You’d been dating Oliver Wood for exactly one year, and somehow that still felt unreal. He still grinned at you like you were his lucky charm before every Quidditch match, still reached for your hand like it was instinct. Percy—annoyingly observant and painfully logical—had become your shared constant. Oliver’s best friend. Your friend too.

That’s how the three of you ended up wandering far past the castle grounds one quiet afternoon, voices echoing through the trees as the sun dipped low.

And then you saw it.

You stopped so suddenly Oliver nearly walked into you.

“No,” you breathed.

Percy frowned. “What is it?”

You stepped closer, heart pounding. The tree before you was massive, bark patterned in strange geometric scales, its trunk rising unnaturally straight.

“That,” you said slowly, “is a lepidodendron.”

Oliver blinked. “A lepi-what?”

“It’s extinct,” you said. “Three hundred million years ago. Prehistoric.”

Percy scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Hogwarts has strange flora, but not that strange.”

“There’s a myth,” you said quickly, eyes never leaving the tree. “If you see one, you must never touch it. They say it exists outside normal time. Touching it can… pull you through the fabric of time itself.”

Silence.

Then Oliver grinned.

“You’ve been reading too much,” he said lightly. “Even if that were true, we’re witches and wizards. We’d come back.”

Percy nodded. “The probability of temporal displacement from a tree is absurd.”

“Don’t,” you said sharply. “Please.”

Oliver stepped closer anyway. “Just a touch.”

“Oliver,” you warned, grabbing his sleeve. But Percy—always needing proof—reached out first.

The moment his fingers brushed the bark, the forest shifted.

The air warped. Sound collapsed in on itself. Your grip slipped—

And then—

You were falling.

Not downward. Sideways.

The world snapped back into place with a violent rush of air. You hit the ground hard, gasping. The forest looked… wrong. The trees were denser, taller, the air thick and humid.

“Percy?” you choked.

“Oliver?”

A hand grabbed yours.

You turned—and relief slammed into you when you saw Oliver kneeling beside you, face pale.

“You’re here,” he breathed. “Thank Merlin.”

Percy sat a few feet away, glasses crooked, staring at the unfamiliar sky.

“This,” he said quietly, “is not our time.” Your stomach dropped.

You pushed yourself up slowly. The forest around you felt ancient. Alive in a way that was almost oppressive.

“I told you,” you whispered. “I told you not to touch it.”

Oliver didn’t argue. He just pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly like he was afraid you’d disappear again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I should’ve listened.”

Percy stood, swallowing hard. “The tree… it’s gone.”