Accio, Love!

The morning sun cast a pale golden light over the peculiar village, illuminating its cobbled streets and uneven wooden buildings. Hermione and Draco had risen early, driven by both necessity and curiosity. The scent of freshly baked bread drifted through the air, making Draco’s stomach growl audibly.

“First thing’s first,” Hermione said, tightening her grip on Tiny, who was perched on her shoulder. “We need food, and I need to figure out where to even start looking for the Snallygaster. It could be anywhere.”

Draco yawned, adjusting his traveling cloak. “Let’s hope this village isn’t as strange as it looks. Though, with our luck, it probably is.”

As they approached the nearest stall, a vendor—an elderly man with a wiry beard and a hunched posture—stood behind a small wooden counter laden with loaves of bread. Hermione offered a polite smile.

“Good morning! Could we get two of those, please?” she asked, pointing to the bread.

The vendor didn’t reply. Instead, he tapped the counter with a gnarled finger, drawing their attention to a wooden plaque with the price etched onto it. Hermione blinked, her smile faltering slightly.

“Oh. Right. Of course,” she said, fishing coins from her pouch. She handed over the money, but the man still didn’t speak. He slid the bread across the counter without a word or even a nod of acknowledgment.

Hermione and Draco exchanged bewildered glances.

“Friendly bunch, aren’t they?” Draco muttered, breaking off a piece of bread and taking a bite.

Hermione shrugged, tucking her loaf into her bag. “Maybe he’s just shy. Let’s see if anyone else is more… communicative.”

They walked further into the village, its eerie quietness becoming more pronounced with every step. The few villagers they encountered moved briskly, their faces turned down or away as though avoiding eye contact. Hermione stopped a middle-aged woman carrying a basket of herbs.

“Excuse me, we’re new here and could use some information,” Hermione began. “Do you know if there have been any unusual sightings around? Perhaps something related to a… Snallygaster?”

The woman’s eyes widened in alarm at the mention of the creature. Without saying a word, she hurried off, clutching her basket tightly. Hermione stood frozen in surprise while Draco raised an eyebrow.

“That went well,” he said dryly. “Next time, try opening with something less terrifying.”

“It’s not like I shouted it,” Hermione huffed. “Why is everyone so nervous?”

They approached another villager, a younger man leaning against a wall, smoking a pipe. Hermione gave him her most disarming smile.

“Hi! We’re just passing through and were curious about the area. Has there been anything unusual happening lately?”

The man hesitated, glancing around as though checking for eavesdroppers. Before he could answer, a distant rumble shattered the uneasy peace. The sound grew louder, accompanied by the rhythmic beating of wings. Draco and Hermione turned toward the commotion, their hands instinctively reaching for their wands.

A group of men rode into the village on hippogriffs, their arrival chaotic and intimidating. Their mounts’ claws clicked sharply against the cobblestones as the riders barked orders and laughed boisterously. They wore mismatched armor and carried crude weapons, giving them the appearance of mercenaries or bandits.

The villagers reacted instantly. Doors slammed shut, windows were bolted, and the streets emptied in the blink of an eye. Hermione watched in stunned silence as the young man she’d been speaking to darted inside a nearby building, shutting the door with a loud bang.

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” Draco said, his voice low. His wand was already in his hand, his expression sharp and alert.

Hermione’s mind raced. “Who are they? And why are the villagers so afraid of them?”

One of the riders dismounted, his boots thudding heavily against the ground. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a scar running down one cheek. His eyes scanned the deserted street before landing on Hermione and Draco. A slow, menacing smile spread across his face.

“Looks like we’ve got some outsiders,” he drawled. “What brings you two to our little corner of the world?”

Draco stepped slightly in front of Hermione, his tone clipped. “We’re just passing through. No trouble.”

The man chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. “No trouble, huh? Well, trouble has a way of finding strangers here.”

Hermione’s grip tightened on her wand. She could feel Tiny shifting uneasily on her shoulder, sensing the tension.

“We’re only here for supplies and information,” Hermione said evenly, trying to keep her voice steady. “We don’t mean any harm.”

The man’s smile widened. “Information, is it? Maybe we’ll have a little chat. Or maybe we won’t. Depends on how cooperative you are.”

The other riders laughed, their voices echoing in the silence. Hermione’s heart pounded as she exchanged a glance with Draco. The villagers’ fear made sense now, and it was clear that these men weren’t to be trifled with.

“Stay close,” Draco murmured to Hermione, his wand ready.

“I always am,” she replied, her voice barely audible.

The two stood their ground, prepared for whatever came next.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she took a step forward, wand in hand, and demanded, “Who are you, and what do you want with this village?”

The leader of the mounted group tilted his head, his scarred face twisting into a half-smirk. “Oh, we’re just some gentlemen collecting what’s owed to us. Call it… a village protection tax.”

“More like a bunch of thugs stealing from innocent people,” Draco snapped, his wand poised.

“Thugs?” the leader repeated, feigning offense. “We prefer the term entrepreneurs. And let me give you some free advice: meddling in our business is a good way to get yourselves hurt.”

Hermione’s grip on her wand tightened. She glanced at Draco, her mind racing. This wasn’t a situation they could talk their way out of.

“We’re leaving,” she said sharply, grabbing Draco’s arm. Before the leader could react, she spun on the spot, Apparating them away in a sharp crack.

They reappeared atop the rocky cliff where they’d stood the day before, the view of the valley below stretching out in all directions. Hermione stumbled slightly as they landed, letting go of Draco and pacing immediately, her nails biting into her lip.

“Granger,” Draco began, brushing dust off his cloak. “What was that about? We were perfectly capable of handling those…”

“Those were dangerous criminals,” Hermione interrupted, pacing faster. “You heard them! They’ve been terrorizing that village for who knows how long. They’re taking advantage of those people, and no one is standing up to them.”

Draco leaned against a boulder, crossing his arms. “So you decided to bring us here for a bit of hand-wringing? What’s the plan, Granger? Save the day with sheer moral outrage?”

Hermione spun to face him, her cheeks flushed. “I can’t just do nothing, Draco. Those people are terrified, and we’re their only chance. We have to go back.”

“You don’t even know how many of them there are or what they’re capable of,” Draco retorted. “Charging in blindly is going to get us killed.”

A deafening explosion echoed from the direction of the village, sending birds screeching into the sky. Hermione froze, her eyes wide with horror. The faintest trace of smoke began to rise over the treetops.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

Before Draco could argue further, Hermione grabbed his arm again. “We don’t have time for this. We’re going back.”

“Granger, wait—” But her determination was unshakable, and the world twisted again as they Disapparated.

The village was in chaos when they reappeared in the square. Buildings smoldered, villagers screamed as they fled into the alleys, and the mounted thieves wreaked havoc, tossing crates and setting fire to anything they couldn’t carry away.

“Merlin,” Draco muttered, his wand already drawn.

Hermione’s face was set with grim resolve. “We’re stopping this. Now.”

With a flick of her wand, she shouted, “Aguamenti!” A torrent of water shot from her wand, dousing the flames on a nearby cart. One of the riders turned at the commotion and charged toward them, his sword raised.

“Expelliarmus!” Hermione cried. The sword flew from the man’s hand, clattering to the ground. He was thrown from his hippogriff as the creature reared in panic.

Draco stepped forward, aiming his wand at another rider. “Incarcerous!” Thick ropes shot out, binding the man to his saddle. The hippogriff bucked wildly, and Draco muttered, “Relashio,” forcing the ropes to release the beast. The rider tumbled to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Nice one,” Hermione said breathlessly, her attention already on another target.

One of the thieves dismounted, his wand drawn. “Stupefy!” he roared, sending a red streak of light toward Hermione.

She dodged and retaliated with “Protego!” The shield absorbed the spell, and she countered with “Petrificus Totalus!” The man’s body stiffened and fell to the ground, rigid as a board.

“Granger, behind you!” Draco yelled.

She spun just in time to see a burly thief lunging at her with a dagger. “Impedimenta!” The spell struck him mid-step, freezing him in place.

Meanwhile, Draco had taken on two riders at once, his wand moving fluidly as he cast “Confundo!” Both men’s eyes glazed over, and they turned on each other, arguing and throwing punches. Draco smirked before stunning them both with a quick “Stupefy!”

A high-pitched scream cut through the noise. Hermione’s heart sank as she saw one of the thieves grab a small child, holding a knife to her throat.

“Nobody moves, or the kid gets it!” he bellowed.

The village square fell silent, the villagers frozen in fear. Hermione’s mind raced, her wand hand shaking. She took a step forward, but Draco’s voice stopped her.

“I’ve got this,” he said quietly, his voice steady. He raised his wand and aimed with precision.

“Expelliarmus!” The spell hit the thief’s hand, sending the knife flying into the air. The child wriggled free and ran straight to her mother, who caught her in a tearful embrace.

The thief turned to Draco, fury in his eyes. But before he could react, Hermione hit him with a stunning spell, knocking him unconscious.

The square was silent for a moment, save for the crackling of dying fires. The remaining thieves, seeing their comrades defeated, mounted their hippogriffs and fled, disappearing into the sky.

Hermione and Draco stood in the center of the destruction, their wands still raised. Slowly, the villagers emerged from their homes, their faces a mix of relief and awe.

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked the mother, who clutched her child tightly.

“Yes,” the woman sobbed. “Thank you. Thank you both.”

Draco exhaled, lowering his wand. “Well, that was exhilarating.”

Hermione turned to him, a small smile breaking through her exhaustion. “You were amazing back there. The way you disarmed him…”

Draco smirked. “Just doing my part. Though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make a habit of dragging me into these situations.”

She laughed, her first genuine laugh of the day. “No promises.”

As the villagers began to clean up and tend to the wounded, Hermione and Draco exchanged a look. There was still much to be done, but for now, they’d made a difference.

The tension that had gripped the village for what felt like an eternity began to ease as the last rays of sunlight dipped behind the distant hills. Villagers, emboldened by the defeat of their oppressors, emerged fully from their homes to gather in the square. It was the same place that had been a battleground only hours earlier, but now, it seemed to transform into the heart of a celebration.

The old woman who had fled from Hermione earlier in the day approached her now, her trembling hands holding out a basket of warm rolls. “Thank you,” she said, her voice wavering. “Thank you both for saving us.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed as she took the basket. “It was the right thing to do,” she replied softly.

Draco, standing beside her with his arms crossed, gave a small smirk. “I’ll admit, it’s nice to be appreciated for a change.”

Children ran circles around them, laughing and shouting, their earlier fear forgotten. The villagers began stringing up lanterns, their warm light casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets. Tables were pulled out from storage, laden with whatever food and drink could be spared. A few musicians appeared, conjuring up lively tunes that lifted the spirits of everyone present.

Hermione and Draco slipped away briefly to handle the remaining mercenaries. Together, they performed careful Obliviation spells on the unconscious men, ensuring they would have no memory of the village or its location. Draco added an extra flourish to one spell, making one of the mercenaries believe he’d spent the day as a beetle.

“What?” he said, noticing Hermione’s raised eyebrow. “It’s harmless fun.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re really on probation,” Hermione muttered, but there was a hint of a smile in her voice.

When they returned to the square, they found that their status had shifted entirely. The villagers were no longer wary of them but seemed eager to include the pair in the festivities. A group of children dragged Draco over to show him a game involving enchanted wooden tops, and though he protested at first, he soon found himself laughing as one particularly mischievous boy outsmarted him.

Hermione, meanwhile, was cornered by a group of women offering her steaming mugs of herbal tea. One of them, a stout, rosy-cheeked woman, leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “We heard you’re traveling together. Are you two…?”

Hermione choked on her tea. “What? No! No, we’re just colleagues.”

The women exchanged knowing smiles but said nothing more.

As the evening wore on, the village’s elder, a man with a silver beard and kind eyes, stood to address the crowd. “Tonight, we celebrate not only the defeat of those who tormented us but also the bravery of these two strangers who risked their lives for our sake. Let us show them the true spirit of our home.”

The villagers cheered, and Hermione felt her chest swell with emotion. For once, it felt like her efforts were truly recognized and appreciated.

Later, as the festivities wound down, the same elderly woman who had sold them bread that morning approached Hermione and Draco with a twinkle in her eye.

“Come with me, dears,” she said, beckoning them to follow. “You’ll need a good night’s rest after today.”

She led them to the small inn they’d stayed at the night before. But when she opened the door to their room, Hermione’s eyes widened. Gone was the cramped space with its single sagging bed. In its place were two neatly made beds, separated by a modest bedside table. The room was clean and cozy, with soft blankets folded at the foot of each bed and a gentle fire crackling in the hearth.

The woman beamed. “I used a bit of magic to improve it for you. I hope it’s more comfortable now.”

Hermione turned to her, her voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you so much. This is lovely.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Well, it’s certainly an improvement. Though I was starting to get used to the charm of the old setup.”

The woman chuckled. “Good night, you two. Rest well.” She left, closing the door softly behind her.

Before heading to bed, they joined the elders by the fire in the square. He had promised to share the story of the village, and a small crowd gathered around to listen.

“Our village,” he began, “is called Hallowmere. Many years ago, it was a haven for witches and wizards seeking refuge from persecution. We thrived in our seclusion, hidden by enchantments and protected by our own.”

He sighed, his eyes clouding with sadness. “But times changed. When the enchantments began to weaken, outsiders found us. At first, it was travelers seeking shelter. Then it was merchants, bringing goods from the outside world. But eventually, it was those who sought to exploit us.”

Hermione leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Is that how those men found you?”

The elder nodded. “They came claiming to offer protection, but their true intent was extortion. We had little choice but to comply, hoping to avoid their wrath. But with each visit, their demands grew.”

“Why didn’t you fight back?” Draco asked.

“We’re farmers and craftspeople, not warriors,” the elder replied. “And their numbers were great. We feared that resistance would bring destruction upon us all. But you two have shown us that we do have strength when we stand together.”

The villagers murmured in agreement, their spirits bolstered by the day’s events.

As the night deepened, Hermione and Draco finally retired to their newly transfigured room. Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, gazing into the fire, her mind replaying the day’s events.

“What are you thinking, Granger?” Draco asked from his bed, his tone unusually soft.

She glanced at him, a faint smile on her lips. “That maybe this was worth it. Seeing the villagers happy, knowing they’re safe… it makes all the chaos feel worthwhile.”

Draco smirked. “You really are a Gryffindor, through and through.”

“And you’re not as bad as you pretend to be,” she shot back with a teasing glint in her eye.

He chuckled. “Don’t let that get around. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the fire lulling them toward sleep. For the first time in days, the air felt lighter, and the future seemed just a little brighter.

Morning broke over Hallowmere as Hermione and Draco prepared to leave the village. The events of the previous day still lingered in their minds, but the warmth and gratitude of the villagers had been a welcome respite. With their bags packed and Tiny nestled safely on Hermione’s shoulder, the pair began their journey once more.

“Well, that was eventful,” Draco said, his tone half-dry, half-sincere. “Let’s hope the next stop isn’t quite so… explosive.”

Hermione chuckled softly. “It’s not every day you liberate a village from mercenaries. Besides, we’ve got a Snallygaster to find.”

The pair were just passing the last houses when a voice called out behind them.

“Wait! Don’t go yet!”

They turned to see a man jogging toward them. He was the same man whose child Draco had saved during the attack. His face was lined with a mix of gratitude and determination, and he carried a small leather satchel slung over his shoulder.

“You two saved my daughter,” the man said, slightly out of breath. “I can never repay you for that. But maybe I can help you in another way.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, curious. “Help us?”

He nodded. “I overheard some of your questions yesterday. You’re looking for the Snallygaster, aren’t you?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”

The man smiled faintly. “Everyone around here knows the old stories. The Snallygaster’s lair isn’t far from here, deep in the Black Forest. I can guide you to it.”

Hermione’s excitement flared, but she tempered it with caution. “You’ve seen it? A real Snallygaster?”

“Not for many years,” the man admitted, his tone wistful. “And I can’t promise you’ll find one there now. But the lair is real, and I know the way.”

Hermione glanced at Draco, who shrugged. “It’s as good a lead as we’ve had,” he said. “And if he tries anything funny, well…” He tapped his wand meaningfully.

The man laughed lightly, unfazed. “I’m not looking for trouble, I assure you. Follow me.”

The Black Forest loomed ahead, its trees ancient and towering, their twisted branches forming a near-impenetrable canopy. The air grew cooler as they entered, and the sunlight filtered through in dappled patterns, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor.

Their guide moved confidently, his boots crunching softly on the underbrush. He spoke as they walked, his voice low and steady, as though sharing secrets.

“This forest has always been a mysterious place,” he began. “Centuries ago, it was teeming with Snallygasters. They were revered by the people here, considered guardians of the land. But over time, as the villages grew and magic became more hidden, their numbers dwindled.”

“Why did they leave?” Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Some say it was the encroachment of humans,” the man replied. “Others believe the Snallygasters simply went deeper into the wild, where they could remain undisturbed. But a few have always lingered here, keeping to their lair. Those who’ve seen them say they’re magnificent creatures, both fierce and wise.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “And you believe all this?”

The man smiled. “I’ve seen enough in my years to know that legends often hold truths.”

As they continued, he shared stories passed down through generations—of brave wizards who tamed Snallygasters, of the bonds formed between the creatures and those they trusted. He explained the importance of respect and patience when approaching a Snallygaster, how their sharp talons and fire-breathing abilities were matched only by their keen intelligence.

“If you’re lucky enough to encounter one,” he said, glancing at Hermione, “remember that trust is earned, not given. They’ll know if your intentions are pure.”

Hermione nodded earnestly. “Thank you. This is invaluable information.”

Draco, meanwhile, muttered under his breath, “Great. Now we have to impress a fire-breathing lizard.”

Hours passed as they ventured deeper into the forest, the trees growing denser and the air heavier with an ancient stillness. Finally, they emerged into a clearing. The ground sloped downward into a wide, rocky depression, surrounded by towering cliffs and jagged boulders. At its center was a yawning cave, its entrance framed by moss-covered stones and faintly glowing runes.

The man stopped at the edge of the clearing, his expression reverent. “The lair of the Snallygaster,” he said simply.

Hermione took a step forward, her breath catching as she took in the sight. The cave radiated an aura of power, as though the very air around it was charged with magic. She could feel it thrumming beneath her skin, a subtle yet undeniable energy.

“It’s incredible,” she whispered.

Draco stood beside her, his wand in hand. “I’ll admit, it’s impressive. But I’m not seeing any Snallygasters.”

“They may not be here now,” the man said, “but this place is sacred to them. If you’re patient and respectful, perhaps one will reveal itself.”

Hermione turned to thank him, but he was already walking away. “Wait,” she called, stepping after him. “Thank you for…”

Her words trailed off as she realized he was gone. The forest swallowed him whole, leaving no trace of his presence. Hermione blinked, puzzled, then turned back to Draco.

“Did you see where he went?” she asked.

Draco shook his head. “He’s probably just as mysterious as this forest. Typical.”

Hermione glanced once more at the trees before focusing on the lair ahead. Her heart raced with anticipation, and she knew that whatever lay inside, this was a moment she had been waiting for her entire life.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice steady.

Draco smirked, twirling his wand. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

Together, they stepped forward into the unknown.

The cave interior was vast and dimly lit by bioluminescent moss that glowed faintly along the walls. As they ventured deeper, a soft sound reached their ears—a low, rhythmic humming, almost like a lullaby. Hermione froze, her eyes widening.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered.

Draco nodded, his grip tightening on his wand. “Sounds like we’re not alone.”

They turned a corner, and there, nestled in a hollow surrounded by golden straw and glimmering crystals, was a mother Snallygaster. Its leathery wings were folded protectively around a smaller, younger Snallygaster that nestled against her. The mother’s scales shimmered like molten silver, her talons clicking softly against the stone as she shifted to look directly at them.

Hermione’s breath caught. “She’s… beautiful.”

Draco glanced at her nervously. “Beautiful and potentially deadly. Don’t forget that part.”

“Trust is earned, not given,” Hermione murmured, repeating the guide’s words. She took a step forward, keeping her wand lowered but ready. The mother Snallygaster watched her, its glowing eyes sharp and intelligent.

Hermione moved slowly, drawing on everything the man had taught them. She extended her hand, palm up, and spoke in soothing tones. “We mean you no harm. We only wish to understand and protect your kind.”

The mother Snallygaster tilted her head, the tension in her body easing slightly. Hermione carefully reached into her bag and pulled out a small offering—a bundle of herbs known to be favored by magical creatures. She placed it on the ground and stepped back.

The creature sniffed the air, then lowered her head to inspect the offering. The young Snallygaster chirped curiously, its sharp claws scraping against the stone as it approached Hermione cautiously.

“Good,” Hermione whispered, a smile breaking across her face.

Draco stayed back, watching with a mix of awe and disbelief. “If she bites your hand off, I’m not helping,” he muttered.

Ignoring him, Hermione retrieved a small red cuff from her satchel. It was engraved with intricate runes, designed specifically to identify and track magical creatures without causing them harm. With slow, deliberate movements, she approached the mother Snallygaster and gently clasped the cuff around one of her legs.

The creature let out a low, rumbling sound—not of aggression, but of acknowledgment. Hermione wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve, her grin widening as she stepped back.

“That’s it,” she said, her voice trembling with exhilaration. “We did it.”

Draco stepped closer, his wand still at the ready. “You’re unbelievable, Granger. Absolutely mad, but unbelievable.”

The Snallygaster watched them for a moment longer before settling back into her nest, her protective gaze never leaving them. The young one chirped again, nuzzling against its mother.

Hermione turned to Draco, her grin uncontainable. “Task two: officially complete.”