The Auspice of Mars
Chapter 1.
The darkness was heavy around them, a thick black blanket run through with pinpoint stars and torn by the reaching trees. Silence was a part of this night rather than an effort made by the gathering centaurs; not a leaf rustled against a hoof, and no branch snapped back against a muscled torso while they assembled in a clearing. Long moments passed as the small group stood motionless with their heads angled so their dark eyes could read the patterns of light points above them.
"The heavens are restless," finally broke the silence.
"Mars influences the year," shrugged another. "Discord and disharmony follow the blood star as they followed its namesake."
"It will surely help the manipulations of He Who Would Enslave Fate," responded a third.
"Fate follows her course, Firenze, as she always does."
The youngest centaur stepped back into the crowd, keeping his gaze heavenward.
"The Keeper of Harmony will falter without the assistance of Mercury." All eyes turned slightly to examine the position of the planet low in the night sky, touched by the trees.
The centaurs fell into silence again as the night passed on, the stars following a familiar, set pattern that is almost unchanging. The morning stars moved inevitably into their positions before a voice broke the silence. "She Who Accepts Fate is coming."
Surprise rippled among the gathered. "She comes to this forest? She has not been here before."
"The Keeper sent for her." The surprise melted into the darkness, replaced with the heavy contemplative silence that marked a meeting of centaurs.
In the thick, moonless night, none of them noticed the rat.
* * * * *
"If I might have your attention," Professor Dumbledore's quiet voice carried over the Great Hall despite the welcoming of first years into their new houses. The Headmaster's presence caught the attention of the students, and quiet moved through the Great Hall like a wave until even those at the farthest reaches of the tables had turned to listen to the headmaster. "Congratulations on your Sorting," he said, directing his twinkling blue eyes at the first years. "There are a few announcements before we can commence with the feast. As always, the Forbidden Forest is just that. Students are reminded to keep away from it and the other out of bounds areas of the castle, and to be especially astute in keeping curfew. Out of bounds students will be strictly dealt with." Dumbledore's mouth straightened to a line for a few moments, and Harry was reminded that the kindly old man was one of the most powerful wizards in the world, though students rarely had occasion to witness that power. The friendly twinkle returned to his eyes so quickly it was as if the stern look had never been. He beamed a broad smile for the final announcement. "I have the pleasure of announcing the new Professorships."
It was only then that Harry noticed the woman sitting between Snape and Professor Sprout. She held herself straight in her chair with her hands folded in front of her on the table, the long, wide sleeves of her robes pooling around them and trailing off the edge. Neither the deep purple material nor the silver scrollwork along the edges fit with the battered black, pointed hat that drooped over her face, obscuring the right side of it from her brow to below her high cheekbone.
Harry nudged Ron and tilted his head toward her, "Defense Against the Dark Arts," he mouthed, and Ron nodded his agreement. From the look of her, she couldn't be anything else: it always drew the weird ones.
"Zahirah Z. Zahir," Dumbledore indicated her with a lofty gesture--she stood as straight as she had sat before--"has generously agreed to take a leave of absence from her position at the Ministry of Magic to teach Care of Magical Creatures." The Headmaster held up his hand at the gasps from the students. Harry looked around in alarm--he had assumed Hagrid was attending to the horseless carriages. Surely Malfoy hadn't managed to get him sacked after trying unsuccessfully for so long?
"Hagrid is just fine," he assured them, to the disappointment of the Slytherins. "Professor Zahir will be filling in this year while Hagrid takes care of some personal business.
"The Defense Against Dark Arts position will again be filled by Professor Remus Lupin," he had to pause because of the cheers from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables. "Professor Lupin will be arriving before the term begins." Professor Dumbledore's smile outshone his merry blue eyes when he announced, "And now the moment you've undoubtedly all been waiting for: it's time to eat." Food had filled the tables before he took his seat at the head table.
"Well," Hermione said to get Ron's attention away from the shepherd's pie, "at least we will be learning something in Defense Against the Dark Arts classes."
Ron rolled his eyes at her. "I didn't see you complaining when that idiot Lockhart was here."
"I bet Hagrid's 'personal business' involves the-- thing he was doing over the summer," Harry interjected, changing his words at the last minute since he was sure that Neville Longbottom could hear them.
"I wish he was back," Ron said around a mouthful of roll, "that woman looks tough."
"You wish he were back," came the correction, and then the admonishment, "and tough isn't bad! After all, Professor McGonagall is tough." That Hermione practically worshipped the Transfiguration professor was no secret. Ron did not share her devotion.
"But I liked having Hagrid for Care of Magical Creatures! He bred the skrewts, true, but he never gave homework." Ron seemed to have forgotten last year's bitter complaints about the dangers of Hagrid's class. He looked at the new teacher with suspicion, "And how come we can't see half of her face?"
"Maybe her hat slipped," reasoned Harry.
Hermione was less gentle. "Why do you have to be so paranoid about everything, Ron?" she snapped and turned away to talk to Neville, who looked taken aback at the unexpected attention.
Harry could only shrug helplessly at Ron's confused look, turning with him to look at Hermione. What was her problem?
* * * * *
Zahirah's couldn't concentrate on the excellent food. She barely tasted it-- she was more interested in looking around the Great Hall at the lavish architecture and the myriad of people. All of the people she worked with at the Ministry were always talking about their old school, and she was finding that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry lived up to its amazing reputation. Not that anything wasn't better than her desk job at the Office for the Supervision and Registration of Magical Pets, the branch of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures she had supervised until a few days ago. Even in her awe at the Great Hall, she couldn't help but feel a little triumphant about being here, though it didn't show on her face.
Neither the Ministry nor the Department could deny that teaching at Hogwarts was a noble and needed job. Neither could come up with a good reason to refuse her the ten-month hiatus she had requested. They had come up with several bad reasons between them, but nothing to convince Zahirah to change her mind. While she cited the need of the school, the chance to get away from endless paperwork was more welcome. It was just an added bonus that she could truthfully argue that she was one of the few people the Department had who were qualified to oversee the Forbidden Forest. Her happiest years had been the years she spent working with safe habitats for magical creatures, before her 'promotion,' so privately she was delighted with the opportunity for more "hands on" work.
The soft meow from under the table brought her attention to more practical things: like eating. Taking a piece of cut, rare beef from her plate, she leaned over to offer it to the large cat-like creature twined around her booted ankles. The kneazle had just taken the morsel when Zahirah felt cloth brush past her face and her hat seemed in danger of being knocked off by a stray elbow.
She straightened and reached to steady the hat though she knew full well that that light of a touch was not going to break the charms holding it in place. She turned to look at the owner of the offending elbow just as he was saying, "Excuse me," with a tone in his quiet growl that made the polite phrase an accusation rather than an apology. The man's face wore a sneer to match the tone, his mouth set into a line and his dark, dark eyes glittering at her over a nose more hooked and more prominent than even her own.
"Excuse me," she replied in a light voice that was utterly dominated by the smooth rumble of the man.
"What exactly were you doing, or was it your intention to put that ragged excuse for a hat in my food?" The man spoke to her as if she were some errant student who needed to be corrected.
Zahirah met his glare with hard, brown eyes. "It was not my intention to disturb you," she explained with no hint of annoyance, only barely hidden steel. "I was simply passing a bit of food to my kneazle--but I'll be happy to transfer her to the table to avoid contaminating your food, Professor..." She trailed off, plainly requesting his name with the upward lilt in her now-pleasant voice. An equally as pleasant smile curved her lips, but was not mirrored in her eyes. His outrage at the idea, or maybe it was at her forgetting his name, was quite amusing. That her mouth turned up even more at his anger certainly did nothing to endear her to him.
"Pets, Professor Zahir, may be your specialty," the dark-haired man said, his voice dripping with scorn, "but they are not welcome at the table. The animal should be fed on your own time when the rest of us don't have to be witness to the creature's undoubtedly disgusting eating habits."
"Persephone remains with me at all times," Zahirah almost couldn't keep the annoyance from creeping into her voice, "and undoubtedly," she mimicked his pronunciation carefully, "has better manners than most of the students at this school, and probably some of the professors." She managed to keep her voice steady.
"And I don't care to eat with them, either," he replied before pointedly folding his napkin and leaving the Great Hall.
At least his tantrum gave Persephone a more accessible place to sit. The kneazle leapt into the vacated chair so she could better eat out of Zahirah's hands. Zahirah rather hoped someone would tell the arrogant bastard about it later.
"Don't let Professor Snape get to you, dear," said the witch beside her, looking as if she wanted to pat Zahirah on the hand. "He's like that with everyone; twice as bad with the Gryffindor students."
"Not at all." Zahirah forced indifference and fed Persephone another choice bit of meat. If she were less in control of her facial expressions and voice, it would have been harder to claim that he hadn't 'gotten to her.' His scorn had been for her rather than the kneazle at her feet, and she was distinctly afraid she might have said something impolitic if the conversation had continued. Holding her distance was the best way to maintain her emotional control and rationality. Her methodical isolation from day-to-day human society was encouraged by her years as Liaison for Centaur Affairs, among creatures that lived detachment. Yet, still, she'd been talking to Professor Snape for five minutes and had nearly lost her tongue.
She and Persephone finished their meal in relative peace. Professor Sprout's good natured questioning was bothersome, but not unbearable for one meal. After enduring as much as she could, she rose and politely excused herself to go and unpack, a task she had left undone during the day.
Instead, she had been out to Hagrid's house to retrieve his lesson plans from the year before. She assumed the big slobbery dog haunting about outside was his 'Fang' he had been so worried about in his note. It amused Zahirah immensely to picture Argus Filch attempting to simultaneously calm Fang and Mrs. Norris and to feed the hulking creature. Filch and Mrs. Norris had both disapproved of Persephone upon sight, no telling what they said to each other privately about Fang. Of course, it was obvious that Mrs. Norris wore the pants in her relationship with Fang, if the way the boarhound cowered around Persephone was any indication. Filch probably just dropped the food while his cat terrorized Fang into cowering in the overgrown pumpkin patch behind the house.
"Thank the Almighty they told me I didn't have to keep up Hagrid's garden," she said aloud to the kneazle, who was curled up regally on the four-poster bed in their rooms. She remembered seeing the overgrown patch of vines and leaves-- it was more than out of her league. "Though we do have to take care of his other duties as caretaker of the grounds." Like going into the Forbidden Forest. Persephone merowled her agreement as she watched Zahirah unfold robes from the trunk. The cat-like creature had a mischievous look in her eye that Zahirah was too busy to notice. "Oh, I know you're ready," she continued to hang the bold colored robes as she talked. Most of them had long, wide armed sleeves that tapered to narrow shoulders, a style that had never been a very popular British fashion. "But you have to understand, Seph, I haven't done any real field work in years, and the Forbidden Forest isn't exactly a walk in Merlin's back yard, you--" she whipped the flimsy silk garment out of the way just in time. The kneazle huffed a small feline huff and hopped calmly into the wardrobe as if that had been her intention the whole time. "I'm not that out of practice, my little goddess!" Her laughter was quiet but rich with amusement that the kneazle pretended not to hear.
Her robes all safely stored in the wardrobe that from the outside appeared far too small to hold them all, Zahirah turned to her trunk and opened the section full of books she had left to unpack. Her professors had always encouraged their students to handle personal items without magic as a kind of meditative and self-reflective exercise, but she wasn't at the Blessed Prophet's Academy for the Extraordinarily Talented now, and from what she had seen Hogwarts had no policy about limiting magic for mundane tasks. That was one of the things she loved dearly about Britain: the Muggle government cooperated to allow wizards their own separate and wizard-like lives. She didn't regret her years in Abu Dhabi at the Academy for an instant, but it would have been nice to be able to use cleaning spells before room inspection. Just as it was nice to be able to pull her wand from the sleeve of her robe and shelve all of her books with a wrist flick and a murmured spell. She didn't need to touch the various astronomy or mythology volumes to remember she owned them, and as for the tomes on hippogriffs or centaurs or pegasai, she knew those almost by heart. She walked over to run her long fingers over the spine of British Beauties and pulled out Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. These would need to be looked over again along with several others that would include items on things she was likely to encounter in the Forbidden Forest.
She flipped open Fantastic Beasts with a fond smile and didn't close it until she heard a quiet tinkling chime--Persephone was twining about her ankle and moving the chime-hung anklet she wore over her boot. "Oh!" her mouth formed the exclamation more than she said it. Persephone mewed up at her and then pointedly walked over to the bed. "Ok! I understand!" she grumbled at the kneazle's loud, insistent meow.
Just before she crawled into the velvet-draped bed, she placed a picture on the nightstand: a smiling family waving from a flying carpet. A much younger version of herself was seated behind a man who was obviously her father and a woman who must be her mother, a fair-complexioned woman who kept looking over the side of the carpet and back at the man and shaking her head. Zahirah smiled at the picture and put out the lights.
* * * * *
Harry, Ron, and Hermione trudged across the school grounds with the other Gryffindors. Each was carrying his Monster Book of Monsters muzzled with a belt. There had been no other text specified on the reading list, and Hermione had convinced them all that there was a possibility that meant they would be using the same book. "I still think we should have left them buried in our trunks," grumbled Ron, glaring at his book as it made an impressive attempt to flop out of his arms.
"What if we need them?" gasped Hermione, scandalized that anyone would bury a book, even these books.
"Well, Slytherin better lose House Points for not bringing theirs!" Harry pointed across the way to the unburdened Slytherins.
"Not bloody likely--"
"Ron!"
Harry quieted them both by observing, "At least we know how to open them, in case she doesn't." He could tell even Hermione agreed with this, her days of believing someone was infallible just because he was a teacher ended during her second year. She admitted now that Lockhart was an insufferable prat, though it was possible that the admission had more to do with Harry and Ron's teasing than with anything else. They would see soon if this one was up to filling her position at Hogwarts.
Harry didn't have any longer to mull over his past professors though, as they had arrived outside Hagrid's hut and Professor Zahir was standing in front of it with her arms crossed, watching them. Looking at her then, Harry didn't think that stern was really the word for her. Sure, her hair was tucked away beneath that old hat in a McGonagall-esque fashion, but loose black tendrils had pulled away and curled around her face and neck in a way that his Head of House would never allow. No, Harry decided, looking at her expressionless brown eyes above those exotic high cheekbones and the straight set to her mouth; indifferent was a much better description than stern.
Ron's hiss drew his attention, "She's wearing her hat tilted again!" He cut his eyes towards the woman pointedly.
"Maybe she just likes it that way," Harry said out of the side of his mouth. Hermione just glared at the both of them and motioned for quiet. Professor Zahirah Zahir's first lesson had begun.
* * * * *
Zahirah watched the Gryffindors struggle up with those hideous books, but contained her amusement. The poor children, to have to carry those things around all because Hagrid, who she'd had plenty of dealings with already in her two years in the Magical Pets division, hadn't known they'd been published as a joke. The Slytherins, on the other hand, were less amusing. She could feel Persephone's fur start to stand on end as they approached. There was no time to calm the spotted kneazle, however, as her undoubtedly impressive appearance had quieted the students.
"Before we begin today's lesson, I have a few things to say," she started in modulated tones. It had taken her almost a year of working with centaurs to perfect that tone: it made use of her light, melodic voice to maintain interest, yet conveyed utter indifference to the result of her words. "First, there was no text listed on your supply lists because we will not be using one aside from occasional references to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and as you should have retained that from your first year of study. If you did not, the library has many copies; I did not feel the need to include it on your list." She pretended not to see the Slytherins snickering at the Gryffindors with their bound and struggling books. "Secondly, I imagine there is some curiosity about myself." She made sure to sound positively bored at this point. No need for the students to want to sniff around in her personal affairs, or lack thereof. "I will give you some information that should cover the basics and prevent further interruption in class. My name is Zahirah Zoroaster Zahir. I did not receive my magical education at Hogwarts and so have no House affiliation to speak of. I am a British citizen. I've worked for the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures since I left school, which is why I'm qualified to be your professor." That covered it except for 'why didn't you go to Hogwarts?' but that was none of their business.
"Now, to begin, can anyone identify the small magical creature currently wrapped around my ankles?" She lifted the hem of her indigo robes so to better display the cat-like creature with its leonine tail, over-sized ears, and spots. She nodded to the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl whose hand shot up. "Yes, Miss...?
"Hermione Granger," the girl supplied before answering. "It's a kneazle, isn't it?"
"Is she?" Zahirah queried right back. "When dealing with Magical Creatures, it is important to know, Miss Granger." From the girl's surprised and hurt expression and the grins on the faces of the Slytherins and even a couple of the Gryffindors, she could tell this Miss Granger was rarely wrong. "But you are correct with your guess. Persephone is a kneazle. Does anyone know what distinguishes a kneazle from a common Muggle housecat?"
Again, Miss Granger's hand rose immediately, but it wasn't trailed too far by the lazy arm of a blond Slytherin boy. "Mister . . ." she nodded to him.
"Draco Malfoy," he drawled at her, eyes flashing triumphantly, as if the mere name should have her shaking in her boots. His dramatic pause, waiting for some kind of reaction, perhaps a gasp of awe, was too much, even for the son of the always-superior Lucius Malfoy. The family resemblance was uncanny.
"Well, Mister Malfoy, are you going to answer the question or simply leave us to bask in the glory of your impressive name?" She never lost her modulated tone, though her mouth threatened to turn up on the corners. It was always her weakness, that mouth.
Her humor didn't seem to go over well with Draco Malfoy who flushed, then sneered his answer, "Muggle house cats are more stupid, but less meddlesome."
"Kneazles do have a tendency to dislike and point out those who are dishonest or who have a penchant for the Dark Arts, as well as any Dark activity," she replied mildly, ignoring the nearly silent murmur that rippled through the students at her interpretation of Mr. Malfoy's answer. "They are also smarter than the average house cat. They are one of several types of magical creature that look enough like a Muggle animal to keep as a pet, but are significantly different enough to require licenses. I'd like a foot and a half of parchment on why licensing of magical pets is important by next class. Include examples of what happens when Muggles see un-glamoured magical animals and an example of at least one other type of creature that may be kept as a pet as long as the owner has a license." She went on, despite the groans of her students.
She spent the remainder of the class discussing the need for licensing of all wizard-owned magical creatures. She noticed precious few of the students were taking notes, as many of them had not even brought a quill. Most of them were staring either blankly into the forest or at her. She restrained her smile yet again when she realized some of them were searching for the source of the delicate chime that accompanied her steps.
She dismissed them after the magically amplified bell that signaled the end of the hour. "That's it for class today." She turned away and walked towards the Forbidden Forest before anyone had a chance to ask questions.
She didn't actually go into the Forbidden Forest; she doubled back after the students and headed for the rooms that Dumbledore had located on the ground floor conveniently near a seldom-used exit to the grounds. She somehow managed to run into Filch even in the short distance between the entrance of the castle and her rooms.
Persephone's laid back ears and lashing tail alerted Zahirah to his presence. The kneazle made no attempt to warn Zahirah, which meant she wasn't upset about potential danger. While Persephone formed strong opinions about people fairly quickly, Zahirah could think of only a pair of beings in Hogwarts that inspired that reaction: Mr. Argus Filch and (more importantly) his cat, Mrs. Norris. Zahirah repressed a smile: the kneazle had taken a distinct dislike to the bossy cat
"Mr. Filch," she greeted the man politely, disinterested, "is there something I can help you with?" She turned to face the caretaker soon enough to catch the surprise on his face at having been noticed.
"Yes, Professor." His thin lips were thinner than usual as he scowled. "It has come to our attention," he indicated Mrs. Norris who was glowering at Persephone who was now pointedly ignoring her, "that you have been using an alternate entrance to the castle."
Zahirah's thick brows arched expressively at him, "Yes, the Headmaster positioned my rooms and office so that I might have the best access to the grounds." Her voice was pleasant, if bored, but inwardly, annoyance was settling in. This pompous oaf thought that her comings and goings were his business? He had another think coming if he thought he was going to keep tabs on her.
"It is important that I am informed of the use of portals, corridors, and rooms that are off limits to the students, Professor Zahir." Zahirah had the impression she was being scolded and that Filch was doing everything in his power to keep some amount of respect in his voice. At one time, she might have been intimidated by this posturing idiot, but she had since grown up and he needed to be reminded of that.
"Consider yourself informed, Mr. Filch, that I will be using that particular door and perhaps others on a regular basis. I am not one of the students to whom such things are out of bounds. Do not try to inhibit my movements: you may not like the results." Her smile was cold and chilled even more by the promise in her eyes and normally light voice. Not that she would do anything to deliberately hurt the man, but if she were prevented from getting to the Forbidden Forest somehow, things might go badly. No harm in his thinking she was threatening him, though. Persephone gave a small hiss at the two of them as Zahirah turned and breezed past without regard to either Filch's outraged or Mrs. Norris' indignant looks.
Though she spent the afternoon studying and getting ready, Zahirah still found it hard to eat much at dinner. A mix of fear and anticipation warred within her for prominence and neither allowed much room for food. She'd missed very much her interactions with magical creatures large and small, harmless and potentially dangerous, but it had been two years since her last serious work with them in the wild. And yet, here she was, preparing to go into the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts.
She was sure the centaurs would help her: she knew that most of that race at least respected her for her advocation of their interests and her efforts to understand their culture. And, if this forest was like other magical habitats, the centaurs were likely to have a pretty good idea of the state of the entire forest and its inhabitants. Their powers of observation extended beyond the heavens.
She left dinner as soon as she could politely disentangle herself from Professor Sprout's chipper questions about how she'd liked her first day teaching. Professor Snape, thankfully, had been silent throughout the meal. She really didn't need to get worked up any more than she already was before venturing into the forest.
As it was, she was feeling perfectly confident as she made her way to her rooms, and then down the corridor to the exit. Her jitters melted away as she got closer to the actual work-- working with animals was what she was good at, exploring magical habitats was what she enjoyed.
Pulling her dark cloak around her, Zahirah stepped onto the cool grounds of the school. Persephone stayed close to her as they walked deeper into the darkness. Rarely was there silence between them, but it was an unspoken agreement to hold silence during the trip into the forest.
Zahirah broke the silence with a trilling whistle near the edge of the forest, and stood waiting for the answer to her call. The darkness rippled in the wand light before her. Four muffled hoof beats on the forest floor announced the arrival of the pegasus even before the soft whicker.
"Mika'il," she breathed to the black thestral that shimmered into view just close enough to touch. He had been confiscated from a careless wizard who kept forgetting to glamour his wings away. Zahirah was thrilled when she had sweet-talked the Department into letting her keep him at the very beginning of her job in License Regulation. Training him had been almost frighteningly easy.
"Ready to take us into the forest?" Zahirah asked as she moved around to mount the animal, knowing her quiet words would steady him. She lifted Persephone onto the pegasus' back first, and then swung up behind the great black wings that extended from Mika'il's powerful shoulders.
She would never tire of the surge of power that was a pegasus taking flight from full gallop. It was made more exhilarating by the lack of bridle that necessitated her tight grip with her lower legs and the burying of hands in his mane while carefully bracing Persephone. The ride smoothed out in the air and she was able to guide Mika'il with her knees and to turn her attention towards the ground.
She knew what she was looking for: a clearing big enough to allow star gazing. It was a nice night for it with the moon waned to a sliver in the clear sky. It was inevitable that the centaurs would be out and gathering to discuss the position of the constellations and planets.
There. A concentration of darkness on the ground looked promising. She shifted her weight to bring Mika'il closer in. It was a clearing, but devoid of centaurs. Zahirah urged her mount down further. Her vision was adjusted to the starlight, but not enough to make out details. "Lumos." In the light of her want she could see front-heavy hoof marks. There had been centaurs here.
"Where are they now?" she asked the night, bewildered and unguarded in her solitude. There wasn't a centaur in her acquaintance that would turn away from a clear night of stars, and she had been told that the Hogwarts group was more zealous than most.
Persephone made a low noise halfway between a miaow and a growl. A glance revealed the kneazle's fur standing on end.
"Nox.
"Fetkhah," she gave the command to vanish in Arabic as the light from her want faded. Then she was fading as well, the thestral's magic hiding all three of them.
But nothing came. No dangerous creature, no dark wizard broke away from the blackness of the forest to disturb the clearing.
They searched half a dozen clearings that showed signs of centaurs. Persephone disliked them all. Finally, Zahirah turned the pegasus back towards the comforting lights of Hogwarts. There were no stargazers to be found.
A few hours' sleep and two cups of coffee did nothing to give Zahirah any ideas about the centaurs. Not any plausible ideas. They were big animals and could be fierce fighters. It was unlikely something removed them by force. She had never heard of centaurs leaving their chosen home permanently barring natural disaster. Was there a gathering she wasn't aware of? It chilled her to imagine what might merit a council of such magnitude.
-----
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The translation of Arabic to English is always a little dicey because of the transliteration required. My Anglicization of Arabic words may disagree with yours, or vice-versa. If you're interested in the language, your best bet is to find a native speaker and ask. In lieu of that, a good book may be able to help you.
As always, thanks go out to my beta team: Mike, Joyce, and my official Sugarquill beta reader, Jedi Boadicea.