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The mid march air was cool and dry, the smell of spring slowly unfurling as the snow gave way to new growth. The trees still bare, carrying the breeze down through the valley. A chill runs down my back, I pull my cloak tighter around my chest, attempting to stave off the cold.
Venturing into the forbidden forest had become a common occurrence. The dark and looming presence of the creatures and secrets it held offered a sort of comfort. The ache of belonging was soothed in the long hours spent chasing the whisps of ancient magic. Fighting Ranrok’s goblins and Harlow’s poachers giving a small semblance of purpose and direction. The forest never questioned my actions, it simply shielded the turmoil and confusion I felt with its ominous aura that often drove others away.
That was why I frequently found myself deep in the woods. Creeping along the outskirts lost in the throes of combat. It was a breath of fresh air, being able to not think about my mounting responsibilities. In the forbidden forest I ceased to be the new fifth year running errands for fellow students and professors hoping to catch up and fit in, nor was I the suspected prodigy forced to participate in the keepers’ trials. No, in the forbidden forest I was Charlotte, simply Charlotte.
The further into the brush I travelled the more freeing it felt, the further away from the castle the easier it became to breathe.
The squelch of the mud and approaching footsteps rips me from my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and tuck a stray hair behind my ear. Looking over my shoulder seeking out the source of the steps; I quickly spot them, Poppy, a fellow student.
Poppy was one of the few that felt like a true friend. Awkward and unsure of herself around other students, Poppy had noted that she often felt more comfortable around beasts and creatures. However, as timid as she seemed around others there was a fierceness and passion that burned within her. These qualities are what drew me to her in particular. Few at Hogwarts had clicked, Yet Poppy was one of those few that instantly meshed and had become a near and dear friend in the short months I had spent at school.
That was why, on this chilled spring evening I found myself traversing the forest. That burning passion of Poppy’s had led to us attempting to dismantle a poacher’s ring that had been illegally holding dragon fights. Which now left Poppy and I following a lead in the hopes of finding information regarding the recently liberated Hebridean Black’s cave and nest.
Poppy’s footsteps slowed and finally stopped just behind me. I turn to face her, smiling as the adrenaline begins to build in anticipation.
“How much further?” I whisper.
Pulling out her wand and an old parchment map, Poppy taps it against the aged vellum, a soft glow illuminating our current position and a mark further along the trail where the poacher’s camp supposedly is.
“Just a little further up ahead, … another half kilometer or so,” she said, looking up from the map.
“And you’re certain, ... this camp will help in finding the dragon’s nest?”
She huffs out a small breath, “yes.”
“Then we should head in from the west,” I nod, pointing at the map. “The road leading in is along the east, they won’t be expecting much from the back.”
Poppy looks at the map a moment longer.
“Alright…, we should follow this trail then.” She traces her finger along the parchment. “It will give us the most cover.”
I smirk, inclining my head in the direction Poppy outlined.
“Please then, lead the way.” I say, a small smile tugging on my lips.
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The mud, thick, coats our boots as we push further into the forbidden forest. The soft sounds of creatures moving and the trees swaying in the wind are the only sounds to permeate the still silence of the night. The closer to the camp we get the more eerie and hollow the silence becomes. In the distance a light begins to flicker, and the shadowed outline of tents are silhouetted against the deep blue sky. I reach out and grab Poppy’s wrist halting both her and I.
“Stop.” I say sternly. “Get down.”
I grip my wand a little tighter as we tread forward tentatively. The quiet voices of the poachers soon fill the space between us and the small camp. The visibility is high as the trees have yet to fully grow their leaves back. The dying fire from the Poacher’s camp lighting mine and Poppy’s features in a grave light.
With a small and succinct wave of my wand I cover both Poppy and I with the disillusionment charm.
I step forward slowly, trying to get a better view of the camp below. I look back at Poppy and I hold up my hand indicating for her to stop and wait.
In my approach I feel my stomach suddenly drop as numerus filled cages come into view. The adrenaline quickly fading leaving disgust and dread in its place. My skin felt cold and calmy. I turn and make my way back to Poppy.
“Six maybe seven poachers in the encampment,” I detail, my voice steely, “a few dozen cages.”
Poppy lets out a hard puff of air, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay, … that is more than we were expecting, but this isn’t something we haven’t handled before.”
I search Poppy’s face, unsure of what I was looking for, reassurance maybe. But I didn’t let myself dwell on that.
“You’re right,” I concede, “but we have to be careful, we can’t afford a mistake.”
Out of the corner of my eye I catch a movement in the light, the poachers changing guard shift. Small mumblings of their conversation grate on my ears. The rage building, the tension making my neck stiff and my back rigid.
I turn away from Poppy, fully facing the camp now.
“I go left, you come around the right,” the anger radiating off me, “you focus on finding what we came for.”
And with that I march towards the poachers.
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I crouch and watch as the poacher on guard struggles to stay awake, sleep still gripping him, leaving him a perfectly unsuspecting target.
Still crouched, I begin to stalk closer. My anger receding into a sinister sense of calm. Ancient magic coursing through my veins, the power raising the hair along my arms and the back of my neck. An uncanny sheen of blue glosses over my eyes and my fingertips begin itching to release the building crescendo of magic thrumming through my chest.
The poacher, now asleep, sits before me. As I watch the soft rise and fall of his chest, I remember why I find comfort in the wickedness of the forest. It holds no reservations for my corruption, if anything, it welcomes my incorrigible nature. It feeds on the ancient magic and the power it possesses, it greedily turns a blind eye to my immoral actions, hungerly consuming the destruction left in my wake. Alone, I am answerable to no one, which is why I take to the forest on my own. I take no pleasure in baring my faults to the witness of my peers.
I blink hard and shake out my inner turmoil. I make no excuses for the actions I have taken, but I can no longer dwell on the dilemmas and moral whims of the girl I once was, the keepers have ensured that destruction.
Refocusing on the task at hand, I resolve to grant whatever small mercies I still posses.
My jaw hardens in concentration, the ancient magic electrifying and crackling along my skin.
Deep breath in…
“I am sorry.”
Weighty breath out…
I raise my wand, placing the tip centimetres away from the poacher’s neck. I promise myself that this will be quick and painless, although of that I’m not entirely sure. If it could be another way, it would be. But it is far too costly to have witnesses.
“Diffindo.”
̊ ̊ ̊ ̊ ̊
Chaos erupted far quicker than I anticipated.
Soon after finishing with the guard, as I make my way further into the camp I encounter our first hiccup.
“Huh!?” I hear a rough voice question. “Oh.”
I turn and crouch behind a crate, peaking out, trying to see what the voice saw.
The sweat along my collar freezes and fear wells up in my chest as my eyes track what the voice must have seen.
Poppy.
“Well, well, … look at what we have here,” the figure approaches Poppy, the light of the moon illuminating his wide and looming person. “A wee Hogwarts runt,” his tone mocking, “running about.” He steps closer to Poppy. “Trying to free beasts are we, mighty noble are yous.”
He steps even closer, grabbing Poppy’s arm and yanking her up to his eye level. I watch in stunned silence as her eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she yelps in pain as the poacher begins to drag her towards the largest tent.
“Oi!” he calls. “Frederick! You’re doing a piss poor job of standing guard if you’re letting wee little …” I hear the hitch in his voice and know that he’s found the mess I left. A pregnant pause builds in the few moments it takes for him to process what he’s seeing before, “EVERYONE!” he roars, “EVERYONE! WAKE UP! NOW!”
I hear the commotion of the other poachers waking and before I even have a moment to think, I am up and racing towards where he went with Poppy. As I round the corner, I hear his unintelligible yelling as he tosses Poppy to the ground.
My vision turns red.
̊ ̊ ̊ ̊ ̊
Everything happened so quickly. Without a second thought I raise my wand, letting the ancient magic guide me, becoming a conduit to its reserves of power. I raise my wand toward the Man that threw Poppy, the ghostly white whisps begin to swirl, circling his feet. Before he can yell again, I violently fling my arm in a wide arc, whipping the poacher in an arch across the night sky and resoundingly into the firm dirt of the forest floor.
A collective gasp sounds out behind me, and I turn to face my apt audience.
A surge of ancient magic flares in my vision, and I chuckle lightly at the sight before me. Five poachers, half dressed poised ready to fight.
One of them looks off to my right, and its then that I remember Poppy.
“I’m alright,” she calls out before I can even form the question on my tongue. “Let’s get what we came for,” I hear the crunch of the dirt and rocks under her boots as she readies herself “stay left,” she calls, “and I’ll bank right.”
Without waiting for my confirmation Poppy springs into action shouting “expelliarmus,” and blasting one of the poachers in the stomach.
My feet being running as I slash my wand across the front of me, launching barrels and crates towards the remaining poachers.
Their stilled silence is broken as they spur into action, spells of red and purples begin to light up the night sky.
I jump and roll out of the way of a nasty casting of Confringo, the tail end of the fire catching my skirt and burning my thigh, however, whatever pain it inflicts I take no notice of, as before the smell of charged flesh can ever reach my nose, I am up and running out of the crossfire of other spells coming my way.
I spin and cast Bombarda in the direction of the last incoming spell. Red and orange flames filling my vision.
I finish turning and find myself facing the second of the hiccups we encounter tonight. A dead end.
I whip around and face two of the five remaining poachers.
One of them smirks crookedly and they raise their wand, preparing to cast, but before they can; I hurl Incendio blanketing the space between us in fire, quickly following that I blast columns of ancient magic striking them through the fire. They fall, and as the flames die down, I sprint past them.
As I make my way back towards where I saw Poppy last, something strikes me on my side, blinding me with pain as I stumble and fall. The cool dirt shocking my overrun senses as my cheek presses into the gravel. I quickly recover, my adrenaline surges and the flash of pain is forgotten as I roll onto my back shooting Confringo up towards the poacher. I watch as they crumble, then I push myself off the ground and start back towards Poppy.
I catch the glimpse of a deflected spell being shot off towards the sky, and I run towards where I think it came from.
I hear the Poachers and Poppy before I see them. Luckily for me, I’ve come up behind them. The last two slowly stalking towards Poppy. I climb atop one of the many cages. I feel the flare of ancient magic running through me. I widen my stance and starting at my hip I being to create an arc, bringing my wand from the edge of my left hip up over and around the back of my head and then quickly and severely like cutting, I slice down through the air, my wand now pointing at the ground. The swell of magic erupts causing the ground to explode outwards, throwing the remaining poachers across the camp, flying like ragdolls.
I stand, breathing heavily as the dust settles.
“Poppy...?!” I croak.
“Charlie?” she calls back, concern etched onto her features.
I’ve always liked that nickname, I think. So few call me that, I can count them on my hand. The thought warms my heart, and my cheeks ache slightly as I smile.
“Charlotte.” Poppy sounds odd. Scared?
“Charlotte! You’re bleeding.” Her voice sounds strangled.
“Hum?” I look down.
“Oh?”
I reach for my left side, where the pain was radiating before, I place my hand along my ribs. When I pull my hand back its covered in blood. My blood.
“Oh!” A wave of dizziness strikes me.
“Its okay Poppy.” I try to reassure her, but the look on her face remains the same.
“Poppy?”
I try to take a step forward, towards her, but suddenly the ground it ripped from under me and I’m falling; before I hit the ground the world goes dark.
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“Rennervate!” Poppy casts, her voice strained and pitchy.
“Come on Charlotte!”
She grunts as she pulls and props me up against one of the crates. She stands back, her eyes rove over my poorly state. My skin is pale and sickly with a sheen of sweat. My honey-coloured hair matted and clumped with dirt and blood staining it grotesque shade of reddish brown. My school uniform singed and torn. The tear around my wound hanging open, exposing the deep gash across my side, spanning from just before my shoulder blade cutting across my side towards my stomach. Thankfully Poppy had stopped the bleeding enough, but I needed some kind of medical attention and soon.
Poppy began pacing back and forth, muttering to her, “I can’t carry her…I could owl, ... no, that will take too long,” she wrings her hands together “I’m going to have to try and wake her again, she has to make it back to the castle.”
She stops and shifts to face my diminished figure. She takes another moment to look over my lifeless form, then takes a steading breath.
“Rennervate.” She says her voice firm.
̊ ̊ ̊ ̊ ̊
I scrunch my brows together as the pressure in my head builds. My whole body aches, and I feel rather dizzy. Slowly I crack my eyes open, the dim light from the moon and extinguished fires still too bright, the light too harsh. Once I begin to register my surroundings, I am gripped with dread.
“Poppy!” I croak out, my throat dry.
“Charlie!” she exclaims, “I’m here, I’m here.” She grabs my shoulders and pulls me to her.
“Oof,” I groan as the movement cause a spark of pain.
“Sorry,” she says sheepishly. “You just had me really worried for a moment there.”
“Water?”
“Pardon?”
I swallow dryly, “water, can I have some water?”
“Oh! yes of course, give, hold on.”
I watch as she dashes across the camp searching for a cup or something she could transfigure. A moment later she returns with a goblet in hand.
“Here,” she shoves the goblet into my hand, “Augamenti.”
I down the water quickly, a second helping swiftly following.
“Thank you.”
Poppy waves her hand in dismissal. Then studies my face, her eyes filled with concern.
“Can you walk?”
As way of answering, I place my hands on the ground next to my hips, and push, attempting to get up, failing miserably as I slump back down after what felt like a herculean effort.
“Oh.”
“You could leave me here, go and get help?”
“Absolutely not. What if you fall unconscious again? Or if more poachers come across the camp with only you in it?” She crosses her arms. “No, I won’t leave you.”
“What else can we do? I can’t stand.”
“I don…, wait” she walks a few paces away.
“Poppy?”
“It could work,” she mutters to herself. “it’s worth a try.” She concludes.
Before I can press for more information Poppy raises her hand to her mouth and blows, letting out a whistle so loud it sounds like a cry. I wince.
“What was...”
“I called for Highwing” she interjects. “If he comes, he can carry both of us and fly us to the castle.”
̊ ̊ ̊ ̊ ̊
We pass the minutes in silence. Even with the water, my throat is still sore, and my muscles ache. The ancient magic leaving me rather weak after drawing so heavily on it. That is a small price I must pay for my actions. Using the ancient magic to such an extent draws on my deepest reserves of myself, it weakens not only my strength, but my spirit. But it is a small concession I have been willing to make in recompense.
The sun is beginning to rise, casting a soft and warm orange hue to the encampment. I begin to relax, letting the warmed air thaw the tension in my limbs. The soft sway of the breeze creating a melody of the life awaking in the forest. The muted thrums of hooves and paws, the gentle cawing of birds, the faint rustle of the brush.
That’s when we hear it. The distant whoosh of wings. Poppy jumps up from where she was sitting and whistles again, beckoning them closer. Through the branches of the trees, I see the white winged beast coming closer. Highwing lands and circles Poppy before walking up to her and softly nudges her with his head. Poppy smiles and runs her fingers through his feathers. He pushes his head harder and she giggles.
“I know, it’s been too long” she coos.
She gives him a pat on the top of his head and pulls back to face him fully.
“I have a favour to ask you,” she pauses, waiting to see his reaction. He tilts his head to the side, and hums in his throat. “Alright,” she says, “I need you to carry Charlotte and I back to the castle.”
Highwing ruffles the feather on his back before standing straighter. Poppy nods. She then turns and begins to walk towards me.
“Okay Charlotte, I need you to help me here.” She crouches down and snakes her arm under mine and across my back, “I need you to hold yourself up as much as you can.” She grunts in effort.
I try to hold my weight, but my legs wobble, and the effort makes me feel nauseous. The sweat thick on my brow, and chill runs down my spine.
“My goodness Charlie, I thought I asked you to help,” she chuckles lightly.
I smile back at her, and try a little harder to hold myself, but much to no avail.
She helps me onto Highwing, then she mounts behind me. Being so high up makes me feel lightheaded, and I start to sway before we even begin to move. Poppy snaps her fingers next to my ear, and I jolt back to consciousness.
“I know you’ve lost a lot of blood Charlie, but I need you to stay awake.”
“Poppy...”
She clicks her tongue “you can thank me later,” I can hear the smile in her tone, “we’re about to take off, hold on tight.”
̊ ̊ ̊ ̊ ̊
The air is cool and soothing on my cheek. The wind and movement from Highwing keeping me up. But I struggle to focus. The bleeding has started again, and I hold my side as tight as possible to slow it. My breathing feels laboured, and my shoulders drop. Poppy is talking behind me, although about what I’m not sure, the soft murmurs of her voice giving me something to try and pay attention to, even if the words to not permeate my mind. I relax marginally as the castle comes into view, however that comfort is quickly replaced with dread. The sun has risen, and the castle and its inhabitants have undoubtedly risen with it.
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We land behind the beasts class. Thankfully at this early hour no student or professors have began wandering the castle grounds, taking to sleeping later and having a lazy Saturday morning. Poppy leaves me to lean against a pillar of the canopy, disappearing around the corner to gather a treat for Highwing.
Once Highwing has snacked to his delight, he leaves us on our own.
“Charlie?”
“Hum?”
“We need to go to the hospital wing,” she swallows, “we should straighten out our story, to avoid… unwanted attention”.
I grunt as I push myself off the pillar, “not necessary,” I exhale deeply with the effort of walking, “not going to the hospital wing”.
“Excuse me?!” she moves to stand in front of me.
“I won’t go,” I focus my gaze on Poppy, “I can fix this, I just need my things.” I try to step around her and make my way to the Floo Flames.
“Charlotte.”
“You,” I blow air out of my nose, “You got the map to the nest?”
“Yes.”
“Then our job here is done, I can handle this,” I try to gesture to myself, “mess.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to,” I stop, “I can heal myself, … I’ve done it before.”
“I…”
“Just let me do this,” I beg, “its better if I fix this.”
Her silence irks me, and I wait in front of the flames, unsure of why I’m so bothered. At last, I decide to offer some consolation.
“If I’m not able to sort myself out by supper, I promise I will let you take me to the hospital wing, but you have to promise to let me try it my way first.”
“Charlie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Do we have a deal?”
I can feel the unease rising in her, but at this point I am far too exhausted to pay it any mind.
“Fine.” She says stiffly.
“See you at supper then, one way or another.”
Without waiting for a response from Poppy, I throw the powder into the flames and watch as they turn an unnatural shade of green, resolving myself in my discission.
“Dark Arts tower, seventh floor”
And with that, I disappear into the flames.
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I march out of the flames on the seventh floor and immediately make a beeline to the room of requirement. I know that this wasn’t the intended purpose when professor Weasley shared this room with me, but with me venturing off more and more and my trials becoming more challenging I’ve had to shift my focus. The room of requirement was once a bright and happy place for me to go to and finish my extra assignments, I took pride in rescuing animals and nursing them back to health. Now the room has a dark and ghastly aura. The walls filled with grimoires, tomes, and scrolls, stacked haphazardly, shelves weighed down with ingredients for potions and plants, armoires half hidden behind my desk overflowing with brewed potions and drying vellum, casting odd lights and sheens when the glow from the candles hit the glass. Potion stations and tables for plants lining the furthest wall. The ambiance of the room was once inviting, but now with the dust and overgrown ivy the room feels more like a forgotten apothecary.
I deeply inhale the dingy smell before making my way to the eastern wall in search of a potions book. I search for a few minutes before locating what I wanted. Collecting the book, I walk over to my desk, dropping the tome, creating a wave of dust as it lands on the desk. I wince in pain grabbing my side, breathing harshly through gritted teeth.
I remove my cloak and fling it on my chair. Then I open a desk drawer, searching through the chaos to find what I was looking for. Picking up a small vial and rag I inspect the tag. Blood replenishing potion. I uncork it and swallow the whole vial. Instantly I feel much warmer, and my vision becomes clearer. I place the rag against my wound as I turn to riffle through my armoire, pulling out and drinking half of a wiggenweld potion, the other half I poor onto the rag, using it to now wipe and clean the wound.
Back to riffling through the armoire, I search for murtlap essence, locating it, I roughly grab the jar, opening it and driving my fingers into the gooey liquid then I begin applying it to my small burns. Then I twist and attempt to apply the essence to my gash, pain erupting as I rub the essence into the skin. I grunt in discomfort, placing the jar on the desk roughly, my hands coming to rest on the edge of the desk. I try to steady my breathing, control the waves of agony. My head hangs in exhaustion. I shake my head tightly, forcing myself to stand straight again.
For a moment I begin contemplating my actions. Was it necessary to leave Poppy? Could I not just have gone to the Hospital wing? No, I don’t want records of my injuries, accounts of how often I am hurt, relying on the hospital wing will soon become suspicious due to the frequency I would be there.
My own potions have worked thus far, why wouldn’t they work now?
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I spend long hours in front of my potion station, the steam collecting and causing the room to feel humid and stuffy. I have already finished making a star grass salve to sooth the irritated gash and burns. With the skin of my wound now stitched together I can move more freely, although I am still stiff. I’ve done all I can in terms of healing potions, if I take too much, I could cause more harm than good. Right now, I need to focus on finishing my calming draught. If I can’t be fully healed by supper, I need to at least appear well enough.
I stir the potion, watching as the colours begin to shift. The aroma of the potion fills the air, the scent of fresh grass and a warm summer evening heavily coating the room as it lingers in the steam. I take the cauldron from the fire, watching as the brown liquid swirls with a sheen of blue. I collect some of my empty vials from around the room and being ladling the potion into them. I watch as they cool on my desk for a moment before I start writing labels for them. Once they have cooled and have been labelled, I find space in my armoire and desk drawers to store them, the clutter becoming more precious with the countless potions I have had to brew.
The weight of my responsibilities has been growing as the year progresses. More and more of me is asked from the keepers, taking and breaking aspects of my character, and to what end? I know nothing of what Isadora has done aside from a few memories, I don’t understand my part in this, and why I must fight their battle. After each trial I come back more broken and lost. My descent into chaos at their hands reflected in my destruction of the room of requirement. I never asked for this, for this responsibility, for the pressure, yet I find myself slowly being crushed by it. Even small reprieves like adventures with Poppy, or mysteries to be solved with Sebastian and Ominis or with Natty have grown darker and more twisted and I fear that that turn is my fault, that my participation has corrupted my friends. I greedily spend more time with them, even knowing that I might be the problem, the comfort and joy they give to me and my life is not something I can easily give up. I fear that I will ruin them, but my fear of being alone again far outweighs it.
I tuck my emotions away, now it not the time. I change into a clean pair of clothes, and down a vial of calming draught. I pause, taking a moment for myself before I begin to make my way to the great hall.
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The corridors are busy, the general anarchy of hundreds of students running about. I smile slightly as I watch a group of first years giggling loudly as they make their way from the great hall to the courtyard. The organized chaos of my fellow students bringing a sort of peace to my mind, the knowledge that despite my frequent despair, the world around me continues, often quite happy.
I pause in front of the doors, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. Then I push the large doors open and head towards the Hufflepuff table in search of Poppy.
Its easy to spot her. She’s sitting near the end of the table, further away from other students. She’s fidgety, pushing food back and forth on her plate. As I approach, I feel a false sense of calm wash over me. This is going to be okay. I’ve fixed myself enough, she has no need to worry further. She spots me and watches my approach. Eyeing me as I sit across from her.
“Poppy.”
She inclines her head, “Charlotte.”
“Did anything useful come from the map?” if I avoid eye contact maybe I won’t feel her anger.
“Yes,” she replies shortly.
“That’s good.” My anxiety building, maybe my calming draught wasn’t as strong as I thought.
“Charlotte.”
“Yes?” I answer quietly.
She watches me, eyes widening in frustration. “Where did you disappear to this morning? what was that?!” her voice raising a little near the end.
I smile lightly, trying to relieve some of the tension “that’s no matter, I’m better now,” I pause for a moment contemplating, “well, at least I think.” I shift and start playing the hem of my sweater, my discomfort palpable. “I can show you,” I begin to lift my sweater wanting to show the scar as proof.
“OK-ay.” She strains, “there’s no need to show me now Charlie,” she whispers yells at me.
“I only wanted to show you,” her reluctance startling me slightly, “I thought you would want proof.”
“Seeing as you made it to supper,” she stares at me, “I shall have to take your word for it, at least for now.” She finishes flatly.
I smile a little awkwardly. “So, the map?”
She takes a moment, then jumps into action. Grabbing her book bag and placing it on the table, she rummages through it, pulling out a rolled piece of parchment. She pushes her plate and bag to the side and unrolls the map so that we can survey it. The map itself was in rather good condition. Creaseless and unblemished by time. The map detailed the furthest north-east of the forbidden forest, many of the smaller valleys have been marked by ink, crossing off small areas.
“I believe that this was the map they used in finding the Hebridean black. If I use it and explore the area around these locations, I think that I will be able to find the nest.”
“And what do you need from me?” eager to get back to helping, and back in her good graces.
“Charlie…, I think this is something better done alone.” She pauses, searching for the right words. “The less attention drawn the better, that’s easier done if its only me.”
“but,…” I try to form a retort.
“As much as I would like your help, you don’t know the woods and creatures like I do.” She exhales a small breath, her features softening slightly, “I’ve spent five years at Hogwarts, and my whole life with creatures and magic, you haven’t even had a year.”
I relent, feeling only slightly defeated. “No, you’re right, its easier done as one.” I watch her for a moment, “although I don’t like the idea of you in the forest alone, its dangerous out there.”
“And not dangerous for you?” her gaze poignant.
“I don’t know wh…”
“Charlie. You don’t think we haven’t noticed you exhausted all the time? You sneaking around and leaving the castle most nights? How you have new bruises and scrapes every other fortnight?”
“I…”
“We talk you know.” She fixes me with a stare. “Ominis and Natty are concerned too, I’m certain if Sebastian could pull his nose out of a book long enough, he would be concerned as well.”
“I…, its different.” I look down at my hands, unable to look her in the eye.
“I won’t push you explain,” she shifts on the bench, “we all have our secrets, but if you get to continue galivanting out in the forest, then I get to search for the nest, no complaints.”
I take a laboured breath, “I guess I have no choice but to agree.”
“It would seem so.” She says, a smirk tugging at her lips.
We sit there for a moment, awkward. Then Poppy grabs her plate and begins eating again. Another moment passes before I decided to grab a plate as well.
“So, how do you plan on finding the nest?” I ask as I begin filling my plate.
She smirks, and fixes me with a knowing look, “a lady never reveals her secrets.”