pilgrimage (kistin)

[HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!]

(note: this takes place before her meeting lucius at hogsmeade by about a week or so, which explains the weather and wardrobe change)

Hermione stood at the edge of the wood, as if paralyzed by its massive size. The forest had crept further up the hill from when she last remembered being in it nearly ten years ago, and with growth it had also become more dangerous. The smells of dead wood and leaf litter mingled with the stench of foul beasts and those who they had predated upon. The Forbidden Forest had its name because it was.. well.. forbidden and entrance held the risk of death, even when she used to roam through it. Now... it was a promise of death that worried her.

She started walking on the first dirt path she found, a rare clearing in the tangles vines and roots, her sneakers only making a slight noise against the loose earth. The weather of late had been chilly and rainy, not uncommon in the north of England, but the paths were not yet mud. A pair of jeans, a grey, burgundy pullover with hood, and her old faded scarf was all she needed to protect herself from the cold. She carried with her the ever-expanding bag, complete with tent, fire kindling supplies, and some food to last around 72 hours, but her vine wand was kept in her right hand at all times. Death Eaters and snatchers had made it a habit to stalk these woods for students and others who would not stay in their place, but she had no fear of these.

Her mission in the wood was not one of militarized attack or stake-out; instead, she was coming to the place where her friend had died. Harry Potter came from the castle, where she saw him last, to this wood to face his fate; to die like a lamb to slaughter. The circumstances of his death was muddled by the papers and hearsay, but she knew for certain that it was here that he fell. She had been too afraid until now to ever venture here, to go to the spot to pay her respects and to properly mourn. The boy had no proper grave... so this would have to do; she planned to conjure flowers and a note for the spot (described as a clearing with curse-marks still visible on the trees in a circle). She continued to walk, listening for any sound out of the ordinary...

[KISTIN THEODORE CROSS !]

(OOC: While you're inserting this before another thread of yours, I'm inserting it into Kistin's after one that is incomplete. For anyone's interest - this is taking place when Ella is slightly more capable of looking after herself!!)

Kistin Cross made his way through the not-so-Forbidden Forest, gingerly placing his feet down as to make as little noise as possible, but trying to move as quickly as it would allow. He did not want to be caught here, that much was certain. Firstly, if he was caught, he would certainly face an end to his unlife far more painful than walking into the burning sunlight; and secondly, if he was caught, he would be unable to care for and protect Ella...and it was almost painful for him to realise how the second fear was almost as great as the first...maybe greater.

The vampire, dressed in a shirt, coat, trousers and boots all of black looked almost ninja-like as he moved - a hood hiding his face - and this illusion of power and prowess would have been completely believable...had he not got a bunch of bright female clothes and trinkets other items bundled in his arms in front of him. He had left Ella for an hour, if that, so he could collect what few personal belongings she had left at Hogwarts. A shady member of another vampire coven had got him in touch with one of the few "hidden" halfblood/muggleborn students there, and he had arranged to meet them tonight - at the very edge of the forest. Thankfully the student had been an honest one, and the vampire who had given their name had not passed said information to the staff...or anyone else, for that matter. For that, he was highly grateful. Small mercies, he thought, relieved. Small mercies indeed.

However, he had not banked on anyone else taking a stroll in the Forest at such an ungodly time, and so to almost walk dead into someone while in his reverie was a shock and a half. He knew there was no use in hiding, seeing as he was barely feet from them, and while he knew heriocs would probably be the death of him, he seemed to have little choice. He held the items he was carrying in the crook of one arm, holding tightly, as if afraid it would be snatched from him, and swiftly drew his wand with the other, pointing it at the shadowy figure. He couldn't make out quite who or what it was (other than another humanoid, obviously) and he was prepared to take no risks...not with Ella's safety at stake.

"Who are you?" He sharply asked, in barely a whisper.

(OOC: And the prize for most-obvious-person-up-to-no-good goes to....KISTIN!! ^.^;

[HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!]

The further Hermione walked into the forest, the more narrow the path became to the point where she was required to step over massive roots and tiptoe over the earth to continue. Oh, to imagine how Harry would have had to walk over this same treacherous ground! She did not worship him, though, and in his life she was one of the first to criticize a bad decision of his or say he was wrong. Nevertheless, this forest brought memories flooding back, from hippogriffs and werewolves to centaurs and professors being carried on their backs. Of dementors and patroni... all of these with her friends, some with just Mr. Potter. It felt the same as it had so many years ago, the mist forming a misty veil through the trees which seemed to never end, but just fizzle into nonexistence. The creeping darkness continued to shroud her surroundings, not being able to see more than a few feet in front of her.

This was no time to get sentimental, however. The terrain was much too difficult to traverse while emotional, and to make matters worse someone had addressed her. The voice came from a very close range, a few feet at most. She clutched onto her wand more tightly if possible and pointed it in front of her. Her breath tightened and deepened, preparing herself to shoot off curses at any sign that this could be a snatcher. Biting her bottom lip she flicked her wrist and murmured a quick 'lumos'. There was no sense in hiding if the person before her had addressed her, so it was all the better to see who it was who was speaking to her.

For a moment, she felt a wave of relief rush over her; she did not recognize the visage of a face illuminated by the pale blue light from her wand. Male... taller than she was... blue eyes ... blond hair... could still be a threat she thought after this initial scan. Not letting her wand down, after seeing he too had one and was unafraid to point it at her, Hermione did not answer his request at first, she needing to know his own name before revealing hers. A funny thing about being a former fighter and slayer of Death Eaters was that she knew the names of most of them, like a lexicon of murderers (she would rather have a working knowledge of other matters, but this kept her alive).

"Depends," she barked, eyes narrowing, "Who am I speaking to?"

[KISTIN THEODORE CROSS !]

Kistin's eyes were unprepared for the sudden blinding light that hit them, as was his body in general. He swung his head away, as if taking it away from a source of severe pain, and swore, as quietly as his voice box would allow; considering the burning sensation he was feeling across the entirety of the skin that had been exposed to said light. Blindly, he used his wand-holding hand to try and swat the wand away. "Do you want to get yourself caught by the faculty?!" He hissed. "The fact you refuse to give your name is a sure enough sign you're not intending to be found." An eyebrow raised on his hidden face. He was now incredibly glad he had thought of a hood; at least the majority of the light was no longer on bare skin. The same, sadly, could not be said for his bare hands, which had begun to blister wonderfully...and he had no easy way to hide them. He berated himself mentally - WHY had he not worn gloves?

"I'd unlight your wand if I were you...unless you really do have a wish to face "death by Death Eater." He added, the dark undertones unmistakeable. He was really beginning to hope she'd give in...otherwise Ella...Ella...it didn't bear thinking about.

While she had been able to get a clear view of his face, because he had turned away so sharply, he still had no idea of who he was facing. The voice, while authoritative, was not cruel nor that of a cold-blooded killer - and she was doing exactly as he was...creeping in the undergrowth...so he wasn't too worried about being "Death-Eatered" to death...but he was concerned about the lumos spell...if it didn't end soon...

[HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!]

"Correct," she replied, "I have no intention of being captured by a Death Eater or Hogwarts staff..." This man was peculiar to Miss Granger; he called 'Death Eater' on her, but the threat seemed empty. She had encountered enough of those hooded folk to know that if one had caught the slightest whiff of her they would have kidnapped her... or killed her on the spot. His hesitation emboldened her slightly, now not as tense and horribly curious about who he actually was.

"I do not fear death," she continued as she slowly approached him, gingerly stepping closer but keeping her wand at its current elevation to her nose, "If you are truly a Death Eater... you would not be shirking away at a simply lumos charm either..." The hood was rather convincing of a Death Eater, and it was true that many pureblooded families had blond hair and blue eyes... she did not notice his hands blistering, but she was not close enough to see details like that. Her brow furrowed as she looked up to him, he turning away from the light. Surely he would have cursed her or ran by now, if he had evil intentions...

The light dimmed from the tip of her wand, leaving only a faint glow to illuminate her. The bush of hair on her head was well-managed today, in a ponytail and out of her face. She scowled, her eyes scanning his entire person for any signs of a weapon... or what the hell he was doing in the forest by himself at this hour...

"Who are you?" she firmly asked again, "Yaxley? Dolohov? Malfoy? Lestrange? I know each and every one of their names, don't think you can conceal yourself."

[KISTIN THEODORE CROSS !]

The woman would not move the damned light! As the pain in his hands became more and more intolerable, he fought the urge to cry out. Firstly, it wasn't very manly...and secondly, he would get them both caught, and that was something neither of them wanted. Actually...he had to put his ego second for once, and change that - his priority was to not get caught; screw masculinity! He was carrying women's clothes and stuff...that was hardly the most macho thing to be found carrying!

As she spoke of not fearing death, Kistin half-chuckled. How little she knew of death...and of the many other ways death could be seen to have been brought about. Until he had met Ella, Kistin himself had stopped thinking of himself as living...he was merely a vestige of a person long-dead...long-gone...long-forgotten by those he knew and cared for...aside from Evander.

However, the small, sad smile that had grown on his face disappeared when she mentioned his shying away from her spell...even if she had taken it as a sign he was not one of those "things". "If you were truly a witch, you would know that some creatures have no choice but to shy away from light." He remarked coldly.

She finally dimmed the light. Kistin exhaled deeply, gently flexing his now thoroughly tender fingers, involuntarily wincing slightly with each movement. "Thank you." He turned his face back towards her, glad that the intensity of the light was minimised. As he studied the woman's features, he realised he recognised the eyes...the structure of her cheekbones...and almost...he could picture it...what her hair looked like when let loose. All the photographs in the Daily Prophet of her, when the late Harry Potter's downfall was announced suddenly came back to him...yes, they had chosen photos that showed her with her friends, and snidely commented on her blood status and the futility of the trio's struggle against "the truth"...

He, using the tip of his wand, took the hood off, revealing all of his blonde hair. "I don't think you'll find I fit any of those names, Miss Granger." He said, with a half smile. "And I don't think you'll find I fit any more you come up with, either. Then again...I think you're smart enough to have figured that out already." He tucked his wand away inside his coat once more; wincing again as his hand rubbed against the lining. "Kistin." He added, by way of introduction.

[HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!]

"Are you a vampire?" she blurted out as he removed his hood and faced her once again. Old habits did not die hard, it seemed, and her know-it-all-ism was the oldest of them all. Despite her dodgy and inconsistent Defense Against the Dark Arts training in six years of Hogwarts, she was well-versed about semi-dangerous beings, vampires being one of them. Of course! How could she not have seen it before? Shying from light, wearing dark clothing... being in the Forbidden Forest? It all made sense in hindsight, but fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins put blinkers on her normally logical thinking processes. That's what the boys were good for, evening her out and calming her down. Without their lackadaisical nature, she could not behave rationally.

"You know my name," she said, sounding frustrating and letting out a deep sigh, "Everyone knows my name..." She continued to mutter about why her name was a curse to herself and her cause, and how she had been wanting to cut her hair or otherwise alter her appearance for quite some time now, all the while looking through her bag. Reaching her entire right arm and wand into the pouch, she pulled them out with a small blue bag also in her hand. Inside were rounds of shortbread, a snack for the trek into the forest; all of this excitement was making her peckish. She was no longer fearful of this 'Kistin'; if he threatened her in any way, all she had to do was shine a light on him...

"Hopefully a pleasure to meet you, Kistin," she replied, taking out one of the biscuits and handing it to him, "Please take this, as an apology for shining a light at you, and I hope you aren't hurt. Since you already know I'm Hermione Granger and haven't killed me yet, there's no reason for me to hex the hell out of you." She took one of the cookies for herself and popped it into her mouth; Ronald's mother gave her the recipe, and she had been using them as 'camping food' ever since due to their high energy content.

"So, what brings you here? You are at just as much risk as I am for being caught by school officials or Death Eaters..."

[KISTIN THEODORE CROSS !]

She was almost as blasé as Ella had been when he first met her, Kistin quickly deduced. Without realising, an eyebrow raised. He half-smiled. "Yes." He replied, with a gentle chuckle. "Kistin Cross, Vampire Extraordinaire, at your service."

As she got frustrated about him knowing her name, Kistin couldn't help but feel for Ms. Granger. It couldn't be easy for her to have gone from being respected, despite her blood status, and with close friends, to being reviled and pretty much the most wanted of the most wanted, and with no-one she could turn to when in need or in danger. When she continued to mutter, he had to resist the urge to pat her on the shoulder reassuringly. He was still an unknown entity to her, and she seemed slightly volatile...then again, the same could be said for him - after all...he was caring for his abused "girlfriend"...if she'd allow him to call her that...in a cave above Hogsmeade, without anyone knowing; not his coven, not his brother, not her parents...not anyone. Yeah...he was volatile in the world's eyes...and rightly so.

He saw a biscuit appear in his hand, having completely missed Hermione handing it to him. "And hopefully a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Granger. And thanks for the biscuit, just...don't shine that light again...please?" He asked, with a hint of pleading. When she mentioned hexing him, he put his hands up in mock surrender. "I'll make sure not to give you reason to!" He didn't eat the biscuit he handed her, but rather slid it into the silk lined pocket in his coat. Ella needed it more than he did.

Then came the question he dreaded - why he was here. He gently moved the arm with the clothes and other belongings in it, drawing attention to it. "Collecting some things, for a friend of mine." He replied briefly. He was starting to worry about time...and the amount of it he had left her for. Last time he had left her, she had been taken by Fenrir Greyback and hurt so badly mentally and physically that Kistin had wondered if she would ever recover. He glanced at Hermione. "And you?"

[HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!]

Hermione smiled for the first time in quite a while at this Kistin Cross, 'Vampire Extraordinaire'. He had quite the sense of humor, once she dimmed the light from her wand, and she was certain now that he was no threat to her whatsoever. He took her biscuit, putting it in his pocket. Which, in itself, was not surprising; he was a vampire, and blood was not anything like shortbread. The Granger girl had tasted enough of her own to realize the difference, and she wondered how a vampire could crave that metallic, sour taste of the red fluid anyways. These questions could be answered later, once she figured out what he was doing here in the first place.

Vampires did reside in the Forbidden Forest, but this one looked on the move.

"A friend... from the looks of it, they're moving from Hogwarts to the middle of the wood to live," she remarked, swallowing the round and dusting the crumbs off her hands, "I'm trying to find the spot where my friend... Harry... had died." Hermione paused, suddenly appearing quite mournful. Poor, poor Harry, blasted from existence into the dark depths of oblivion, beyond the veil. He was with his godfather and parents now, his headmaster... her friends. She brushed these thoughts aside, likening them to a poison that would worsen her mood. The pain of his death, however, was just as great now as it ever was, and it showed.

"Call it morbid, but I just feel a need to pay my respects..."

[KISTIN THEODORE CROSS !]

By the dim light of her wand, Kistin saw Hermione smile. He couldn't help but feel a little brighter. Plus, it meant despite all that had happened recently, he still had the ability to make life a little less dark for people...a skill he had thought he had long lost.

He saw her watching as he put the biscuit in his pocket and he lifted his shoulder slightly, in a half shrug. "Sorry," he said, apologetically. He didn't know quite what else to say. Vampires didn't need the nutrients found within traditional food that normal human beings did; blood was capable of filling that role for them...and he couldn't exactly say that he knew someone else who needed the food more than he, as that was pretty much everyone in the entire world, and could also lead to tricky questions, such as "who".

When she commented on his "friend", he shrugged again, this time with a look of frustration sweeping across his face. "Just because us "halfbreeds" are supposedly on the same side as "them" doesn't mean we can walk through the front gates like we're as good as them" He sighed, and then hesitantly added, "besides, the friend of mine is like you - she's not pureblooded. It's a wonder she was able to keep herself hidden here for so long. So...yeah...travel via forest is the best way to go, it seems."

When she spoke of Harry, Kistin very quickly noticed her mournful air. As she tried to explain why she had come, he waved his free hand quickly. "No!" He said, quickly. "...No, it's not morbid. It's not morbid at all. It's good of you to want to visit him." Being a vampire, Kistin had seen many a friend die, and had always tried to attend their funerals and to keep them in mind. After over a century, names had begun to fade, but he always hoped that he would have people around him when he finally reached his eternal rest who would keep his memory alive. And hopefully remember him in good terms. Hence why he was rather keen that Evander die close to his own date of death - he didn't need his bad decisions and practical jokes outliving him!

He did reach a hand out to her this time, gently placing it on her shoulder. "He was lucky to have you." He said, quietly. "To have someone to keep his memory alive - and not in the warped way the Death Eaters have." Removing his hand, he tried to give her a gentle smile. She wasn't the only one; he knew that. She wasn't the only one trying to live her life while grieving a fallen comrade and friend. Many had done so - he had seen them - and he had the horrible feeling that many more would face it again in the future.

[HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!]

"I meant nothing by saying your friend was moving," Hermione replied apologetically, "And to be honest, I'm surprised your friend has even survived in Hogwarts for this long, not being a pureblood. Merlin forbid she was muggleborn, I have heard horror stories about the Cruciatus Curse being practiced on them... it is sickening." She herself had survived that very curse multiple times, most at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. She would never get used to that feeling, of being on fire from the inside and her skin ripping like paper on the outside, combining to a sensation she could only describe as being worse than death. She did not envy anyone who had the displeasure of knowing of that curse on a first-name basis.

Granger smiled softly when he rested a hand on her shoulder; touch was a luxury for her in these days, the hugs and hands holding hers from her friends absent on account of them either being dead or missing. This man was growing on her, and this was in itself another rarity. Not trusting anyone because they could be a death eater or snatcher meant she could only name a few true friends... and if he could be one for her, even for only a few moments; it would have meant the world.

"Thank you," she replied gently, head tilting downwards as she spoke, "I really mean that. It infuriates me to see the slander that comes from the Ministry about him and all of us... it is my mission, really; to prove to them that what he was fighting for was not in vain." She sighed deeply before taking a glance down the path which led further into the mist and forest. She then wondered which way he was going; having a traveling companion would not be a bad thing to have, especially if the rumors were true that snatchers preyed on people in the forest.

"Which way are you headed?" she asked pensively, "I honestly have no idea where I am going... and if you had any idea as to where that battle took place, I would greatly appreciate it..."

[KISTIN THEODORE CROSS !]

As Hermione spoke of her surprise that Ella had lasted so long, Kistin nodded in agreement, albeit with a inkling of wistfulness in his voice as he spoke. "I'm not so surprised. She had spirit and determination. She was able to see the funny and ironic side of life, while facing their attitudes and their prejudices. She was a tough one." He replied. "And from what I've heard from her, the rumours that get out into the wider world fall far short of the truth about what goes on behind those doors." Kistin had never attended Hogwarts, and so had no attachment to the place. Had he though, he probably would have collapsed in despair at what the once benevolent castle had come to stand for. It seemed like the majority of the (tiny) "decent" population mourned not just the loss of the war...but the loss of the castle's integrity...and its morals.

Kistin had also faced that curse - thanks to Fenrir. The pain Ella had been feeling was the only thing that had made it...maybe not "bearable", but far less intense, as his mind had been so focussed on her. Yes, it was not a feeling he intended to go through again.

He saw her smile as he held her shoulder, and heard her words. "It would surely only be in vain should there be no-one left to rally for the cause?" He asked. "As long as there are those willing to make a stand for it, it will never be in vain. You'll succeed..."when" is the only question. And I hope its soon." He sighed. "Maybe then we'd see the return of common decency." He was shocked by himself. Until a few months - maybe slightly more - ago, he would have been more than happy to claim he sided with Voldemort, to fight for the cause of the Death Eaters alongside them. And then Zan walked into his brother's life - a halfblood - and caused Evander to go into "mushy-mushy" land, and then Ella had pretty much jumped into his...a muggleborn...and...and now he was standing in the middle of a forest with pretty much THE most wanted woman in the Wizarding World...and he was telling her to rally her cause...the enormity of his circumstance and change of character was astounding to him.

Her words brought him back from him mini-epiphany. "Hogsmeade." He replied. He mentally mapped out the forest. "This..." he pointed in a south-westerly direction "...way. And if I remember rightly, the photos showed the point of "victory" [He put huge sarcastic emphasis on the word] to be in this..." He pointed south-south-west "rough direction...I think." He paused, not knowing if he could be parted much longer from Ella in her condition. Then again, he was with the one person who could offer her hope of a changed world in which she could be safe. If Hermione got caught...Ella would be forced to either live a false life, flee forever or be under constant threat of Death Eater attack.

Kistin turned to her. "Would you like a companion? I mean..." He added quickly "If I'm not infringing on you... or your memories, of course."

[HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!]

Hermione was surprised, honestly, that Kistin both supported her cause and knew the location of that final battle. Most people who she encountered on the street either openly denied support for the resistance cause (even if they themselves were halfbloods or muggleborn) out of fear or felt the need to hex the hell out of her when the notion of a resistance was brought up. She had also caught wind of a rumor claiming that 'halfbreeds', vampires and werewolves, were being recruited to the Dark Force's side; the fact that this particular individual had a muggleborn ward to take care of, however, would lead Hermione to suspect that he was more on her side than His. Thank goodness... finally a real friend-in-arms.

"Our cause will not die as long as those who remember what it was like before this started are all still alive," she said plainly, closing her bag and them smirking as she looked over to him again, "And the Death Eaters have been having a very difficult time killing all of us off." This was true; Hermione herself had already been the victim of two attacks in this past year, surviving both and gaining more members of her cause as a result. You cannot expect results without risks, she always said...

"If you do not mind a small delay, I would love a companion," she replied, expression shifting to a more relaxed one from relief, "I trust you; I do not believe you are leading me off somewhere to be killed, basically. My memories, alone or otherwise, will not be compromised by your presence. The more people who know what happened there, the better for me. Thank you..." Her voice trailed off, noting the direction that he had been pointing in before. The path there was not as overgrown as ones beside and around it, so maybe this was could be more pleasant.

"Shall we go? I would not want to keep you waiting," she continued gently, stepping forward.

[KISTIN THEODORE CROSS !]

He smiled as she spoke of the trouble the Death Eaters faced when trying to kill off the resistance. "Yes, I heard that a werewolf faced a few difficulties, when trying to get rid of one of the "impure"." He inwardly grinned. Ella's situation was of course no laughing matter (he would have murdered anyone who suggested different) but he was so proud of rescuing her. It had taken him longer than it should have...but at least Fenrir had a nasty shoulder wound that would take some time to heal...and a massively bruised ego. He had no idea how public that defeat had been - knowing the Death Eaters, and the size of their and their leaders' ego, he would have bet everything he owned and cherished (aside from Ella...and Evander, begrudgingly) that there would have been no reporting whatsoever...though Ella's abduction had been widely reported, both by the Prophet and by word of mouth.

He was pleased she accepted his offer, and that she trusted him. "To make sure you - one of the few people who could help my friend's life become that of a human rather than a sub-human - are kept safe, is an honour - not a delay." He commented. "And I'm glad you trust me. Should I do anything to put you at risk, I give you explicit permission to "lumos" me into oblivion." He said, with a jokey tone. He was rather hoping that while she took his offer seriously, she didn't take the implication of him "putting her at risk" so seriously!

He smiled at her as she suggested moving on. "Yes, that sounds like an idea." He orientated himself, and tried to remember as much as he could about those photos and the position within the forest. In theory, it shouldn't take him much to find it, as no doubt the Death Eaters would view it as their greatest victory...he'd be amazed if it wasn't signposted, actually.

He looked down the pathway, and turned to Hermione. "I'll lead. I can see pretty well in the dark, and it means I'm the one anyone coming towards us sees...not you. And I'm dressed to confuse...as you appeared to notice earlier." He re-drew his wand; again, wincing slightly - he'd almost forgotten his injuries - and held it in front of him, not in a guarded manner, but in a manner of power. As he began to walk, his whole stance changed. His body language went from quite relaxed and informal, to straight backed, powerful and emanating haughtiness and authority. He knew that gait was something many of the Death Eaters used to tell imposters from their comrades, and while it was dark so they couldn't see his entire gait - the simple stance and air his shadow gave off should have been enough to fool them...at least until they got close - by which time he'd hopefully have either sucked their body dry (Hermione'd just have to forgive him later) or had a chance to let off a few hexes and curses (something Hermione might find more forgivable - considering her earlier threat).

[HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!]

"You're right," Hermione replied, looking down at her attire in comparison to his, "I really should dress like them when I go out. Or cut my hair. Or something... just something else..." She followed him, taking time to occasionally glance around them. Hoof and paw prints littered the wet ground, moss forming carpets of deep green in swaths over small hills and gullies. Dampened roots surrounded them every few feet, growing higher and more massive as they ventured deeper into the wood. Funny, as a young girl Hermione remembered running through these paths and jumping over roots with ease; perhaps this was because every time she has ever been here she was being chased or chasing something. Werewolves and centaurs... Harry and Ron even mentioned meeting the acromantula Aragog here. There was no sign of these adventures left, except in the inner compounds of her memory.

What made this journey so difficult was that Hermione really had no idea where this place even was. All she had figured was that it was in a clearing somewhere and perhaps marked with a sign for 'tourists' to see and gawk at the place where their new government truly came to power. It was different for her, all she could relate this to was death. The death of her true childhood and the killing blow to her self-esteem and image. Now, when Draco Malfoy called her a 'filthy mudblood', he could mean it with getting in a smidge of trouble. In fact, it was encouraged, as well as to kick, maim, and kill the thing that was dirtying their wizard blood...

Thank goodness Kistin was kind enough to lead her, she following like a lamb to its mother, in the direction where he thought it was. His sense direction was keen than hers, and he also had the sense to keep quiet as they walked, lest they disturb anything. Her 'lumos', that one which he allowed her to threaten him with if he was in imposter, dimmed even more, leaving only the faintest of glows. The sunlight did not shine here; the light of the rapidly-falling sun that evening was but a glaze over the landscape, a shadow of light.

It was twenty minutes into their walk where she first saw the sign; a wooden post with carefully-embellished script saying something about at the next clearing where Harry Potter passed on. She audibly gulped, hesitating to go forward.