What fruit is not fuzzy and breathes fire?

Born of winter and mothers’ dread, I pace the borders of the living and dead. Grandmothers warn me in candlelit rooms, Saints mark my shadow, the moon marks my wounds. I wear many names but one true skin, A prayer before sleep keeps my teeth from your kin.

My points are fixed, and yet you find me in constant motion, I wheel and spin in an endless dance, As awe inspiring as your oceans. A teller of time, a spinner of fates, I'll guide you home, or define your traits. By the time you see me, I am years ahead, I gift you gold after my soul has fled.

While the wind winds, From a tree I'm collected. One staves off the idea of going bigger, by arcane scholars I'm rarely neglected. The charlatan's is black and capped with white, tap tap Alakazam! Take the eyes of the third and fourth words, Make them A, you'll know what I am.

Not a knight, but armored regardless. Not a twig, but still tend to snap. Always on the move, yet never leaving home.