The Wolf and the Raven

Ch 21 - Calchas' Prophecy

Branwen pressed her ear to the door of her dorm, waiting for the common room to empty. There was a tumultuous rush of students third-year and up, all cheering and bubbling with excitement for their rare day out of the castle grounds. When it finally quieted, she crept in. The only occupants were a few first-years playing Gobstones in a corner and Peter, who was huffing to pull on his Wellies.

"Peter," Branwen had to tap her slate several times before she caught his attention. When he looked up, she spelled out, "Tell James I'm not going to Hogsmeade with you. Someone has to get those moths."

"But James said we would get them on Monday."

Branwen rolled her eyes. "We have Quidditch practise on Mondays. I don't know if he just forgot or if he's trying to put this off, but we need those moths. Otherwise all this leaf stuff will be for nothing. Besides, this will be a better use of my time than sitting under a cloak all day."

Peter considered this for a moment, then shrugged and hurried out the portrait hole.

Branwen followed, close on his heels, but as her friend ran toward the Entrance Hall, she peeled off and slipped through one of the side doors. Yanking the Cloak from her school bag, she threw it over her head. There may not have been a rule against second-years strolling the grounds, but there was definitely one against heading straight for the Forbidden Forest, as she was now.

Branwen followed the footpath that led to Professor Kettleburn's cabin, where Care of Magical Creatures classes were held. She could see the shadows of flying creatures through the windows, moving against golden fire light. Outside, a stone paddock housed a combination of hippogriffs and mooncalves. A pale, tremulous Augurey perched in a large wicker cage, its mournful cry floating across the school grounds.

Augureys were said to predict rain, though this one couldn't tell Branwen anything she didn't already know. The day was a heavy and grey one. The landscape was draped in the same mist as the clouds that hung low and dense; the air already smelled of thunder and damp clothes.

The closer she got to the cabin, the louder the noises from the creatures in the yard became. Branwen darted toward the treeline. Having not taken the class yet, she had no way of knowing if there was a magical creature in there that could see through Invisibility Cloaks.

Soon enough, she was so far within the trees that there was no longer any worry of being seen. She slipped the cloak off and balled it up into her bag, then pulled out a small butterfly net. At home, she used it to catch and release billywigs that wandered into the house. Based on the pictures she saw in Insects of the Muggle World, the moths should be about the same size.

The further Branwen walked though, the more she realised that her "plan" was essentially non-existent. Where does one even begin to look for a moth in a forest? She would rather have been presented with a haystack in which to find a needle.

She paused for a moment to collect herself and take in her surroundings. It was like something primeval; it may, in fact, have been primeval, existing in its current state, untouched by Muggle or wizard for thousands of years. The trees lofted into the sky, their peaks lost in the watery atmosphere. Cloud and fog became one, misting the forest in a grey, dripping veil. In the eerie silence, the water droplets that plopped from curling ferns and mossy rocks sounded like rushing waterfalls. Then a footstep sounded.

It wasn't just a footstep though. It was as if a herd of trolls were was crashing through the undergrowth. Branwen's heart began to race and her eyes darted around for a place to hide. She flung herself behind a boulder that could have easily been a small mountain, just before a voice carried over the noise of the steps.