Written for The Houses Competition, Year Two, Round Four.
House: Hufflepuff
Year: 2nd
Category: Themed - Happy Family
Prompts: [First Line] There was always a point at (family name) reunions where things went from boring to fun.
[Speech] "Well, you are certainly nothing like your Mother/Father."
Wordcount: 2982 (Google Docs)
Betas: Aya, 1917farmgirl. Thank you so much for helping out and making this fic clean!
There was always a point at centaur reunions where things went from boring to fun. While the reintroduction of distant family members was a necessary ritual, and the obligatory mingling enabled the younger foals to become familiar enough with each other to leave their parents' sides, the one thing that everyone looked forward to was the alignment of the stars.
Firenze the Centaur thought about the upcoming ceremony, glad to have something to look forward to after his long week. Returning after the Second Wizarding War to teach Divination at Hogwarts had been a difficult decision, but not as difficult as the first time he had left his herd. This time, the herd supported him and allowed him to return home every night. His family supported him and was proud to call him 'an advocate of centaurs among the wizards'. Still, after each lesson, he felt very little satisfaction from his efforts to make the students comprehend the meanings of the constellations.
The children just didn't get it. Most of them were closed-minded and thick-headed, staring at him during his in-depth lectures as if he was talking Greek. The few students who had shown any signs of interest were unfortunately the least tuned in with their inner eye. The small handful of humans that did have an inner eye simply chose not to use it. It was a frustrating and draining experience to spend days upon days with these children and not see any of them take steps towards true enlightenment.
Ah, the attitudes! These pig-snouted puppies moved through the halls, whispering things about their professors that would turn the ears of the most indecent centaur cherry red. Firenze wondered what his mother would say if she overheard the lot of them being so bad-mouthed about their elders. Upon returning for a second time as a professor, he had made it his mission to establish dominance early on in his classroom. He didn't put up with any nonsense, not even from the petty little fourth years who argued over the proper name for the hue of his blue eyes. They would learn quickly enough that he wasn't to be trifled with.
Each term, Firenze would find ways to keep his students in line and out of his mane. Sometimes, he would just give them a stern look. Other times, when they threatened to step over the line of propriety, he would launch into a prediction so terrifyingly accurate that it would give his students nightmares.
No one wanted to be the subject of his crystal ball readings. He had them quaking in their little two-footed slippers.
It was well that they should be.
And well, that methodology had worked wonders for his father.
All in all, Firenze thought he was doing a good job of this teaching business. The modified third floor classroom that the Headmaster had provided for him was much more conductive to the Predictive Arts than the Astronomy Tower. The greenery on the walls and floors helped him concentrate and feel more comfortable while confined inside the castle, but it would never compare to the real outdoors.
Firenze stepped over the threshold of his classroom and into the stone laden corridors. This was where he truly felt out of place. The grey and brown tinged walls were lined with thick woven tapestries and created a dull backdrop to the already suffocating interior of the castle. It was depressing and dark compared to the lush green of his home.
He stretched out his legs. Walking all day on hard, stone floors was not good for his hooves. He had developed a painful crack in one foot, and the salve from Madame Pomfrey was only helping a little bit.
At least he didn't have to climb up the Astronomy Tower every day.
He would send his students up there to do their assignments occasionally, so he had to experience it once for himself. It was a right pain going up, but the view was well worth it.
Firenze wished he could show his father. He would love the view. It wasn't the same as climbing the tall mountains to get closer to the sky, but his father was old now, and couldn't do any of that anymore. Getting closer to the stars was always a welcomed comfort.
That's one of the things that these students didn't understand. Stars were everything. Especially tonight.
He tapped his way down from the third floor, wincing as his cracked hoof hit another uneven stone in the floor. The groundskeeper wasn't too keen on him clacking away on the floors in the castle, but then he wasn't too keen on the groundskeeper. They had mutual disdain for each other.
Tonight would be the beginning of the Celestial Stargazing Ceremony that was held once a year at the autumnal equinox. He'd already missed the beginning portion of it to greet his extended family who had spent the day being welcomed into the herd for the festivities.
He didn't know if he would enjoy the races as much as he usually did. Perhaps if he wrapped up his hoof in leaves and poultice, it wouldn't ache so much.
He let out a sigh of relief as his hooves finally hit dirt and removed the deep forest green and brown uniform robe he was demanded to wear while teaching. It was necessary because witches and wizards had noncyclic hormones, and bare chests were a distraction of sorts to the young people – or that was what he was told anyway. Firenze could only feel sorry for them having to wade around in long, hot robes and huge pointy hats all the time. It couldn't be comfortable, especially in the summertime. They certainly weren't comfortable to him as he tossed them aside carelessly.
He quickly moved from a walk to a trot, and when he crossed through the Hogwarts gates, he broke into a fast canter and weaved through the recline with ease. Knowing the paths by heart now, Firenze followed it to his destination with no interruption.
The trees became thinner, and then finally he slowed to a leisurely gait, breaking out of the treeline into a lush, open field. The grasses swayed, tall and thin in the afternoon breeze. The air was filled with the sounds of nature, and gradually, all of the stresses of his day fell away.
Firenze was home.
Dotted along the perimeter of the field, he saw members of the herd gathering in small groups, making last minute preparations. There were a few hours until sundown, and their guests would be coming out to join them soon.
He recognized most of them from a distance: the various colors of the herd, palominos, dappled backs, a blue roan and the dark bay; all of them his friends, and some of them his family.
Firenze stopped by a stream to get his fill of cool water. Then he grabbed a nearby bucket and filled it to the brim, drinking as he walked over to where his family was making preparations.
His sister's light chestnut rump greeted him as he got closer. She was brushing her long, blonde hair, and as he gazed down, he noticed that her hooves had been coated with powdered pyrite. They glittered in the afternoon sun. She'd stayed up most of last night getting herself ready. Firenze tried to keep his smile even, though he wanted badly to chuckle at her overzealousness.
Just then, his uncle, an old grey, passed by. He stopped short in front of the primping mare and stared at her. "What have you done to yourself?"
"I like to be seen," she said. "There will be a lot of new equines, and I want to make a good impression… for the family," she added, just to be respectful.
Her uncle pursed his lips. "Well, you are certainly nothing like your mother."
In her youth, Firenze's mother had a reputation for her ability to stay aloof at these gatherings. Everyone joked that it was a miracle that his father had even met her. She'd always been the shy one, hiding behind trees and staying away from the crowds.
He hadn't known his mother to be shy and a recluse like his uncles had. By the time he was born, his mother had all but lost her shyness and was now one of the respected matrons of the herd.
"Firenze," his mother called out. "Is that you?"
"Yes, Mother," he replied.
"Did you drink your water?"
"Yes, Mother," he said, gulping down more for good measure.
"I don't think they give you enough in that castle. You're bound to get constipated if you don't hydrate enough!"
Firenze sighed. "They don't have troughs at the castle, Mother. I'm doing the best I can with the goblets and glasses they have on hand."
"And that hoof of yours needs tended to properly. Do they have no regard for your health at all?" She continued worrying over her son. "How are you to race on a lame leg?"
Firenze wrapped his hoof in a cooling poultice and bound it with leaves, which made it much more comfortable. He acknowledged his mother and then wandered out of earshot to check on his nephew on the other side of the clearing. The darker chestnut colt had made new fletchings for the arrows. His brothers had strung up bows and freshed up the targets. They would use those in the archery games, right after the naming.
He nodded his approval and moved on.
The fields were filled with anticipation as equines, young and old, gathered for the ceremony. Then the elders began. In their deep voices, they droned on, reciting their heritage for as far back as they could remember. The ceremony was strictly an oral tradition, and each generation was tasked with remembering their predecessors and naming them out loud. Some of the mares were nudging their children to stay awake… some of the older fillies and colts were repeating the names under their breath, for practice, so they'd be ready one year when it was their turn. The whole process lasted several hours, and by the end of it, every equine present felt the weight of their past and the promise of their future in their hearts.
Once the recitation was finished, the ceremonial games were soon underway. Archery was always one of the more popular games among centaurs, and many of the younglings, and some of the older equines as well, turned it into an unofficial competition between the herds. It kept their restless spirits occupied while the rugged track was marked and made ready.
When the markers were set, the runners gathered together. If he had to explain how it started, Firenze would not be able to use words. It was as if the entire congregation of centaurs were of one mind. Their hearts beat as one, and their minds converged on a single thought:
Run!
He loved feeling the fresh, crisp air whip past him as he surged forward with the herd. Firenze ran with the wind at his back and the echoes of hundreds of hooves thundering around him.
They all stopped at the edge of a lake and took in a long drink. Firenze lingered in the cool water, letting his hooves soak in the fresh flowing stream. It eased his aches and pains from the long day maneuvering through the stone halls of the castle. Then with a silent signal from the elders, the herd turned as one and thundered back to the sacred fields.
Afterwards, they all lay in the tall grasses and waited. Finally, when the sun had fallen well below the horizon and the skies had darkened, the masses of horse-men and horse-women gathered in the large open meadow and gazed upwards into the heavens.
The night was clear and cool. Most of the clouds had blown away, and the moon was only a sliver of itself, hanging in the east. One by one, the twinkling lights popped into view, heralding the arrival of the constellations.
Firenze thought about his most recent lecture that had fallen on deaf ears. In the stillness of the night, he watched as the Hyades star cluster and Aldebaran rose to be almost parallel to the moon. The ringed planet, Saturn, would be shining brightly throughout the week, but it was at its peak on this night, just like on the night that he had saved that boy.
When he first encountered the wizards at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he had risked going against all he had been taught about the outside world. Relying on the gifts of his family, he had interpreted the signs in the sky, and thought that his path was clear. He was destined to help them.
He had also thought that his herd would see his path and stand by him.
They did not.
It wasn't until after the Great Battle that his herd had finally decided to leave the sacred fields to see the extent of the damage sustained by the Forbidden Forest.
They had sent Ronan.
At first, Ronan had stopped just short of the burning castle and was about to turn back. But his concern had gotten the best of him, and he'd come into the Great Hall to see Firenze, battered and nursing a great injury.
Ronan had argued for the herd to take back their own.
Firenze stared up into the great pool of twinkling stars and thanked them for having the wisdom to send a friend.
When the herd finally realized that it was up to all creatures to look after one another, they mended their fences and accepted him back into the herd. It was then that Firenze learned that his family had never scorned him for his choices. His mother had cried. His father had welcomed him like a long-lost relative, and his brothers had tended to his war wounds, calling him a hero amongst the herd.
Later, after he was healed, he felt the pull to return to the humans. He read the signs, and he knew that was where his place was.
This time, the herd had seen as well, and they had understood.
He didn't always want to go back to the castle, but Firenze's path was clearly illuminated every night in the sky, and a centaur never broke his stride when his destination was in view.
Every day, there would be some small thing that gave him difficulty through his long hours of herding young witches and wizards through the intricacies of Divination. Last week, it was a squabble with Windyweather the House Elf who had tried unsuccessfully to serve him pork pasties and baked Cornish Game Hen for lunch.
How dare he!
Firenze knew a Cornish Hen named Smalley who just happened to be well-versed in Greek tragedies. Firenze would never think to have him for lunch.
But despite his misgivings about the strange creatures in the castle and their frequent misunderstandings about him, Firenze was duty-bound to serve as Divination Instructor for the full term of the agreement. However long the stars guided him there, that's where he would go.
The ceremony that night gave Firenze a whole new set of things to ponder. He might not have known why he was drawn back to the castle to face the young wizards and witches every day, but on this night, when the the breezes carried with them the names of his ancestors, he was beginning to understand.
Through the years, the castle population had grown and it was harder and harder to keep the humans away from the sacred fields. By human travel, it was several hours' walk through the thick forest to the home of the centaurs. That was usually enough of a deterrent. Occasionally, some young thing would get curious, and he would have to put them back in their place.
But he noticed that the longer he taught at Hogwarts, the more the wizards and witches learned about centaurs and how precious the land was to them. He hoped, for the sake of his herd and all other centaur herds, that those witches and wizards would spread the word and teach the rest of their kind about respecting the centaurs and their ancient ways.
During the night, Firenze noticed some of his brothers moving in and around the equines, some alone, and some with a new friend.
His friend, Bane, was not among the wanderers this year. He had already settled down and started his own family. Firenze really couldn't imagine his mother being a shy filly with the way she carried on about finding him his own special someone. He kept telling her that the planets had not yet aligned properly, and that he was called to do other things for now.
Ronan passed by him, a wistful expression on his face, looking out over the gathered centaurs. He had not yet found a suitable mare, but each year at the Ceremony, he would wander through the herd, looking.
Earlier in the week, Firenze had asked his friend what he would be looking for this time.
Ronan merely replied, "I'll know it when I see it."
One day, when Firenze was ready, he hoped to settle down with his own kind and raise a family. He wanted his children, and his children's children to still have sacred fields to roam and recite the names of their ancestors in their own Celestial Stargazing Ceremony.
He would like to be alive to see that.
But for now, the stars held the same message for him as they had that night, years ago. Firenze's place was with the humans, to teach them to respect and honor his kind. He would continue to spread the message until the skies told him otherwise.
His fate was written in the stars.