
That said, the thoughts whirling around inside of Granger's head were a little more complicated than Sally-Anne could appreciate. The Gryffindor girl seemed to be feeling a low level of fear and insecurity all but constantly now, but any time anyone got near her Granger snapped at them with a surge of anger and something not-but-similar-to jealousy. Her behavior was perplexing, honestly, and Hazel would rather not have to deal with the surges of emotion elicited by someone else just walking past the other girl.
"You can study wherever you like," Sidonia said with a shrug. "Even the classrooms as long as there aren't classes going on at the time. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. Your classes are of course important, but just as important is spending time getting to know other students and maybe learning a few things that aren't in any class curriculum."
Hazel sighed to herself, suspecting she knew where this was going. She did not need someone else telling her she needed to come out of her shell and play nice with a bunch of other children who refused to believe her about the most basic facts of her own life, thank you very much.
"Have either of you given any thought to joining the Gardening Club?"
…Although credit where it was due, this was a different tactic than had been tried on her before.
Sally-Anne's expression and thoughts revealed her own reluctance, no surprise considering her distaste for Herbology as a subject, but Hazel found herself curious. 'What is this Gardening Club?'
Sidonia gave her a brilliant smile. "It's fairly unique. A few different classes here have their own 'clubs', like Transfiguration and Charms, although those classes are more like study hall to help younger students who have trouble getting the material down. Then you have things like the Divination Club, which is supposed to be dedicated to helping witches with the Inner Eye refine their abilities." The sixth-year girl glanced to both sides and then continued in a stage whisper, "Although it's mostly for a few addle-pated dummies to sit around giggling.
"The Gardening Club, on the other hand, isn't meant to review material taught in Herbology class. It actually focuses on the practical realities of dealing with magical plants and managing a garden filled with them. This means things like proper pest control, how to predict the results of cross-breeding, and even which plants are most likely to fight with each other. Useful stuff. If you have an interest in Herbology and Potions, and I remember you were positively overflowing with questions about both subjects on the first day of class, I think you'd find it very interesting."
That… hmm. Setting up her own herb garden was not something Hazel had considered before, in part because it was an expense she did not have the money for and in part because she was rarely in the same place long enough to set up any permanent foothold, and that was what a garden would turn into. Of course, just because the garden would be in a fixed location did not mean she would be stuck there as well. All she had to do was make sure it was somewhere she could get in and out of easily, and she would be able to check on it and then jump back to wherever she had come from.
And considering how many potions ingredients could grow out in the wild with little to no human intervention, as Elfriede's gathering components from the Black Forest could attest, a garden that was nearly wild itself would be a useful place to have in her back pocket.
"Why would anyone want to spend more time in the dirt?" she heard Sally-Anne wonder to herself. "I know Hazel enjoys Herbology, and it sounds like Sidonia does too, but I just don't understand how. It's so gross. Are there other c-clubs here? Besides th-the ones you mentioned already."
"That's a good question," praised the prefect. She twisted a lock of purple hair around one finger as she thought. "Let's hope I remember all of them. Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Divination are the only proper classes that have specific clubs that I remember. Potions used to have one, but that was disbanded when Snape took over the class. History, Astronomy, Defense, Runes, Arithmancy, Magical Creatures… No, I think that's it.
"There are some other clubs that aren't related to any class, though. If you're interested in games, there's the chess club and the Gobstones League and the Islay Hangman teams—"
'I've heard of that one,' Hazel cut in. Mr. Filch had explained it almost absentmindedly when McGonagall gave her detention with him. 'Islay Hangman. It's a card game, right? And the school team has to travel to other schools for competitions or something?'
A blink, then Sidonia gave her a satisfied nod. "Exactly right. The Gobstones club also has to Floo to other schools, as does the broom racing club. And speaking of brooms, there is a very unofficial Quidditch league that crosses house boundaries." She lowered her voice, tone more serious this time than had been the case when she was badmouthing the divination club. "The rumor is that they only play after curfew when no one is going to see them because Hooch won't let us set foot on the pitch because 'it's only for the real teams', but you don't know anything about that. Got it?"
They both nodded at the sudden seriousness in the older girl's voice, and she looked them in their eyes before leaning back. "Those are the big clubs— Ah. I guess there's also the… Oh, what is that word?…" She gnawed on her lip for a moment as she searched her memory. "The tekkomancy club, I think? It's a mostly Muggleborn club about mixing Muggle stuff and magic. I don't know any of the details. I think it's the only official club that doesn't have a real mentor, mostly because nobody outside the group understands a thing about it, but I think Flitwick pokes his head in every once in a while to make sure they haven't blown themselves up."
'He would be the best to do so. I've talked with him after class a few times. He's really bright when it comes to magical theory. He'd probably find their experiments interesting.'
"How come nobody told us about these clubs earlier?" Sally-Anne almost demanded. "Some of those sound interesting, but if they don't tell us about them how are we supposed to join?"
A shrug was the only answer Sidonia gave them. "I'm not involved in the other clubs barring one exception, so I can't speak for them. As far as the Gardening Club goes, most of the time there's no point inviting every first year when nobody – not even them – knows whether they have interest in Herbology in the first place. This year there are a few who immediately attracted attention, but that's the exception, not the rule."
While that was good information to know, it did not answer the underlying question at hand. Was joining this club worth the time it would eat up? On the one hand, she did find Herbology interesting, and this club sounded dedicated to practical knowledge, which was always useful to know. On the other, she had no idea how much time it would actually take from her, and with how unsuccessful her search for druidic history had been so far, she needed every minute she could get.
…Although. With how much time she had put into her search only to come up with nothing, perhaps she could use a regular diversion. And unlike a lot of other things these wizards did, it would be something that she could do both now and in the future.
'I guess I could go to a couple of meetings. Try it out before I commit. When and where?'
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Once more Hazel found herself sitting at the edge of a lake, although this time it was not the lake on Hogwarts's grounds. Instead it was the Mermaid Pool in Derbyshire, the same inland lake that was said to to house a mermaid who could grant immortality one day a year, that she chose. Did it make any real difference to what she was attempting where she did it? Probably not.
Nevertheless, for her first stone-casting she felt she deserved to be somewhere less wizard-y.
Before she performed the final, physical act of divination, she needed to finish the mental portion. Her eyes were closed, her staff laying across her lap and Morgan on her shoulder, but it was in her mind that she was working hard. Just as she always did when she wanted to commune with the natural world, she had imagined roots spreading out from her crossed legs. Unlike normal, however, from her arms and her hair she could almost feel leafy branches sprouting and reaching towards the sky. She was one with the world, with the wide-reaching magic of nature that wizards had so little consideration for.
She was not separate from the cycles of the seasons, of night and day, of life and death. Nobody was, no matter how the wizards and even normal people pretended themselves to be. She was one more living creature walking the earth, one more beating heart, one more leaf on the infinite World Tree.
Within her mind was stillness, and only now that she was totally and completely centered and accepting of both her importance and her insignificance did she breathe out and think of the question burning in her heart. The stones she had collected over the last couple of weeks, unpolished and imperfect but still exactly what she needed, prickled against her palms, all but demanding to fall and speak to her in silent voices.
Where can I find the druids I seek?
She spread her hands, feeling the stones fall away, and a few seconds later she finally opened her eyes. The stones she had thrown were scattered randomly, some of them landing on solid ground but others sunk halfway into the muddy shore. Most of the stones had some distinguishing mark, but only a couple of the dozen stones had those marks visible.
And none of them spelled out a clue or formed an arrow or showed any other sign of an answer.
Part of her felt disappointment welling up, but most of her mind was still in that strange crystalline calm that accompanied her meditations. Hazel reached down almost idly towards the nearest stone, unknowing whether to put them away or try again—
Her fingers touched lake muck—
Pinpricks of bright green moss poked out of the mud in the shadow of her hand and swept over the stones and the shoreline and the lake water. Behind the moss were tiny plants that sprouted as well, thin trunks and blackened branches rising only a short distance before stopping and staying stunted and puny. A thin ribbon of water snaked its way from the lake and through the sea of moss, defying gravity as it crept up the shoreline even as it flowed down hills that did not exist.
—and sank into the brown mud, unchanged from how it had appeared when she first arrived at the Mermaid Pool and probably for years before that.
She pulled her hand away from the shore before she glanced at the guilty appendage and then the stones she had thrown that were still sunk in the mud. That was not what the book had said a successful stone-casting would be like. It had described a vague sense of connection that would need to be pondered and interpreted, not a full-blown vision of all things!
With a shake of her head, she pulled all the stones out of the mud and cleaned them with the blue ripples of her magic. I really don't know what to make of that, she told Morgan, but at least I have a hint for where to continue my search. Even if it makes me feel like a dummy. Once she had risen to her feet, she wrapped herself in the deep purple fog of the spirit world and watched it fade away to reveal a familiar landscape of moss-covered stones and stunted oak trees.
Wistman's Wood was reputed to be the site of long-past druidic rituals and human sacrifices. She had been here before, not long after she ran away from Little Whinging. It was in fact one of the very first places she had visited in her search for hints of druid culture, and while she had encountered a surprisingly friendly – or at least tolerant – hellhound during her hours here, she had not found anything that was related to her quarry.
If her vision was to be believed, she had simply been looking in the wrong spots.
The boots on her feet splashed into the little stream she had arrived next to, the same stream where she first attempted her current method of meditation and had met the aforementioned hellhound, and she glanced around with a thoughtful frown on her face. Where do you think we should start? I don't know exactly how big this wood is, but I suspect it's big enough that blindly wandering around won't do us much good.
Morgan chirped and clacked his beak at her staff. Running her fingers over the wood, she mulled that suggestion over. He had a point that her staff had successfully guided her places before, but she could not remember it ever leading her someplace new. Back to somewhere she had already been, particularly somewhere she had stopped to rest and set up a basic camp? That it could absolutely do. But going somewhere when she did not even know where that somewhere was?
…On the other hand, did she have any better ideas?
Shrugging, she tapped the butt of her staff against the ground. Lead on, I guess. I hope you know more than I do.
The sun drifted across the sky, and several hours later Hazel scrambled up another rocky hill before wiping sweat off her brow. At least she had not heard the hissing of hidden snakes like she had half an hour or so before. These woods were said to be full of adders, and she was in no mood to test whether her healing spell was strong enough to purge venom from her blood. She would much rather have more of the splashes and rustling and snapping of twigs to her sides; that at least was probably just a few hellhounds stalking her through the bush.
Her brow furrowed as she reflected on that sentiment and frowned to herself. Loath as I am to give the average wizard credit, the other kids at Hogwarts might be right. Maybe there is something wrong with me. She shook her staff and gave it a glare. And you aren't any help either. You're lost just as much as I am.
More cracking came from the deepening shadows in front of her, and a creature stepped into view. It looked like a massive black dog, but only if dogs normally had glowing red eyes far too big for their faces and wisps of smoke drifting off there fur in places. The beast was holding itself low to the ground, and with its lips pulled back she could easily see yellowed fangs dripping with saliva.
Normally a massive hellhound prepared to pounce and rip out her throat would be a terrifying display. Hazel would not say she felt no fear at the sight, but she also remembered how another hound had stared quizzically at her before accepting a handful of trail mix. It was hard not to look at her creature in front of her the same way after that.
Raising the hand not holding her staff, she gave the hellhound a smile without showing any more of her teeth than she had to. She did not want to flee unless absolutely necessary to keep herself safe, but that did not mean she should take no precautions. Hello. I mean you no harm. I'm kind of lost, actually. Do you know if there are any druids nearby? Or anything related to them?
The massive canine relaxed its snarl a little and blinked at her, its strange horizontal pupils dilating. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? She was not sure. A moment later, the hound sniffed at her several times before it rose to its full height. Giving her a gruff chuffing bark, it turned its back on her and started walking deeper into the woods.
It also gave her some reassurance that she was not crazy. It was completely normal to prefer hellhounds to snakes considering the former could actually be reasoned with.
The hellhound quickened its steps once she had caught up, and although she lost sight of it a couple of times it was never hard to find afterwards. Several minutes into the walk, however, she started to wonder if she should be concerned after all. Not for her own sake, exactly, but more because the wisps of smoke had turned into flickers of actual flame that were spreading across its fur. It did not seem bothered by the process, though. Maybe it was something that regularly happened to hellhounds?
Or, she realized with embarrassment halfway to their destination, maybe she was not dealing with a hellhound at all.
The spirit, now a wolf standing taller at the shoulder than she did and composed entirely of flame that had yet to set even a single leaf or twig alight, came to a stop in the middle of an otherwise unremarkable clearing and turned around to face her for the first time. Hazel swept her gaze around, a frown forming as she tried and failed to see what the spirit wanted her to see. A few mounds and dips scattered around, but that was all.
I don't understand, she admitted after a moment.
A blink of its coal-black eyes, and the spirit took a step towards her, then another. She felt herself tense, images of any number of places far away from here flashing through her memories. She knew she historically had more luck with non-human spirits than those in human form, but she also knew she was making many assumptions from relatively few interactions. Would it be like the windy spirit who had given her her fairy lens and the butterfly spirit who guided her to the magical boar troubling her werewolf friends, or it would it lash out like the spirit of the scoured clearing?
Ever so gently – cautiously, even, if such a word was even appropriate for an entity such as this – it pressed a brilliant white nose against her forehead.
The spirit vanished without a trace, and then the sun streaked across the sky. Backwards. Everything was the black of deepest night before the sun reappeared and vanished again and reappeared and vanished and reappeared. The repeated nights and days merged into a pulsating purple sky, the very sight of which filled Hazel with an overwhelming nausea. She fell to her knees, her eyes squeezed together to block it all out.
When she opened them again, she found the dead waiting for her.
She fell backwards onto her butt with her instinctive flinch. A dozen skeletons lay on the ground in front of her, and with each pulse in the sky flesh crept farther up the bones like strangling vines. Once muscle and skin had fully formed, the sky finally stopped the sickening light show.
The mounds she had noticed had become piles of exposed rock sometime during all this, and now they burst into flame. Ashes became chunks of wood that in turn became branches and short logs, and the fires lifted them into place and sprouted stalks of hay or something like it that weaved themselves into thatched roofs.
Five men appeared from nowhere, each of them wearing robes of brown or black except for the one in the middle who was wearing instead a robe of deep plum. They raised their wands and siphoned away the flames from the now-intact homes. Several of the men walked backwards into those same homes and soon after ran back out with far more haste. The dead then stood as jets of light of all different color flew back to the wizards.
All but three, specifically the three closest to the middle of the clearing. A moment later, two of those rose up with staves in their hands, a crescent of purple flame ripping itself out of the man on the left while a beam of acidic green light did the same from the woman on the right. A woman who had tongues of lightning arcing between her empty hand and the head of her staff for a brief instant before she straightened into a wary stance. That was when the center figure fell upright to reveal an older man with hair nearly fully grey but somehow still possessing the muscular form of a man decades his junior. He wore neither shirt nor robe, but rather rough-spun trousers that reached just past his knees and an animal pelt across his bare chest.
Another beam of green left him, this one the first and only spell that returned to the wand of the wizard in the purple robe. That wizard had a snarl on his face as he shouted wordlessly at the older man, whose snarling expression showed him to be just as angry about whatever was being said. Another minute of shouting and violent gestures later from both leaders, the group of wizards vanished as quickly as they had appeared.
Her vision wavered, and a sluggish blink brought her back to the real world and the fiery spirit who still stood staring at her. She shook her head and glanced around the clearing with new and unsettling understanding.
Why? That was the question circling around and around in her head, a question with nary an answer to be had. Perhaps she would know better if she could have heard what the older druid and the wizard in the purple robe were screaming at each other, but she had not. Planting her staff into the ground, she pushed herself slowly to her feet and stumbled forwards.
It was only a few feet until she reached the spot where the leader of this tiny hamlet had fallen, and she knelt down and pressed her fingers into the soft dirt. I don't understand, she admitted to the spirit. I know what happened, the facts of it. But why? That is what I can't understand. What argument could possible be so bad that it was worth murdering an entire village over?
The wolf spirit padded closer and pawed repeatedly at the ground close to her hand. Confused, Hazel reached over to that same spot and felt around until she found something small and cold and hard beneath her fingers. Not a pebble; it was too regular to be that. Picking it out of the sparse grass, she turned the thin red rectangle around in her hand. It looked almost like rusty metal, but what was it and why would it be here?
Blue ripples surged once more from her skin and swept over the rectangle, peeling flecks of rust off a few at a time. When the spell ended, she was left with a piece of black iron with a hole through one end. The light from the setting sun glinted off the surface to reveal a crudely carved design, a single curved line that overlapped itself in multiple places to form a knotwork design.
A pendant, she realized. But the significance? That escaped her.
What does this mean? No answer came to her, and she looked up to ask the spirit her question once again.
Except there was no spirit waiting for her. She was all alone.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Hazel? What's that?"
Sally-Anne's question caught her friend off-guard, and the black-haired girl looked up from her half-eaten dinner and blinked at her. Sally-Anne lowered her gaze to indicate a dark metal pendant that hung from Hazel's neck on a strip of leather. She had never seen Hazel wear anything like it before.
It was most definitely not something Hazel was wearing when the other girl went off on her own after Herbology class.
Hazel reached up to toy with the pendant for a moment, a strange twisted almost-scowl on her face. Taking a deep breath in through her nose, she let go of her new necklace and twisted the index finger of her left hand in a tiny circle. Golden sparks flew off that finger and formed words in a display of magic that might have become familiar but still astonished Sally-Anne whenever she took the time to actually think about it.
'It's a reminder. Of the lost and the forgotten.'
Hazel broke eye contact and looked back down at the plate where she was not really eating but just playing with her food. Sally-Anne waited for another moment before reluctantly turning her attention back to her own dinner, appetite forgotten. She did not think Hazel meant to shut her out, not like her first friend in this strange new world did to most other people at Hogwarts, but it felt similar. She did not want to pry too hard, but she was more than willing to offer whatever support Hazel needed. If only Hazel would let her.
Golden light glinted in the corner of her eye, and she turned her head to find more writing waiting for her. 'Maybe I'll be willing to talk about it later. Just not now. I'm still figuring it out for myself.
'But thank you for caring.'
A smile touched her lips, and she reached for a dinner roll. Later was not as good as now, but it was much, much better than never.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
This is the problem I have making OCs. When I let myself go, I wind up having entirely too much fun with them.
I have a whole theory about Harry and divination that I won't go into now, but suffice it to say I don't consider this to be giving Hazel a new ability.
Not_Interesting
The Munchkin of Megastructures
- Location
- In your walls(the walls between realities)
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Poor Hazel, the girl really needs someone in Hogwards who is gonna see her for what she is and not what they want her to be.
TFC!
TFC!
AeonIlluminate
The power of friendship and aggressive landscaping
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Lovely chapter mate, thanks
FictionPack
Monochromatic Ursine
- Location
- Tennessee
- Pronouns
- He/Him
And the Wizards killed the Druids off. Sadly predictable.
Well, they killed *those* Druids. Whether they killed *all* of them or not is still an open question, even if it is looking likely. It's also possible that wizard/druid was an ideological split in the (formerly) Druid population.
Thanks for the chapter!
Technically true...
But come on. They definitely wiped them all out. Wizards are total shits.
Such a problem. If fiction writers thought like that, they wouldn't write any (so called) original fiction.
A few typos I've noticed.
drifting off their fur
could possibly be
And in chapter 35,
"Charms and DADA"?
- Location
- Deep inside the sand
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Looks like the wizards wiped em out.
Looks like its very hard for Hazel to progress with everyone dead and their treasures looted.
Looks like its very hard for Hazel to progress with everyone dead and their treasures looted.
The world is very big and thats not counting expanded spaces, pocket dimensions and the like. It is highly unlikely that the global druid population is gone when people with clear heritage are still being born. Celtic culture goes as far down as Spain, for starters, crossing a very good chunk of France.
...
Hazel would make a good columnist for the Quibbler. A column named "Forgotten History" or something. She has lots of material already: Wistman Wood, Elva Hill, Glastonbury Tor, Mermaid Pool, de Rais' tower, the story of and monument to Pied Piper, the story of the scoured clearing, the hags' curse origin story, the temple in Delphi... did I miss anything? A photographer would be good too, she can take him to the places.
But she doesn't know Luna, and does anyone in Hufflepuff read the Quibbler anyway?
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