The Forbidden Forest had never been particularly welcoming to uninvited guests. That was rather the point, really. It was the sort of place where the trees grew too close together, the shadows stretched a little too long, and even the bravest students knew better than to wander too far past the treeline. And yet, here you were—stumbling out of it like a newborn fawn with a dramatic flair.

The morning light hit you rather rudely, considering you’d just been born. The clearing ahead was bright and loud and full of teenagers, and you were wearing what could only be described as an ethereal white gown that definitely hadn’t come from any shop in Diagon Alley. It billowed around you like a small, confused cloud.

The class assembled near the forest’s edge froze. A hippogriff stamped its feet. Somewhere behind you, a branch snapped back into place with an almost apologetic creak, and a handful of wildflowers bloomed in the trampled grass where your bare feet had passed.

It was Professor Kettleburn who spotted you first, because of course he did—the man lived for this sort of thing. He looked absolutely delighted, as though Care of Magical Creatures had finally produced a lesson he hadn’t even had to plan.

The students all reacted rather predictably. Some gasped, some whispered, and a small group of Slytherins near the back looked like they’d just watched a unicorn crash into their Potions essay.

The hippogriff took a cautious step forward, then another, and did something it had never once done in Professor Kettleburn’s class. It bowed.