(Gif description:/ a deer running through the snow and trees. His antlers, hind legs, and nose briefly cut out of the frame/: end description)

෴✵෴

❝ 𝚁𝚎́𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚎́
𝚁𝚊𝚣𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚙, 𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚙. 𝙶𝚞𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚗𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚐𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚏𝚞𝚕. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎. ❞

─ Dorothy Parker

෴✵෴

Trigger warning: suicide attempt and mentions of sexual harassment/attempted assault

෴✵෴

It takes him three days to stand, two more to teach himself to walk, another to find food and water, and another to discover where he is... sort of. He knows he's in a forest somewhere, but he's not sure where in the world that forest is. It rains a lot. Sometimes, if he's lucky enough to glimpse past the trees (a big and noisy creature in the distance rips them from the ground from time to time, he thinks) he can make out hills in the distance. Once, he's certain he spotted a big, gorgeous castle. Perhaps, then, he's somewhere in Scotland?

But where in Scotland he has no idea. The creatures local to the forest are of no assistance at all (they all ignore his pleas for help), but they are some of the strangest things he has seen since...well, he's not sure about that either. His mind is very fuzzy since waking up in the forest, as if arising from a dream.

Or entering a nightmare.

He can't recall much before being here. He knows odd and in things, like geography, but nothing of real importance. His name? His history? It's nothing but blank space where those things should be. He doesn't know if he's got a family or if they're worried for him. If they're looking for him...

He avoids thinking on this too much, however, for the idea of family sends him into a frenzy for reasons that allude him, and he's sure he can't afford to panic just now.

When he tries to recall his own story, the world spins around him, and he blacks out. It's as if his very own mind doesn't want him to remember, as if his world, his life is a great big secret, even from himself... whoever he might be.

Or perhaps he might have never existed at all before now. Perhaps, this is the beginning of his life. This is how it all starts. Bumbling around aimlessly, grasping, searching for answers he may never find...

But no. This is not the start of his story. He's not sure how he knows this, he just does. He feels it. Almost as if by magic.

Anyway, the creatures. They are very strange. Some of them are pure white with horns on their heads. Others are gigantic and hairy with pinchers. A lot have hooves and long legs below their torso and mouths and hands above. There's one creature that looks suspiciously like an automobile (though he's not sure how he can remember what an automobile is given he can't recall much of anything else, just like geography this information is of little importance to him just now).

They're all very strange; even so, the strangeness doesn't bother him one bit. In fact, the strangeness doesn't seem, to him, so strange at all. It's, somehow, to him, completely normal. Perhaps, this is simply because he himself is very, very odd. Or perhaps, in another life, the life he can no longer recall, he had grown accustomed to the strangeness. Perhaps, he had been a part of it even then. Perhaps ──

There's a buzzing in his head. He has to shake it violently before the noise stops; the world is fuzzy again. It ruins his train of thought. He can't remember what his mind had been about to conclude, but he knows from experience that it's a bad idea to strain himself. So, he moves on to the next question he must answer.

What am I?

It's a question that's been rattling around in his mind since the day he awoke in the forest. Not just who am I? But What am I?

He seems to be a creature of high intellect and sentience. He can think complex thoughts about his own existence; he can perform maths equations in his mind and formulate proper sentence structure (though the only sound he's able to emit is an odd bleating). And geography. He knows geography. His emotions are high functioning, perhaps too much so. They're always up and down. He doesn't know what to do with them; sometimes he wishes they'd fade away until he figured that out.

Physically, he's discovered, he's got four legs and hooves, though he's nothing like the centaurs. They have human anatomy above their waist, and he does not. So, he concludes he is not one of them (it's just as well, they are much too invested in the sky, whereas he has hardly given it a second thought)(not that it isn't astonishing to look at now and again, it's just that he has much bigger problems at the moment than 'Mars being out of alignment' or what have you).

He has two horns (antlers) on his head (which he discovered on one of the two days he'd been learning to use his legs, when he'd accidentally gotten them caught in a tree's hollow). He's also not like the unicorns, since he doesn't glow in the dark (which he thinks might be useful on some occasions). Besides, they only have one horn (an actual horn).

So, not one of them either.

He has been alive, as far as he's aware, for precisely seven and a half days.

Seven and a half days.

And he still hasn't a lick of an idea what he is. Who he is.... And then he meets the girl.

He doesn't know the date, but there's snow on the ground and the wind is chilling. It must be the winter season. His hooves crunch the ice as he walks over it; he bows his head against air current pushing against his furry body. Every now and again he has to shake when the precipitation becomes too much; when it gets in his eyes. He's wandering without direction, hoping to find the end of the forest eventually; and that's when he sees it ── the tiniest of emerald sparks through the trees and the wind and snow. It's followed by two words. "Avada Kedavra."

In the seven and a half days he can recall he has never heard such words, but that doesn't stop the shock that runs through him. Surges, cuts deep, straight to the bones. Somehow, someway, he understands those words are dangerous. No. Not just dangerous. Deadly. Before he knows it, he's running. Sprinting. Galloping. He's weaving through the trees as if he's been amongst them for much longer than a week (and half a day); he's following the green flashes.

He's squinting through the heavy snowfall. His muscles are on fire. The mounds slow him considerably. There's also the fact that he has never ran before; and doing so with four legs is quite tricky at first. The wind blows past his ears. The trees blur. His vison is nothing but white mixed with green. He hardly knows what direction he's going in. But he pushes forward, unsure what he will do when he reaches the light. He just has to reach it. He has to help whoever, whatever is on the receiving end. He has to save them. He just has to. He has to.

He pushes himself further, still. His legs are ready to snap. He can feel it. But he doesn't slow his pace. He's getting closer. Up ahead, where there's a placement of thorny bushes covered in white, he can hear someone hissing in frustration ── well, no. Not so much hissing in a literal sense. They're speaking a human language ── English. A centaur, perhaps? But no. They don't use words like Avada Kedavra.

He speeds up, tucking his head to propel himself better. Faster. Faster. He leaps over the snow covered thorn bushes and comes crashing down hooves first into a small clearing. With wild eyes, he searches for the threat... only there isn't one. The only being in this clearing (which he somehow realizes, as his mind slows down again, is at the dead center of the forest) is a human girl. She doesn't take notice of him. He tilts his head; and he begins pacing from the edge of the clearing to the center and back, trying to rid himself of the excess energy he'd been building up.

He still feels this isn't right. In all of seven and a half days, he's not seen a single human in this forest. Well, he might have spotted one, giant of a man here and there. But never a human so young. This isn't right. This girl shouldn't be here. And she should not know those words.

He watches her, still pacing. Tries to anticipate what will happen next. His eyes, almost of their own volition, move to her left hand, where the girl holds a wooden stick of sorts (her wand, his brain supplies somewhat helpfully). It's shaking. From fear or anger, he isn't sure.

"Come on!" the girl snaps, apparently at the wand in her hands. "Work, damn it!" Then, she's raising it. Aiming it at her own body. Then, "Avada Ked ── oi!"

He races forward, snatching the wand away from her in a second. He keeps it between his teeth, bolting to the other side of the clearing. He is not going to let her use that curse (yes, it is a curse, magic, dark magic, magic that kills people, his brain tells him oh so helpfully).

The girl stomps her foot, looking and sounding much like a child who has not yet developed a sense of pride. "Give that back, you stupid Moose!"

Moose? Is that what I am? he wonders. He shakes his head. This is no time. He can worry about his own misgivings later, right now this girl needs his help. He has to keep her from using that curse. He has to.

When he doesn't come forward to return her wand, the girl moves forward, reaching for it. He darts away from her again, stopping at the center of the clearing. The girl glares at him. He notes her eyes are a menacing emerald shade. "Are you fucking serious?" Moose (because this is what he is apparently?) stares back at her, unmoving. She throws a rock at him; he gives an indignant bleat as he leaps out of the danger zone. Somehow he manages to keep hold of the wand in his mouth. Just barely.

This girl is hostile!

"Give me back my fucking wand!" The girl stoops to the ground, preparing to throw another rock.

She has a foul mouth too, Moose thinks. He stares back at her. Green eyes made from the same violent things storms are, stare into whatever-color-his-are made from the disheartening awareness that he doesn't even know the tiniest of details about himself such as this.

"Fine." The green eyes soften all at once, without warning. No. Soften isn't the right word. They shatter. Shatter into a million pieces that break and fall, unseen upon the snow covered forest floor and get carried away amidst the brutality of the wind. They're a blue as deep as the sea now (or what he understands of the sea given he's only been alive, as far as he knows, for seven and a half days), dark and rippling with unshed tears, inviting all who dares look into them to get lost and drown within. Much like the girl they belong to seems to be.

Troubling.

"Fine. Keep it. I don't care anymore." The girl drops her second rock harmlessly on the ground and spins on her heels in a manner that seems, somehow, vaguely familiar. Facing the trees, she sits herself on top a mound of snow, either not noticing or not caring about the cold that must ensue. She pulls her knees up to herself; it isn't long before the sound of sniffles are heard.

Very troubling.

Moose drops the wand where he is and approaches the girl. He nudges her with his nose, careful not to impale her with his antlers. At first, her reaction was violent. She jerks her head up and pulls her fist back, ready to strike; he stumbles over all four of his legs to move away. Then, her eyes soften again. Her hand wipes at her eyes before falling to her side.

"Since when does Hogwarts have moose?" He of course can't respond verbally, but if he could he might have told her he had no idea what a hog's warts had to do with anything. "Is Hagrid illegally breeding animals again?" It's said in a very off hand sort of way; Moose doesn't think she expects an answer. Which is good for him, because again he's a moose (apparently), and he can't speak.

She's frowning. She sits, quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Moose thinks she looks sad. And confused. And pissed off. But mostly sad. The tears swell in her eyes ── it's the flood spilling over. "I'm sorry," she says suddenly. "I didn't mean it." And there's sobs rolling into her voice. He watches her. "I didn't mean it. It was an accident."

Moose tilts his head at her in concern. He thinks she's talking about more than almost hitting him (with a rock and her fist). There's more. There's a reason she's here in this forest trying to use that curse. He nudges her again, prompting her to go on. She doesn't try to hit him this time; instead when her hand comes up it's to run her fingers through his fur. He thinks this is her way of making up for the threat so he lets her. Plus it feels nice. Like, he's sentient and aware of stuff, but he's also an animal so he likes animal things too. Apparently.

She sniffs and wipes at her eyes again. Probably not very sanitary considering she'd just been petting him. He hasn't figured out the whole grooming situation yet. Embarrassing but true. But he can't warn her not to touch her eyes in case of infection and likes. Language barriers. Annoying.

Her voice steadies as she continues, but it still sounds hoarse, as if she's trying very hard not to burst into a fit of loud, ugly sobs. For the best, probably. Some creatures in this forest would have no problem mutilating a human girl while she was in such a vulnerable state. "I was just supposed to go and get something from someone at Hogsmeade ──" Moose wonders why everything is named for the hogs. "── but, then..." Her voice begins to shake a little here. "I knew it'd be bad. I knew it. And now there's someone in the hospital because of me. Because of me. God."

The girl starts to cry again, and this time it seems she's unable to stop. "God. I just want all of this to be over. I just want it to stop. But I can't even get this stupid fucking curse to work!" Moose moves his head around her, just to make sure the wand is still where he left it. He's not letting her have it back until he's sure she won't be using that spell. Even if she 'can't get it to work.' He's not taking any chances. He's not.

"I can't even say they made me do it, because they didn't. I did. I did it all on my own," the girl goes on. Apparently she needs to vent. Or maybe she needs a friend. It's fine either way. As long as she's not trying to make the curse work. He can listen. Even if he has no idea what she's on about. Her sentences are too broken up and vague for him to make heads or tails of much.

"It was so stupid. So fucking stupid. I don't know why it was the first thing that popped into my head. I don't know. Maybe I'm just as evil and wicked as everyone says I am, and I'm just fooling myself into thinking I could be anything else..." He can't find the word to describe her tone. It's a mix between bitterness and sadness and hurt and hate. But he can't tell if she hates herself or someone else. It's painful to hear.

She's glaring at the ground between them; her hand is laying still on the fur of his neck. "It was such a idiotic plan. I mean, give the headmaster a cursed necklace? A cursed necklace?? Really? He's considered to be the greatest wizard of all time. Did that idiot really think he wouldn't be able to spot a cursed necklace the moment he laid eyes on?"

Moose doesn't know who 'that idiot' is supposed to be. He wishes he had a voice to say this. But he doesn't. All he can do is bleat. Because, again, he is a moose and not a human.

It's fine. The question is rhetorical anyway.

"And I am so fucking pissed off. So fucking pissed off. If he hadn't made this stupid plan ─" The girl cuts herself off and removes her hand from Moose's fur to curl it into a fist in her robe's sleeves. She looks like she wants to hit something. But she doesn't. The violence drains from her eyes in another pool of tears. "And I can't even tell him off for it. He's not the on who fucked it up. I did. He's not the one who cursed Katie Bell. I did. Oh god. God. I cursed her... "

The girl looks like she might start to scream. Screaming will surely attract the attention of those other more carnivorous creatures. He doesn't need them showing up now. Not when he's trying to keep this girl alive. So, Moose nudges her one more time to keep her going.

Her fingers run through his fur again. They're ice cold, but he doesn't mind. It's therapeutic for both of them.

"I didn't mean for her to get involved," she tells him. Her nose and cheeks and eyes are all red. From the cold. From the crying. She seems tired. It makes his heart bleed. Or so he feels. There's something especially tragic about someone so young being so broken.

"The idiot had his lap dogs follow me. We met this perverted git behind Three Broomsticks, that's a pub by the way. I'm not sure if you know, being a moose and all. Moose don't drink do they?"

He tilts his head from side to side in response. Truth be told, he had no idea, but the idea seems odd. A moose drinking alcohol. Honestly.

The girl smiles a nice, soft little smile. For a moment she almost looks like a happy, normal (or what he believes is normal according to his seven and a half days of existence) girl. Then, the smile is gone and she's broken, shattered all over again.

"Well, anyway, we got the necklace from the git. He said some gross things to me. He tried to fucking touch me. He was literally old enough to be my grandfather." The girl scowls. "Creep."

Moose feels an overwhelming sense of protectiveness here. He's only just met this girl, but knows ── he bloody well knows ── he'll die to keep her safe. Maybe it's that she's the first human person he's properly interacted with, maybe he's just built that way. But he will. He will.

He must look agitated, because the girl strokes him soothingly and says, "I hexed him, don't worry." He still worries. "He called me a mudblood for it and took off. Odd. I've never had anyone say it to me before. I think most people forget my birth parents are muggles, because my father is a wizard, too. Or maybe they're all too scared to say it, just in case I go snitching on them to him. People are scared of him. I don't get why."

There's that odd tone in her voice again as she brings up her father. A hint of affection covered in a blanket of bitter hatred. Moose wonders who the girl's father is (for that matter he wonders what the girl's name is) and why they're at odds.

The girl sighs and shakes her head, apparently trying to get rid of all thoughts concerning her father. "I felt sick after that," she continued her story. "I just kept thinking about everything. Everything I'd been doing since I got to school ──" Oh, Hogwarts is a school. A school. " ── everything we'd have to do from that moment on. What it would mean if Dumbledore was somehow thick enough to touch the necklace." This name rings a bell, but Moose isn't sure where he's heard it before. He assumes it's the name of the headmaster, however.

"And I was thinking about how awful this situation is, and how everyone is right about me ── about my whole house. And I was thinking about that creep and what he'd tried to pull. And I just... I just got so sick. And I left the other two, and went to the bathroom inside. But... I heard a noise. I panicked. I don't know why. I don't. I thought that creep had come back and followed me or something. It was stupid. I know it was. I know. But I used the Imperious Curse."

Moose stamps his hooves in surprise. He's not sure where the information comes from, but he knows this is another curse this girl should not know how to use. Who's teaching kids these things? Who's letting it happen? Is it this Dumbledore character? Moose isn't sure he cares much for him if that's the case.

"I know." The girl starts to cry again. Moose bumps head against her, careful with his antlers. It's a bit cat-like, yes, but seven and a half days ago he wasn't aware of his own species. He's picked up a few traits from other animals he's met. Sue him. Anyway. The girl seems comforted enough to go on. "I tried, I tried so hard to get it off, stop the curse, whatever. But I couldn't. I couldn't. And then the owner of the pub came in, and then she was cursed, too, and then Bell was running off with the necklace, and then she and her friend were fighting, and then... "

Her voice breaks. Moose bumps her in the cat-like manner again; she strokes him. "I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. I swear." Her eyes are so blue, so broken and shattered. She looks desperate. So very desperate for someone, anyone, to believe her.

Even if it's just a moose with memory issues.

He stares back at her; watches her cry for a moment. His heart aches on her behalf. Slowly, very slowly, he nods his head to let her know that he does, in fact, believe her.

The girl is so shocked, so relieved, she lets out a choked sob. Then, she has her arms wrapped around him, and she has her face buried in his neck, and she's crying. The sound is muffled by his fur, but it's still loud. At least to an animal with sharp hearing. Part of him worries it'll attract those bigger, more violent creatures. The other part tells him he'll be able to defend her if it does. And she'll be able to defend herself, despite the state she's in. He's only just met her, but he can tell she's tough. It's fine.

But he still worries.

It's not until thirty minutes later, when the girl finally stops her sobbing and no other dangers have shown themselves, that Moose allows himself to relax. Relatively. He can tell she still feels like shit, and he wants to fix it. He does. Really. More than anything. Somehow.

It's strange. He doesn't know this girl (well he doesn't think he knows her, anyway). There's no obligation to care at all for her. He has his own problems. He could be working to figure those out. It's just the idea of leaving her alone like this seems so utterly wrong. He can't explain; he's not sure if this is in his nature or if there's some other deeper, subconscious sort of thing driving him. He just knows he has to help. He has to.

But the amount of things he can do are limited. More than anything that irritates him. He feels useless. And even though he can only recall seven and a half days of his life, he knows, he knows, he hates feeling useless. He hates it.

The girl stands up with a sudden motion; Moose has to back up to avoid clashing with her. "Anyway," she says, as if everything is completely fine now. As if she hadn't been trying to use that curse and crying her eyes out to random animals in a forest in who-knows-where, Scotland at Hogwarts (School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Is that right? It seems right...).

Moose worries.

The girl walks over to her wand; she looks back at him. "I'll take this back now if you don't mind..." He bleats in protest, but she grabs it anyway. Stuffs it in her pocket.

Then, there's rustling behind the bushes; Moose's head snaps in that direction. There's movement, and he tilts his head from side to side, up and down to see what it is from all angles. And then there's someone else in the clearing with them ── the giant man he sometimes sees passing through the forest to feed some of the more dangerous looking creatures. He has a soft spot for them, apparently. Odd.

Even odder is this: the man, up close, seems utterly familiar. From the beetle black eyes to the long scraggly curls of his beard and the crossbow slung over his shoulder. There's a voice screaming, screaming, in the back of his head: Hey, idiot, you absolutely know this person! But he just can't think, can't remember. He tries. He does.

But the world goes fuzzy again, and he has to stop. He won't lose consciousness and leave the girl alone when he's not sure if she's safe or not. He won't. He won't.

The man looks surprised to see the girl there; and there's a recognition. Perhaps he's a teacher for one of her classes? "Nina?"

"Hi, Hagrid."

"Wha' are yeh doin' all tha' way out here?"

The girl, Nina apparently, shrugs. With a straight face she says, "Was looking for a lamb." At the man's confused look she adds, "You know, for the sacrifice? To Satan? A sacrificial lamb? No?"

The man, Hagrid, looks stern. Yes, Moose decides, he is a teacher, because only a teacher can have a look like that. "Yeh know the forest is off limits ter students! Yeh shouldn' be in here alone─"

"I'm not alone. I have Moose." The girl, Nina, gestures at him as if they've known each other for much longer than a few minutes. Moose perks his ears as the giant man, Hagrid, turns his gaze on him. They stare at each other. Hagrid seems confused; he frowns, doing some thinking in his head it seems.

He turns back to Nina. "Yeh mean the stag?"

Stag. He doesn't know why. The word rings in his head over and over and over and over again. Stag. Stag. So maybe he isn't a moose? But a stag? He's a stag. He's a stag called Moose. Moose the Stag. Identity crisis solved.

Nina looks back at him. He looks back at her. Back to Hagrid. "He's not a moose..?"

Hagrid shakes his head. "Tha's not wha's important right now!" Moose begs to differ. It's very important information to him. But of course he can't tell Hagrid that. He really wishes he had the ability to speak... "If yer father finds out yeh were in here...well, yer safe at least. Let's get back to the castle 'fore anyone notices yer gone."

Nina scoffs, but she follows. Moose does too. He worries.

"What's he going to do? Yell at someone? Take away some stupid house points? Throw something? Ooh, wow, so scary. I'm quaking." She folds her arms and glares at the snow covered ground as they walk. "He's a git."

There's a storm brewing behind her eyes. Moose quickens his pace to be next to her. It's a small gesture, but it's all the support he can offer. He hates that he can't do more. At least, she seems to calm a bit as she runs her fingers through his fur again.

"Now, tha's no way to talk about yer own father!" Hagrid scolds.

"It's the truth."

Hagrid hesitates. Moose can't tell if he disagrees or if he just doesn't want to trash talk someone who is, he guesses from context, his co-worker. "Listen, I know Severus can have a bit of a ─ er ─ prickly personality ─"

Nina huffs. Moose thinks the name Severus is another familiar one. It's odd, too, so you wouldn't think he'd forget it. But then again he's forgotten everything else, and this isn't really about him right now. He wants to make sure the girl, Nina, is safe. That's all that matters. It's all he can do.

"─ but he can' be all tha' bad if he raised you. By 'imself I migh' add. Bein' a single parent a'int tha' easy, mind you. So, maybe yeh should cut 'im a bit of slack, eh?"

Moose is torn. He thinks it's a good point, but also he doesn't know Nina's father (or maybe he does but forgot him? He doesn't know). He doesn't know why she's mad at him, and he thinks Hagrid probably doesn't either (but from the little context Moose has from Nina's vent and her attempt at using that curse he guesses it's really, really bad; they're trying to kill the headmaster; which is generally considered a bad thing). Neither can pass judgment without knowing the full extent of the situation.

Nina seems to be thinking along the lines of the latter. "He can't be all bad? Really? You do realize he bullies his students? Like, full on. Daily. He tried to murder Longbottom's frog in third year. And fourth year he made fun of Granger's teeth. Just last week he yelled at a second year. She cried. Not that bad. Bloody hell."

"Yes..." Hagrid looks uncomfortable. "Like I said. Prickly personality..."

It seems more than a prickly personality to Moose. This 'Severus' seems like an ass.

"But he's yer father. He does love yeh, even if he doesn' show it like most father's do." Nina shrugs and tugs on her sleeve. Moose thinks it looks like she's trying to cover something. "He worries." So does Moose. "And I think it's high time the pair 'o yeh made amends." Nina gives him a look, and he adds, "Nina, yer me gran'daughter's bes' friend. I've known yeh a long time. 'Course I noticed somethin' was goin' on between the pair 'o yeh. Anyone with a workin' set 'o eyes can see you two are at odds with one another."

"He started it," Nina mutters. "He made me ─" She hesitates. Moose thinks she doesn't want Hagrid to know about the cursed necklace thing. "Get a job..." Hagrid gives her a confused look, like, That's it? That's what all the fighting is about? "I hate it. I don't want this job, Hagrid. He knows I don't. But he made me take it anyway."

"Well, I'm sure he was just lookin' out fer yer bes' interests... in his own 'Severus Snape' sort of way," Hagrid says. He seems to be struggling.

"And I'm sure you wouldn't be saying that if you knew what the job was."

There's not much talking after this. Hagrid seems to realize he's lost the argument. He says after some time, "Fin wrote some letters ter yeh. Think the owls got 'em mixed up. Got 'em at me hut if yeh wan' 'em."

"Oh," Nina says. "Yeah. Sure."

Moose thinks it's weird. A man, a teacher, finds a girl in the woods and invites her to 'his hut' for 'some letters.' They seem to know each other well, and Hagrid seems nice and harmless enough. But still. He worries.

They reach the edge of the forest at some point. It's dark by now, colder with the night, but he still gets a good view of what's out there. The first he's seen of anything besides trees, trees, trees. He takes a moment to soak it all in, despite his worries.

Hagrid's hut is right on the edge of the forest. Complete with a garden and a fenced place for wild animals to come and go as they pleased.

Then there's the grounds.

The grounds are infinite. Grassy plains and hilly areas spread for miles and miles and miles, and there's a stone path leading right up to big, thick iron gates with stone statues standing century. A huge lake curves around to the front. The water almost looks black, but it's not entirely unfriendly. Moose thinks he spots a tentacle waving from just underneath the surface. Then, there's this great big tree, a willow, with branches swinging wildly, as if it's trying to ward intruders away from... something. He thinks he knows what, but ──

The world gets fuzzy again. Moose decides not to look at the tree for long.

There's green houses, and a sports arena with hooped pillars built twelve feet tall. A Quidditch pitch, his mind supplies with more information that is less than helpful. Still. Quidditch. He likes the sound of it. He feels like it must be a big deal in some regards. Quidditch. Huh. Neat.

But then he gets a look at it, and everything flips. He's not so worried anymore. It fades to the back of his mind for a moment. Like magic.

That big castle he's seen only through the branches in the forest; this time it's in full view. Up close the structure is breathtaking. It's big and brilliant with massive stone towers and pillars. Currently, the lights are out, except for the largest window where yellow hues seep onto the lawn. From candles. Another piece of information he miraculously knows. But it's right. He knows. He knows. The light is from hundreds and hundreds of candles. There's shadows of movement, dozens of faces through the window, blurred and mingled together in the distance. Teacher's and students. Students and teachers. It's a school, but it's also something more.

It's warm, peaceful.

It's a home.

This is Hogwarts.