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CHAPTER 3 - Another Wedding of a different sort

The week passed in a blur of fun. Playing quidditch all day, talking all night, eating Mrs. Weasely's delicious food, de-gnoming the garden. Ron and Harry joined Fred and George in all sorts of mad pranks, with Ginny often joining in and Hermione looking on disapprovingly. Ron gave Harry a huge box of assorted sweets as his present and Mrs. Weasely gave him the usual jumper, this time in forest green. Ginny rather shyly presented him with a bandanna.

"Dad said muggles wore bananas to keep their hair out of their eyes. So I made on for you. It's green to match your eyes."

And then it was Thursday. Harry had managed to persuade Ron and Hermione into coming along for Dobby's marriage, and so dressed in their best they started off for the place that they had been told the port-key had been kept, Harry resplendent in his new robes of dark brown suede. On reaching the small hillock where the innocent looking port-key lay, they held on to it. Harry felt the tug at his navel, reminding him of the experience he had undergone the year before and he almost felt sick. But they had reached and they were looking around curiously.

It could not have been more different from the last weeks wedding. A huge garden with food kept on huge trestle tables, and magical creatures of different sorts milling around. The couple stood at one end and lots of other house elves were scurrying around getting everything done. Both Dobby and Winky were in white togas with roses made in the middle - red on Winky's and yellow on Dobby's.

They went to wish the couple of house elves, who were utterly delighted to see them and who insisted that they be given the VIP treatment. While they were sitting around being waited on hand on foot, Harry looked around and saw someone he recognized

"Oh god," gasped Harry. "That's Firenze."

"That's who?" asked Ron

"Firenze," replied Harry. "You know, the Centaur who saved my life when in my first year when I was in the Forbidden Forest on detention. Don't gape at me. Hermione, you know who I mean. I'm going over to say hello to him."

With that, Harry strode off towards the blonde, palomino bodied Centaur, who stood a little apart from the rest. On reaching him, Harry said, "Firenze, it's me Harry Potter. Remember me?"

"The Potter boy. How can I forget, how can the stars let me forget? How are you Harry Potter?"

"Have the stars told you what has happened, Firenze?"

"The rise of the Dark One, Harry Potter? Yes I know and from sources other than the stars. Only today have those of my kind been butchered by his minions. You are the only hope, Harry Potter. Heed my words and heed them carefully.
He that lives through the curse of death
He that lives to rise again
The forces bow to his every call
The seas that toss
The rain that falls
The fire that devours
The winds that weep
He shall achieve
The caverns deep
And they he love and hate will meet
In forms they know not they can achieve
Then redemption will come out of their tears
The Dark One must be laid down here

With these the centaur galloped off and Harry was left staring after him, completely perplexed about what the entire conversation meant. He repeated the lines to himself a few times as he walked back to his friends. As he sat down next to them, they noticed his bemused expression and immediately asked what was wrong. Harry repeated the Centaurs words to them and was glad to see that even the brilliant Hermione was completely vacant to what they meant.

"Tell Dumbledore what the Centaur said," ordered Hermione. "You must. It could be dangerous."

"Nonsense," said Ron. "All these centaurs are alike. They can't speak like normal people. Being cryptic comes naturally to them. He was probably making polite conversation."

With his two friends arguing constantly, Harry turned the words of the Centaur over in his mind. He knew that he should have known what the Centaur meant, that something rather obvious was eluding him. But he had no idea what it was.

He gazed at his quarreling friends with an amused grin. He knew that they were in love with each other, that this bitter antagonism came from an overwhelming attraction, but Harry was not interfering. He knew that sooner or late, they would discover that they had feelings for each other and till then, he was perfectly willing to be amused, cheered and of course irritated by their bickering.