Hermione woke the following morning, before the sun had risen. It took her a few moments to find her bearings. When she realized where she was, she sank back into the bed, resigned to her fate. She glanced over at the digital clock. 4:38am. She and Draco had agreed to wake at five and head out. The previous night they had made sure to pack and plan their route before going to bed. Most people would have been cross at the mere thought of waking before their alarm, but not Hermione. Her stomach was knotted with worry: worry for George; worry about encountering a pack of likely hostile werewolves; worry about whether or not they would get the answers and the proof they needed; worry that if they got it, would it be in time?
She forced herself to get up. She could not, and would not, dwell on her worry. If she did, she would likely never leave bed. She drug herself to the shower, hoping that the hot water would soothe her soul as well as her body. Once dressed, she entered the kitchen. Draco was already there, waiting with coffee.
"Good morning Sunshine. Are you ready?" He asked, as he held out a steaming mug to her.
"As ready as I'll ever be. Thanks." She accepted the mug from him and took in a deep breath of the coffee's complex aroma.
As they left the house, she consciously did her utmost to leave her worry at the door.
Unsurprisingly, Blaise had a rather large, fancy Muggle car on the property. Hermione drove them as far as they could through the woods, but the terrain eventually became too rough and the trees too thick, even for the off-road-oriented vehicle they were in. The decision was made to abandon the Rover under the protection of a few wards, and continue on foot.
Hermione and Draco trudged through the mud, something neither was comfortable with. Draco had been whining persistently for easily the past hour.
"This is absolutely disgusting," he whined. "Why couldn't we have just flown?"
"I've told you a million times." Hermione shot back over her shoulder. "I. Do. Not. Fly." Outside of her disastrous attempt to learn how to ride a broomstick her first year at Hogwarts, riding the thestrals in her fifth, and a few other instances where it was either ride, die, or let others die, she had kept her two feet firmly on the ground. Unless she had no other options, she would not get on a broomstick.
Draco stepped in a pile of horse dung. "Oh, motherf -"
"Shh!" Hermione silenced him, suddenly dropping into a low stance. She pulled her wand out of her back pocket and stealthily tiptoed forward. All of a sudden, something heavy slammed into her, and she found herself on her back, with the wind knocked from her lungs. Gasping, she blinked, trying to clear her double vision, and quickly recognized the tip of an arrow, but a hand span from her face. Propping herself up on her elbows, she craned her neck around until she saw Draco. He was currently pressed up against a tree, with two centaurs, a lean strawberry blonde, and a brunette with piercing blue eyes, holding drawn bows aimed directly at his face. Draco was, if possible, even paler than usual.
Hermione looked around sharply now, trying to get her bearings. The two were surrounded by a herd of at least a dozen centaurs. She could hear even more moving around the woods, but could not see them.
Hermione swallowed her anxiety and cleared her throat, and spoke directly to the blonde centaur holding her hostage. "Hello. I apologize for our intrusion. It was not our intention to disrespect your home." From her previous experience with centaurs, she knew that respect was paramount. "May I stand?"
The centaur gave her a curt nod, but did not lower his bow. She stood, and dusted the leaves and soil off of herself. Draco, luckily, had the good sense to stay silent where he was, and let her handle things. "I'm Hermione Granger. This is my friend Draco Malfoy," she said, pointing to Draco. "May I know your names?"
She waited patiently as the Centaurs exchanged looks. The blonde still had not lowered his weapon, when he finally spoke. "I am Thereus. That…," he nodded towards the strawberry blonde, "is Bemys, and that…," he nodded towards the brunette, "is Calelis. We know who you are, Miss Hermione Granger of Hogwarts."
Hermione smiled. "It is my honor to meet you. I apologize if we caused any offense."
Thereus did not acknowledge her apology. His body was still tense, his words measured. "I request that you place your wands at least ten paces away from yourself, as a gesture of good faith, so that we may discuss your reasons for being in our woods."
Hermione nodded. "Of course." Draco began to sputter, but Hermione's quelling stare shut him right up.
Hermione walked over to place it at the base of a particularly large tree. Draco reluctantly did the same. They both raised their hands, and backed up ten paces, meeting in the center of the clearing. The three centaurs nodded to each other, and finally lowered their bows. They then cleared the way as an older, thoroughly greyed, centaur, came forward from the shadows.
He stopped mere feet before Hermione, towering over her. "Hermione Granger. I am Filetrius. I am the chief of the Avernukas Herd. It is my honor to meet you."
Hermione gave a small bow. "The honor is mine."
Draco, clearly not having a clue what to do, quickly bowed his head, randomly.
The older centaur chuckled with amusement at Draco's awkwardness, who flushed. "I apologize for the rough handling. I hope you can understand. Centaurs can never be too careful where wizards are concerned."
Hermione nodded understandingly. "Of course."
Filetrius opened his arms. "Please. State your business here."
Hermione wasted no time. "A dear friend of mine has been detained by the Ministry Of Magic in London, for supposedly being a creature. Wizards, as I am sure you are well aware, fear what they do not understand. There was a terrible massacre in a small town outside of London, recently. The attackers were werewolves, and he performed unknown magics to secure them. And... and his eyes glowed purple." Hermione's gaze lowered at those words, and the centaurs exchanged pointed looks. A moment later, Hermione continued. "They believe him to be what is called a 'true alpha,' and they have detained him in the hospital so they can experiment on him, and try to discover what he is. I am here to try and find the truth. I know that there is a pack of wolves that lives in these woods. I just want to understand. Please help me save my friend, Sir." She pleaded.
There was a long stretch of silence before Filetrius spoke, his words clear and sure. "The friend you speak of is not a wolf. This, I know."
Draco finally spoke up, excitement overwhelming him. "Do you know what he is, then?!"
Filetrius leveled a knowing, almost amused, look at Draco, before returning his gaze to Hermione. "This dear friend - he hails from old wizarding blood, yes?"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably. She could tell that the centaurs knew quite a bit. If not handled delicately, she and Draco would leave with no more information than they had when they arrived, and only more questions. "He does, yes. His father is a Weasley, and his mother is a Prewett."
Filetrius' eyebrows shot up. "A Prewett? Really…" He smirked and began to circle them, his off hand stroking his beard. "That is very old wizarding blood indeed. There is power in old wizard bloodlines. Old magic. Especially when it hasn't been muted by incest." The last line seemed directed away from Hermione.
Draco bristled. "How do you know so much about us?"
"We may be called 'creatures,' but we are not so removed from magical society that we do not know of its grand events." Filetrius' gaze rose to the sky. "And the stars speak to us. Certain names will change the course of history. We know them. We have always known them."
Having circled back in front of them, his eyes fell to Hermione. She could tell he was trying to intimidate them; she just wasn't sure why. "So… George is definitely not a wolf, then."
"He is not." Filetrius replied. "He is something far more powerful, far more dangerous. What he is, has not been seen in these lands for many centuries."
Goosebumps rose on her arms. She knew better than to ask directly the question of what George was. They wouldn't tell. Centaurs didn't like wizards as a rule, and certainly didn't want to help them unless it benefited themselves. Filetrius respected her; that much she could feel - but he was toying with them. She chose not to take the bait, and just to remain silent beneath the shifting gazes of the herd.
Filetrius finally broke the silence with a loud, booming laugh. "Well played, Miss Granger." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "I will leave you with one more thing. A warning. The 'creatures' of the magical world are angry. Voldemort promised them freedom from hiding. He promised them that they would no longer have to scurry in the shadows, for fear of wizard wrath. He promised them equality. He promised to be a champion for their every cause and ailment. Many fools actually believed he would deliver, and that he wasn't simply using them for their numbers in his war - only to find themselves cast aside as soon as he got what he wanted." His chin rose proudly. "Centaurs are not so easily fooled. Equality and freedom are inherent to all sentient creatures; not something that is handed to us by those who wear titles, or hold power. We Centaurs know this, and we know that we must defend this equality and freedom for ourselves. But the fools of many species are angry, and they want to tear the Wizarding World apart in their anger. They do not seem to realize that, if they destroy the Wizarding World, they will be left with nothing. They do not possess the means to build the world they think they want, let alone the ability to maintain it. Creatures and Wizards are a symbiosis. Neither party seems to understand that. We will stay where we are, and not get involved. As long as we are left alone to live and do as we wish in our lands, we have no need to involve ourselves in these affairs. Farewell, Miss Granger. Malfoy. Do not die in these woods. Your world needs you."
With that he gestured to his herd, and they galloped away.