The deep stillness of the Great Wilderness was broken only by the occasional rustle of wind through the grass and the babbling brook. Hermione stirred in her tent, unable to fully drift into sleep despite being tired from the hiking.

  A faint glow flickered outside, visible through the thin fabric of her tent. Hermione sat up sharply, her heart racing. She slipped on her boots and coat, careful not to wake her parents, and stepped out into the crisp night air.

  The fairy circle beyond their campsite was glowing softly, its mushrooms now radiating a silvery light. Standing at its centre was a figure—tall and lithe, with an otherworldly grace. Their features were sharp yet beautiful, almost uncomfortably so, and their hair shimmered like moonlight cascading over water. Their eyes, rge and luminescent, fixed on Hermione the moment she emerged.

  "You stray near to the boundaries, Wanderer," the figure said, their voice carrying an almost musical quality.

  Hermione hesitated, unsure how to respond. The Fae—for surely that’s what this being was—regarded her with a calm yet unnervingly intense expression. Despite the power emanating from them, they didn’t appear hostile, only... curious.

  "Wanderer?" Hermione asked cautiously, gripping her wand tightly in her pocket. "Why do you call me that? Most Fae call people like me Wix."

  The Fae tilted their head slightly, their silver hair catching the moonlight. "You are not merely a Wix. You have traveled far, across boundaries and worlds. 'Wanderer' is a title for those who do not belong to this realm alone."

  Hermione’s breath hitched. The words struck a chord deep within her, stirring memories she hadn’t fully allowed herself to acknowledge. Memories of another life, another world, where the magical realm of the Fae was nothing more than a story in books.

  "I don’t know what you mean," Hermione said, her voice steady but her heart racing. "I’ve always been here."

  The Fae’s lips curved into a faint smile. "Have you?"

  Before Hermione could respond, her father’s voice broke the stillness behind her. "Hermione, what’s going on out here?" Dan Granger stepped out of the tent, his face lined with worry. When he spotted the glowing circle and the Fae, his expression shifted to confusion and arm.

  "Who’s this?" he asked, his tone sharp as he pced a protective hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

  The Fae turned their gaze to Dan, their eyes glittering like frost in the morning sun. "You must be her sire," they said, their tone polite but with an undercurrent of amusement. "May I have your name, mortal?"

  "Dan Granger," he said automatically, straightening his posture as if to assert his presence.

  "No!" Hermione gasped, whipping around to face her father. "You never give your name to a Fae!"

  Dan’s face paled as realization dawned. "Why not? It’s just—"

  The Fae chuckled softly, their ughter like the rustling of leaves. "Names have power. Surely you know this. And now, his is mine."

  Hermione’s wand was in her hand before she could think, her fury overriding her caution. "Give it back. Now."

  The Fae regarded her with mild amusement. "Why should I? It was freely given."

  Hermione’s eyes narrowed. She raised her wand and growled, "Because I’m going to take it back."

  The Fae’s smile faded slightly, their expression growing sharper. "So be it, Wanderer. Show me what you’re capable of."

  The clearing exploded into motion as Hermione shed out with every ounce of magic she could muster. Her wand cut through the air in precise arcs, spells bursting forth with dazzling light. "Everte Statum!" she shouted, sending a pulse of force toward the Fae, but they sidestepped effortlessly, their movements impossibly fluid.

  The Fae countered with a wave of their hand, summoning sharp tendrils of frost that snaked toward Hermione. She responded with a hastily cast "Protego Maxima!" The shield held, but only barely, as shards of ice splintered off and scattered around her.

  "Incendio Fulminis!" Hermione shouted, summoning a streak of fire that crackled with electric energy. It nced toward the Fae, forcing them to raise a shimmering barrier of frost to block it. The resulting csh sent sparks and shards of ice flying, lighting the clearing with brilliant fshes.

  The Fae stepped forward, untouched. "You have fire. But your fmes are too small, too weak."

  Hermione ignored the taunt and moved swiftly, her wand tracing a complex pattern. "Gcialis Tempestus!" she yelled. A storm of ice and wind erupted, swirling chaotically toward the Fae. For a moment, the magic seemed to overwhelm them, the biting cold matching their own power.

  But with a simple flick of their wrist, the storm unraveled, the wind dissipating like mist in the morning sun. The Fae tilted their head. "You mimic the elements, but you do not command them."

  Hermione’s heart pounded. She gritted her teeth and shouted, "Fracturis!" pouring her energy into the experimental spell. The air shimmered, fractal patterns rippling outward as space itself warped around the Fae. Their form flickered, disrupted by the space magic.

  But then, with a wave of their hand, the Fae stabilized, the fractal spell dissipating into harmless motes of light. They raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating. No mortal should be able to cast that."

  Hermione staggered, sweat dripping down her forehead. Her body trembled, and her vision blurred from the effort of maintaining the st spell, bck spots before her eyes as magical exhaustion started kicking in. She gripped her wand tighter and forced herself to stand tall, despite the deep ache in her muscles.

  "I’m not done yet," she hissed through gritted teeth.

  The Fae’s eyes narrowed, and with a sudden burst of movement, they appeared directly before her. Hermione gasped as their cold hand gripped her wrist, squeezing with inhuman strength. Her wand fell from her grasp, cttering uselessly to the ground.

  "Enough," the Fae said softly, their tone almost gentle. "You have courage, Wanderer, and knowledge beyond your years. But you cannot win this fight."

  With a flick of their wrist, the Fae sent her flying backward. Hermione’s body smmed into the ground, pain erupting through her side as she skidded to a stop. Her lip split, blood dripping onto the earth. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she tried to rise, only to colpse again, her strength failing her.

  "This is the limit of a mortal," the Fae said, their voice calm but unyielding. "You are small, Hermione Granger. Insignificant. Do not challenge powers beyond your comprehension."

  A sharp hiss cut through the air, filled with fury. "Let her go!"

  Angitia surged into the clearing, her emerald body glowing with reflected light. The serpent coiled protectively in front of Hermione, her golden eyes glowing in the dark. The scent of Hermione’s blood seemed to ignite something primal within her.

  The Fae’s gaze shifted to the snake, their expression curious. "And here is the guardian," they murmured. "Will you sacrifice yourself for her, little one?"

  Angitia hissed, her voice echoing in Parseltongue. "Not before I sink my fangs into your flesssh”

  Without hesitation, Angitia struck one of Hermione’s enchanted crystals, shattering it. Wild magic exploded outward, and the serpent absorbed it all, her body expanding rapidly. Emerald scales shimmered like molten metal as she grew to monstrous proportions, her massive form towering over the Fae.

  "Angitia, no!" Hermione cried, but the serpent turned her glowing eyes toward her.

  "This is my choice" Angitia said, her voice echoing with unearthly power.

  The Fae’s lips curved into a faint smile, their gaze almost approving. "Very well, guardian. Let us see what you can do."

  And with that, the clearing erupted into chaos once more.

  As Angitia struck, Hermione's mind spun in a whirlwind of exhaustion, fear, and helplessness. Her magic, her intellect, her every attempt to overpower the Fae had been futile. They had brushed aside her most intricate spells as though she were nothing more than a child flinging sand against a hurricane. Her body ached, her magic felt drained, and now Angitia—the closest thing to a companion Hermione truly trusted—had stepped into the fray, willing to sacrifice herself.

  You are small. Insignificant.