The Healers

Chapter Five: Seventh Year

Ron smeared a thick layer of marmalade across his toast, then looked up at Harry. "So, have you spoken to Hagrid about last night's little performance yet?" Naturally, he was referring to the scene between Hagrid and Draco's lady-friend.

Harry shook his head and looked woeful. "You wouldn't believe how many meetings I've got this week. We only arrived last night, and already all my evenings are taken up. Dumbledore wants to talk with me tonight, tomorrow night Hooch wants to talk to me about Quidditch captaining and the team selection trials, then Thursday night are the quidditch trials - are you still thinking of trying out for chaser? Because you're one of the best keepers we've had since Oliver left." Ron spluttered a yes around a mouthful of toast and Harry sighed regretfully. "Alright. Anyway, Friday night is the first night I'll be able to meet up with Hagrid. He owled me earlier this morning about it, but didn't so much as mention last night. He just asked when I'd be free and asked me to come down for supper when I can."

Ron gulped a mouthful of pumpkin juice. "So what does Dumbledore want?"

"The usual, I guess. Ask how I am, maybe update me on the situation with Voldemort. I have a few questions about Pettigrew and Sirius. I'm looking forward to seeing Lupin in Defence Against Dark Arts - I only got to wave at him last night during the sorting ceremony. It'll be great having him back, although I'm willing to bet the Slytherins think otherwise."

At that, both boys turned and looked over at the Slytherin table. Draco was sitting towards the head of the table, having an animated but one-sided conversation with Blaise Zabini, a rather large, unattractive male who seemed to have assumed the role of Draco's bodyguard after Crabbe and Goyle had withdrawn from Hogwarts when they'd failed their OWLs. On Draco's left sat the silver haired girl. Her back was straight and from where Harry was sitting, it looked like she was somewhat tense. No wonder, he thought to himself. It must be like sitting in a snake's nest. Her head was tilted upwards, and she seemed to be studying the Slytherin banners suspended above the tables. On Draco's right sat Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to be torn between glaring malevolently at the other girl, and simpering pathetically at Draco's jokes.

"Look at Pansy," Ron said with a smirk. "If she glares any harder, I reckon her eyes are going to fall into her eggs."

Harry nodded his agreement, then wiped his hands and stood up. "We better go get our books, we've got Divination with Trelawney in fifteen minutes."

Niamh found herself staring at the silver and green banners draped above the Slytherin tables. It wasn't so much the banners themselves that captivated her, but rather, the snake boldly emblazoned upon each. Draco had shrugged casually when she'd asked about the snakes, briefly mentioning the snake was a mascot of sorts for Slytherin House. She idly wondered if it could have any connection to the fact that the patron animal of her people was the snake, or the fact that her people had originally parted the mortal world due to the theft of the Greater Basilisk taken at the very time Hogwarts had been under contruction, and resolved to look into it later. For now, she needed to focus upon her first day within Hogwarts.

Niamh lowered her gaze in time to catch the girl beside Draco glaring at her once more. Without realising it, Niamh's own features settled into a dark frown mirroring Pansy's own, and the other girl immediately returned to giggling girlishly at Draco's every word and gesture. Niamh's features relaxed a little then; she knew the other girl disliked her, but didn't understand the source of Pansy's animosity. Perhaps it is not unlike Draco's dislike of Harry Potter, she mused to herself, and mentally noted that perhaps it was simply a wizarding trait that she must become accustomed to. These wizards are a vindictive people . . . they are closer to the Goddess in temperament than we credit them for. She immediately felt a trace of shame for the blasphemy and turned her thoughts to the day ahead of her.

To Draco's right, Pansy Parkinson was silently fuming. Bitch, she seethed, and covertly glared past Draco at the girl sitting to his left. Look at the haughty cow, she won't even talk to the rest of us. Who does she think she is, anyway? Rumours had started flying the moment the pair arrived at Platform nine and three quarters early yesterday morning; suggestions that the pair were engaged or even married, that the girl was a demi-goddess, that she was related to some long-forgotten family of pureblooded wizards . . . Pansy didn't believe any of it, of course. The bitch was a freak, with her pointy ears and snakish eyes. Pansy unconsciously patted her magically lightened hair and automatically giggled when Draco glanced her way. Lucius Malfoy would never allow such an atrocity into his family, she assured herself, and ran her fingers suggestively up and down her wand when Draco next looked her way.

Dumbledore leaned forward and proffered a bag of pale yellow sweets to Harry.

"Lemon sherbet?" he asked softly. Harry smiled and accepted one of the sweets, popping it past his lips and wincing slightly at the sour taste. "I suppose you know why I've called you here, Harry? I want you to know that I'm only too willing to answer any questions you might have."

Harry nodded and a slight frown marred his brow. "I have so many questions and thoughts. I mean, nothing has happened these last few years . . . nothing major, anyway. Voldemort hasn't tried to attack the school at all, and the Death-Eaters haven't tried anything. After the Tri-wizard cup, it seemed like we were on the brink of something huge, but then, there was just nothing." Harry paused and looked up at Dumbledore, who simply tilted his head slightly to show his understanding. "Hagrid disappeared, Sirius and Remus went into hiding, and some wizards went over to the dark side . . . but really, nothing happened. Then all of a sudden Pettigrew is dead, Sirius comes out of hiding, Remus is given a position on the Hogwarts staff again . . . what's it all mean?"

Dumbledore was silent a moment, then nodded as if making a decision. He rose to his feet and moved across the room, stopping to lightly pet Fawkes the Phoenix. "I rather think, Harry, that you know what it all means, or at the very least, have a fair idea. You're a smart boy, Harry. Smarter than many give you credit for." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore held up his hand to still Harry. "I won't insult you by trying to protect you under a cloak of half-truths and omissions. Yes, Pettigrew is dead. His body was left, quite deliberately, on the steps of the Ministry of Magic. It was a threat, Harry. A challenge. Voldemort wants us to know that he's ready to make his move. By openly showing that Pettigrew was alive all these years, he's clearing Sirius's name. He's warning us to prepare ourselves."

Harry's frown deepened. "But why? Why warn us?"

Dumbledore spread his hands in a vague gesture. "He's challenging us. I rather suspect that it has become somewhat of a game to him, Harry. It's a mistake to presume that we can understand all of what goes on in his head. He is no longer sane, and that makes him a dangerous, unpredictable adversary. His insanity is compounded by his literal lack of humanity." Dumbledore paused, once more looking thoughtful. "Do you remember what Firenze told you about drinking unicorn blood in your first year at Hogwarts?"

Harry quirked one eyebrow, and Dumbledore's whiskers twitched with suppressed amusement as Harry's eyebrow ring jerked. "Those who drink unicorn blood live a cursed life?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "Voldemort is thrice cursed, Harry. First, his mortal body was destroyed the night he gave you your scar. Then, he slaughtered unicorns in order to regain some measure of his strength. Finally, there was the spell he used to regain a semblance of a body the night of the Tri-wizard tournament. The spell he used that night was worse than even the Unforgivable curses." Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows furrowed and he made a vague gesture with his hands. "Thrice cursed, and no longer human," he said softly. For a moment his face clouded over, then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he turned to Harry and raised his eyebrows. "Ah, now I believe there were several things you wanted to discuss?"

When Harry and Dumbledore were finished, Harry made his way to the library, where he'd arranged to meet with Ron and Hermione. Ron immediately started questioning Harry, whilst Hermione patiently waited for Harry to collect his thoughts.

"Fair go, Ron, give me time to answer before you fire away your next question!" Harry said good naturedly, and Ron gave him a sheepish smile.

"So, what did Dumbledore say, then?" Ron demanded.

Harry's smile faded away. "Well, remember back in fourth year, when Hagrid buggered off for the summer, then Lupin and Sirius went into hiding . . .?" Ron nodded impatiently, whilst Hermione maintained her composed expression. "We were right, Hagrid was off meeting with giants. Most of them are off in really far-flung places that don't tend to attract many muggles, like Siberia. Hagrid went all over, meeting with them and telling them what has been going on in the wizarding world."

"Quit stalling and spit it out, Harry! What's going on?"

Harry paused and looked at Hermione, then back to Ron. "Hagrid has formed alliances with giant colonies from Siberia to Australia. If push comes to shove, Hagrid and Madame Maxime have an army of giants willing to fight this war with us."

Ron's eyes bulged out of his head, and his jaw sagged. "How many?"

"Hundreds."

"Wait, I thought that giants were dwindling in numbers?"

Hermione finally chose to break her silence. "Well obviously, Ron, they're recovering their numbers. It mustn't be all that difficult for them, now that they're living away from muggles and centralised wizarding populations."

Ron directed an affronted look at Hermione and looked as if he were about to start an argument, but Harry stopped him by raising his hand. "Wait, there's more. When Sirius and Lupin were 'in hiding', they were also gathering together alliances throughout the wizarding world. Dumbledore was a bit vague, but from what I gathered, they were basically securing numbers of definite supporters."

Ron nodded in understanding. "That's why Charlie and Bill have come back home. And now that Pettigrew is definitely dead - again! - Sirius is in the clear."

Harry reciprocated the nod. "Sirius is going to be staying with your family when he's not out on reconnaissance jobs for Dumbledore. Lupin has been given the task of making sure all Hogwarts students are up to scratch when it comes to defence against dark arts - Dumbledore has set a specific curriculum that will best serve the school if . . . well, you know. If worst comes to worst."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "What about the other wizarding schools? Did he mention those?"

"Hermione, I thought you weren't interested in Krum anymore?" Ron taunted.

Hermione turned red. "I'm not! It's a perfectly valid question, you know as well as I do that Durmstrang places great interest in the Dark Arts, and if they're not with us, they could make for very powerful enemies! And besides, despite some different ideals, Viktor and I are still very close," she finished on a mumble.

"I'll bet," Ron said, and made a series of crude kissing sounds, much to Hermione's disgust.

"Oh do grow up, Ron. You're just sore that he never invited you to the V.I.P stands for any of Bulgaria's matches."

"I am not!" Ron cried hotly.

Harry shushed him with an impatient gesture and silenced both his friends with a glare. "You'll have old Pince breathing down our necks if you don't keep it down!" he hissed. "Anyway, Dumbledore didn't mention Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, and I didn't think to ask. All I know for sure is that Sirius is helping the Aurors and Unspeakables put together a list of definite supporters-"

"Aurors and Unspeakables!" Ron cried, and was immediately shushed by both Harry and Hermione. "Sorry," he said in a whisper. "But he's working with both Aurors and Unspeakables? I can't believe Dumbledore even mentioned the Unspeakables to you. Even my Dad doesn't talk about them, and you know what he is like, he can't keep a secret from anyone. And then there's Percy and how much he likes to boast, but he doesn't mention them at all, yet here you are saying that Sirius is working with them, and Dumbledore actually told you that, and-"

"You're babbling, Ron," Hermione interrupted.

"I am not!" Ron cried loudly, then cringed and repeated himself in a whisper. "I am not . . . but you have to admit, it's no small thing. Are you going to ask Sirius about it?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I think it'd be wrong of me to directly ask Sirius about it. I mean, he's my Godfather, and I know he'd never directly lie to me . . . I wouldn't want to put him in an awkward situation by asking. If I did ask, I'd feel like I was taking advantage of him, somehow."

"What else did you find out, Harry?" Hermione asked, tactfully redirecting the discussion.

Harry tapped his fingers lightly against the tabletop. "I've mentioned the giants, Sirius's list of definite supporters . . . oh, Snape isn't acting as a double agent anymore. Dumbledore withdrew him immediately after Pettigrew's death, he said it was too risky now that Voldemort seems to be openly making a move."

Hermione looked aghast. She'd known this day would come, but for such definite steps to suddenly be taken . . . it almost felt like the world was closing in on them, and any day now it would all come to an end. Looking across at Ron, she knew he felt the same; his face was a deathly pallid shade that brought up the light scattering of freckles across his face in stark contrast. Harry, she noticed with no small measure of admiration, seemed to be composed. She guessed that he had been expecting this day to come and had been mentally prepared for it since the Tri-wizard tournament. Either that, or he'd finally learned to school his emotions rather than wearing them like a banner across his face.

The trio sat in silence, before Hermione finally decided to break the awkward silence.

"I'm frightened," she said honestly, her voice soft as a caress.

Ron bit his lip, his shoulders slumping in defeat. But on the other side of the table, Harry's green eyes flashed. "Don't be," he said simply.

The week passed in a speedy blur. The majority of the classes were mere prepatory classes, with teachers greeting students, introducing the subjects, making recommendations on different books to read to gain some background information. Most of the teachers were more than happy to cut the students some measure of slack and take things easy in the first week back for the new year. Except, of course, Professor McGonagall, who, in typical form, acted as if only a day had passed since their last class nearly an entire summer ago.

On the morning of their first Advanced Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall swept into the room and stalked immediately to the front of the class. Turning to face the group with a dramatic swirl of robes, she fixed her stern gaze on everyone and no one. The small group of students fell silent.

"As I'm sure you all know, this class is not to be taken lightly. I will expect your utmost attention during all classes, at all times. Short of serious illness or injury, you will attend each and every scheduled class, or you will be expelled from the subject. Advanced transfiguration is no simple charm, nor can all wizards perform many of the spells you will learn this year. You have all been handpicked by Headmaster Dumbledore and myself, and despite some of your known shortcomings-" her eyes flickered to first to Neville Longbottom, then sidled quickly over Seamus, Ron, Harry and lastly Draco, "-I assure you that you are all quite capable of mastering the set spells for this year."

She paused, then swiftly descended upon her desk and raised a rather thick volume. "I realise that you are all probably here for one spell, and one spell only." In her seat, Hermione looked eager to disagree. "The Animagus spell. This book, Geary Abeomuto's Mutatio Bestia!, will be your guide for the Animagus spell. In it is everything you will need to know. That is not, however, an invitation to rush headlong into the spell." At this, McGonagall's eyes fixed steadily on Hermione, much to Hermione's chagrin. "You are not to try anything from the book until I have first talked you through the stages involved."

She lowered the thick volume down to her desk, and once more fixed her stern gaze on the class, but this time her lips twitched in what passed for an excited smile. "Learning the Animagus spell is a very special time in the life of those wizards capable of the transformation. Realise that less than five per-cent of the wizarding population is able to perfect the spell and competently use it. In the past, the spell has been forbidden to wizards and witches under the age of twenty-five years . . . although on occasion there have been instances of wizards learning the spell without going through the proper authorities." In his chair, Harry squirmed, though McGonagall gave him a benevolent smile. "You are a very, very special group of individuals. You are also setting a precedent. If you are successful this year, then the class will continue to be taught in the future. If not, then future generations of students will have you to blame for the dismissal of the class."

In his chair, Neville Longbottom coughed nervously.

"Any questions? No? Well, let's get on with it, shall we? Open your books to page one. It is not necessary for you to read the book immediately, as I shall be talking you through it. I do, however, strongly recommend that you revise what you have learned in each lesson by reading through the corresponding chapter each night. Today, we will be learning the basic background knowledge that goes with the Animagus spell. Many rumours abound about the properties of the Animgus spell, many are based loosely upon fact . . . and many are downright ridiculous fabrications."

In the back row, Draco Malfoy half raised his hand. "Is it true that the animal we become is based on our personalities?"

McGonagall tilted her head to the side. "A good question, Mister Malfoy. The answer is both yes and no. There are two personalities to every person. There is the outside personality - the one revealed in our everyday lives, and the one that is truly our personality, that which resides deeply within ourselves. Your animagus form will reflect this inner personality. Some might find this a frightening prospect, and well they might, as the animagus form does not lie. In this class, your inner-selves will be revealed through your animal form. Turn to the back of your book, and you will find a table of animal forms, and the meanings of each animal."

The sound of pages being swiftly turned filled the room.

"Sometimes the animagus form is that of a magical animal, sometimes it is that of a non-magical animal. This has no bearing on personal magical attributes. Remember at all times that the animagus form is based on the inner-personality. Some wizards find themselves as frogs, others become unicorns or griffins. Sometimes a person's personality is complex, a mixture of both this and that. In such instances - which are highly rare, I might add - the animagus will be a mixture of two or more creatures. In some circles, these are known as bianimagus, or trianimagus, even. There has only been one recorded case in the last five hundred years, though wizard legends suggest that it used to be quite common, before the time of the Founders."

The class remained silent, all eyes firmly fixed on McGonagall. "The Animagus spell takes part in several stages. The earliest of these stages is a relatively simple spell that determines what your animagus form will be. Any wizard or witch could cast this spell; it simply determines what your inner-personality's animal match would be."

A soft knock echoed off the door. "That will be Headmaster Dumbledore. He wanted to be here to witness today's class. For you see, today is a very special day for all of you." McGonagall paused dramatically, before continuing. "Today, we are going to cast this spell. Today, you will discover what your animagus form will be."

"Mister Longbottom, step forward, please."

A frightened croak came from Neville, but he obediently rose from his seat and shuffled nervously to the front of the class. Dumbledore smiled benevolently from behind his long white moustache and made an ambiguous gesture with his hands. "Remember, Mister Longbottom, you have all been hand-picked for your ability. Everyone in this class is perfectly capable of performing the tasks necessary to succeed." Neville nodded mutely, and McGonagall gifted him with a tight smile.

"If you'll stand just here, Neville," she said, gesturing to a spot before the class. In their seats, the rest of the class were eagerly straining forward. Even Draco had dropped the aloof facade he generally wore upon his face, and looked eagerly to the front of the class where Neville now stood, tense as a stalked rabbit.

"Watch closely, ladies and gentlemen. The spell is not hard; a simple matter of clearly annunciating each word. The tricky part is to be sure to make the motions of your wand precise. Aperio verus bestia persona!" McGonagall pointed her wand first at Neville's third eye, then swiftly flicked it downwards to his heart, before executing a series of flicks and swirls. Slowly a ghostly grey form took shape around Neville's body, then drifted upwards to a place above his head. Gradually the mist took shape and thickened, until an almost life-like beast was revealed, floating as if on a breeze, directly above Neville's head.

Neville stood, cringing, his eyes tightly shut and his shoulders hunched, afraid to look upwards and confront his animal form. Dumbledore laid his hand reassuringly on Neville's shoulder. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe it's a frog. Is that not so, Minerva?"

Ron guffawed loudly, beside him both Harry and Seamus were grinning widely. The irony wasn't lost on Neville, who finally straightened and stared upwards at the green frog who stared just as curiously down at him.

McGonagall clapped her hands proudly together. "An excellent animal, Mister Longbottom! The frog represents sensitivity and hidden power. If I'm not mistaken, your father was also a frog."

Neville's eyes widened. "My father was an animagus?" he asked softly.

A pained look was exchanged between Dumbledore and McGonagall. "One of the best, Neville," she answered gently, then fixed her eyes on Seamus. "Mister Finnigan, if you'd be so kind?"

McGonagall was swift and efficient as she unveiled each student's animal form. Seamus was revealed to be an otter, representing joy, play and helpfulness, as was Alan Corliss, Shannon and Blythe's Hufflepuff friend. Alan's girlfriend, Larissa, was a black swan, and Blythe Channing was a white swan: both representing soul, love and appreciation of beauty. Shannon was revealed next, a snowy white owl not unlike Hedwig, symbolic of detachment and wisdom. Ron came next, and much to Hermione's amusement, a large white ram with a tuft of red hair upon it's head took shape above Ron's furiously blushing head.

"Never a more appropriate animal have I seen," Dumbledore murmured for Hermione's benefit. "I don't suppose anyone would care to take a guess at its meaning?"

"Stubbornness?" Harry ventured.

"Sacrifice, breakthrough and achievement," Dumbledore returned, as Ron made his way back to his seat.

"Miss Granger, if you'd be so kind?" McGonagall asked, and Hermione eagerly made her way forward, to have her animagus revealed as a handsome, proud eagle.

"Intelligence, renewal and courage," Hermione whispered before anyone could say a word. McGonagall smiled proudly and waved Hermione back to her seat.

"Miss ap Nuada?"

The class turned at the new name, and the new girl looked uncertain. As if reading her mind, Dumbledore spoke. "The magic of your people is not geared towards this particular type of magic. However, there is nothing to stop Professor McGonagall from revealing your animal form . . . that is, if you're willing to participate?"

Niamh seemed to hesitate briefly, but then stood regally and made her way to the front of the class. Once there, she turned and looked directly at Draco as McGonagall raised her wand. "Aperio verus bestia persona!" she said softly, and immediately a brilliant shot of silver flared around the girl. Several of the students gasped and McGonagall shot an alarmed look at Dumbledore as the silver light formed a cocoon around Niamh. Dumbledore looked wary but gestured for peace as the light drifted towards the ceiling and began to form into the shape of a glowing, silver raven. Niamh and Dumbledore were the only two in the room who remained unsurprised.

"I suspect," Dumbledore said softly, "that the silver light was simply a matter of your own magic reacting with the magic of a wizard. I imagine that's also why your animal form has such a unique discolouration to it. A raven, if I'm not mistaken, Professor McGonagall?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "That is correct, Headmaster Dumbledore. Quite appropriate, might I add. Healing, initiation and protection. Now, if you'll return to your seat, Miss ap Nuada . . . Draco Malfoy?"

Draco rose arrogantly from his seat and swept passed Niamh to the front of the classroom. If anyone had watched closely, they might have witnessed the way his hand discreetly reached out and oh-so-gently squeezed Niamh's own reassuringly. As it was, their attention remained largely towards the front of the classroom, anticipating the next display. Taking his position, Draco straightened his shoulders and stood confidently facing the class. McGonagall made quick work of the revealing spell, and immediately the ghostly grey form enveloped Draco. However, rather than shrinking in size, as it had done with the other students, the form thickened and billowed, one end elongating and stretching out behind Draco as large furls unravelled behind the boy. Within moments, a monstrous, lizard-like form filled the front of the classroom.

"Draig-talamh" Dumbledore mused softly, as McGonagall gaped. Even Draco looked mildly alarmed, staring behind him as the large dragon lazily stretched its wings and fixed beady brown eyes on him.

"That's a Welsh Earth Dragon!" Ron exclaimed.

"P-power, potential and riches," McGonagall murmured, and promptly muttered the words that banished the animal form.

"An animal to be proud of, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore said, and cast a speculative look at Draco as the young man returned to his seat, for all the world looking as if he couldn't decide whether to be alarmed or smug.

"Harry, you're last," McGonagall announced, and Harry slowly made his way to the front of the room.

Draco's own performance was repeated for Harry, as the shape billowed outwards, only the form seemed to take longer to decide, billowing this way and that. Even as the shape became more solid, the form itself, the details of the colour and texture, seemed reluctant to settle, remaining blurred and indistinct before finally settling into what appeared to be a large, feathered dragon.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore murmured, as Harry turned to look up at his . . . thing.

"What is it?" Seamus blurted, and was promptly shushed by McGonagall.

"It looks like an air dragon . . . but not like any air dragon I've ever seen before," Ron said softly.

"I believe it's a bianimagus," Dumbledore replied. "What do you make of it, Professor McGonagall?" McGonagall didn't say a word.

Harry turned fully to stare at the large creature. The length of its spine was ridged, the wings huge and bat-like. But where it should have been scaled, it was feathered, and its face ended with the hooked beak of a hawk. Its talons were likewise hooked and hawk-like, and the eyes were unmistakably those of a predatory bird.

"An air-dragon crossed with a hawk." Dumbledore announced. "Nobility, recollection and cleansing . . . inspiration, insight and vitality. A noble animal, Mr Potter." Dumbledore turned and smiled, placing an amused hand on Harry's shoulder. "A noble animal, indeed."

Summer, the Early Ninth Century
The Core Realm

In the Core Realm, which lay beyond the physical world in the reaches of the etheric plane, a silver river flowed through a meadow, dotted with daisies and buttercups. Near the riverbank stood a pavillion of cloth-of-gold, glittering under a warm summer sun. To be more precise, images of these things existed, though they were far more substantial than simple pictures or thoughts. The Goddess had built these forms with energy drawn straight from the currents of the upper astral, which shapes the etheric the way that the etheric shapes the physical. Over thousands of years, she'd continually channelled energy into them until they had an existence of their own - not as solid and stable as matter, but a presence and a duration, there in their proper plane.

The bodies of her court beings - the ethereals - were woven of the same thread. Long ago, in the morning light of the universe when the Goddess and her people had been struck, the Goddess had fashioned her people bodies of sorts, modelling them on the Healer she'd loved so much. They were a beautiful people, with hair pale as moonlight to set off their violet eyes, and the long, delicate curved ears of her beloved Dhanvantari. Their skin was as pale as milk, touched with roses in the cheeks.

It was hard to say how many of them there were. They lived lives at times separate, at others merging into one another, rising into brief individuality only to fall back to a shared mind. They were flighty by nature, with a child's innocence and a child's joy in the simple delight of existance. Their presence was as insubstantial as a summer breeze; the sound of chimes here, the soft scent of vanilla there.

Within the golden pavillion, the Goddess reclined amidst an opulent setting of feathery soft cushions and summer-time fruits. Paying no mind to the childlike antics of the ethereals, the Goddess fixed her eyes upon a place without her court. Beyond the golden pavillion, the air stirred, shimmering like a clear pool of water. It was here that the temporary Gateway existed; a pathway between the mortal world and the Otherworld.

It was here that the Goddess had last seen her children; the unicorns, the centaurs, the bold phoenix and the dragons, and all else who had followed Aesculapius. It was here she fixed her eyes, staring vacantly at the delicate shimmer, the gateway through which her children had disapeared, into the mortal world beyond.

The present

Ron was waiting for Harry when he finally emerged from Hagrid's hut late Friday evening.

"So what'd Hagrid have to say for himself?" he asked curiously. "Did he say anything about Niamh?"

Harry frowned, then gave a slight nod. "Sort of. You know what Hagrid's like. He gets a perverse little thrill out of knowing something the rest of us don't know, but he's not so good at keeping it to himself, no matter how hard he tries." Harry shared a grin with Ron, then continued. "I managed to wheedle some information from him, but it's going to be a bit like a jigsaw puzzle . . . I've got the pieces, it's just a matter of putting it all together."

Ron nodded. "So what are the pieces?"

Harry hesitated a moment, trying to decide where to start. "Well . . . okay, so Hagrid is care taker of the Forbidden Forest, and he knows all the animals in there, right? And the Gens Micans take an interest in the animals in there too, or that's what I think Hagrid meant, anyway. I'm not really sure. But apparently the Gens Micans know that Hagrid looks after the animals, and they've known that for years now, so Hagrid has formed some sort of relationship with them, which is how he knows Niamh so well - he's met her before, but in the forest. At least, I think that's what was being implied." Harry gave an apologetic shrug and a look that said You know what Hagrid's like.

Ron looked thoughtful. "So why haven't we ever heard anything about the Gens Micans being in the forest? I mean, we've been here a good six years now, not to mention all my brothers going through here, too . . ."

"I asked Hagrid the same thing, and he gave me this smug smile and said 'Ye dun know all my secrets, young 'arry'. But I got the impression that they don't visit all that often, or that they're kind of like the centaurs. They don't arrange to meet, so much as run into each other."

"So what do the Gens Micans have to do with the animals in the forest?"

Harry shrugged again. "Didn't Hermione say that the Gens Micans brought unicorns and centaurs through from the Otherworld?"

"No, Neville said that, and that's just from the stories his Gran used to tell him. But I bet if we ask Hermione about it, she'll know."

"Or she'll bite your head off and tell you to look it up yourself."

Ron grinned. "That'll be fun, too!"

"Look it up yourself, Ronald Weasley! Honestly, you think I don't have better things to do than stand around postulating about the Gens Micans with you? I've got reading to do for Advanced Muggle Studies, charts to complete for Advanced Arithmancy, I've got to give one hundred uses for some obscure Australian tree bark called gobbagondalum, and we've got exams in just three months from now! I rather imagine that you've got quite a lot of work to do yourself, Ron, not to mention-"

"Hermione, we've only been back a week!" Ron looked indignant, and pointedly ignored the I told you so look Harry shot him. "I just thought you might have read about the Gens Micans in one of your books or something, no need to bite my head off."

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically. "It's in one of your books, too, Ron. You'd know that if you'd done Lupin's pre-requisite reading during the holidays. Besides, why do you care so much about the Gens Micans? I thought they were just myths!"

"Give me a break, Hermione, I've already apologised for that twice! And besides," Ron turned to Harry and sent him a sly look before continuing. "Hagrid's been spending time with the Gens Micans in the forest. Turns out they're all quite chummy, isn't that right, Harry?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Really? Hagrid knows the Gens Micans? But how?"

Harry raised his hands and gestured for Hermione and Ron to back down. "He didn't say that he's chummy with them, he just implied that he knows them. He said that they've taken an interest in him because he takes care of the forest and its animals, but I'm not really sure what he meant."

Hermione looked as if she knew what it meant. "Of course, that makes perfect sense . . . they were the care takers of the forests' animals in times gone past, and now that Hagrid has taken on the care of them, they must look on him fondly . . ." Hermione continued muttering to herself for a moment, then seemed to reach some sort of conclusion. "Of course, none of this matters, because I've still go to study, and so have you. Remember, McGonagall expects us to be able to perform stage one of the Animagus spell before the end of next week."

Ron looked dumbfounded. "Hermione! How can you just cast that information aside as if it's nothing?!"

Hermione huffed. "Is this about Niamh, Ron? Just leave her alone, she hasn't done anything to warrant your suspicions."

A furious blush spread over Ron's cheeks. "It has nothing to do with Niamh! It's about Hagrid and . . . and . . . and besides, how do we know that she isn't working with the Death-Eaters?"

"Ronald Weasley, if she were working with the Death-Eaters, do you honestly think she'd be so friendly with Hagrid? Besides which, why would the Gens Micans care about the Forest and its creatures, yet be in league with the Dark Lord, hmm?"

"Hagrid did mention that Niamh has a heart of gold," Harry said softly, then grinned. "He also mentioned she's a bit of an emotional gimp, but then, they all are, apparently. 'Not all emotional like we are, 'arry!'" Harry impersonated poorly.

Hermione nodded firmly. Ron looked mildly hysterical.

"But . . . her eyes, and . . . and Draco!" Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry gave an embarrassed cough. Ron suddenly realised he was making an ass out of himself, and promptly shut up.

Harry sent Ron a sympathetic look. "Want to go practice stage one of the animagus spell, Ron?"