Season of the Goddess

.xOoOx.

Author's notes: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! They keep me going despite my busy schedule!

This chapter is still the second part of chapter three. Chapter four is coming out next! This chapter is unbeta-ed so there will be grammatical errors and spelling mistakes.

.xOoOx.

Three

A Hidden World

Part 2

.xOoOx.

Hogwarts, September 1975

"So you're telling me," Frank Longbottom said, the hint of incredulity in his voice rising with each word that came out of his mouth, "that that wiggentree," he pointed at the aforementioned tree standing innocently a few feet from where they were kneeling and tending to the bed of molies with a look of utter disbelief, "told you that Filch is having a love affair with a ghost?!"

"By the name of Lachina Horne, yes," Hermione laughingly nodded as she glanced up at her work. "I looked her up — she was the daughter of Janet Horne*, a witch who was executed for witchcraft in Scotland. Lachina had managed to escape, but apparently, her guilt over her mother's death was too much to bear and she drowned herself in a lake."

The seventh year boy could only shake his dirty blond head, brows pinched in perplexity. "I don't know what's more amazing — the fact that Filch has romantic liaisons, with ghosts no less, or that you got this information from a tree!"

"Trees are horrible gossips," Hermione agreed with a laugh.

The wiggentree's branches rustled its branches before them, its leaves shaking unnaturally, and Hermione got the impression of it huffing and harrumphing, unamused by her words. She was sure that if it could turn its back on them, it would have.

"Well, it's true!" Hermione stuck her tongue at it, sending off teasing impressions.

Frank turned to watch its odd behaviour and shook his head again. "I'll never get used to that."

The young witch beside him chuckled at his bemusement before they lapsed in companionable silence as they continued with their work, packing the freshly turned soil tightly around the newly planted molies that, unbeknownst to Frank, preened in delight between their hands. Their first assignment for Advanced Herbology, which they took together, was easy enough. All they needed to do was to grow moly flowers to their best and most potent condition so that it could neutralise even the most violent snargaluff. As projects went, the first stage of it wasn't the most difficult — it was just that growing molies required extra attention and constant care in order for them to grow to their most optimum condition.

...Wrangling with snargaluffs, however, will prove to be difficult, Hermione thought, though she did enjoy the challenge. When the molies were grown enough to be turned into a paste, they were to use it on the snargaluffs as a sedative so they could extract their pods from the trunks without trouble.

Having the unfair advantage of being able to communicate with different flora and fauna and having already gone through Herbology in her early years once before had quickly accelerated Hermione through the program, and Professor Sprout had kindly (and proudly) let her sit her OWLs for the class in her third year. But sentient plants were just as unpredictable as wild animals, and Hermione would rather she muscle down with cranky verdure than be bored out of her wits in class.

Thankfully, her teachers in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy had thought that same. They'd taken a leaf out of Professor Sprout's book and let her sit her OWLs for those classes last year, too. She would have asked to sit for her Potions, as well, but Slughorn wasn't the most subtle teacher. If Hermione showed more aptitude in class than was necessary, the old codger would no doubt draw too much attention to her than she would have liked.

Attention at Hogwarts in the 1970's was the last thing she wanted.

In fact, before Hermione had first left for Hogwarts, she had asked the Mother Goddess to do one thing for her: to cast a Notice-Me-Not enchantment on her, one that lasted until it was actively dispelled. The spell had allowed her to spend her Hogwarts years relatively unnoticed by people who weren't specifically looking for her, students and even teachers alike, so long as she didn't draw too much attention to herself. Hermione had then proceeded to actively spend most of those same years blending in. It had been difficult for her, at first, to refrain from answering every question she knew the answer to (and she knew them all, bragging aside), to refrain from showing the world just how bright she was (because she really was).

It had been difficult, but she knew exactly which period in Hogwarts' extensive history she was entering into, and staying quietly under the radar was tantamount.

Druantia had given her a questioning look at her unusual request but had acquiesced nonetheless. Whatever the Mother Goddess's plans were by insisting she return to Hogwarts, Hermione wanted to disrupt as little of her schoolmates' personal lives as possible; whatever the deity had cooked up for the Wizarding World was bound to be groundbreaking on its own, anyway. The Mother was, after all, not known for doing things by half-measures. Where did people think nature's merciless fury and ruthlessness come from?

Unfortunately, her plans to stay as unnoticed as a wraith had been foiled the moment she was paired with Frank Longbottom in their first year of Advanced Herbology together. Being the only fourth year in a class of sixth and seventh years had certainly piqued his interest. But it wasn't until they had to fend off a venomous tentacula together that Frank found out about her unique communication skills with vegetation, and she'd been blown from oddly smart fourth year to interesting Herbology prodigy with enviable talents. And to a boy who would rather spend his free time in a garden, it was definitely high up on his Thing to Notice List.

Hermione hadn't meant to strike a friendship with him, but nothing forged a stronger bond between two individuals like surviving a man-eating plant together. And so, Frank became the only exception, outside of Taran and Lucine and a handful of teachers, who could consistently see through the enchantment woven over her. Besides, Frank reminded her so much of Neville that being in his presence always felt like a balm to her injured soul.

"Do you think —" Frank started as he dug another hole in the flowerbed when a commotion echoed through the greenhouse.

The duo looked over to the entrance just in time to see a group of boys tumbling inside the greenhouse in a mess of laughter, flying robes and gangly limbs.

Hermione's blood froze in her veins at the sight of them.

"Oi, Longbottom!" one of them called out as he stepped out of the shadows that shrouded the main entrance and into the sunbeams filtering through the transparent roofing. Sirius Black sauntered in with a cocky smirk, James Potter close behind him an equally self-assured grin pasted on his face. There were mischievous twinkles in their eyes that shone in through the streaming sunlight, their grins just as impish.

"Frank, my good man! Just the bloke we wanted to see!" James proclaimed grandly as he stepped forward with a grand sweep of his arms, complete with a flourishing bow.

Frank sent Hermione an amused glance before he turned to humour his fellow Gryffindors, a cynical eyebrow raised. "Potter. Black. What brings your...boisterous presence here this fine afternoon?"

James grinned, all charm and blinding white teeth before he launched into his spiel. "Longbottom, how would you like to be a part of a monumental prank on the Slytherins? The best we've ever done so far! In fact, it might go down as the best one in history!"

Frank shared another uncertain glance with Hermione, his tone sceptical. "A prank, huh? Pranks aren't really my thing, mate."

"But it's going to be brilliant!" Sirius interjected, his excitement so palpable he fairly bounced on his feet. "And we can't do it without you!"

James passed a cursory glance at Hermione, an unconscious action that imitated Frank's side glances, but he didn't seem to really register her presence. Sirius gave no indication that he noticed her kneeling by a patch of moly plants beside their fellow Gryffindor at all.

Hermione took a deep breath through her nose, and exhaled it with a soft breath, steadying her heartbeat. Of course, they wouldn't notice her, not with the enchantment she wore. She had made a conscious effort to never cross paths with the Marauders since her school years at Hogwarts began, and her enchantment had made it easier to pass through their notice without incident.

It wasn't that she didn't have faith in Druantia's enchantment, but it wasn't infallible either. While she'd learned to downplay her presence, she wanted to take the extra precaution with the Marauders. Her interactions with Frank had been a calculated risk, and she had comforted herself in the knowledge that he was already engaged to Alice Stretton and that her interactions with him were limited only to the Greenhouses. But the Marauders were wild cards. They were far too important in the grand scheme of things that she wanted to leave the original timeline as unscathed as she could. There were too many variables to consider if she didn't, especially when taking into account the Earth Mother's own plans for the Wizarding World.

Murmuring a quick goodbye to her friend, Hermione slipped around the boys before Frank could stop her, easily distracted by the two who were all but accosting him for his attention. She edged her way to the work tables, slipped off her dragonhide gloves, boots and bronze and blue gardening vest, picked up her bookbag and made a beeline for the exit. She passed by a lingering Pettigrew some distance behind the wildly gesticulating duo (something about bubotuber pus and flying projectiles). Like his friends, he gave no indication that he was aware of her hasty retreat, and her mouth turned down in distaste. Good.

The last member of their gang of misfits was lounging by the entranceway, and Hermione barely spared the lanky boy a glance as well, confident that she'd passed him, unseen like she always did.

Unbeknownst to her, however, where Moony was concerned — she was wrong.

.xOoOx.

Hermione found Taran and Lucine waiting for her at the entrance to the castle, as they usually did on the days she worked at the greenhouses and she smiled at the sight of them. Taran looked dishevelled, tie left askew around his neck, robes rumpled from his haste — no doubt from having raced over to their usual rendezvous point after his Duelling Club was done. Lucine, in contrast, looked more put together than the boy beside her, even though Hermione knew she'd also just come from whatever adventure she cooked up for herself that afternoon.

"Did anything exciting today?" Hermione asked them by way of greeting as she neared them.

Lucine's smile was as self-satisfied as the cat's that caught the canary. "Doxy-hunting, and it was highly successful, thank you."

Hermione blinked. "I... didn't even know there were doxies running around at Hogwarts," she commented after a beat, trying not to sound incredulous. She glanced at Taran who only shrugged, unperturbed, used to Lucine's peculiarities by now.

"There's an entire nest near Hagrid's pumpkin patch," supplied Lucine with an easy shrug of her own. "I managed to get several vials of doxy venom to add to Ilyn's streeler treats. He loves the added flavour."

Ah.

Ilyn, of course, was a carnivorous Afanc who lived in the lake in Elaindale. It was...a very strange friendship, indeed.

"Well, I hope they didn't feel too harassed," Hermione finally said with a dry smile. She never did know what to make of her friend's unusual proclivities, much as she was fond of the girl. Indeed, in this lifetime, Lucine was her best friend.

"Harassed?" Taran interjected with a smirk. "Try terrorised."

"Or traumatised," Hermione added in as an afterthought with a mirrored smirk, though she did wonder about the truth in her words. Those poor doxies...

The blonde scoffed, offended, the ribbing sliding off her as easily as a duck slipped through water. "Doxies need their venoms extracted, otherwise they start antagonising the bowtruckles."

And she was probably right, too.

"I don't think that's the point, Luce," the lone male in their trio commented wryly with a roll of his eyes, a look of fond exasperation briefly flashing through his face. Then he turned to Hermione, raising questioning brows at her. "Where's Frank?"

Hermione sighed and shrugged her bookbag higher up onto her shoulder. She brushed a stray curl out of the way, having just taken her hair off the haphazard bun she had wrestled them in. "He had visitors, so I left early."

"In the greenhouses? On a Friday afternoon?" Taran questioned, ever the sceptic.

"Well, they weren't there to help out with our project, that's for sure," she answered as she moved forward, silently getting their group moving inside the castle halls. "And the Duelling Club?"

Taran shrugged. "S'alright. Professor Flitwick is a nasty duelist, though." There was a hint of a whinge in his voice as he fell into step beside her, the frustration he felt whenever he thought of his long-standing defeat at the hands of their half-Goblin mentor bleeding out. "Duelling has too many rules that're useless in a real fight."

Hermione chuckled at the rare display of his bruised ego. Flitwick was a master duelist and was, in fact, once (or thrice) a Duelling World Champion. Taran, much as he excelled in physical and magical combat and strategy, would need a couple more years under his belt to beat that. She had no doubt, however, that Taran was the best fighter their age at Hogwarts at the moment. "You're just sore because you've never won against him."

"Mmhmmm," Lucine hummingly affirmed far too innocently at Hermione's right, innocent eyes wide and glittering. "Not once."

"And if I remember correctly, you've never won against Madoc, either," Hermione added, a finger tapping absently on her chin as she thought.

"Nope, never." The blonde beside her shook her head, sending her flaxen locks swaying with the movements.

Lucine shared an impish grin with Hermione, before both girls dissolved into a fit of giggles at the look that Taran gave them both; a glare that could have sent a herd of minotaurs running. The druid boy rolled his eyes in aggravation as he walked alongside them, though there was a faint lift of a grudging smile at the corner of his lips. Sometimes, he wondered if being stuck at Hogwarts with two mad wenches was worth it. He sighed; he should have just joined the scouting ranks.

They lapsed into companionable silence when the laughter subsided. They walked through the halls of the castle, already knowing where Hermione's feet were likely to lead her — the library.

Hermione basked in the contentment that filled her, undeniably grateful to be among good friends. Though they hadn't had life-threatening adventures together like she did with Harry and Ron, they had grown up together, been thrust into the unknown (at least to the two other druid children) Wizarding World together, away from the safety of their enclave and learned wizard magic together. No, they weren't bonds forged by necessity and survival, but she treasured their friendship all the same.

"It's the First Quarter Moon tonight." Taran broke through her thoughts with a murmur, low and suddenly serious, dispelling the silence around them though his words were only for their ears. "Are you sure you'll be okay out there?"

Hermione glanced up at her earnest friend and protector and gave him a reassuring smile. "Taran, I've gone into the forest almost every week for years now; I think I'll be fine."

The boy blew out a resigned breath and shook his head, longish copper locks flying, chagrined. "I shouldn't even be letting you go alone. Madoc is going to thrash my arse if he ever found out."

"Madoc isn't here," Hermione pointed out snidely, eyebrow lifting in a contrary fashion. "He isn't the boss of me, and neither are you."

"He isn't the boss of the centaur herd either," Lucine added helpfully with a serene smile. "And neither are you."

"Our job is to protect her, Lucine. She's always out there on her own and we shouldn't be letting her out of our sight!"

"She can also take care of herself, you know." Hermione rolled her eyes, though there was no real heat in them. They've had this argument over and over again every time she had to go do the Ritual within the confines of centaur territory, one that she had to do alone. Taran's protests were nearly a ritual in and of itself. "In fact, out of all the places here, I might actually be the safest in the Forbidden Forest."

Lucine hummed in agreement, smile comforting in its tranquillity. "The forest will watch over you. And so will I."

Taran sighed, managing to sound aggravated and resigned all at once in one spot, defeated this night. "Fine. But don't let her out of your Sight!"

.xOoOx.

*Janet Horne - the last woman to be tried and executed legally for witchcraft in Scotland and the British Isles. Lachina is an OC, but Janet did indeed have a daughter who escaped the trial and execution.