Hi. I am Hallowed Aegis. A few notes on the story at hand:

I originally set out to write something very different then what I ended up with here. I usually try to avoid adding a whole new cast of characters; my earliest attempts years ago came off trite and like the I was trying to insert myself into the story. This is especially true of situations where the main perspective is an original character. Recognizing this, I steered clear of this method for years. However, every time I wrote my first go around, I found myself talking about Albus and Rose with the same voice I would use for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. So I made the call to make a new character to stir up some very different interactions. This delayed my actual debut by about three months. That being said, I think it made me a lot more aware of how I write, what bad habits I have, and how to challenge my preconceived notions about the process.

I will be totally honest when I say I am still changing a few things around. This was not my original plot, and I'm still fine tuning a few things. For example, the entire opening has been changed since the story was first published. It was boring and it made later introductions awkward. So I bit the bullet, admitted the first chapter was a flop, and changed. That being said, I see this as being a long story, hopefully with editions for third and fifth years. Because of that, I really tried to take some time up front to establish the character lens. So please, don't be discouraged by the slow reveal of more familiar characters. We will get there, and (hopefully) it will be better for it.

I really do appreciate any feedback. As I mentioned, this was not my original plan and I'm using a story telling method I'm not entirely familiar with. If you will all be my teachers, I'm sure the writing and story telling will get much better :)

I own absolutely none of JKR's fantastic work. I do, however, claim ownership of my own original creations. I hope you enjoy. Comments, suggestions, predictions, and discourse are always welcome.

Happy reading!

~H*A~

Chapter One: A Sudden Drop & A Short Stop

She was six years old again, playing on the floor of her childhood home. Her father, tall and handsome, was sitting nearby, baubles of light blossoming from him wand languidly for her to chase. She ran, giggling madly. In the garden, framed in sunlight through the gauzy curtains and open French doors, her mother watched affectionately. She waved a hand, urging the baubles back, forming a glorious cyclone of soft gold.

And then, ever as always, something changed. The warmth vanished from her mother's wide grey eyes, leaving emptiness. Her steps were jerky, limbs stiff as she moved towards the child with awkward, lumbering steps. Pruning sheers were held without the earlier ease, long blades yawning toward the little girl.

The child stepped back, ears twitching in confusion. Her mother had never done this before. Was it a new game? She hovered on the threshold, uncertain.

Something flickered in dead grey eyes, and her mother hunched over, convulsing. Veins stood out in her neck, and spittle frothed and bubbled at the corner of her wide mouth. The little girl was anxious, about to call for her father, when it happened. The jerking ceased, and her mother, her beautiful, loving, brilliant mother, closed the sheers on her own neck, dropping like a stone a moment later.

Everything shattered. The child screamed, the grass now slick and turning black under the limp form. Something was emerging through the tall hedgerow. A man, broad shouldered but whippet thin, with hollow, mad eyes and heavy lank hair. In his hand, he held a wand. Gesturing, the body of her mother began to move.

And then, her father was there, blasting the man and corpse back, scooping her up in his arms, dashing inside, across the room, up the stairs, and into the second floor parlor. The door sealed itself as he frantically searched for a jar. He paused for a full second, squeezing the breath from her lungs in a vicious hug. The girl heard a high-pitched wail above it all. It took her a moment to realize she was still screaming.

There was a crash down below, shaking the entire house. Her father kissed her forehead, pulled out a fistful of starry powder, and threw it in the hearth. Green fire soared in the chimney as heavy footsteps creaked on the stairs. The girl was shoved into the blaze, the verdant flames licking her form gently. As the door flew off its hinges, her father shouted, "The Homestead!" before sending a jet of green light at the form in the doorway. The child screamed as she was torn away, buffeted this way and that, only to be chucked out of the fireplace many miles away.

And then, it began again. And again. And again.

Thea Quinn jerked upright, a flash of pain in her ankle. Flailing madly, she scrabbled with the heavy down comforter, swearing as she slipped out of bed in a terribly uncomfortable manner with a most undignified thump. From considerably higher above, she saw a blurry form leaning into her face. Hastily blinking away sleep and cold sweat, she began to right herself. A long, soft snout nuzzled her shoulder, hot breath on her face. With still shaking hands, she reached up to stroke the thin-skinned creature.

"Thanks Tad," she said unsteadily. Glancing at her ankle, she it was bleeding sluggishly. Jagged teeth marked surrounded the entire limb. She whistled. "Must've been bad, for you to bite that deep," she murmured, wincing as she stood.

White eyes wide and contrite, the animal moved to support her, easing under the arm on her weakened right side. "'S alright, Tad," she said soothing, combing tangles out of the thestral's mane. "I'm not mad, honest. I could've been trapped in there for hours if you hadn'tve been here."

Hobbling to the window, she let in the watery dawn light, looking about for what had caused the memories to return. On her nightstand, the phial normally filled with silvery vapors had tipped, the stopper sitting idly a few inches away. From there, it would have been a small thing for the thoughts to attempt to return to the initial host.

Easing into her rocking chair, Thea sat with her head in her hands, waiting out the last of the horrors. In reality, she hadn't lived the moment on a constant loop. Her father had sent her to her grandparents home in Kent. She could see it in her minds eye, her grandmother surging to her feet and sweeping her away from the fireplace, fine china shattering on the gleaming oak floors. She remembered the long-fingered hand that had surged the flames after her, seeking and grasping. While her grandmother had lunged for her wand, her tiny, wizened grandfather, his batlike ears rigid and large silvery eyes as cold as she had ever seen them, merely raised a hand in a warding gesture. With a clang that made her teeth ache, the hearth had gone out, two bloody fingertips all that remained of the attacker that had left her world in ruins.

They never did find her father's body. While it was entirely possible he was dead, it was also likely that he had been enslaved. It really made no difference to Thea. He was gone, as gone as her mother after she had slammed the sheers through her own throat to save her child.

She stayed hunched over for a while, shivering in the cool air. She was a most intriguing figure, now swathed in a thick afghan with brightly patterned daisies crocheted around the not exceptionally tall, she was strongly built, broad shoulders obvious even as they twitched, adrenaline seeping out of her frame. Her large, almond shaped eyes were a clear grey, now shuttered and cold. Her hair, her best feature when not creased into the side of her face, was radiant, with thick waves spilling out from underneath her knitted mantle, slightly pointed ears poking through the weave. A thin, rather unfashionably long nose split her face in two, over a steady mouth and an entirely stubborn chin. While she would obviously never be beautiful, it was equally apparent that her looks, should she ever grow in to them, would be striking.

Watching her hands, pleased to see the shakes recede at last, she sat up slowly, looking about the room, considering a better location for the phial. IThough hardly deep enough for a bed, the entire room looked as if it had been stretched sideways, with high, airy ceilings helping to balance the tunnel like effect. To one side of her bed stood a small but serviceable washroom. On the other, the room extended to accommodate an assortment of furniture, including, a large desk a bureau, an overstuffed chair, and several bookcases. Posters, both moving and still, hung from the walls. A miniature brass cauldron, burbling most determinedly, sat on the large windowsill. The most interesting of these, however, was a large, far bookcase. While the lower shelves were filled with titles, newspapers, and other tchotchkes, The top shelf had been left almost entirely bare, save for a moving picture. The people in the image, a man and a woman, smiled broadly, waving and blowing kisses when not focusing on a tiny, daisy-encased figure in the woman's arms. Yes, that would do nicely.

Holding the phial in one hand, she went to the mirror, seeing the thick, cobweb substance mixed in with her hair. Lifting her left hand, she made as if to pinch it from a distance. Her brow furrowed, and sweat broke out on her upper lip. Excruciatingly sluggish, the vapors pulled away, a silvery, memory based molasses.

At last, she collected them all inside the tube. Placing it on the top shelf next to her parent's photo, she sat down again, breathing heavily. Though not yet a wand carrier, her grandfather's heritage allowed her a small amount of magic and control. Still, it was always a taxing, painful experience.

Through this entire display, the thestral had been silent. Now he warbled softly, lipping her pajamas worriedly. She had just managed to tie an awkward bandage about her ankle when a voice floated up through the floorboards.

"Amalthea, get down here! We've loads to do this morning before Olympe picks up Phillipe!"

Sighing unhappily, Thea tottered to the wardrobe, scraped her hair back into a rough plait, dressed, and clambered down the ladder. Thaddeus exited through the open loft doors, relieved his task had been accomplished.

Below, Thea entered into a very strange shaped room. It was shaped rather like the intersection of a giant 'X', with four large rooms all connected to the center. Each of these rooms – a kitchen, a sitting room, a dining room, and an office – had a strange door in the wall, connecting to some large hall. In the center of it all sat Chloris Stewart. As was her habit, she was sipping her morning tea while dictating the day's schedule to three different StenoQuills simultaneously, barely pausing in her recitation to greet her niece.

"…I have the final touches to put on the moon calf fertilizer before we send it off, and Jobbernolls need to be preened for loose feathers, we're about due for a delivery to the Apothecary. The dittany should be ready to be harvested in two day's time, so we'll need to check that," she paused, drew breath, jerked her head in the direction of a hot cup of tea and eggs on toast, and continued. While Thea ate quietly, she heard her own schedule being mapped out.

"For Amalthea, there's the usual round of chores (at this point, the StenoQuill began to move with violent speed before awaiting the next command), and I need her to finish off that batch of Antidote to Common Poisons for me, then I think Gordon needs to be let out, the Gnomes just ruined the cabbages. She also needs to be sure to leave food out for Perry the Porlock, no sense in risking the herd because of laziness! Then I think she should take a look at the Grove, go take stock of how everyone is doing, and last but not least there is the Bundimun in Harold's stall that needs cleaning out. Make a special note to take extra supplies, it looks like it's started to breed."

At this Thea let out a gusty sigh. Her aunt, ignoring this standard expression of annoyance, proceeded to list off the other household items onto yet another list. After ten minutes or so, the StenoQuills gently floated down, and Chloris rolled her neck. Instantly, Thea applied to her.

"Do I really have to do the Bundimun? I hate cleaning those blasted things out, and I've had to do that last four! You said you'd take the next-"

"Well I can't," Aunt Chloris said briskly, rolling up the sleeves of her work clothes. "If you'd been more attentive, you'd have noticed that I specifically mentioned pruning the Venomous Tentacula today, and that'll be a job and a half. And no," she said, seeing her niece surge in her seat, "you can't do this one, it's one of our older plants. Far more vicious, and not the sort of thing a young witch ought to be messing about with. It's the Bundimun for you today, and that's final."

Thea sighed, kicking her ankles against her chair. Chloris, watching her niece in the mirror as she began to plait her gleaming black hair, softened ever so slightly. Tying a bandana around her head (and covering her large, slightly pointed ears), she tutted.

"Come on, chin up. The letter's bound to arrive any day now. The sooner you get back from all your work, the sooner post will have arrived. So go on, off you trot!"

Thea had finished adding extra straw to the moon calf bay when she felt a tingle up her neck. Sighing, she turned to find Thaddeus staring. Milky white eyes followed her, but his neck was bowed, and his tail drooped.

"I'm not mad, Thaddeus," she said gently, running her fingers through his mane. "I just wish you wouldn't pull me out of bed in the morning. A nudge'd work just fine, no need to steal the blanket!"

The spectral horse gave a soft, warbling cry, and straightened. She grinned, and he nudged her impatiently toward the end of the stable wing.

"I can't go out yet, mate. I've still got to go to the mews in Stable Three, and add logs to the Salamander hearth, and then I have to go take Gordon for a trot around the vegetable garden." At this, the Thestral gave an offended squawk.

"You can come too, of course," she added hastily. "Afterwards I just have to head over to the Grove, make sure everything's fine. We could play catch on our way back, how's that?"

Thaddeus ruffled his bat like wings, and butted his head against her chest.

"I'll hurry, I promise," she said earnestly. "Besides, I could use some company. Gordon's going to be absolutely foul, I know it."

Her prediction had more than come to fruition a half hour later, as she walked their resident Jarvey, Gordon, on a lead about the kitchen garden. Gordon, like all Jarveys, was spewing a disgusting assortment of curses and insults, making the walk a very instructive but verbally unappetizing exercise. He had managed to break away from her once, gleefully taking a large chunk out a Gnome's leg as he sought to disembowel it. Thankfully, Thaddeus had ushered him back, allowing Gordon's erstwhile prey to duck under the fence, dart through the hedges, and make a bid for safety.

Gordon was licking his teeth clean of the Gnome's blood and flesh with obvious relish while Thea railed against him, dusting off her dirt and grass streaked jeans.

"Honestly, you'd think we didn't feed you! The whole point of giving you all of Thaddeus' leftovers is so you don't go on some homicidal rampage! You don't need to eat them; you just have to scare them off! You lead a pretty cushy life here, Gordon, how'd you feel if Auntie turned you out in the cold?"

The oversized ferret was now cleaning his claws. "Bugger off, clunge."

Thea blushed to to the tips of her slightly pointed ears. This why by no means the worst Gordon had ever said to her, but it was close. Walking the Jarvey always resulted in these off color exchanges, but it was still uncomfortable at best. She struggled to think of a suitably heated retort.

Thaddeus had no such hesitation. The Thestral lunged, sharp teeth making an audible click a scant inch from the Jarvey's nose. Thea was almost bowled over as the Jarvey scuttled behind her, shrieking, "Bloody hell!"

"Alright Gordon, you keep your mouth shut or I'll let him at you. Understand?" Thea said fiercely. The creature nodded fervently, pulling at the lead towards the safety of its stable. Thaddeus limped along behind, ghostly eyes leveled malevolently at the retreating weasel.

Thea left the Jarvey in his pen, where he promptly burrowed under hay in the corner farthest from Thaddeus, who had settled himself just outside. The Thestral seemed determined to make an impression regarding manners, and indeed began making all sorts of warbles and shrieks, as if lecturing the errant Jarvey. Shaking her head at the thought of Thaddeus teaching any creature manners, Thea stopped by the supply closet, grabbed a bucket, and proceeded down the aisle towards the feed station. There, she ladled what looked like brown rice, with the exception being that this rice moved. Clamping a lid on the bucket, she made her way outdoors again, this time heading towards the western edge of the property. She took a peek over one of the hedges, and saw her aunt gamely pruning leaves off the large red thing, steadily working her way around the giant plant.

Thea continued down the dusty path, ducking under the far fence and entering into a quiet, shady grove. Trees of all shapes and sizes grew around her, tall trees, short trees, slender or gnarled trees. High in the branches, she saw bright points of light following her every move.

At the base of each tree, she dropped a handful of wood lice, watching out of the corner of her eye as a quick shower of twigs hit the ground, and began to move. These were the bowtruckles, guardians of the wand trees, and Thea's favorite part of living at Chloris' Forms. With the bowtruckles focused on the food, she took time to look them over, compiling a mental report for her aunt. After five minutes, they began to retreat to the trees, and Thea, satisfied, continued on to the last tree.

She stopped at the edge of the water meadow, which was blooming in an almost violent fashion. A riot of color had broken the surface of the green water, becoming a fanciful tapestry. At the edge, looming over the other trees, stood a proud, gnarled yew tree.

It was her favorite, having come from her parent's garden with her when she was six. It was also a testament to her first use of magic. Three weeks after she had moved in with her aunt, a brutal storm had blown in from the channel, threatening this last remaining link to her old life. She had gone to bed in tears, knowing the sapling would be broken when she awoke. The next morning, she woke, groggy and aching. She had stumbled haphazardly through the grove to find its remains, only to see a fully-grown yew in its place. Where the sapling had been, a thirty-year-old yew stood, hardy and immune to the elements.

Now, she stroked its trunk, and tossed an extra large handful of wood lice for the tree's bowtruckle. Her job finished, she sat at its roots, waiting for Thaddeus to arrive.

She looked up through the leaves, and sighed. As always when she was in the grove, she began talking. Aunt Chloris encouraged this behavior, saying that the more the bowtruckles became used to a person, the less fuss they'd kick up if the tree needed tending.

"Well let's see, everyone's accounted for. Owen of Rowan seems to recovering from the hail storm nicely, and Claire from Pear's grown a bit, she'll do nicely down the line," she said, rattling off the grove's occupants.

"And I know you're up their, Old Man Hugh," she called, opening one eye to look at the swaying branches above. "I can't leave until I see you, you know. Auntie insisted that I check on everyone, so don't you get your bark in a twist." Above, a shadow moved. Cautiously, a small twig like creature came into view, just long enough to be seen.

Thea stood, rolling her shoulders. She turned to rest her cheek lightly on the warm bark, breathing in the heady scent of the warmed wood.

"This might be the last time you see me. This season, I mean. Auntie says that my letter is bound to be delivered sooner or later, and that means I'll be off to school in no time. Then, who knows? I may not be back till next summer."

A rustling above made her look up, instantly suspicious. While the yew tree was her favorite, she had a healthy respect for its occupant, Hugh.

"Hugh, what on earth…?"

Abruptly, a hefty branch came plummeting earthward, aimed right at her head.