Saphira had arrived at Hogwarts silently.
Not by carriage, not by ceremony—only by instinct.
At Aurelius' request, she had settled deep within the Forbidden Forest, close enough to the castle to feel him, far enough to remain unseen. The magic of the place was old, layered, cautious—but it bent around her presence rather than resisting it. She stayed invisible from the first moment her claws touched the forest floor, watching.
She spent days observing the rhythms of the land. The patrol paths of centaurs, which she carefully avoided. The territories of the acromantulas, marked by rot and silence—places she refused to tread. Eventually, she found a cave large enough to accommodate her true size, hidden behind thick roots and stone, shielded by natural wards older than Hogwarts itself.
It would do.
Unicorns passed through the area occasionally, their silver coats flashing between trees. Saphira never hunted them—never even considered it—but the moment they sensed her, they fled. Not in fear exactly. In reverence. Or instinct.
She let them go.
Food was… an adjustment.
At home, she had slept on a bed woven with thunderbird feathers, warm and alive with residual storm-magic. She had eaten boars and deer brought whole, fresh, plentiful.
Here, she hunted migratory deer, choosing carefully, never more than necessary. At night, while invisible, she would wade into the Black Lake and catch fish with precise flicks of claw and magic, careful not to disturb the giant squid or the fragile balance of the waters.
It was enough, barely.
Aurelius came often.
Almost every night.
He would slip into the forest under his invisibility charm, clever, and she always sensed him long before she saw him. They talked. He told her about classes, professors, the way the castle breathed differently at night. Sometimes they flew together, high and silent above the towers, the wind tugging at his cloak as he laughed into the cold air.
Those moments were what mattered.
Since the day she was born, she had never been apart from him.
They were not merely bonded.
They shared an existence.
Two halves of the same soul, split across forms.
She would never leave him. Not while breath and magic remained in her.
—--
The night it changed began like any other.
The forest awakened under the moon. Bats spilled from hollow trees. Owls swept low between branches. Wolves howled in distant harmony, their voices threading through the cold air.
Saphira slept lightly in her nest, stone softened by moss and magic, her body coiled protectively around the space where Aurelius often sat when he visited.
Then…
Something tugged at her awareness.
Her eyes snapped open.
The forest's magic shifted. Not the natural movement of predator and prey—but disturbance. Intent. Violence.
She rose silently, scales shimmering as she cloaked herself in invisibility, and moved through the forest like a living shadow.
Sounds reached her first.
Shouts, cries.
The unmistakable crack of spells tearing through the air.
She reached a clearing just as chaos unfolded before her.
Men, wizards, were casting spells wildly, laughing as they drove a group of unicorns into panic. Silver bodies scattered in every direction, hooves tearing into the earth. Saphira felt it immediately, the purity of their magic, bright and aching against the corruption staining the air.
She had never cared for unicorns. But she knew what they were.
The men forced them apart with calculated cruelty, isolating two adults and…
Her breath caught.
A golden foal.
Still young. Still glowing with raw, unshaped magic.
Enchanted ropes snapped into place, binding them mid-stride. The unicorns screamed as the magic constricted, lifting them bodily into the air.
The men laughed.
"Easy money," one of them said.
"Gringotts will pay triple for that one," another added, nodding toward the foal.
They levitated the trapped unicorns and moved deeper into the forest, careless, confident.
Saphira's claws dug into the earth.
She knew these men.
Not by face, but by type.
Monsters in human form. Creatures who mutilated the magical world for profit. She had heard Aurelius read about them late at night, his voice tight with barely contained fury. Poachers. Butchers. Monsters hiding behind wands.
In suffering. In unforgivable acts committed for gold.
Her magic flared, restrained only by instinct.
This could not be ignored. This would not be ignored.
Without hesitation, Saphira reached across the bond…
' Aurelius. '
Her voice cut into his mind, sharp and urgent. ' We need to meet. Now. '
As she followed the poachers through the forest, invisible and silent, her thoughts were cold and clear.
They had chosen the wrong night.