[Avie Brocklehurst]

Avie stood on the shore of the lake with her arms folded. It was still September, and pleasantly warm even though evening was coming in. And yet despite the good weather, she was cursed... cursed with the stupidest owl that anyone had ever taken to Hogwarts.

She didn't know how Samson did it. He managed to fly between Nottinghamshire and Scotland without difficulty. But allow him out for a quick explore near the lake, and he had immediately gotten lost and not come back. She would have suspected he had done it deliberately, if she hadn't got his favourite snacks tucked in her pocket, that she knew he'd eyed up on the way down here.

The surface of the lake rippled gently in the evening breeze. Across the sky, shades of peach and pink were gently shading into a darker red. She wanted to make sure he was alright before she headed back up to the castle. Samson was an owl; it wasn't like the night would bother him, but he might be stuck or trapped somewhere. He might even have been foolish enough to get injured. Or eaten.

"Samson", she called, plaintively. The empty surroundings swallowed the sound with barely a murmur.

With a sigh, she started walking again. He had to be somewhere near the lake still. She would have seen if he has flown further away, so he must be close to the ground or in some foliage. The only thing for it was to walk around the lake until she found him.

[Harold Prendergast]

It was a pleasant enough evening, and Harold had taken the opportunity to go for a brisk walk about the castle grounds. Partially to think on events of recent times - his meeting with Dumbledore recently, but also the increasing reports he'd heard about anti-Muggle activity. Perhaps he should have another discussion with Professor Montgomery, it wasn't as if the two of them hadn't had some speculation about that in the past.

But, as he wandered about the grounds, that was of rather less concern to him. He'd seen Bubo fly off in this direction looking for mice - surely the castle was a better hunting ground? - and it had occurred to him that Bubo may have gotten the tiniest bit lost. After all, they'd only been at the castle for the last couple of years as professor and owl. He had sighed, loaded up a pocket with a bag of treats and set off in the direction of the Lake. Somehow that was where Bubo tended to get lost. Privately, Harold wondered if Bubo ever got confused by the water and seeing his own reflection, it wouldn't surprise him.

He was surprised to find Miss Brocklehurst wandering about the lakeside, calling for a Samson. It had to be some kind of pet - and if this far from the castle, presumably an owl.

"Miss Brocklehurst," he called, as he got a little nearer, "have you, by chance, also had an owl get waylaid by the lake instead of returning to you?"

The wind tickled and danced at the surface of the water. Despite the magnificently brilliant sky, the lake always seemed somehow hauntingly dour by comparison. It was perfect for reflecting on things, and somehow confusing owls.

"My owl came this way and I think he may have gotten quite lost. It, well, would not be the first time Bubo had gotten himself into a pickle."

[Avie Brocklehurst]

Avie had managed nearly three quarters of a lap of the lake, and so far there was no sign of Samson. Not even a feather. The wind was starting to take on an evening chill, and she was hovering midway between annoyance and worry.

The sound of her name made her jump, and she turned to see Professor Prendergast walking towards her across the grass.

"Oh! Hello Professor." She listened as he explained how he had also lost an owl with a slight frown. She was conscious that her face was slightly flushed from her trek around the lake, and tried to discretely tuck her hair back into some semblance of neatness.

"Well, Samson is often hopeless at getting lost." She said, with a note of apology for her attention-seeking owl. "But if your chap is missing too, maybe they're together?"

She chewed on one of her fingernails, then forced herself to stop. She needed to be calm. "Do you know, I don't actually know that much about the lake. Do you know anywhere that might be a likely spot for lost owls? Or should we just keeping heading this way and see if they're there?"

[Harold Prendergast]

Harold was scanning the sky around the lake, looking for either of the wayward owls. The night was drawing in - and while the evening was still pleasant, it wouldn't necessarily remain that way for long.

He had noticed the student had a rather more flushed face now that he'd gotten a bit closer - poor girl must have had quite the walk already looking for her owl.

"Your owl gets rather lost too? Goodness, I thought it was just my Bubo that was adrift when it came to navigation." He smiled, slightly awkwardly. "But yes, perhaps they are together. Bubo has shown a propensity on occasion to see another owl and follow it, seemingly on the theory that if the one he's following knows where it's going, he'll get where he's going too. It, uh, unfortunately does not work for Bubo quite as often as the little one might like."

Harold was still scanning the sky - hoping that they shouldn't have to go into the Forbidden Forest. It was not his favourite location as a resident of Hogwarts. Too many things lurked in the shadows, and there were rather more shadows in which for things to lurk.

"As for where they ended up, I should rather imagine one or both owls has gotten sidetracked and ended up in the forest. Of course I shouldn't need to remind you that the forest is out of bounds to students, but it shouldn't be a problem if the two of us go together.. Does your owl - Samson did you say? - like to catch mice? The forest is full of tasty treats for owls, and from here, it's quite possible they wouldn't hear us calling."

He paused, taking one good look around him. "Of course, if you should happen to find a feather, that might simplify our search dramatically."

He wasn't worried for Bubo, as such. He just would prefer Bubo to be back in the tower as the night was drawing in. He could only imagine, though, the worry that his companion had. Still, he remained confident they would locate both owls and take them home to the castle before too long.

[Avie Brocklehurst]

Avie nodded at the Professor's explanation. It would make sense for the owls to have gone from the lake to the forest. There was a little dip in the landscape heading out towards the Forbidden Forest that, if Samson had stayed low, he could have just about made it without her noticing. She hadn't thought of it because, well, the forest was forbidden. She'd never been in it, or even that close to it, during all her time at Hogwarts.

"Oh yes, Samson is a champion mouser." She smiled, trying to look confident. The sort of student that could walk into the Forest without issue. "Voles, too. I think he'd eat a Pygmypuff if left unattended."

She looked towards the Forest, its branches dark and imposing. "If you think it's ok, Professor, that seems like the sensible place to look."

With a nod, she headed towards the Forest. The sun was only a thin crescent of red-orange above the horizon now, and its thin light didn't make it past the first layer of trees. Gloomy shadows seemed to reach out to grasp at her.

Avie swallowed. This no longer seemed like nearly so good an idea as it had by the balmy lake. She opened her mouth to say that she has changed her mind, when suddenly she noticed something. Stuck in one of the bramble-like branches was a feather. A long, fat, owl feather.

She plucked it up, and produced it to Professor Prendergast. "Look, Professor! Like you said - a feather! They must have come this way." Her excitement, quick as it had come, turned cold. "It's... I think it's Samson's. He's grey with black markings, and this..." she turned the feather over to show the monochrome speckles.

She took a step into the wood, past its darkened boundary. There were a few more feathers, scattered around a trio of trees. As she went to pick them up, there was a muffled screech from deeper in the wood. She looked up at Prendergast, horrified. "That... that sounded like an owl."

She screwed up her courage, pushing down the space that was urging her to think about all the horrible things that might happen, and ran into the Forbidden Forest

[Harold Prendergast]

He could sense that Miss Brocklehurst wasn't thrilled at the thought of going into the Forbidden Forest. Truth be told, neither was he, but he at least was prepared for things he knew were inside the Forest and had a litany of spells to help along the way that Miss Brocklehurst might not.

Harold watched as she picked a feather off one of the brambles and suggesting it might be her owl's. Not the right pattern or size for Bubo's, though. Then there was a screech - and Miss Brocklehurst said something before shooting off into the Forest proper.

Oh, Merlin, he thought. "Miss Brocklehurst, please come back!" But even as he called, he suspected it would do no good - the fear of her dear owl being injured was too strong for her to ignore, it seemed.

Harold made sure to take one of the feathers, studying it for just a moment. Definitely not one of Bubo's, he noted, then sent up a shower of blue and bronze sparks to alert anyone who might be passing, before making a beeline after her - assuming he found Avie, he could always cast a quick Avenseguim to track the feathered friend once he knew that she was safe, that had to be his priority.

While it was approaching twilight outside the forest, the haze of the canopy left a more menacing, darker look to what was left of the day. He stopped, trying to get his bearings, and cast a quick Lumos to get some light. It wasn't entirely a welcome move within the Forest; many things dwelt there that preferred the darkness and especially detested uncanny brightness.

"Miss Brocklehurst!" he called, "Avie! Where are you?" Unfortunately he only had a feather from her owl, not anything of hers, so tracking her was a little more difficult. Harold stopped, seemingly at a small clearing in between clumps of trees, and no way to know where Avie had gone.

"Oh, Merlin," his voice said, rather unconsciously. Holding his wand in his right hand, his left hand's fingers started doing some odd gesture, like he was turning pages, except no book, no pages. "Aha, yes!" The spell he had been thinking of sprang into focus in his mind.

With a deft wave of his illuminated wand, he spoke with a stern, authoritative voice, much more so than his usual teaching tone, while fixing the image of Avie Brocklehurst in his mind. "Homenum Revelio!" He hoped Miss Brocklehurst would not be too distressed by the sensation, but he needed to find her - urgently.

A marker appeared in his field of vision - to the left, and off he went, calling for Avie as he did. There was another screech, it seemed to be in the direction he was headed, briskly at that.

[Avie Brocklehurst]

Avie ran through the woods, heedless of the tree branches slapping at her arms and brambles tearing at her trousers. The path in front of her vanished into a mess of undergrowth, but she kept on. A second, horrible screech went up, seemingly in the direction she was going.

Abruptly, the forest opened out into a small clearing. She stumbled at the suddenly uneven ground, almost putting her foot down a large rabbit hole. Staggering, she looked around.

On the other side of the clearing was a squat, ugly looking creature, maybe a metre tall, with grey-ish skin and a scarlet hat jammed on its nobbly head. In one hand it held a rock, dark with some sticky liquid. In the other, it had grabbed hold of one of Samson's large, feathery wings, and was attempting to pin him down as it hit the owl repeatedly with the rock. Samson looked dazed, if an owl could look so, and was flapping his free wing about in a feeble gesture.

"Samson!" Avie gave a yell, and leapt across the clearing towards her beleaguered owl. But as she did so, a second of the ugly things appeared from one of the holes in the ground, and pummelled her in the side with a rock of its own. She fell sideways, landing on the ground with a thud.

[Harold Prendergast]

Harold was following the marker - it wasn't overly clear, as the spell was one he'd never had much cause to practice, but it seemed to be doing the trick at this immediate moment, and the commotion was getting louder before he emerged into a clearing where he had caught up with Miss Brocklehurst.

And, it would seem, a Red Cap or two. He'd seen them, or rather pictures of them at any rate, in his textbooks for Defence Against The Dark Arts many years ago, but he didn't remember ever actually seeing one in the flesh. If he had, it would have been under close supervision, and the right spell to use wasn't coming to mind.

Still, they were mostly harmless to wizards because wizards had choices the muggles didn't, such as a well placed blasting charm.

"Confrigo!" he called, pointing his wand at the shrubs behind the Red Cap that had attacked Avie, which knocked it over. He pointed his wand at the one wielding a rock above Miss Brocklehurst's owl and was about to do something - whether to disarm the thing or knock it backwards, he hadn't quite decided, when out of nowhere came Bubo, swooping at the Red Cap, claws very much set to attack and he managed to snatch the rock out of the Red Cap's grubby, stubby hands.

Harold would have laughed and cheered but as Bubo flew up into the trees, Harold rather found the Red Cap turned its attention to him - and it was not pleased.

[Lincei]

Lincei had been studying the stars, listening to the elders of his village. They were bright tonight, and yet it did not seem to him - or, for that matter, his elders - as though the day had a date with destiny. It was more that, today, the stars had decided to shine more brightly because, for want of a better term, they wanted to. Sometimes one can walk abroad with a renewed sense of finery and to simply enjoy the journey.

Similarly, the stars can journey across the sky in splendour and have no more to say than simply 'we are here and we are made of starstuff', and that could be enough.

But the stars being brighter always left Lincei restless; in his mind, this was not a lesson he had taken entirely to heart, and the stars being brighter was a message, if only it could be understood. It was a sign - but with no clarity as to what, but then the stars were always obscure in their meaning if not their brilliance and wisdom.

He resolved to take a tour around the edge of the forest while the last pangs of daylight were still there, in that hour where the sun still shines but the stars come to join them.

To the south, toward the lake, there were unfamiliar screechings. He had travelled around much of the forest as the young enthusiastic centaur he was, headstrong and determined, and learned many of the sounds of the forest, of the things that dwelt there - both the things to be embraced and the things to be feared. The many legs, in particular, to be avoided, though they had what was tentatively an arrangement.

But the screeching was unusual. It sounded to Lincei's ears as though owls were hooting but the owls rarely came into the forest - most of them stayed at the school where they were well cared for and well fed. He appreciated that about the school; the two-legs generally looked after the creatures in their care. He even understood one of the two-legs actually taught the students how to look after animals. It had been a teaching that perhaps not all of the two-legs were to be distrusted.

Taking his crossbow in hand, he galloped through the forest for the source of the noise - it was not long before he found it: those loathsome, bothersome miniature toadstool two-legs. And a youngling and an injured owl. And Prendergast. Prendergast was here.

At the sight of the centaur the first Red Cap began to shrink back... and Lincei aimed his crossbow and loosed a bolt, just in front of the Red Cap's feet. "The next one will pierce you. Go."

He waved the Red Cap away as the short stubby creature prodded his friend and both scampered off into the undergrowth.

"Prendergast. Are you and the youngling well? You should perhaps not have come - but the owl is injured. If you wish I can tend its wounds."

Suddenly a little conscious, he turned to the youngling. "Do not be afraid. I, am Lincei. Prendergast is a friend to me, and you are safe in my presence."

[Avie Brocklehurst]

Avie pulled herself up from the ground, a smear of peaty dirt across her cheeks and in her hair. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of the rugged-looking centaur standing high above her, wielding a fearsome crossbow. It was at least not pointing at her. And he'd scared the forest monsters away. Avie gulped.

Samson gave a feeble hoot, his wing sticking out at an odd angle. He'd been dropped unceremoniously by the fleeing Red Cap, and had managed to right himself by a lopsided flap and a roll. She gently lifted her battered owl up from the ground.

She'd torn one of the knees of her jeans. In the time they'd been in the forest, the sun had slid low enough that the forest was blocking out the warmth, and her jumper was a bit thin for the drop in temperature.

It took her a couple of seconds to realise that it- he had introduced himself. And seemed to know the Professor. This has taken such a strange turn that for a few seconds she couldn't find any words.

"Uhh, hello, Lincei." She glanced sideways at Professor Prendergast, searching for reassurance from something slightly more familiar. "I'm... my name is Avie. Avie Brocklehurst."

Samson gave another plaintive hoot, and she shifted how she was holding him, trying not to put pressure on his wing. "If... if you can help Samson, that would be great. Do we... can you do it here, or do we need to go somewhere?"

She looked around her, realising she didn't know which way she had come from, and as such, didn't know the way back to the castle. The forest seemed to loom up and around her, closing in like the walls of a maze.

[Harold Prendergast]

"Lincei, it is quite the relief to see you." Harold didn't have to pretend to hide his relief; there were fouler things in the Forest than Red Caps and he would have driven them away readily enough but an ally in an unfriendly place was indeed most welcome.

He turned to the student, her clothes were torn in a few places, but nothing that a simple repairing charm couldn't fix, and he suspected it was within the skills of a sixth year - Miss Brocklehurst was a Ravenclaw, after all, and if he remembered correctly, rather astute at that. He seemed to recall she was proficient in both charmwork and transfiguration, and both would suffice for repairing clothes.

Though she was more concerned for her owl - it did seem to have its wing out at a rather awkward angle, poor thing.

Harold turned to Lincei, "Healing an owl's wing is a shade beyond my skill; is there anything you can do for the poor creature?" There was only sincere sympathy in his voice. He could, of course, take it back to the castle for one of the Care of Magical Creatures professors to take a look but it was hurt - quite seriously - and while Samson clearly had defiance in his heart, healing that wing would take a lot out of him for a while.

[Lincei]

Lincei stood still, eyes darting around for any other threats, but the forest seemed still in the edge of the night. One could never be too careful in the Forest, especially on an unsettled night as this. The stars were bright tonight, and clearly whatever message they were relaying, he was doing the right thing. He was where he should be, doing what he should be.

The immediate threat was passed, he could turn his attention to the youngling and the owl. The doughty little owl had righted itself despite its injuries. That was a good sign for strength of spirit - and of healing. He looked down, kneeling with his front legs to be nearer to where the owl rested in the youngling's hands. The wing was damaged but it should heal naturally. Though...

Lincei heard Prendergast say something, but as usual the two-legs used many words when few would do. Even his village elders were not so verbose. He seemed to be asking if the owl could be healed. Why could he not just say that?

The centaur stretched, grunting with the exertion, and looked about himself. "Yes, the owl will heal, though it will heal better with our assistance and some herbs. Athelas - kingsfoil in your tongue - will be of assistance here. If you will permit me to take your feathered friend to my village, I will attend to his wounds and send him back to the castle in a day or two once healed."

He looked stolidly at the youngling; she was brave for coming into the forest after her companion. Perhaps she was another like the youngling he had met previously, fierce of spirit, pure of heart, and stout of determination. Perhaps the village elders were wrong about the two-legs if all the younglings were brought up like this.

[Avie Brocklehurst]

Avie was still struggling to keep up with the conversation, overawed at having met a centaur. At Lincei's suggestion, she blinked.

"Take... Samson with you?" She looked down at her injured owl, who looked back up, eyes wide in his moon-shaped face. She gave his head feathers a quick ruffle.

Her reluctance and nervousness were writ plain in her stance, and the way she unconsciously pulled Samson a little closer towards her. But it would be a bumpy journey for him all the way back up to the castle.

"Um... I suppose." She moved a little closer to the centaur, holding Samson gently in front of her. She glanced sideways to Prendergast for some sign of reassurance.

[Harold Prendergast]

Harold listened with interest to the centaur's comments. Herbology had never been one of his strong suits, let alone its practical application with respect to caring for magical creatures. Herbs for healing had never been much of a consideration in his field of study as a result, but Lincei seemed to know what was best. It was evident that practical healing techniques for animal life within the forest was highly taught within the centaur village.

"Well, I rather think he will be able to help." Come to think of it, he had been quite able to explain to an eleven-year-old what he needed to treat his own wounds, including which herbs would be most helpful.

He wasn't sure if he sounded particularly reassuring, but the centaur's words were full of conviction - and Harold considered that Lincei spoke with the same sense of surety as Harold might in explaining some point of elementary arithmancy.

"I believe Lincei has spent many hours studying herbs and their uses, and that he can indeed help your Samson."

As if any further confirmation would help, Bubo came in for a landing in the vicinity of Harold's shoulder, overshot and was on course for a crash landing in a tree but Lincei appeared to have anticipated and caught the owl in a graceful move.

[Lincei]

Lincei could sense the doubt in the youngling's voice. She had bonded with her avian companion and he was an interloper.

She expressed her concern and fear, but the Prendergast said some words of reassurance. He had not expected to be defended or supported by a two-legs, though part of him was conflicted. The word of a centaur ought to be enough and part of his heart, not tamed by rational thought or the guidance of the heavens, took umbridge at the thought of needing the endorsement of a two-legs. But the two-legs were complicated, he thought, and the Prendergast was not defending a centaur to another centaur, but to another of the two-legs. If the situation were reversed, Lincei could see how it may very well be different. He hoped the Prendergast would not meet his village, for it would be unlikely to end well - even if the two-legs was more decent than his village taught.

"It is true, herb lore is taught at length amongst my people; the forest is our home, we attend to the needs it has and of those who reside within, and it attends to our needs in return."

Just as he said this, the other owl, copper coloured, had tried to land on the Prendergast's head but misjudged the distance and would have landed in a tree but Lincei caught the little owl deftly, extending his arms forward to lessen the impact when the owl would stop moving.

Unexpectedly, he laughed. "Little owl, you come bearing wings that glitter as if of fire, and yet sidetracked by the slightest of breeze." He turned to the Prendergast. "Your companion is much like you, very much not what he seems on the outside, but valiant of heart and willing to rise to meet the occasion." With a move, he let the little owl free, unharmed, to attempt the landing a second time.

He turned back to the girl. "I would be glad to look after Samson, if you would permit me. A stout name for a stout companion. If not, I shall send a parcel of the herbs you might need." Lincei had learned - with difficulty - that accepting help from strangers was sometimes harder than it ever seemed it should be, and that the folly and indiscretion of youth sometimes disagrees with what should be, but that it is not meant as insult. He vowed to himself that should the girl refuse, that it was not out of malice but insecurity, and that he would work on believing in the best of those he met.