Chapter Text
DEEP BREATH.
FORGET MY TROUBLES.
NATURE IS MY THERAPIST.
"Alohamora," a young child whispered, holding her small palms to the knob of her door. A wisp of magic illuminated her face breifly, before disappearing into the keyhole like a shooting star appearing and disappearing into the night. The girl pressed her ear against the copper of the keyhole, her eyes wide and watching her wall for only a moment as she listened to the soft clicking of the lock being undone.
Her parents could try all they wanted, use every lock and bolt - eventually, she would find a way to undo them and free herself from the suffocating confines of her room. As the final click of the new padlock finally emitted its last, quiet clink, her hand was already gingerly twisting her doorknob and pushing it open.
She peered into the darkened hallway, first to her left (her parents' room) and then to her right, her freedom (the stairs). She couldn't help but huff, her lips curving into a gleeful grin.
She wasn't inexperienced enough to congratulate herself verbally this time. Not a little 'yes!'or a silent 'finally!. Her poor parents were sleeping! She didn't want to wake them again. They were so bewildered the last time.
The planks beneath her feet were carefully stepped on, the little tips of her toes precise and slow, pressing on certain boards to keep from letting out little creeks. Her poor mother hated the noise. Her hand held tightly to the railing of the stairs, knuckles going white as her fist clenched and unclenched the rail to keep herself from vibrating in excitement. A whole month, she couldn't help but think, an entire month since I've been able to explore.
She felt like she hadn't been able to bask in the rays of the moon for forever. Stare in awe and lose herself to the starry skies above, as they lit her path and guided her to her next little adventure.
The child gently stepped down the winding stairs, carefully to skip over a few steps to prevent them from creaking. She whizzed by the family portraits, her baby pictures, and various other professionally taken shots of her parents together. She paused by one in particular, with her mother and herself - in a field with the both of them holding a bundle of wildflowers and handing them to eachother. Her mom was so pretty.
She finally made it to the base of the stairs, and after sneaking a water bottle from their stash in the pantry (along with some sweets), her preparation was nearly done. Where had she left her bookbag last time? In the sun room? Or the drawing room? Maybe the greenhouse out back?
Curse her for her forgetfulness.
She checked the drawing room first. There was a blanket hanging lazily off the side of one of the seats, one that she was sure she had left when she was taking a nap just the evening before. No bookbag, though. Unfortunate. Closer to the exit, was the sun room. Her and her father loved spending their mornings there, sipping on some new tea or reading or simply lazing around. Her mom wasn't a morning person, and to keep the noise down for her, her and her dad would lounge in the sun room for hours most days.
Hanging on the handle of the sun room was her bookbag, dangling patiently. Her greedy hands were on it quickly, and already slinging it over her shoulder and quietly shoving her water and food into it. Now she was prepared.
Exiting from the back door was the only way to go. The front door was directly underneath her parent's room, and it would most likely wake them if she opened it at this point. They were light sleepers, after all. The sliding door at the back was always the best option!
She pushed the door aside, and eagerly stepped out into the crisp night air. With a big, satisfied sigh, she closed the door behind her and began to make her mad dash into the forest and through the underbrush that their estate was in front of.
The path she took was familiar. Fireflies flickered around her, lazily flashing their neon bioluminescence into the dark and illuminating the darkened air around them. A faint trail of dirt is what the child found herself trekking on, grass faded from just how many times she had found herself within the elusive maze of the forest. The stars twinkle in intervals, and the girl paused for a moment to stare up at them and used her fingers to count the seconds before they would dim again.
Her trek continued until she felt eyes on her.
The forest was quiet.
She stopped fully, and slightly turned her head in the direction she could sense the presence from. A pair of narrowed hazel eyes stared back at her, almost glaring, as she began to walk slowly towards them.
"Hello," she began quietly, a toothy smile on her face, "I missed you."
"Beau," the voice was deep and reverberating. He spoke her name in a stern, though familial tone. His hooves trotted quietly against the grass beneath him, his arm lifting the branches of a particularly low hanging tree to meet her halfway.
A centaur emerged, the lower half of his body was that of a dappled grey stallion. Artemy loomed over the child, who simply stared up at him with her arms raised expectantly. He smiled slightly from underneath his greying mustache, and bent down to pick up the eager little girl. He embraced her gently, wary of her fragile little body as he propped his chin against the top of her head, "It's been quite a while since your last visit, child."
"I know," the girl, Beau, wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled close to him, "Sorry." She would have visited as soon as she could, but her parents had been so fussy lately. She needed to make sure they'd be okay in her absence.
"You needn't apologize to me," Artemy shifted his arm to let Beau cling to his shoulder and sit atop his back. She got comfortable quickly, "Have you been practicing the spells I've taught you?"
"Yes!" Beau smiled brightly, holding her hand out, "Lumos," she mumbled, and a small ball of soft light floated just above her palm.
Artemy was quite pleased at the sight. At first, he had doubted he could teach his charge anything at all - he himself didn't even own a wand. Centaurs like him had the nature around them, and were guided by the natural magic that breathed in the earth. They had no real use for wands. He had to start finding lost books that travelers would tend to forget or drop within the Forbidden Forest and other woods just to get the basics down. As far as he knew, most of wizardkind needed a wand in order to cast any magic at all - but his little child had taken to wandless magic overnight.
Artemy hummed, the innateness with which Beau could cast spells had to have come from her mother, he deduced.
"Good," he murmured, "You're doing well on your studies?"
"Mhm," her spell burst into a shower of glimmering traces of magic as she got herself comfortable again, "I graduated my fourth year just fine. I'm on break for a while now."
"Are you? It's already that time of year, then," Artemy paused for a moment, tapping his cheek thoughtfully. Beau looked around feverishly, curious as to why he had slowed down. She opened her mouth to ask, but was cut off by her mentor's low voice one again, "Little one, are you interested in meeting more witches? People who can use magic?"
Her face fell, "Um. I guess," she slumped slightly, pulling her small coat over herself just a bit more, "I thought you couldn't show yourself to others though. Will you be with me?"
"No," he answered quietly.
Beau stared at his back, "Oh."
Artemy sighed, rubbing his hands together as he began to walk again, "There's someone I'd like to introduce you to. He lives amongst wizardkind, and can teach you more than I. I believe I've taught you all I can."
"No, you haven't!" The child only seemed to grow more frantic as she shifted in her spot, getting onto her knees (which hurt him more than her), and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, "You can teach me more! I promise you can. I won't take so long to come see you again! I'll get better at my magic, and then you can keep me with you! There has to be something."
Artemy groaned silently. He was much too old for this.
His calloused hands were careful and deliberate as he tapped her arm, and reached behind him expectantly. Beau moved to grasp at his arm, and stayed still as Artemy got her settled into his arms instead. She set her bag into her lap, and rested her head on his chest, her bottom lip puckering out in a pathetic pout. "Your parents have plans for you," Artemy started.
"My real ones?" She inquired softly, watching the stars idly. Artemy said that is where her mother rested.
He hummed, "They want you to be a strong witch, one that can protect yourself and those you love. Don't you want to keep your mother and father safe?"
Lila and Samuel. Her parents who had taken her into their warm home after her birth parents had been mysteriously murdered. In the beginning, Artemy had been tight-lipped about both pairs of parents - but had eventually allowed himself to speak his thoughts of them after Beau had pestered him enough over the span of a few months.
Vera and Llano Nocturne. Yes, those names she was able to barely scrap from the back of her head. The only reason she remembered was because whenever their names were brought up, there was a softness in Artmey's gaze that he normally wouldn't have. It made her wonder how much she had missed. But even though she tried, tried her absolute hardest - she could not find herself being even remotely saddened by their absence. She had her pretty Lila, and funny Samuel. They were her mother and father, as far as she was concerned.
But because she loved Artemy dearly, she would listen.
"Yes," she nodded slightly, "I want to keep them safe."
"Good. Then I will introduce you to him. He knows people that can help you more," Artemy's fingers trembled anyways.
"Can I still see you?" She prodded, almost shyly. For some reason, there was a pit of dread building up in her chest.
Artemy never responded.
It had been hours, and at some point, Beau had fallen asleep. Either from boredom or her being genuinely tired Artemy did not know. But as he held the sleeping child in his arms, even still, he knew this had to be their last meeting.
At first, he was simply meant to watch from afar. Vera had practically begged him to when little Beau had been born. The woman knew something would happen, to her, her husband, or both. Call it intuition of a mother. She could not have allowed the child that they had just been brought into the world to suffer the consequences of her parent's sins.
It took a few days, maybe weeks, but Artemy was always soft when it came to his dear Vera.
Beau had her mother's eyes. Crystal blue and sharp with an understanding that preceded her youth, with an animalistic gleam to know more. The moment Artemy had first set his eyes on the girl, he knew it was over for him. She had baby pink hair, odd to see on any normal child - but she was anything but. Her father had deep scarlet hair, he recalled, and her mother's was a platinum blonde - resembling more white than anything else. Odd how genetics had worked. A perfect little mix of the two.
"You will be taken care of," he whispered into the top of her head, pressing a kiss to her hair, "You'll do great things, little one."
"Artemy?" A low voice rumbled through the thicket. The centaur responded with a simple hum, looking towards the direction of the voice. A large man, larger than him even, hobbled into the clearing carrying a lantern. He had shaggy dark hair, and a large beard that obstructed his mouth. His mustache wiggled as he spoke, "There ye are. I had to get old Fang doin' the dirty work to find ya. I almost thought you wasn't gonna come." At rhe sound of his name, a big mastiff poked his head out from the brush, watching Artemy warily. He was a slobbery, wrinkly-faced creature.
"Truthfully, I thought about it," Artemy found himself admitting, his eyes falling down to stare at his little girl, "How could I not?"
Hagrid felt his chest twist. He knew the feeling well.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
The centaur simply shook his head, "I did not ask for sympathy. I asked for her safety," he trotted forward, his hooves gently crushing the daisies beneath him as he held Beau to the Grounds keeper. Hagrid took her carefully, his arms stiff. Artemy huffed, "You look like you've never held a child before."
"I have," Hagrid rebuked, "But he was smaller. Real tiny, that one. It's been years. I reckon Beau and Harry would be 'bout the same size now." He shifted the limp child into the crook of his elbow, her head resting on his chest so he could properly hold his only source of light.
Artemy did not recognize the name, nor did he particularly care about it. But he hummed in acknowledgement anyway, because Hagrid seemed to be reliving some memories that took him back to another time. Everyone had unresolved feelings, he assumed. Artemy pat Hagrid's arm, his hand firm and grounding, "Thank you for this. Truly, I could not be more grateful."
The half giant nodded, blinking out of his stupor, "Right. Right, of course Artemy. I'll write to you."
Artemy nodded, "I would expect nothing less."
The night Beau's life changed was a quiet one. Crickets chirped from the thicket, occasionally, lightning bugs lit up the trail that Hagrid took back to his cottage. The stars she looked upon so fondly watched over them. Her parents slept soundly in their bed.
She dreamed of playing in a field of flowers with her family. With Artemy, and Lila, and Samuel.
