Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose and Dutchgirl01 with Flyby Commander Shepard

A/N: The light is flickering at the end of the tunnel. I can almost see my way out of this semester… Almost there!

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Always Read the Fine Print

A Short Story for Dutchgirl01's Birthday

When we remember we are all mad,

the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.

Mark Twain

Severus was off to a bloody awful start to his Hogwarts career.

First there were those two ruddy tossers, Sirius Black and James Potter, making fun of him just because he wanted to be in Slytherin like his mother had been—and then they had sent him fleeing in humiliation from the train compartment he'd claimed with Lily by somehow making his trousers catch fire, leaving him in just his tattered old pants with even Lily snickering at his public embarrassment.

Now he was sitting on the loo with his pants down and a downright horrible case of instant onset diarrhea.

Sodding wonderful.

"Snivellus! We know you're in there, you greasy git!"

"Heh, Heh, Heh, we have your trousers!"

"What's left of them, anyway."

"Not that we're going to touch them."

"Nasty."

"Just like you."

"GO AWAY!" Severus yelled.

"Whatcha gonna to do, Snivellus? Make us?"

The door rattled as they tried to force their way in.

Mortified, Severus flung himself against the other side of the door, desperately fighting to hold it closed.

"Snivellus!"

"Greasy!"

"Snivellus!"

"Greasy!"

Freak! You're a bloody freak! You're no son of mine!

Your mother musta spread her skinny legs for some other bloke and now I'm saddled with you, but you aren't anything of mine, boy. You're nothing but a freak!

Severus squeezed his eyes shut, the echo of Tobias Snape's cruel taunts ringing in his ears. He might be unfortunate enough to bear the surname of Snape, but he'd never call that vicious drunken bastard his father.

Not ever.

"Go away!"

"Snivellus!"

"Greasy git!"

His fists clenched as he struggled to get his pants up to at least save him even more embarrassment. At least he still had pants to pull up, no thanks to those pair of stupid, idiotic… ARGH!

He didn't want to be seen in his threadbare pants either—he could thank that cheap arse bastard his mum had married for that indignity too.

He found himself wishing those taunting brow-beaters would just leave him the hell alone.

Severus' lips pursed into a thin line as his magic, unknown to him, crackled wildly around him.

"I wish to be free of your incessant hounding!"

The door began to crack around the hinges just as he was yelling at his tormentors. Magic crackled. Blood dripped from his head where the door slammed into him as it opened. A hot blast of reactive, terrified magic combined with the magic Potter and Black were using in their determined attempts to force open the door—

KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The door splintered into pieces, knocking James, Sirius and their newest mates, Peter and Remus flat on their collective arses. They screamed, tearing at their eyes as a hurricane of splinters burrowed into their eyes and every bit of exposed skin.

As adults came running to tend the screaming children, the trolley lady peered incredulously into the demolished loo where the back wall of the train was gone and the wind whistled through the emptiness beyond.

"What in Merlin's name is going on in here?!"

But as the new friends moaned and groaned in pain on the floor, the destroyed loo was totally empty.

Nothing but a jagged hole and fluttering bits of tissue were left to be found.

"Hey, are you alright?"

A warm touch pressed against his upper arm.

Snape opened his eyes rather blearily. "Nnng?"

A bushy-haired brunette witch was sitting in the chair near the soft bed he found himself lying on.

He closed his eyes, finding the white linens far too bright to look upon even by dim candlelight.

Remembering he had no trousers on and that he was near a girl, he shot up quickly, hastily pulling the sheet over his bottom half.

The little witch eyed him strangely. "I don't know why you're fussing so now. I dressed you before anyone could see you all—well, you know."

As his face turned beetroot red, Severus shot her an embarrassed glare, trying to accuse her of something, even if had no idea of what that might be.

"I saved you a plate of food from the feast," the girl said. She moved the tray table over, lifting off the heavy metal cover to expose a plate piled high with roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and glazed carrots, plus a slice of chocolate cake and a large glass of pumpkin juice.

"Everyone else is with their new houses—'cept for me and you. Though, maybe when you're better, they'll know what house you're in too. Not me, though. I was a hat stall."

Severus stared at her with wide eyes.

A chain of melodious notes filled the room and seemingly his very soul as well. Severus jerked his head up to see a brightly-coloured bird tilting its head and peering curiously at him from the headboard.

"Oh, do you really think so?" the witch said brightly, as if conversing with it. "I would love that. I mean, is that even allowed? I didn't read about that in Hogwarts: A History!"

The bird warbled, giving the witch a light peck on the nose.

She rubbed her nose and smiled. "You're so sweet. It won't hurt, will it?"

The bird seemed to shrug.

She turned back to him. "I'm Hermione, by the way," she said. She shyly turned her head away, as if afraid to look him in the eye.

Severus frowned, thinking her quite rude, and then he remembered it had been him freaking out over his state of undress earlier—not her.

He wondered what Lily would do after her bout of laughter at his expense. Hey, why wasn't Lily here with him?

"Ah, Miss Granger," a cheerful older witch greeted her. "I see that Mr Snape is finally awake, but you should probably let him rest now. You should go get some rest too after everything that happened today."

Hermione's face grew sad, but she nodded in assent. "Okay, Madam Pomfrey." She looked at him. "Goodnight, erm, Mr Snape," she said, giving him a little wave.

Severus made an incoherent noise as he suddenly realised he hadn't even told her his name.

"Severus," he said in a rush. "My name is Severus."

Hermione beamed at him. "Goodnight, Severus."

He watched as she stood and hobbled away. Madam Pomfrey kindly let Hermione take her arm as she attempted to walk. Her feet made a strange clicking shuffle.

Severus stared in shock as he realised that her lower legs were covered in bright feathers just like the nearby bird's. Her feet were humanoid in general shape but mixed with the talons of a bird—not ideally made for striding across flagstone floors.

Her classmates must've hit her with some horrible prank, he thought to himself.

It was a very cruel prank, a warbling voice replied out of nowhere.

Severus touched his temples, confused. The colourful bird was watching him again.

They wanted her to turn into the first beast that she saw, the voice came again. Fortunately, that beast was me and not the toad they had planted just outside the door.

The bird preened himself with a blackened beak. None of the houses wanted her, but I do. She saved your life, you know. She hobbled to the car where the teacher was and got you the help you needed right away.

Severus blinked, confused.

You were suffering from a number of nasty cuts and bruises, the bird said, along with quite a severe concussion. She was already starting to change, but she struggled against it to get you the help you needed. Thankfully, she accepted my help, too.

The bird yawned widely and used one taloned foot to scratch his head crest. The other children may think she's too different, but it was about time for me to have a chick or two. My mum and dad have been trying to get me to find someone for centuries."

"Ah, there you are, Fawkes," an aged wizard said as he approached the bed. "You haven't been bothering Mr Snape, have you?"

The bird turned his head aside as if to snub the old wizard.

"Fawkes is here to stabilise your anchor to this time, my boy," the elder wizard said. "I am Albus Dumbledore, your Headmaster, and my phoenix familiar, Fawkes, is especially suited to help you heal until your anchor to this time is well and truly solidified. I fear there is nothing we can do to send you back to the time you came from."

Severus stared at the wizard, struck speechless. Time? Anchor? What? Wait… he wouldn't have to deal with those ruddy idiots again? His foul drunken lout of a father? He was certainly not going to complain about that!

Part of him tried to argue that he'd at least have his mother, but his mind was already detailing all the times she had just watched as his father beat the shite out of him. The tender times he might have had with his mother were long gone.

"I'll fill you in on the details of your situation after you've rested a bit, Mr Snape. Madam Pomfrey tells me that I am to allow you to slumber before attempting to confuse you any more than I already have. But you are safe here. That, I can assure you. No one shall harm you here whilst you are under Poppy's tender care."

The old headmaster drew his hand across Fawkes' back and passed him a plump, juicy nectarine. The phoenix swiftly made it disappear with the absolute precision of a master illusionist.

"Please rest," Dumbledore said with a slight nod of his head. "Alright?"

Severus nodded silently, saying nothing.

Albus took his nod as agreement, and he disappeared in the direction Poppy had gone with the gi—Hermione.

Severus was left with the odd quandary of how the Headmaster had known his name and that he wasn't from—whatever time this was. His eyes fell to where his clothes hung from a hanger. A large handmade label loudly stated "Severus Snape" in hand-sewn letters—thread looking like it had been stolen from the frayed couch back home rather than a spool of thread.

He sighed.

Severus awoke some time later to see Hermione sleeping in the bed next to his. She was curled up in a half-foetal position. Her legs had completely transformed, and feathers had spread over most of her pale skin. Her head was still fully human, but her hair was mixed with bright and colourful feathers.

Fawkes was serving as her cuddle buddy, allowing her to squeeze him tightly in her sleep. The phoenix yawned showing his bright orange and yellow inner beak and tongue, a stark contrast against the black of his outer mandibles.

"Will she be okay?" Severus quietly asked the bird.

Fawkes regarded him with solemn black eyes. She'll be fine once the transformation completes itself. Her human body is struggling against it, understandably, as it has never been anything else before.

"Will she be able to change back?"

Of course, eventually.

Severus felt relief and then confusion as to why. He didn't know Hermione very well. Why should he care?

It is natural to feel for others, despite what you may have thought before, Fawkes said as he stretched out one black foot and then the other, wiggling his talons as a person would their toes. She saved your life, there is indeed a debt—but it will not matter once she makes the change. You cannot bind a phoenix to debt. Bad things happen. We combust and come back quite adorable.

Severus sputtered.

And hungry. Fawkes seemed to shrug.

"When am I, exactly?" Severus asked. "The Headmaster said he wouldn't tell me just yet."

Fawkes snorted. "As humans believe it, it is currently the year nineteen hundred and ninety one. September. Arguably autumn."

Wind blew in from the outside, warm with a hint of dampness. Snape looked at the phoenix-witch, feeling like he was lucky for only having his trousers set aflame versus being cursed to turn into whatever animal or beast happened by at just the right time. He felt a strange, tangible wave of grief coming from her, and he wondered why. Did she mourn her human form so very much? Would he, if their positions were reversed?

Her parents are dead. Killed by a drunk driver on the way home from the train station.

Severus jolted upward. He frowned. "She smiled at me."

She meant it.

"How? How can you smile like that after your parents have been killed?"

You were the first person who didn't ridicule her or ostracise her.

"Me?" Severus frowned. He could have, he knew. The last thing he'd known himself was torment. It would have been so easy to lash out at anyone or anything. So, why hadn't he?

That warm touch. "Are you alright?"

That warmth. It had been so real. So… genuine.

She'd brought him a plate of food from the Welcoming Feast.

He didn't remember eating it, but he must have. He didn't feel hungry anymore, and the food was gone. Was it possible to eat in your sleep? At home he always felt hungry. Surely this was a change for the better?

"Hello, Mr Snape," a voice said, startling him from his unintentional vigil over the bird-witch.

The old wizard—Dumbledore—was peering at him brightly. The man's blue eyes had a shine to them, the wrinkles around them seemed to indicate friendliness—something Tobias only displayed to his fellow drunken reprobates.

"I'm glad to see you are awake, Mr Snape," Dumbledore said. "I've brought the Sorting Hat so we can take care of the matter of where you'll go once you recover from your injuries."

"Where I'll—go?" Immediately, Snape thought that they would be shipping him off somewhere rather than deal with him.

"We have four Houses here at Hogwarts: Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat determines which House fits you best, and that House is yours for the remainder of your time at Hogwarts."

Snape realised he'd forgotten all about the Houses after everything that had happened. "Oh, right. Those," he sputtered, trying not to sound like an idiot but he figured he did anyway.

"Shall we begin?"

"Will it hurt?"

"No," Dumbledore assured.

Snape nodded slowly, and the headmaster placed the dirty, worn hat upon his head. He felt a sudden tingling in his brain, like there were ants crawling all over his grey matter.

"Hrm, hrm—" the hat said. "Cunning, focused—but curiosity in abundance. Intelligent—hrm, hrm. Ravenclaw would nurture those smarts, but Slytherin is where the cunning starts. Your innate bravery is buried deep, stronger than that which fell asleep. Gryffindor would suit your strength of will, but Slytherin suits high ambitions still. Ravenclaw suits a ready mind, but aspirations meet in Slytherin kind. But you are protective of what you hold dear, far more brave than another's fear. Hrm, hrm."

The hat fussed, going back and forth with various traits.

Dumbledore started to shift his weight from side to side as the hat muttered on and on with no sign of stupping.

As the buzzing in his head continued, Severus saw Hermione looking at him with a sad, heavy look in her eyes. He remembered how she said he'd be sorted soon enough—unlike her.

The Houses rejected her, but I won't. Fawke's declaration stirred anger deep within his heart. How could anyone reject someone with so much kindness and warmth? Such genuine compassion?

"I will be with her," he told the hat, his mind focusing on that warmth.

Thoughts of Slytherin faded. Slytherin had failed her. Gryffindor had failed her.. What good were the wits and learning of Ravenclaw if they couldn't find value in a witch who had obviously done her homework before coming to Hogwarts? Even Hufflepuff had no place for one like her—far too brainy. Yet, if you listened to the hat, it said Hufflepuffs were just and loyal—patient, hardworking. He only had a few moments with the bird-witch, but hardly shied away work. If anything, she was far more aware of justice and loyalty after the hat refused her a place.

Why did it matter so much to him? She was hardly Lily—at least he'd grown up with Lily.

That warmth.

He recognised that look in her eyes; it was the same look he saw when he looked in the mirror.

Fear of rejection.

Knowing it was only a matter of time.

He stared into Hermione's whisky-brown eyes and reached an arm out to her, bridging the gap between the two beds. I will not watch you suffer alone.

Fawkes let out a trembling crescendo of notes as he landed between them, linking their bodies with the touch of his taloned feet even as their fingers curled around each other's.

If you accept this sacred bond for life,

I cannot promise it will be without strife.

But forever together a family we'll be,

Flying through time if you choose to agree.

Severus clasped Hermione's half-changed hand tightly. "I agree."

"What? Fawkes, no!" Dumbledore cried in alarm, but the covenant had already been sealed.

A rush of powerful, shimmering magic flowed out from Fawkes and covered both Severus and Hermione even as their combined magical energies seemed to draw together and merge. There was a joyous warble of homecoming joined by two smaller voices—tiny but swiftly growing in strength.

Va-SHOOOOM!

The privacy curtains blew away, fluttering down over Dumbledore even as he staggered backwards. A fireball of reds and oranges, whites and blues swirled together. Empty beds jiggled and moved across the floor. Loose towels flew out the window from the blast, fluttering like falling leaves as they drifted off towards Black Lake.

Every heart in Hogwarts was filled to bursting with the sheer joy of family found. Tears streamed unheeded down every cheek. Random witches and wizards suddenly burst into tears, hugging each other fiercely. Elsewhere within Hogwarts, children hugged a startled Argus Filch and cuddled an equally baffled Mrs Norris. Madam Pince, too, found herself with armfuls of sobbing yet deliriously happy children.

As the smoke and flames cleared from the infirmary, a shaken Albus Dumbledore found himself staring at a rather smug-looking Fawkes and two very small, extremely fluffy lintball chicks—one soot black and one whisky golden brown—peeked out from under Fawkes' wings. The elder phoenix preened the tiny chicks, warbling contentedly. The chicks cuddled up against each other before disappearing under Fawkes' warm wings.

The Sorting Hat, dangling from the tussled privacy curtain rang out, "Phoenix House!"

Madam Pomfrey, tears streaming down her eyes, cried, "Oh, Albus, isn't this wonderful!"

Dumbledore said nothing as the flutter of his purple star-spangled robes disappeared out the infirmary door, the cheerful and muttering Sorting Hat tucked securely under his arm.

The four traditional Houses of Hogwarts couldn't help but stare at the small table with a bright red, orange, and black banner with a phoenix rising up from the flames.

A bushy-haired witch picked out the choice bits of fruit from a bowl of salad and shared them the dark-eyed wizard. Whenever someone giggled and pointed at her, the wizard would shoot off a blood freezing death glare.

A lone phoenix perched on a brass tree that was mounted on the middle of the table. It pecked at a bowl of fruits and vegetables even as it paused for afew minutes to carve an aubergine into a disturbingly accurate likeness of the Headmaster's head.

"It's wonderful don't you think, Pomona?" Minerva said as she sipped her tea.

"They both seemed so lost. I'm glad Fawkes took them under wing," Pomona agreed.

"Poppy, do you agree?" Minerva asked.

Pomfrey nodded. "Fawkes is okay with it, and the children are healthy and happy. I can't really deny that they seem quite the better for it. It's better than having them houseless or forced into a House that they do not fit in."

"But the tradition, Poppy," Albus protested.

"Poppycock," Minerva said. "You've been muttering that perhaps we sort too soon for years. Isn't it equally likely that some children don't really fit in one House? They have each other. They have someone to rely on for classes. The only thing they don't have is enough people for their own Quidditch Team, but I'm sure if they really wanted to participate, we could find a way. Hogwarts itself seems pretty keen on accommodating. Who are we to argue with the school itself?"

Albus seemed to hold on to his grudge, muttering. He stabbed at his eggs like they were offensive just by existing.

"Whatever did they do to you, Albus?" Flitwick asked, arching a brow.

Septima Vector let her eyebrows do the talking, letting them hover between "Your grandfatherly acceptance is slipping, Albus" and "something vexes thee?"

Rolanda Hooch smiled. "I'm taking them flying this afternoon. It should be glorious!"

"Rolanda, anytime flying is involved you think it's the most exciting thing ever," Kettleburn said.

"At least brooms don't eat my fingers or try to take my leg," Hooch replied somberly.

Kettleburn sighed. "I have considered retiring."

"Oh! I could teach Care of Magical Creatures!" Hagrid blurted, getting oatmeal over half the table.

The other staff glowered at him as they did cleansing charms over themselves.

"Sorry," Hagrid muttered, staring at his breakfast.

Kettleburn eyed the Phoenix House table. "Oh, I have an idea on training my replacements."

"But I'm already ready to go!" Hagrid protested.

Silvanus eyed Hagrid with skepticism. "I prefer to train them not to repeat my mistakes. I've lost enough fingers, hair, parts of my ear, and chunks of my leg to know I need to teach them before they have preconceptions."

"What are you up to, Silvanus?" Dumbledore asked.

"Just—taking advantage of opportunity," Kettleburn answered, taking off his napkin and brushing the crumbs off. He stood and walked over to the Phoenix table.

The Head Table watched as the two children's eyes grew wide and their bodies trembled with excitement. They followed him out of the Great Hall under the curious gazes of almost everyone.

"I'd be more than willing to take the post, Headmaster!" Hagrid protested again.

Dumbledore was still watching where the children had left with Silvanus Kettleburn. "As the teacher for Care of Magical Creatures since Armando's time, he has every right and ability to bring in who he thinks best for the position. As it is, if he wishes to do what I think he does, then he also has the right to take whom he wishes as an apprentice. Besides, Hagrid. You haven't shown one lick of interest in teaching children in all your time here. Isn't being Hogwart's Gameskeeper fulfilling enough?"

"Well, there would be more creatures to tend," Hagrid said as if that explained everything."

"Yet at no time, even now, are you expressing interest in teaching."

"Well, I, er—" Hagrid muttered. "I be teaching the beasts enough."

"The children, Hagrid."

"Oh, well—" Hagrid muttered into his beard.

"Don't think we haven't noticed you bringing in another Acromantula into the Forbidden Forest," Flitwick said. "Acromantulas do not reproduce by budding, and males do not spontaneously lay eggs by themselves."

"He needed a mate, he did!"

"He did NOT!" Flitwick said. "It's because of you that the forest has become known as the Forbidden Forest and why most of the centaur think we're out to get them!"

"Gentlemen, please," Albus intervened. "This is a discussion for someplace other than the Great Hall."

The Head Table glowered at Hagrid before going back to their meals.

Severus and Hermione were brimming with excitement as the elder wizard led them to a stone cottage out from Hogwarts' main castle. A large stone fence sectioned off a few paddocks, and the cottage itself was quite large.

"Ah you can sit down here, please." Kettleburn moved to the hearth to put on the kettle.

As the two children looked around, they found the cottage almost spotless. Books lined one wall, and curtains covered the glass windows to keep the light from fading the books. The roof had polished lenses set in the tiles to allow natural light to come in, and a few potted plants were growing in random places. Vines grew down from the top of the cottage, and Bowtruckles were peering at them curiously from the foliage.

"Now, I know you accepted already and all that, but this will be where you spend most of your time," Silvanus said. "Our first order of business is making your lodging here next to mine. We'll connect them up together so if there is ever any problem, my cottage will be open to you, yes?"

Both children nodded their heads. The feathered crests that were hidden in their hair stood on end, giving them a crowned look.

"I can't tell you how exciting it is to have phoenix children here at Hogwarts. It was rare enough that we had Fawkes, but adoption is rare. To have it here—well—you two are destined for great things. That doesn't mean you can be lazy, though!"

Hermione shook her violently, and Severus gave him furrowed eyebrows of accusation.

"Not to say that you will be!" Kettleburn assured.

"Now, normally apprentices have pins on their robes, but since we are working with many kinds of beasts, robes are not always practical. For that, you will be allowed trousers, vests, dragonhide boots, and other such things. I will make you an appointment at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions for your outer robes, Twilfitt and Tattings for your leathers, and Gladrags Wizardwear for fittings. We will get you appropriate clothes for each season."

Severus eyes furrowed.

"Not to worry. You are wards of Hogwarts due to your circumstances, but you are now my apprentices, so I will take care of your apprentice supplies. That is my duty to take care of you," he said, causing both children to go wide-eyed with surprise. "It is your duty to trust in what I am teaching you, do as you're bidden, and ask questions after, not before doing what I ask. Your life may depend on it. Do you understand?"

Both children gulped and nodded. "Yes."

"Care of Magical Creatures is usually a third year and above course, but we will customise your classes for your first two years to include how it applies to the Care of Magical Creatures. To transfigure a box of matches and then use it to creating fire, to conjure water to put said fire out out, mending spells, and knotwork are all basic spells for us, but not normal for beginners. We will also learn manual skills such as wall building, knots, rope-making, and lassos before we learn the magical way. Otherwise in a pinch your will in magic will make a mess instead of what you need. Does this make sense?"

Severus and Hermione nodded together.

Silvanus poured the tea and watched as the children shared their sugar cubes and milk, warmed their hands on the cup, and then drank it down as fast as it cooled. He sipped his, thoughtfully, already seeing that the pair's bond was steadfast.

"Now, before we do all that other stuff, there are some introductions that need to be done," Kettleburn said. "First though, before I forget—pins and rules. Since pins can be shiny and attractive to Nifflers and the like, We embed a gem into the sternum with magic. It is not painful, but it will identify you as my apprentice and that you are a Creature apprentice, so they won't yell at you if you're not wearing a pin a formal dinners—we'll worry about that some other time. Where did I put that box?"

Kettleburn dug around various chests that expanded into shelves. Hermione and Severus gaped at how the chests held so much—everything.

He finally pulled a mahogany box out of the fifth storage chest he checked. As he opened it, cut faceted gems shimmered inside with magic. "These gems have, or will have once I put them in, my name, yours, and what you are an apprentice in. Dragon apprentices are specialists, but they use the same kind of gems. The same goes with Leviathan tamers, elementals, and spirit beasts that require a great deal of special focus. We may visit a few of the other masters for a few weeks and learn from them; however, for the purpose of your education, we will probably focus on the flyers and forest creatures, since that is what we have here—mostly." He lifted a colour-shifting gem up and set it above Snape's sternum. With a tap of his wand, it sank in and glowed.

"It's warm," Severus said.

Kettleburn nodded. "It is also a homing beacon should you get in trouble or go unconscious. If you know you are in trouble, you place your hand over it and think very hard that you need help. If you are unconscious, it will immediately activate. Okay?"

Severus nodded. "Thank you."

Silvanus lifted another gem from the box and placed it on Hermione's sternum and then tapped it with his wand. It sank into her flesh and bone immediately, glowing.

"As you get older and more experienced, I will teach you how to add enchantments to it to assist you with minor annoyances. Water and mud repellent and the like. It's quite useful. It's why we keep our gems even after we go out on our own."

Hermione was feeling the gem's facets with her fingers and jerked her head up to listen more closely.

"Now, let's go meet the neighbours," Kettleburn said, gesturing at the empty teacups. They went flying into the soapy water in the sink, and an enchanted brush scrubbed them out. The cups moved to the rinse water and then positioned themselves on the drying rack in a matter of minutes.

Severus and Hermione stared in fascination.

"Let's go!" Silvanus said, trudging out the door.

The children exchanged glances and hurried after him.

"Ah, Silvanus," a chestnut centaur greeted. He had two flankers, a black as soot centaur and a palomino. "What brings you to the depths of our forest?"

"Magorian," Kettleburn said with a bow. He extended a basket filled with dried fruits and meats and a few rather exotic fish. "I come to introduce my new apprentices, whom I hope will take my position at Hogwarts once grown."

"Phoenix-kin," Magorian whispered. He took the basket with a nod of thanks even as he stared at Hermione and Severus. "Fawkes took them under his wing?"

Silvanus nodded.

"I am glad of it. He's been waiting for a long time," Magorian said. "I, fledglings of Hogwarts, am Magorian. I am the leader of my herd here in the forest. These are my seconds, guards, and herd-brothers—Bane and Firenze."

The black centaur was eyeing the children rather suspiciously—at least until Magorian's hoof stomped on his front leg. hard.

Bane startled, ears flattening against his head. He said nothing, however, and stopped glaring.

The black stallion bowed with his forelegs. "Bane."

The palomino did the same. "Firenze."

"I'm Hermione," Hermione said, dropping into a curtsy.

"Severus," Severus said, bowing.

Magorian grunted. "Come, follow us to the herd, and we shall mingle our manes together. If you are to be Silvanus' until you are grown, then you should be known to us as well. Unlike the other foals of Hogwarts, you will walk this forest with us—or fly above it. You should know your allies and your enemies, but first, start with those that live in the forest that we all share as home."

"But, we live outside the forest," Hermione protested.

Severus nudged her with his elbow, giving her a look.

Hermione looked like she wanted to protest again, but bit her lip instead.

"You will," Magorian assured her, his ears flicking.

"Hey, how they know about Fawkes?" Hermione asked, visibly confused.

"Well, we do have feathers in places that most people don't," Severus pointed out dryly.

"Oh." Hermione bit her lip again.

"What?"

"I didn't—"

"You don't have to. Come on, what's bothering you?"

Hermione flinched. "I'm hungry."

"Okay—" He stared at her.

"I mean, I'm really hungry."

Severus stared up into the trees. "Why didn't you say something earlier when we were surrounded by fruit trees instead of pine trees."

"I didn't want to—"

"Idiot." Severus sighed, standing up and stretching. "If you're hungry, tell someone. You could have told Master Kettleburn."

"But he was so busy!"

"It's his job to take care of us, but if you aren't honest with him, then we are not allowing him to do his job properly!"

Hermione's face scrunched up at that. She began to sniffle, rubbing furtively at her eyes.

Severus stiffened. "Don't—I mean—Hermione—gah, don't cry. Don't cry. I'm sorry I yelled. I'm sorry!" Black tipped with red and orange wings unfolded from his back, bursting through his robes so he could enfold them around her.

"Come on. I didn't mean it like that." He rocked her against him awkwardly as she sniffled and burst into tears.

"I—m—so—sorry—" she sniffled and stammered. "I—don't—want—them—to think—I'm—needy." She hiccuped as she cried.

"Being hungry isn't being needy," Severus said gently. "My so-called "father" would undoubtedly say differently, but he's a total bastard."

Hermione looked up in surprise at his cursing. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she chose to hide within his wings instead. Her own, having burst through her poor, abused robes, wrapped around his back under his wings, giving them the appearance of a brightly coloured cocoon.

Hermione's feathered crest, a mixture of cream, sienna, and mottled browns, rose to match Severus' crimson and orange-tipped black feathers.

"Come on," Severus said. "These are stone pines. The pinecones will give us pine nuts."

He took her hand. "Ready?"

Hermione, still sniffling, nodded in agreement. They spread their wings, flapping awkwardly. They launched up together with frantic wingbeats, crashed into a high branch and clung together, helping each other up.

"That was pretty awkward," Severus winced. He plucked a giant pinecone with one hand and handed it to her.

Hermione quickly peeled the cone to expose the golden nuts. She devoured a few hungrily and then gave some to Severus, refusing to eat until he had some too.

Severus huffed, rolling his eyes, and took the offering, eating them. Hunger whetted, he picked a cone for himself, and they ate together. A few bad reaches sent a rain of pinecones downward. The two children looked down.

The herd was below them, already picking them up.

"Don't stop there, my friends," Magorian said with a laugh. "We'll take all you can shake down!"

Severus and Hermione smiled together and set to work, pausing on each branch to eat a pinecone's worth of nuts before shaking more down.

Foals giggled and knickered in glee, kicking up their legs as they plucked the cones up from the forest floor. The mares brought in basket after basket to carry their prizes off.

It was well into sunset when all the stone pines were well and truly shaken of their loose cones. They left the rest to the other forest animals, having taken their fair share for themselves and the centaur.

As they sat around the fire, all of the centaur folk were busy separating the nuts from their protective armour. They shared a meal of freshly-collected forest foods as the elders told stories of the centaurs' greatest heroes and the great and terrible deeds of the Greek gods.

When they were finally escorted back, Hermione and Severus gaped when they saw the two newest additions to the cottage. Two centaur-style shelters had been neatly merged with flawless stonework.

"Welcome home, Severus and Hermione Fawkes," Magorian said with a warm smile. "We look forward to many years of fruitful partnership."

A group of stone and mud-covered centaurs pranced away into the forest, tails up high with pride in their success.

Severus, Hermione, and Silvanus arm clasped with Magorian.

"Thank you, Magorian," they said together.

"Your respect to the herd shall not be forgotten, my friends," Magorian said. "You are welcome in our forest, but beware of the Acromantula. They have no care for anything but their own stomachs."

"Acromantulas?" Hermione squeaked. "That sounds like tarantula."

"Giant spiders," Magorian confirmed. The adults span from leg to leg some 15 feet. Their largest is the father—Aragog. He is even larger than the rest."

Hermione unconsciously inched closer to Severus while he simultaneously wrapped a wing around her.

"The Forbidden Forest is forbidden for this reason," Kettleburn said with a sigh. There are a number of such creatures that were not native to this place that somehow found themselves here."

Magorian nodded to Kettleburn. "Goodnight, my friends. I hope you like your new shelters."

Hermione and Severus bowed deeply. "Thank you, Magorian."

Magorian disappeared into the dark of the forest, his hoofbeats disappearing in a matter of minutes.

"Well, that went well," Kettleburn said, turning.

The elder wizard chuckled as the phoenix children had fallen asleep with exhaustion. Their bodies were welded together in a tangle of wings.

Silvanus pointed his wand at them and gently levitated them to their new beds.

Hermione woke up with a startled peep, finding herself snuggled under Fawkes' warm wings once more. Severus shot out of the nest with a startled squawk, his fluffy black down standing on end.

"What? I'm a chick again."

"You are my chicks," Fawkes said, chuckling.

"But—I had feathers yesterday!" Hermione protested.

"Technically, down are feathers too," Fawkes said, teasing. "Phoenixes are time flyers. We dip one wing into the future and the one in the past. Present meets in the middle. You will be chicks under my wings in the morning and flying up pine trees in the afternoon."

"You know about that?"

"Of course." Fawkes preened her head affectionately. "I was watching you as parents do."

"Oh." Hermione hunkered down, embarrassed. "So you saw me—"

Fawkes warbled, preening her feathers tenderly. "It is perfectly natural to have strong emotions. Growing pains. Your body is adjusting to being more than it was. Time wishes to dance within your body, but your body doesn't know how yet. It will all come in time."

Severus, fluff all spiked and scattered, slunk back under Fawkes' wing. Hermione cuddled up next to him, peeping encouragement.

"Just don't go on any long flights across the ocean until your bodies are ready," Fawkes recommended.

Hermione and Severus exchanged glances. "Okay," they said together.

Fawkes tucked them both back under his wing and covered them, sheltering them from the outside world.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore eyed the empty perch in his office and absently stroked his beard, a look of total consternation on his face.

Professor Sprout chuckled as she watched the phoenix train trek through her greenhouses, ridding her plants of insect pests. She laid out a bowl of fresh fruit by the door as a silent thank you for the dutiful service.

Argus Filch found his small quarters had sprouted into various live plants and thick, woody vines with large fruits dangling from every plant.

Mrs Norris mrowled with feline pleasure as she rolled back and forth on a patch of thick grass and then zoomed up the vines to sprawl above on the upper branches.

Argus plucked a fresh apple from a heavily-laden branch and bit into it, his eyes growing wide with surprise as delicious juice dripped down his chin.

"Magical," he whispered.

Two lint ball chicks dashed between his legs and out the door, silent as spectres as Fawkes perched on a high rafter, watching indulgently as he tore into a ripe plum with his beak.

Two lintballs warbled with the school choir as they perched on Flitwick's conductor stand. Their eyes followed the half-goblin's baton as they chirruped sweetly in tune to the songs.

Flitwick smiled, passing the chicks fresh kumquats in between page turns.

Severus perched on the edge of the potions book as Hermione perched on the rim of the cauldron.

Severus chirped instructions, and Hermione delivered ingredients to the cauldron as they took turns stirring the stirring rod with frantic wing beats.

They stared into the cauldron, watching it burble.

Hermione warbled a question.

Severus chirped an answer, and they switched places with Hermione chirping instructions and Severus adding ingredients.

After a few minutes, they took turns moving the stirring rod.

They stared into the cauldron with interest.

The Potions Master walked up behind them and peered in. "Looks good, my fluffy little friends," he said, his black hair hanging in loose curls about his face. "It should be ready to decantur very soon. Wait for the colour to shift to a deep green."

The two chicks peeped victoriously.

"You're welcome," he replied, smiling down at them.

"Professor Black," a student yelled. "My potion is turning purple!"

The wizard rushed over to tend to the other student's potion.

The two chicks cuddled with each other on the rim of the cauldron, their tiny phoenix feet immune to the heat.

Chirrr, Severus commented.

Shirrup! Hermione agreed.

Thump…

SPLOOSH!

The two chicks let out a terrified squawk as they tumbled into the potion, and it exploded outward with a loud BLURRRRP!

As the thick cloud of smoke began to clear, the potions classroom suddenly roared to life as a screaming ginger-furred baboon knocked over even more cauldrons, instigating a long chain of violent explosions.

A mop-haired black alpaca kicked, screeched, and spat, jumping up and down as he chased the ginger target of his rage, flinging things at him with abandon.

Professor Black stood behind a protective bubble shield as half the classroom huddled around him, wide-eyed and speechless with horror as their unlucky classmates on the other side of the shield were transformed into everything from a Nile alligator to a pair of Australian kookaburras to a clouded leopard to a yellow poison dart frog to a Komodo dragon and to a rather disturbing purple polka-dotted hippo-esque creature with a curving horn erupting from its forehead and an pointy reptilian tail bursting from its rump.

A blond Antarctic fur seal let out a series of yelping barks even as it slapped the baboon around with its tail, the tattered remnants of tailored Slytherin robes clinging loosely to its fleshy body.

The baboon screeched shrilly, its head slamming into the underside of one of the desks, and even more half-brewed potions flew around, another violent explosion drenching a terrified-looking Brazilian stink monkey, which sprouted a number of bright pink tentacles as she shrieked in rage and beat on the much larger baboon with her little fists.

Professor Black stood up, and sent out a powerful blast of magic, freezing everyone and everything in the room in place as he neutralised the potions reactions, vanished the remainder of the incomplete, merging potions, and stabilizing the transformations to keep them from progressing any further.

He sent an enchanted parchment zinging off out the door.

Professor Black stormed over to the cauldron at ground zero, pointing his wand at the charred, burbling mess that once was a perfect potion in progress. The char floated out as he banished it—

Suddenly, he stiffened, putting his wand away as he frantically scooped up the limp bodies of the two phoenix chicks. Their down was burned away and their skin charred. Even as he lifted them to search for life, their bodies combusted in his hands, turning to ash.

Black stared at his hands, utterly horrified. He stared at the piles of ash and then at the once-rampaging animals. His grey eyes flashed with fire—with total rage.

"What in Merlin's frilly pink underthings happened in here?!" Poppy's voice cried as she and Minerva spilled into the room like collapsing dominos.

Professor Black's finger pointed to a ginger-furred baboon, which had been petrified and suspended in the air .

Please detain the transformed, Minerva," he said, his voice shaking with anger. "All of them were in the explosion. One of them or more—" his voice broke.

"The chicks—" He looked to the piles of ash.

"Merlin, NO!" Minerva rushed over. "Those of you who are uninjured, I need you to report to the Headmaster's office at once and give a report of what has happened here. Is anyone hurt?"

A few hands rose.

"Alright, you six help your friends get up to the infirmary, and the rest of you go to the Head's office. Once you get your friends up to the infirmary, check in with the Headmaster," Minerva ordered.

"Yes, Professor," they said, hastily scurrying out.

Poppy seemed torn between following them to the infirmary and tending to the tiny piles of ash. "Minerva—"

"I'll tend to it," Minerva said, her lips pursed into a thin line.

Poppy frowned and left, obviously still conflicted.

"Regulus, what happened here?" Minerva asked.

"Miss Brown had a problem with her potion. It was about to explode, judging by the colour alone. I turned my back but for a minute, and the two chicks had been shoved into the potion. They had been sitting on the rim together watching it turn colour. It was perfectly stable. They had a perfect potion going. The moment they hit the potion's surface, their bodies served as a catalyst—as the potions merged, it created some sort of transformative explosion. Those children over there—" He pointed to the transformed students. "They were all outside the protective barrier I erected.

Regulus looked down at the piles of ash, visibly distressed. "One of them or maybe more of them deliberately pushed the chicks into the potion, Minerva. That lack of regard for life—"

Minerva put a hand on his shoulder. "Regulus, I've often wondered if teachers should teach in teams for this precise reason. How can one person keep so many children from blowing each other up when they seem so determined to destroy themselves by every means possible?"

Regulus nodded but didn't look entirely convinced.

Suddenly a blur of red and orange feathers flew by as Fawkes arrived. He sang a strange song that stirred the desire to shelter and protect the young. He landed over the piles of ash, spreading his wings as his body ignited in flames yet did not burn.

The piles of ash moved as two small heads peaked out. One black and one mottled brown chick sneezed, sending motes of dust everywhere.

"Achoo!"

"Chizzzfff!"

The two chicks snuggled under Fawkes' warm wings as he opened his mouth to deliver lunch of fresh-made fruit mash. The chicks fed eagerly and let out a chirp of utter contentment as Fawkes dutifully preened them clean of their unsightly ashy coating.

"Oh, thank goodness," Minerva sighed.

Regulus seemed to slowly let out the breath he had been holding.

"Thank the gods."

The mottled chick peeped at him, and Regulus put out his hand. She scurried up his arm and warbled a tiny song from his shoulder.

The relief seemed to pour off the potions master, and he gently rubbed her belly with his finger. "No more swimming in cauldrons for you, my lady. My heart couldn't take it."

Hermione chirped a happy note, smelling of grapes and apricots.

Regulus cradled the chick in his hand close to his heart, and Fawkes sang a happy song of family found.

Minerva put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Come on, let's take this lot up to the infirmary and figure out exactly what started this horrid affair. I'd leave the rest of this mess here, Regulus. Let whoever started it be the one to clean it up."

Regulus' eyes flickered with rekindled anger. "Of course, Minerva. I look forward to knowing who to hang by their angles from the ramparts."

Minerva tutted. "We ended that centuries ago, Regulus."

Regulus followed her out the door as they guided the paralysed beasts out first. "Pity."

"You WHAT?!" The elder witch's screech sent the alarmed phoenix chicks running towards Fawkes, who hid them under his wings as he swung from the large brass swing in Dumbledore's office.

"Molly, please," Albus chided the distraught mother. "I wouldn't bring you here if the events in question hadn't been exhaustively confirmed. As it is, this is a mere formality to let you know what has been done in the way of official reprimand."

"He's ELEVEN!"

"And that was taken in to account when the Board of Governors decided not to press him into a trial in front of the full Wizengamot."

"The Wizengamot?" Mrs Weasley paled, wringing her hands. "My Ronald is a good boy. He wouldn't purposely harm anyone!"

Albus frowned. "Look, Molly. Because we go so far back, I've collected copies of the pertinent memories regarding this situation for your perusal. I will give you a few minutes to view them in my Pensieve while the Aurors are here to mediate, and then Ronald will be serving extensive detentions to clean up the classroom laboratory and assist Mr Filch in whatever ways he requires for the rest of this term. Accidental or otherwise. Intentional or not, he pushed not one but two fellow students into a cauldron and didn't bother with considering the consequences of his actions. Even if what you say is true and he wouldn't purposely harm someone, the fact remains that he did, in fact, cause harm to his fellow students and that will not tolerated in this school. Many things have changed here at Hogwarts, starting from when young Mssrs Potter, Black, Pettigrew, and Lupin used some creative, yet aggressive magic to push Mr Snape over the edge and blow him out of the Hogwarts Express. "

Molly flinched. "That was a very long time ago, Albus. Things are different now."

"No, I assure that violence at Hogwarts is still very much frowned upon, Molly," Albus said, stroking his beard. "Now more so than before because we see the consequences of such things at an early age."

Visibly weary, Albus rubbed his temples with his fingers. "Just please watch the memories while I tend to the infirmary where you son is, currently, still a baboon."

Molly looked like she was going to fling the vial of memories out the window, but then she poured them into the Pensieve and dunked her head in.

Hermione pecked Severus on the rump, but the other chick ignored her, preferring to sulk on the windowsill.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

Silence.

Hermione sighed and flopped next to him. "Come on. Tell me what has your feathers in such a twist."

Severus continued to brood, a miniature stormcloud forming above his head, complete with thunder, lightning, and sideways rain.

Hermione pecked at it, instantly dispelling it.

Severus pointed with his beak towards the infirmary where a male alpaca had a human face, moppy black hair, round gold-framed glasses, and eerily familiar green eyes.

"Um, okay?" Hermione said. "That is a bit disturbing, but why does it bother you so much?"

"He's the spitting image of the boy who tormented me on the Hogwarts Express. His eyes, however, are the same unique shade of green as my best friend. Her name was Lily. We grew up together."

"Well, that's great, right?" Hermione said cheerily. "That means you can reconnect!"

Severus' stormcloud was back with a vengeance and an errant lightning bolt zapped Hermione squarely on the rump. She cheeped loudly, startled, and tumbled headlong off the sill.

Severus brooded awhile longer until he realised neither of them could fly in their current form, and they hadn't exactly figured out how to swap between forms at will.

He looked over the edge to see Hermione glaring at him from the edge of the ramparts, only her tiny claws saving her from a nasty fall to the ground. As if to defy his stunt, she rose up in flames into a half-grown phoenix fledgling and launched herself into the air, screeching her displeasure and causing every stomach in Hogwarts to suffer from intense feelings of irritation.

The young phoenix flew out and away, over the Forbidden Forest and deep into the canopy.

You're a real piece of work, Severus, he said to himself.

"What do you mean this is all my fault?" Molly screeched.

"My son is a bloody alpaca because of your Ronald!" Lily yelled back, her voice just as if not even more shrill.

"Ronald didn't mean to turn Harry into an alpaca!" Molly said. "And it's not MY fault that he did either way!"

Severus hunkered down on the sill, suddenly remembering that Lily had been laughing at him on the Hogwarts Express too. The warmth that usually came from Hermione was missing. Her place at his side had been vacated—because of him. Lily may have laughed at his expense back in the day, but he had pushed Hermione away all by himself.

Hermione hadn't known that there had been a time when Severus couldn't have imagined a life without Lily in it. How could she? He'd never shared.

The mingled parents that had arrived to visit their beastified children were all throwing accusations around, but most were targeting Ronald and his "shoddy and wild upbringing" that would him endanger their beloved children.

Finally, Poppy had quite enough and sent them all packing, banning them from the infirmary until they could behave like adults.

"This is an infirmary for recovery and not a place for you to screech at each other like harpies, upsetting the children even more than they already are! GET OUT! Get out of here, ALL of you! None of you are permitted back in my infirmary until you are capable of being civil!"

The chastened group of parents slunk out with their tails figuratively between their legs, many of them having been treated by the no-nonsense mediwitch several times throughout their own Hogwarts careers.

Severus felt an gnawing in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. Why did he feel so bad? Was it because he'd found out about Lily having grown up and married the very person that ridiculed him on the train?

Was it that he remembered Lily had laughed too?

Did he actually miss his old life?

Or was it something else entirely?

Ker-ZAP!

The stormcloud zapped him right in the arse, sending him careening off the sill and onto the nearby infirmary bed.

The chick sighed, his down sticking out in a multitude of spiky points, giving him a striking resemblance to a baby hedgehog.

Great, now even his own personal stormcloud had it out for him.

Severus had a long walk back to the cottage all on his own, and found it took twice the time without company what with being forced to dodge legs, feet, and students trying to catch the "cute little birdie."

He didn't appreciate that in the slightest.

When he got to the cottage, Hermione was already perched on the paddock fence, listening intently to Kettleburn as he explained why the school had hippogriffs but didn't often allow students to work with them.

Feeling like he missed something important, he scrambled up beside her, his tiny claws digging deep into the wood of the fence.

By the time he got to Hermione's side, Kettleburn was already talking about something else, and the large hippogriff—perhaps more so because he was so tiny—was eyeing him up with frank suspicion.

Hermione hopped up from the fence, doing a strange sort of bow with her body, and hopped over to a line of dead ferrets. She plucked one up and tossed it to the hippogriff, and it snatched it up hungrily. This, of course, attracted other hippogriffs, and Hermione was doing a strange bowing dance as she tossed more ferrets.

The ferrets were quite a bit larger than Hermione, but her size belied her true strength. She fed each hippogriff with excited peeps.

One hippogriff, a grey and white one that had a bit of attitude, tried to snatch a ferret before Hermione was ready, and she squawked, nailing the beast on the area where his beak connected to the rest of his face. He jerked back, eyeing the little chick with surprise, and perhaps a bit of newfound respect.

Hermione did an odd, bowing dance again, and much to Severus' surprise the hippogriff bowed back. She tossed him another ferret, and everything settled back down.

A young hippogriff nailed Severus on the rump, and Severus chirped in alarm, fluttering off the fence. When he looked back, the little hippogriff seemed a bit perturbed that his plaything had escaped. But then a mottled tawny hippogriff reared up and herded her youngling back to where their ferret dinner was.

Severus sulked in the dirt, feeling like he wanted a do-over pass for the entire day.

"Bad day?" Kettleburn asked kindly, lifting the tiny chick up and placing him back on the fence.

Severus sulked, his normally pristine black down looking disheveled and lank.

"As I was telling Hermione," Silvanus said warmly, "sometimes you have to distract yourself in order to feel better. You can't always control how your day goes, but there are some things you can do. Respecting hippogriffs, for example, is all about controlled chaos. They always demand respect, even if they don't deserve it. So, even if the beast in question is as spoiled as they come, you must bow in greeting. However, this is also true to them. As you saw the one your friend pecked on the head, he did not bow when he approached her. She was within her right to reprimand, and no other hippogriff would deny her that right, not even Buckbeak. He's the herd stallion of sorts, but that does not make him the master and commander."

Kettleburn scritched Severus under the chin. "You must never hurry along the fine art of diplomacy with a hippogriff, laddie. If they do not return a bow, then move on and save whatever you wish to do for later and pray that it is not an emergency. This is why teaching students about hippogriffs is so very challenging. Here, when it is just you, me, and Hermione, this is manageable. An entire class—well, I don't think you need me to spell it out for you, eh?"

Severus peeped affirmative.

Silvanus waved his wand over Severus to clean him off from his day's debris.

"We are all fallible creatures, my young apprentice. Human, phoenix, hippogriff. We will do things we regret and then be too proud to admit it." Silvanus rubbed one of the stumps of his lost fingers. "I was much too proud when I was younger, and I attempted to force my own beliefs upon the beasts. I was too eager to prove rather than learn, and that is what I try to prevent you both from doing. You will find that later, what we do for the beasts are second nature. The respect we pay our centaur allies is just as natural as breathing, but we must never forget that what is or will be easy for us is not necessarily for others."

Kettleburn rubbed his chin. "Creatures, especially magical ones, can be far more cunning than people give them credit for. They may not be casting spells and performing great feats in maths, but they have survived for long as us if not even longer as a species. If you cannot respect their intelligence, at least respect their ability to survive and understand that they are dangerous and wild, no matter how friendly they might become to us. You must never assume that one of these creatures will trust someone you bring close just because they trust you. Do you understand?"

Severus nodded, peeping assent.

"For those we keep here in the paddocks, this is their home and territory," Silvanus said. "We become a part of their herd and family, so we are permitted within. For others, this is a boundary. And they will fiercely defend it. The fences are for both them and to keep others out—a warning. For those foolish enough to forget this or how to read our signs, they are often reminded by hoof, fang, or claw."

"For now, however," he continued. "You are not to enter the paddocks without me. Even if someone is inside the paddocks screaming for help, you must not enter until you are accepted as part of the family unit. I cannot stress this enough. Use magic or any way you can to remove a person from danger without entering, should that come up, but you cannot and should not pass into their territory without invitation, or we will have two to rescue and not one. Is this clear?"

Severus stood straight up and peeped in assent.

Silvanus nodded. "Good." He gave Severus a warm pat. "Since Hermione did the feeding chores today, it is your turn to help prepare dinner. We will focus on centaur-friendly foods tonight. There is a book on the right shelf bound in blue leather. You can pick something out of there and we'll gather the ingredients and set to work."

Severus perked and peeped, hopping down from the fence and tearing off to the cottage interior.

Hermione peeped victoriously from atop the lead hippogriff mare's head as the hippogriffs preened her with their curved beaks.

Kettleburn shook his head. "Aren't you just the over-achiever, Hermione?"

Hermione warbled happily, radiating happiness.

Silvanus smiled. Well, at least she's not depressed and causing stomach upset anymore, he thought to himself.

Hermione scribbled frantically on her parchments as she tried to finish her written assignments from Transfiguration, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Black had arranged for them to come in and redo their potion after supper for full credit, so she wanted to be sure everything was finished before then.

The scent of dinner was already filling the cottage, and it smelled absolutely divine—whatever it was. She could hear Kettleburn chatting and directing Severus in the kitchen.

Severus was already far more apt at the fine art of cooking than she was. She was more the salad and tea maker, which was cooking, technically, depending on what you were making. Still, Severus had already mastered the soufflé, and the tasty proof had already occured a number of times now.

Knowing Severus was working hard for the meal, Hermione set aside her notes for him to share. Upset as she was at him, she knew it wasn't fair to withhold notes for his studies. They both took detailed notes, but they always compared them as they did their homework.

Finishing the work on her written homework, she stashed the scrolls away and stacked her notes neatly on the table. She sniffled as she recalled what her mother would have said to her.

"You should never go to bed angry, Hermione," her mother told her. "If you go to bed angry, you dream angry, and you wake up feeling even worse."

She wondered what her mother would think now, had she not been in the wreck. Would she have accepted a phoenix chick for a daughter?

Hermione walked over to one of her books and opened it, pulling a clipped newspaper article out from the dust jacket.

Multi-Car Collision Kills Four in Downtown London

Four people were killed and five injured after a multi-vehicle crash on Tower Bridge Road early yesterday morning. The five that were injured were taken to a hospital after the crash.

Witnesses said that the grey Peugeot was just pulling out on a green light when the red Vauxhall Astra driven by Tobias Snape crashed into it.

"They didn't even try to stop!" one witness reported as they were being loaded into an ambulance.

While there were multiple injuries, only five required hospitalisation. Fatalities include: Tobias and Eileen Snape and well-known local dentists Drs Marcus and Irene Granger.

It is unknown at this time where Mr Snape was headed, but he and his wife were reportedly residents of Cokeworth.

Hermione tucked the article away, pushing the book back into the shelf. She wondered if Severus knew the Snapes mentioned in the article. The name wasn't exactly common. He was so private about everything—she could never find a right time to ask. Part of her didn't want to be accused of being too nosy.

She just wished he'd open up to her a little more. They were both orphans, after all.

"You can't be liked by everyone, sweetling," her father had told her after she had come crying back from the corner market where an angry patron had yelled at her. "It's not always about you. Some people just don't get on with other people."

Of course, she had only been five at the time, but she still remembered how red the lady's face had been when she accused Hermione of getting ahead of her in the lines.

Her father hadn't been far behind, having been standing outside the store so she could go in and get the milk her mum wanted. She'd wanted to be a big girl and get it herself, clasping the pound note in her hand so tight with pride—

And then that had happened.

She'd been so upset that she forgot all about the milk, and her father had taken her by the hand to fetch it together.

What she wouldn't give to feel her father's hand in hers once more.

She sniffled again, cursing at herself for getting all weepy again.

She trudged to the door and opened it and almost tripped over an enormous wicker hamper filled with exotic fruits of all kinds. Dragon fruit, cherimoya, rambutan, mangosteens, dates, figs, guavas, cucamelon, sopadilla, water apples, tamarinds, kiwano, and even some black sapote. A neatly handwritten note adorned a parchment stuck in between the fruits:

I'm sorry, Hermione. I was a real prat. Forgive me?

When she touched the note, it turned into a huge jackfruit that landed with a loud THUMP on the floor.

Hermione burst into laughter.

She carried the hamper of offerings to the main room, rolling the jackfruit along with her foot.

How could she possibly not forgive an apology paid in exotic and delicious fruit?

As she put the hamper on the counter, Severus gave her a concerned set of furrowed eyebrows.

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, placing her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Severus," she said as she slipped away to pull out a huge knife from the drawer and a bottle of oil. "Jackfruit for dessert, yes?"

Fawkes let out an excited warble from the open windowsill.

"That sounds like a yes to me," Hermione said with a laugh, setting to work at liberating the tasty fruit from its sticky prison.

Severus tried to hide his embarrassment, but the crest of black and crimson feathers on his head seemed to have other ideas, announcing his relief that she had forgiven him with flamboyant flashes of vivid colour.

Kettleburn laughed, slapping in on the back. "Back to cooking, boy. We don't want to serve the centaur charred leather for meat, do we?"

Severus startled and hastily went back to work, but everyone couldn't help but notice the increased enthusiasm he put into his tasks the second time around.

Being a phoenix, Severus realised, had quite a few advantages when dinner for an entire herd of centaur was impending. One, they were wholly impervious to fire, and two, they could carry obscenely heavy things with ease.

A gigantic cast iron cauldron full of venison and wild mushroom stew, for example, was a fine case in point.

Kettleburn insisted that cooking was a skill for life that could simply not be ignored— being something as basic to life as any other curriculum. There were many times he said that he was teaching them to avoid the mistakes he made in his own learning. His peers used to mock him that his name was a testament to his ability to burn water.

As he, Hermione, and Fawkes delivered the fragrant cauldron of stew to the centaur's communal fire, many eyes, ears, and noses seemed lead the bodies closer.

With gentle coaching from Kettleburn, Hermione and Severus served the elders first, silently thanking their master for having taught them how to tell who was older or oldest in a group of centaur. Thankfully, the centaur made it easy once they knew what to look for. The eldest always gathered around the main fire first with the eldest at twelve o'clock moving around clockwise to the youngest. The next ring were the foals, who were always protected between the eldest and the adults, the next were the younglings that no longer suckled from their dam, and then the adolescents. Each ring was sorted by age. Once food was distributed or business was tended to, depending on the gathering, the centaur broke into family units, pairs, or whatever significant relationship bound them.

The servers of the chosen meal ate last, but much to their surprise, it was the eldest of the herd that in-turn served them in thanks for their hard work.

Both Severus and Hermione found it all quite overwhelming, but the feeling of camaraderie was, by far, worth the initial feeling of awkwardness. They found themselves debating on why the children at Hogwarts were collectively called "foals" even though they were no longer "suckling from their dams" as the centaur put it, but Bane was quick to inform them that since none of the human children went through the various rites of passage as the centaur did, they were considered to be frozen as foals until the point where they graduated and left the school.

The teachers and staff were accepted as human adults, but they were still considered to be unproven, having never gone through the centaur rites of passage either. Kettleburn, however, had, which was why his presence in the forest and bringing strangers into it was accepted by all.

This revelation, of course, had the two phoenix-children boggling as to what they had to do in order to "catch up" to their centaur peers.

Bane snorted rudely, dismissing their natural curiosity as useless. "You wouldn't have the stones," he sneered.

Hermione and Severus exchanged pointed glances that clearly expressed their disagreement.

"Don't be so sure, Bane," Magorian said, narrowing his eyes at the younger centaur. "They have already figured out who to serve food to first, prepared a fine meal for the entire herd, and know to wait patiently when being served. Patience is the key to passing from foal to youngling, and the rest is a matter of practice of the hunt, which all of us have learnt in our own time. Success is not expected on one's first hunt any more than one can expect the wolf or the lynx. To give the impression that this is not so is hardly fair to anyone, Bane."

"Your first arrow did slay the mighty sapling, as I recall," Firenze said, his ears flicking in amusement.

Bane jerked up his head and glowered darkly at Firenze. "You did no better."

"I do not say that I did. I fully confess that my first arrow did slay the mighty sapling as well. My point is that it is exceedingly rare for one to succeed in their first attempted hunt, Bane. Why should we expect of the younglings what we could not accomplish ourselves?"

Bane curled his lip and stomped off into the darkening forest. "They are not centaur. They wouldn't understand."

One of the elder centaur shook his mane and sighed. "Bane is a stalwart defender of our people, but he does not like change. It will take time for him to warm up to you because he cannot help but be reminded how fast human numbers have grown while ours remains small."

The centaur younglings whispered amongst each other, tails flipping wildly. They then surrounded Hermione and Severus and dragged them off into the forest together.

"Well, that solves that," Magorian said, rubbing his chin with an amused smile. "Seems like you lose your apprentices for a while, friend Silvanus."

Kettleburn shook his head. "It was bound to happen. Hopefully they take to archery better than I did."

"You still can't hit the broad side of an elk when it's standing still on most days," one of the elders said, chuckling.

Kettleburn sighed. "Well, it may have been a fluke that the elk was tangled in my snares meant for rabbits, but it did end with dinner for the herd."

Magorian laughed. "True that we do not specify that the hunt has to be shot with an arrow, but until then, I do not think my father had ever thought an elk capable of being held by snares— even as many as you had. He wondered if you were trying to catch fifty hares in one fell swoop."

"Butterbriar needed skins for her winter leg wraps," Silvanus protested.

"Mmhm," Firenze said, chuckling. "And you wonder why your herd name is Rabbitbane."

Silvanus sighed. "I can only hope their names are less embarrassing.

Magorian clapped him on the back. "Fear not. Their deeds are less likely to influence their names at their age. You came upon your name as an adult, which made it all the more—"

"Horrible," Silvanus groaned.

"Fitting," Magorian finished.

Silvanus sighed.

The giggling of the centaur younglings and the phoenix children carried from afar. Fawkes warbled his approval as he sat perched on a high branch looking over the clearing, filling every heart with his happy emotion.

Severus realised he was absolute pants at archery, but his ability to make a bow and flint-napped arrowhead was second to none of the other younglings. Hermione, on the other hand, had a natural feel to her archery, and when she wasn't trembling with nervousness, her aim had no equal, as if Artemis Herself blessed her eye and her aim.

So, seeing as they were balanced together, Severus helped Hermione with her bowcraft and flint-napping, and she helped him with his archery. By the time they were done practicing, there were about fifty bows carved, sinew twisted into fine bowstrings, and hide glue drying the sinew backing down the bows.

Feathers weren't exactly an issue for them. They simply transformed and self-plucked— or, as Hermione soon found out, get startled enough to spontaneously molt themselves instantaneously starkers, much to her abject mortification.

The reason Hermione had been startled became the new target of their archery vengeance: Acromantulas.

Nothing scared a young witch-phoenix like a giant spider direct to the face, and her revenge came in the form of target practice. Even more interesting was the revelation that handcrafted phoenix feather arrows had a very interesting side-effect: immediate combustion.

Phoenix feather arrows weren't going to be the arrow of choice for regular hunting, but the bane of the Forbidden Forest that crawled on eight legs soon found themselves no longer the apex predator against the youngling centaur.

Centaur younglings all scrambled add phoenix feathers to their arrows, which all came at the expense of a scary pranks to startle poor Hermione featherless.

"At least you're not a fainting goat," Severus said as he plucked a feather from the pile she left behind.

Hermione glowered at him, her body surrounded in bright blue and white high-temperature flames.

Hermione soon discovered that if she pulled back on a bow with just the arrow shaft and tip, her magic would fill in the fletching with flaming feathers— and depending on her mood, that caused exploding spiders.

The pranks at her expense quickly simmered down after that.

Unbeknownst to the younglings, Fawkes was perched high above and watched their antics, keeping a close eye on them, just in case trouble arrived and became too much for them to handle all on their own. Kettleburn assisted the centaur with their winterising for the colder season, keeping an ear out (and sometimes an eye as well) on his young apprentices.

"Um," Clover said, stamping a hoof. "I think these things are edible." She broke up a leg off the smouldering carcass of a large Acromantula. They smell a lot like river crabs." She cracked open one leg and nibbled on the pale, steaming flesh within. "They taste like river crab too— only sweeter."

Stonejumper took one and experimentally nibbled at it. "You're right!"

"We should probably take it to the elders to test—" Frightleaf said, his eyes darting about as he experimentally poked the carcass with the end of his bow. He startled as the leg twitched, shying and bolting backwards and bumping his rump into a fern. This caused him to spook even more, and he tore back down the path towards camp.

"He's horrible," Ferngully said, shaking his mane.

"Let's drag these back to camp!" Hedia exclaimed, shaking her mane. She pulled a coil of rope off her back and tied it around the still-steaming bodies. They worked together, bundling up the fallen arachnids and dragging the carcasses back to camp.

Frightleaf quietly snuck back in, trying very hard to look like he hadn't just completely bailed on his herd.

"Come on Fright," Clover called. "You need to bring something back!"

"I-I'll get a squirrel," Frightleaf said, still quite edgy and keeping well away from the eerie web-covered Acromantula areas. He pulled a small brightly-coloured tree frog out from a pouch using a leaf and carefully slid his arrow across its back. He put the frog back in the pouch and notched the arrow, his eyes tracking the fat squirrel that was chowing down on a pile of pine nuts.

He pulled back his bow, his shot slowly steadying as he blocked out the outside distractions.

"YOU GET AWAY FROM ME FRIENDS!" a loud voice bellowed as crashing footsteps charged through the forest. "ARAGOG? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

Frightleaf spooked, his bowstring releasing as he jerked away. The arrow went flying—

THUuuunK!

The lumbering half-giant crashed to the ground, face-first into the leaves as a terrified Frightleaf went flying full-tilt back to camp, screaming all the way, .

Fawkes looked down into the clearing and sighed, his feathers rising up into a poof before smoothing back down as he warbled If I Had a Hammer.

Albus stared at the large bed Poppy had made to treat one very unhappy Rubeus Hagrid from a paralytic arrow to the hip.

"You know, Hagrid, if you hadn't introduced both the Acromantulas and the Bright Venom Tree Frogs into the forest, you wouldn't have been in this mess," Albus said sternly, sucking on his lemon sherbet.

"Oh, here's that antidote, Albus," Slughorn said, huffing slightly as he shuffled in. "I had to brew it extra strong for Hagrid. Still not sure if it will work right because of his half-giant resistances."

"Thank you, Horace," Poppy said, taking the potion. "I'll begin titrating it today."

"What happened, Albus?" Horace asked, nodding in Hagrid's general direction.

"Seems like Hagrid tried to save the Acromantulas again and spooked a young centaur who was out hunting. Centaur arrow to the hip." Albus looked at the feathered shaft that was laying on the nearby table.

"He's just lucky they were intending the neurotoxin for a squirrel's size," Poppy tutted. "And he's even luckier that it didn't reach his heart and brain."

"Not sure we would have noticed a difference," Horace muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Poppy dear, nothing."

Poppy went back to calculating the dose for Hagrid.

"Whatever are you going to do about him, Albus?" Slughorn sighed.

Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I don't know, Horace. Hagrid means well enough, but he keeps doing things that do not make the centaur happy, the Ministry happy, and even me happy these days."

"Oh, whatever did he do to finally get you unhappy, Albus?"

"Caught him drinking down at the Leaky and talking freely about private Hogwarts business. Man can't keep a secret if his life depended on it. Told the whole place not only that he had a three-headed dog named Fluffy but how to get by him. Who knows what else he's been talking about and to whom. Regulus said the last detention he sent Mssrs Potter, Weasley, and Malfoy to, Hagrid just took them out into the Forbidden forest and had them split up to go look for a unicorn."

Slughorn frowned. "Find it, did they?"

"Yes, but it was dead. So they are now traumatised children, and Mr Potter is utterly convinced that he saw the grim reaper himself drinking unicorn blood."

Slughorn's frown got a little tighter. "You could always arrange to have the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures get rid of the spiders while Hagrid is down and out," Horace suggested. "That would make more than just the centaurs happy."

"Well, now the centaur have found a way to make the Acromantulae work for them," Albus said slowly. "They're eating them."

Horace blinked. "Eating them?"

"They are apparently quite tasty," Albus informed the now distinctly ill-looking professor. "I'm sure Silvanus would love to share some with you."

"No, no, I'm good, Albus, thank you," Slughorn said rather hastily.

Albus pulled out a phial of glowing green venom. "Silvanus' young apprentices found out how to harvest the venom of the spiders too. They're going to be unbelievably rich before they even get to their second year."

Slughorn's eyes widened at the sight of the phial. "How did they even know to harvest it?"

"Silvanus told them it was quite rare and valuable in certain circles, so they set to work, saving it from every spider they killed. He set them up with some contacts with the goblins, who were more than happy to inform the right people for the right to distribute it. Who knew?"

Slughorn's eyes widened. "Who indeed." He stared at the phial of shimmering venom with no shortage of wonder and a splash of envy.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron whinged. "We just need one! Just one little vial and we'll be set forever!"

Harry looked at his mate with frank suspicion. "I don't know, Ron. Hagrid was more than a bit delirious. And anyway, you're bloody terrified of spiders, so how the hell do you plan on catching one?"

"We don't have to get close— just throw one of these at it!"

"One of these, what, Ron?"

"I nicked it off Fred and George. It's their new spidercider. Kills 'em quick."

Harry peered off into the darkened woods. "I don't know, Ron. I really don't like this idea. Besides, what's all that risk for a little money?"

Ron scowled. "You may think it's nothing, but my parents had to work for everything."

Harry's expression darkened. "What, are you saying my parents didn't?"

"Well, no. Your granddad went and made that hair potion and just raked in the galleons. Your dad and mum didn't even have to work." Ron looked at Harry accusingly.

Harry's lips pursed into a hard line. "If that is how you really feel, Ron, then you can go do this all on your own. I'm not risking my life out there for someone who talks about my parents like that."

Harry glared at him and then stormed back up the path to Hogwarts as the evening bell chimed.

Ron pulled his coat around him, grabbed the torch from Hagrid's hut and walked into the forest.

It didn't take him long to find the large webbed trees and bushes. Even in the dark of the forest, the moonlight gleamed off the silken strands. He took a stick and nervously poked the silk lines.

"Only need one. That'll get me a whole vial or more. I'll have enough to buy that wicked broom at Diagon Alley, my own wand, loads of new clothes, and everything. Maybe if mum is really nice to me, I might even get her that new cooking pot she was wanting."

The webbing he was poking at trembled violently, and Ron hastily pulled out the small vial of Spidercider potion that his brothers had made. One drop killed an entire nest, so a whole bottle would surely take care of one spider, no matter how big it was. It wasn't like he needed the spider to survive. Just its fangs and the venom. That's all. They weren't going to miss one stupid sodding spider.

He heard the frantic skittering before he saw the distinctive shape— the giant arachnid was heading straight for him, its forelegs rising as venom-coated fangs dripped in anticipation.

Ron flung the potion at the spider, and it hit the huge arachnid right between the eyes. The liquid spread all across the spider, and it madly scraped at its head with its legs.

"That's it? That can't be it!" Ron cried out in horror.

He started to scramble away just as the spider's frantic scrapings began to create a number of bright blue-white sparks as its forelegs worked on the strange potion coating.

Sparks flew in all directions, and it wasn't long before the dry tinder around the Acromantula burst into flames. The spider screeched loudly in agony, running straight for Ron.

Ron ran as fast as he could from both spider and the fire, but the flames were growing and spreading rapidly. The fire was growing much faster than he could run.

The fire roared around him like the screams of a great beast as it crashed and ploughed through the forest.

Ron heard screams, neighs, yells— young, old.

He was still running, even as he dropped and tried to roll, but he just caught even more things on fire. He was crying now, the searing pain from the flames licking against his skin.

He burst through the forestline to see a line of teachers and staff lined up at the forest's edge. They pointed their wands up and into the forest, sending streams of water to douse the flames.

Water hit him from all directions, finally putting him out, but he felt nothing anymore. His skin was charred to black and all of his hair was gone.

Invisible things burst through the forest, trampling everything in their path, terrified neighs and drones like the song of whales filling the air. One of those "things" was on fire, and the vague outline of horse and wings bathed in flames was the only indicator that something was there.

Dumbledore extinguished it with his wand.

Children were watching in horror from every window of Hogwarts— terrified as the fire rose to the high reaches and they wondered if it would reach Hogwarts.

Crack!

Crackle!

Crack!

Dozens of Aurors Apparated just outside the gates, and Dumbledore immediately waved them in.

"What the hell is going on here, Albus?" Moody barked.

"Something or someone set the forest on fire, Alastor," Dumbledore answered as he directed the teachers to move the water wall over and forward, pushing the flames back a little at time.

"We don't hae enough water here, Albus," Minerva yelled, her Scottish brogue deepening in her distress.

"The flames are spreading in all directions too!" Flitwick yelled over the keening roar of the fire.

The Aurors added their wands to the line, sending out streams of water to assist.

"Oh no, the centaur!" Pomona cried. "I can hear them screaming!"

Albus gathered all of his magical might, pooling on the combined strength of the witches and wizards gathered around him. He formed the water into a great wave and pushed the fire back.

The ground and trees dripped with gouts of steam and water as the flames licked around it, inching back in second by second.

Dumbledore's eyes grew very wide in shock.

"What the HELL did you DO, Ron?!" Harry's voice cried out as he ran up the path from the school. "What did you DO?!"

Albus, unable to watch over Harry and fight the fire at the same time, tried to gather more of his magic to beat back the flames again.

SSSCREEEEEEEEEEEE!

Triple screams of avian fury sounded off across the tops of the burning trees as two winged children flew with Fawkes over the burning forest. Their wings beat in flawless synchronisation as they flew just over the tallest flames. The children linked hands as their wings spread out together. Then Fawkes carefully positioned himself to bridge the space between them.

The flames licked eagerly at their feet, curling up and over them like thick vines around the trunks of the great forest trees.

ARIIIIIIIIIAAAAAH!

The trio of phoenixes cried out simultaneously, and the flames seemed to stop all movement just before they rushed back towards the birds, flooding up and into them like the return of the tides.

"Albus, stop this!" Minerva cried, her panic rising.

"I fear I cannot," Albus said heavily.

"They are just children, Albus!"

"Not anymore, Minerva," Albus sighed, his aged face lined deeply with profound exhaustion. "After tonight, everything that was human about them will be burned away to but motes of ash."

The fire roared like a rising beast and crashed down on the three birds, and their bodies grew brighter, brighter— brighter!

Their feathers turned to fire.

The fire turned to feathers.

Their wings seemed to grow impossibly huge, spanning easily across the entire forest canopy.

Now this is the law of the dark wood,

As old as as true as the stone.

And the creature that keeps it may prosper,

But the being that breaks it shall atone.

As the fire that licks on the footpath,

And the fire that leaps to the skies,

Those whose hearts are forged in avarice,

Shall surely be consumed alive

Those who share amongst the forest,

Take only what is needed to survive.

These are the ones that shall prosper,

When all other fail to thrive.

The flames are the heart of the phoenix.

The phoenix is the heart of the flames.

We bring the fire within us

To save the others this day.

We are the birds of living fire.

We are the travellers of time.

We give freely of our childhood,

To douse the vengeance of the pyre.

SCREEEEEEE!

The fire pillared up through the flaming feathers. The two children embraced each other in arms and wings as the fire wrapped around them. Fawkes wrapped them both in his wings as a great blast of power blew outward and took the fire with it, leaving only a rain of soft grey ash.

The fire was out.

"Boss! Come see this!"

Alastor went running in, using his wand to clear the path.

Deep in the crater of ash Fawkes opened his wings to expose two sleeping lint ball chicks, huddled together in a deep restorative sleep.

Only a few feet in front of them was the charred body of Quirinius Quirrell, current teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. The tattered wrappings of his head had turned to ash, exposing the grotesque second face on the back of his head. Before him was the burnt body of a dead unicorn, its throat having been torn out long before the flames claimed the rest.

Alastor stared mutely for a while before barking, "Savage! Proudfoot! Get your arses over here and contain this scene right now! Shacklebolt, take care of our phoenix friends. Get Fawkes a fruit basket or an entire bloody buffet. I don't care which. Make sure Amelia looks over those chicks. They just saved an entire school and forest. MOVE!"

"SIR!" the Aurors cried as one, scrambling about like ants chased by a magnifying lens.

"Silvanus!"

"Alastor?"

"Welcome to the DoM, you've just been hired. Now go follow Shacklebolt to Amelia."

"Wha—"

Alastor pushed Kettleburn off with Kingsley.

"POTTER!"

"Sir?" Harry answered meekly.

"Tell me everything you know about how this started!"

Harry paled. "Well, I don't know for sure, sir, but Ron was going out into the forest to get Acromantula venom with some potion he nicked off his brothers. They call it Spidercider."

"Does Spidercider explode?"

"No idea, sir."

"And these brothers are?"

"Fred and George," Harry answered. "Weasley."

"I'll deal with that lot after I deal with the rest of this mess."

AHHHHHHHHHRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!

All heads snapped around to see the hideous face on the back of Quirrell's charred skull, shrieking madly the instant one finger had touched one of the flaming phoenix feathers that had absorbed the rampaging forest fire. The face started to melt like candle wax, charring and burning, smoking, twisting, writhing as it screamed and screamed in impotent fury. Its screams summoned a swirling vortex of Dark power that raged around like an F-5 tornado it even as it struggled to survive.

Pop!

PLOP!

Thump-TING-flop!

Plonk!

Ker-thud!

A leatherbound diary, a goblet, a ring, a diadem, and a locket, landed in the ash and feathers. The moment they touched the feathers, each let out a soul-tearing scream.

Phssshhshshshhhhh…

Black smoke rose up from the haphazardly scattered objects.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

A chilling, high-pitched male voice screamed in outrage, its voice echoing throughout the castle grounds.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I am Lord Voldemort! I cannot die! I refuse to die!"

The blackened clouds rose and joined together into the shape of a tall, preternaturally thin figure with glowing red eyes. The phantom clutched his head in a silent scream as his form cracked, shattered, and then floated away as motes of ash and smoke—

Only to reveal what the objects had summoned.

A tall, serpent-faced man stood in the pile of objects.

Voldemort himself.

"Hello again, Tom," Albus said rather wearily.

Voldemort's eyes widened as he saw the elder wizard. His thin mouth twisted into an ugly snarl as he pulled back his wand and sent a bright red beam out to meet his.

Dumbledore's wand met his, and the blinding radiance of the meeting powers clashed together. Magic crackled and blasted, wove and twisted, ripped apart, and slammed together again. The outward nova caused both Dumbledore and Voldemort to tumble backwards.

Just as Voldemort was looking like he was going to try again—

Thwack!

A thin sliver of an arrow, smacked into Voldemort's shoulder.

He turned, a snarl on his face as he saw none other than poor Frightleaf, his bow trembling with his last effort to lose his arrow.

He pulled the arrow out, throwing it down as he leveled his wand at the youngling. "Avada Ke— ke—"

He pitched forward on his face, completely paralysed.

The other younglings slapped Frightleaf on the back. "I knew you could do it, Fright!" they all cheered.

The quivering centaur youngling just smiled sheepishly.

Albus let himself be helped up by Alastor. "I could use a stiff drink."

"Got anything hidden away in that stuffy old office of yours, Albus?"

"I do, indeed. Care to share it with the rest of the staff and I?"

"I would."

Alastor extracted his memory and placed it in an unbreakable vial, etched it with his wand, and dropped it into what appeared to be a portable hole. He folded up the hole and put it in his pocket.

"I want one," Albus said at once.

"This one is mine. You can't have it." Alastor grunted, dismissing him with an impatient wave of his hand.

Alastor gathered up the rain of oddball objects into a makeshift satchel and levitated them with him. "This is going to require a lot of paperwork."

"Look at the bright side. You get to explain how a young centaur took out the Dark Lord with a simple arrow."

Alastor eyed the paralysed form of the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort. "I suppose I should deal with him too." He cast about ten spells in rapid succession, wrapping the body in rope, gluing his tongue to the top of his mouth, fusing his legs together into a fishtail, turning his hands into hooves to keep him from doing gesture magic, and bound him securely in magical mummy wrap.

Minerva reached over and shoved a fistful of thick Scottish peat into his open mouth.

Alastor stared at her.

"What? He won't be castin' anna'thin' like that, laddie."

Alastor sighed. "No, ma'am."

"I'll be back for that drink, Albus," Alastor said as he put his hand on the bundle of one peat-stuffed and paralysed Volde-mummy.

Crack!

They were gone.

Horace and the other teachers came up.

Pomona spoke up first. "What in Merlin's name just happened here, Albus?".

Albus stroked his beard. "Fiery retribution with a paralytic arrow."

Regulus raised a brow. "What?"

Albus smiled. "The Dark Lord Voldemort has just been vanquished. Our children are safe— at least from him."

Minerva looked at the remains of the charred forest. "Now if we could only keep them from trying to burn themselves and everyone else to death."

Albus shrugged. "I'm opening a bottle of the Headmaster's Special Reserve 1742. Let's share it before we deal with everything else."

"Yes, please," Minerva said. "Save some for Poppy. She's in the infirmary trying to stabilise the youngest Mr Weasley's rather extensive burns."

Albus nodded, herding his weary teachers back towards Hogwarts.

As the headmaster and teachers walked back, they didn't notice how small plants were already growing in the soft ash as life began anew in the Forbidden Forest.

Magorian took a handful of ash into his hands with a smile and blew it from his palms. "Thank you, my feathered friends." He turned to his herd. "Come, we spend the night at the shelters friend Silvanus Rabbitbane set up for us in case we should ever need them. I have a feeling the forest will be as good as new tomorrow. We should let its magic flow unimpeded while we take our rest."

The younglings trotted through the ash happily, chasing Frightleaf toward the shelters.

"I misjudged them," Bane said quietly as he took his place by Magorian's side.

"Sometimes, my friend," Magorian said. "We must all rise above our names, just as young Frightleaf did tonight. They are fledglings no more. When next we see them, they will be one of us."

Bane nodded in agreement.

As the herd walked toward the unburned green, sprouts were already waving in the breeze as their leaves extended up and out, saplings were growing strong and a dense carpet of fresh seedlings rose up together in competition for morning's first rays.

Voldemort Defeated By Young Centaur's Hunting Arrow

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had a big surprise to announce to the Wizarding World this morning. The Dark Lord Voldemort was delivered to the Wizengamot wrapped in enough protective spells to make even Gringotts look like a Muggle child's piggy bank.

He was charged with well over a hundred counts of terrorism, murder, sedition, assault, extortion, and robbery among other crimes to numerous to mention.

His wand is currently being used to trace and and all those who have chosen to accept his Dark Mark— the mark of his favour and curse. Those found bearing the skull and serpent tattoo will all be tried and sent to Azkaban to along die with their lord and master.

Voldemort was fitted with magical dampening collar and sentenced to the Kiss, and he will live out his final days in Azkaban until he is no more.

The streets of Diagon Alley were alive with joyous celebration. The city of Hogsmeade was bustling with fireworks and happy celebrants.

The Wizarding World seemed to take in a deep breath and release it as the Wizarding War has officially come to an end.

Those wishing to to thank the centaur who was instrumental in bringing down the Dark Lord are encouraged to send their gifts and owls in care of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmaster Dumbledore has said he would be honoured to deliver them himself.

"Frightleaf is a very brave young centaur colt who proved to us that there is far more to bravery than a name, and more to a true hero than bravery. He defended his home, his family, his herd, and his friends. We should all take a lesson from Frightleaf," stated Headmaster Dumbledore to this reporter.

Classes will resume at Hogwarts next week after a week was taken off for the staff and students to help rebuild the centaur's winter encampment that was sadly burned during the same fire that was instrumental in defeating Voldemort but also claimed victims in the DADA teacher, Quirinius Quirrell, and a first year Gryffindor student, Ronald Bilius Weasley. Both wizards are being treated for extensive burns at St Mungo's.

Ronald Bilius Weasley is said to be scheduled to appear before the Wizengamot for stealing and using an untried, highly dangerous experimental potion that started the fire, but this has been postponed until his burns have healed sufficiently. Due to the extreme severity, however, it may be quite some time. Due to Weasley's age, a special barrister will be assigned to represent him legal interests.

His brothers, Frederick Gideon and George Fabian Weasley, from whom he stole the experimental potion, have made it abundantly clear that at no time did they give Ronald permission to use their potion as they were well aware that it was volatile and not responding in the way that they had hoped: by turning spiders into perfectly harmless puffskeins. The two brothers, also students at Hogwarts, are aspiring to create their own joke shop. The potion was going to be their investment into their business, should it have worked out as planned. Rumour has it the DMLE is considering it as a potential weapon in their arsenal, but no one has been able or willing to confirm that at this time.

As for what kept the fire from reaching Hogsmeade and setting the entire town on fire, no one seems to know.

"Sometimes you just have to take miracles for what they are," local townsman Raffe Radkin said. "Those teachers up at Hogwarts are good folks. I'm sure they did their very best for us."

Magic itself seems to agree, as the forest that was once charred and broken has already grown in lush and full, practically bursting with renewed life.

Whatever the reason, our children are now safer. The Wizarding world as a whole is safer again, and life goes on for the better. Go out there and hug someone. Be grateful for the gift of the freedom to live free and in peace.

Deep within the very bowels of the Ministry, tucked even deeper in the Department of Mysteries, two phoenix chicks dreamed as Fawkes tenderly tucked them under his wings. Their bellies full of nutritious fruit mash, they dreamed of both the future and the past— what was to come, what had been and what would never be due to a misguided confrontation between children on the Hogwarts Express, one September day back in 1977.

Hermione peeped and snuggled close into Severus. The black chick preened her downy head and laid his head over her back, closing his eyes.

Everything was just as it should be.

Everything was just as it would be.

A/N: This was a birthday present for Dutchgirl01. Happy Birthday, you crazy overworked woman! Thanks to The Dragon and the Rose for staying up well past her expiry date to beta this fic.

I LOVE YOU GUYS!

Spiders: Hey, where are the spiders?

More spiders: maybe in the epilogue?

Spiders: Oooo, you mean there's an epilogue?

Pink spider: Yup!

Purple spider: Yay!

Black spider with a skull on its back: I'll bring the drinks.

Green spider with silver speckles: I'll bring the popcorn.

Spiders all scurry away.

Spider with a bucket on his head scurries the wrong way.

This way, Bucket!

Spider sighs and runs in the other direction.