Hummingbird [TomRiddlexHarryPotter]

The Wildlands

What did it remind him of? . . .

"Stay alert now. You never know what could be lurking just out of sight." Tom warned as they passed the threshold of trees and immediately the midday sun was distorted and blocked by the thick verdant canopy above.

Harry pulled the elder wand from his pocket and kept it in hand as he held the reins. Whatever had happened to his core when he crossed over into this world, wandless magic had become unbelievably easier, but it was still quite unreliable. Two out of three times it wouldn't work on the first try, and sometimes it just wouldn't work at all for the complicated spells. Maybe that would change when he was no longer pregnant and more than half of his magic wasn't being spent on protecting his baby, but it would be a long time until he could test that theory out.

So, for now, he would keep his wand at the ready. Especially now that they were in the forest and the chances of them running into any other humans was practically none. He could only pray that he wouldn't have a need to use it.

It was then, as he breathed deeply and felt like the forest itself was taking root in his lungs, that he realized what felt so familiar. There was something indescribable and overwhelming lingering in the air, the roots of the trees, and every little bird, rodent, or insect that darted through the underbrush or fluttered through the canopies above. It's Her. The Mother. He could feel her more clearly here. Like the gathering of so much wild and natural magic made her presence on the physical plain more tangible.

If that's the case, Harry sincerely hoped that he still had her favor.

-----

For the first few hours in the forest, Harry was so tense that his back and thighs started to ache and cramp despite the cushioning charms that had been making the past week of horseback riding feel like a dream. Nothing had even happened during that time, but the anticipation only seemed to make him feel more on edge, waiting for something to pounce at him from the bushes.

It was easier when the road was level, and they could pick up the pace. But that happened a lot less frequently now that they were in the forest, and they had to be careful around every bend. Tom did his best to distract Harry and ease a bit of his tension by striking up conversations about random and inane topics, but he could tell that Tom was also on guard, rendering the efforts almost useless.

Still, he appreciated it. It was certainly better than straight silence.

When night came, it only got worse. His anxiety seemed to spike with every little sound and as they made camp a short distance from the road, Harry was more focused on the distant croons and cries of animals deeper in the woods than he was on setting up his tent.

If the wards Harry put up around their camp that night was a little excessive, Tom didn't indicate that he'd noticed. And if Harry gave up halfway through setting up his tent and feigned exhaustion so he could ask to share Tom's tent, the man agreed in an instant. He had to cast an engorgio spell on the tent so that it would fit both of their bedroll's side by side. But he was just thankful that he didn't have to sleep alone.

Unfortunately, Harry's surprisingly restful night of sleep came to a mortifying end when he awoke the next morning and found that, yet again, his body had betrayed him. At least this time he had been unconsciously violating the blankets twisted up between his legs rather than the sleeping monarch beside him. And Tom, bless him for not being an early riser!

Considering that Harry had been nearly sick with anxiety the first day they spent in the forest, the second day went so much better that it was almost laughable.

Instead of a mostly overcast sky that tinted the world in a muted pallet of blues and greys, the day started off cloudless and the sunlight above filtered down through the canopy to cast the forest in a whole new light. Now Harry was greeted to sights of petals of gold sunlight dancing along the ground and carpets of thick bright green moss that climbed up the sides of trees, draped from branches and vines, and sank under his boots like pillows.