Hera yawned and stretched out on the soft grass, relishing the feeling of the warm sun and the blades of grass between her toes. Even as she lay there, perfectly comfortable, with her new wand by her side and the intoxicating feeling of accomplishment running through her, she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Greta would be extremely upset if she knew Hera had come back here alone.
Shaking away her guilt she picked up her wand (12 inches, Blackthorn, Dragon heartstring, she said to herself with a smile) and looked down at the book in front of her. She had been trying to master this spell for two days, having already taking several to learn ‘Lumos’. Yesterday, she had managed to shakily float a pencil for a couple of seconds.
Spotting a nearby stick she directed her wand at it. Swish and Flick. “Wingardium Leviosa!”
Hera watched in delight as the stick rose into the air and hovered there. Directing it with her wand, it flew over to the stream and dropped into it.
Again, the uplifting feeling of accomplishment overtook her and she began floating larger branches and small rocks, sending them in an unsteady wobble around the clearing. She was so emerged in her spells that she didn’t hear the rustling of leaves, nor the footsteps as someone entered the clearing.
“Hello?”
Her concentration broke and the pile of stones that had been zooming around the clearing fell to the ground. She stuffed her wand in her back pocket and scrambled up.
A young man - he looked not much older then her - stood there, a friendly smile on his round, rather boyish face. He looked fairly familiar. Hera glanced nervously at him. She quickly stuffed her books into her bag and turned to flee.
“Hey - wait!” he called.
She stopped. His voice sounded very familiar.
“Sure thing, Mad-Eye...”
He certainly didn’t look like a Dark wizard... And he was wearing Muggle clothing. Greta was right, her curiosity would be the death of her.
“What?”
“I’m not going to hurt you or anything,” he said, holding up his hands. She could see his wand, which he had stuck in his pants pocket.
“You surely didn’t hesitate the other night...” she muttered to herself.
Color rose in his cheeks, a similar thing happened in Hera’s. She didn’t think he had heard. “I -you... Of course I tried to stun you! You could have been a… Death Eater or something!”
“How do I know you’re not a... Death Eater?” Hera was not entirely sure what a Death Eater was, but she assumed it was nothing good.
Feeling uneasy, she slipped her wand from her pocket. What am I going to do? she thought to herself, Make him float?
“You can’t really do much with that, can you?” he asked. His tone wasn’t smug, but very sincere.
“What - that was… How - Who are you anyway?” she demanded hotly.
“Neville,” he said flatly.
“Well, Neville. I... you… Damnit!” she swore at her flustered incoherency and went to leave.
“No - wait!” Neville called.
“What?” she snapped, turning back around to face him.
“Here.” He handed her the hair clip she had lost in the woods. “You must have lost this the other night.”
Not knowing how to possibly respond to that, and feeling much too annoyed to say anything anyway, she took the clip, stuffed her wand in her bag and quickly left.
*
Hera shouldered her bag and slipped on her shoes. Since she could not possibly practice any magic inside the house, she was off to the Old Wood again. She reached for the front door knob but jumped at the sound of the soft voice behind her.
“Hera?”
Philip stood on the staircase looking down at her.
“Oh. Hi, Phil,” Hera greeted.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Hera looked at him curiously. He barely ever confronted her in any way. “Just out for a bit...”
“Are you going into those woods again?”
“Did my father put you up to this?” she demanded, hands on hips, in hopes of scaring him off.
“No... I just think that it isn’t safe for you to go out alone, especially to an abandoned wood,” he said. “They’re a couple of kids missing in Devonshire.”
She shrugged. “I’ll be fine, it’s not like anyone goes there or anything.” This, of course, was not true, as she had just had a run-in with two Wizards, but lying to Philip was easy. “Since when do you care, anyway?”
“I don’t think your father would want you to,” Philip cautioned.
“Well... What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Right?” She looked expectantly at her step-brother.
He hesitated. “Right...”
“Thanks,” she said, before quickly slipping out the front door.
*
It was very strange for Philip to ask her so many questions, and tell her she shouldn’t be going places when he usually went out of his way to avoid her. But she pushed the incident out of her head at the prospect of exploring.
The wood was exceptionally beautiful today, after a full day of rain, and suddenly Hera did not want to go to the clearing, but to wander through the trees, perhaps to find where Neville and his disproportional friend went when they came to the Wood. She was in a strangely adventurous mood.
It was quite humid underneath the canopy of trees and Hera’s hair, being as curly as it was, increased in both size and curls, nearly suffocating her. Feeling rather claustrophobic in her net of hair, she wrapped her hair into a bun and shoved her wand through it to keep it out of her face. Had Greta been there, she would have scolded Hera for developing such a dangerous habit. She could have accidentally singed her hair off, or, god forbid, draw some kind of attention to herself! But, as she was not, Hera smiled while her wand kept her hair piled at the back of her head.
She had not yet told Greta of her second encounter with Neville, in fear that her aunt would not allow her to come to the Wood anymore, which was the only safe place around to practice her magic.
Hera absently wove her way through the trees, thinking of all the spells she would learn eventually. So many hexes and charms- Mr Ollivander had said she had a good Charms wand. She was broken out of her musings by the sight of a large oak tree with a small stream dancing around its protruding roots. Never had she seen this tree before, she certainly would remember an oak tree that size, and she had been all around the Wood. Confused, she gazed around at the trees and stream. She had definitely never been here before.
The grass around the tree was soft and devoid of any sharp objects, so Hera removed her sandals, sighing contentedly at the feeling of dew upon her toes. She walked once around the tree. The stream was crystal clear and she was tempted to drink from it. But Greta’s words of warning flashed across her mind and she straightened up.
Where does that stream go? There was a nagging voice in the back of her head telling her she should turn right around and report to Greta, but curiosity, like a large snake, wrapped around her body and began squeezing it, until she could stand it no longer. What was so strange about a big tree? Really nothing to worry Greta about... Quickly, she picked up her sandals and followed the stream through the trees.
Hera followed the stream for sometime as it wound its way across the forest floor. Suddenly, the stream changed direction sharply. But where the stream turned sharply to the left, a lightly beaten path jutted out before her.
She peered down the path. There seemed to be an opening up ahead. Abandoning the stream, she swiftly began down the path. At last, she emerged into a large clearing and sucked in her breath in surprise.
A small log cabin stood in the middle of the clearing. There was a well off to the side and a large flower garden in the front. It looked like something out of a story book.
“Hello there!”
Hera quickly pulled her wand from her hair (a big, brown mass fell into her face) and looked around wildly.
A short, stout witch, Hera knew she was a witch from the pointed hat she wore, smiled at her from behind a sunflower in the flower bed. There was dirt all over her grey robes.
Hera remained silent with shock as the witch walked towards her. “Hello,” she repeated.
“I - I didn’t know anyone lived here,” Hera stuttered. “Sorry.”
“Well, of course you didn’t. Barely anyone does,” said the witch.
Up close, Hera could see that she was a rather old woman, her wrinkles prominent around her eyes. Silvery hair, streaked with red poked out of the brim of her hat. She had a straight nose and a large, happy mouth, to which she had applied a rather garish shade of lipstick to.
“Oh, look at me. Covered in dirt and a little thing like you frightened to death!” The witch chuckled. She looked down at her dirty robes and flicked her wand. The dirt disappeared. “I was just working in the garden, the sunflowers are exceptionally tall this year, taller than myself, might I add. The secret is in the Dragon manure, is what I always say, though no one ever seems to believe me. Romanian Longhorn, I get mine specially shipped in from my friend who works in the Dragon reserve there. Oh, I’m getting off-topic, you must think I’m exceptionally rude.”
Hera gaped at her.
“Poor dear, I’m not going to hurt you. No, no. I’m Alda Belby, and this-” she gestured around her, “-is my wood.”
“Your wood?” Hera asked, realising that Alda Belby was the rumored witch.
“Yes, yes. It’s been in my family for ages . There are quite a few fables about me. But, not to worry, I don’t cook children.” She paused. “They taste much better pickled.” Alda Belby gave a hearty chuckle and straightened her hat.
“Oh,” was all Hera could say.
“You’re probably wondering why you’ve never been here before?”
Hera nodded.
“I’ve set up spells all around my house, of course. The only time anyone can enter is when I take off the charm. The only place you can Apparate is in that lovely clearing in the center, which I’m sure that you’re familiar with,” Alda said, smiling.
Hera’s anger swelled. Was there a whole party of people spying on her while she was practicing magic?
“I’ve always kept watch on that clearing, since it is the only place that Apparating is possible. Don’t worry, Hera, I’ve never intentionally spied on you, though I must say; your magic is improving wonderfully!”
“What? How do you know my name?” Hera sputtered.
“I know your aunt, of course!” Alda cried, taking off her large hat and fanning herself with it.
“You know Greta?” Hera asked in disbelief. She was starting to wonder if everyone in England knew Greta some way or another.
“I’ve known Greta Cauldwell since she was a child,” Alda said. “But now, Hera, if you don’t mind, I really need to repot some Mandrakes in the back. They threw quite a party last night and some of them have broken out of their pots! Though if you could come back Thursday it would be lovely! I’ll teach you some potion making. I’ll owl Greta tonight and tell her!”
Hera was rather confused at the constant stream of words coming from Alda. “Uh....okay...” she finally said, from lack of anything else.
“Have a safe walk home, dear. Keep your wand at the ready!” Alda advised merrily.
She would have loved to stay and bombard Alda Belby with questions, but she was already skipping back to her flowerbeds. So, not exactly sure of what had just happened, Hera turned around and began back down the path, with many mixed feelings about the witch she just met, but excitement brewing in her none the less.
Discovering the Forgotten by Thoth
Chapter Notes: Sorry it's been ages. My muse decided to run away and I've only just gotten it back.