The Auspice of Mars

Chapter 4.

     Zahirah stood where Professor Snape had left her. For a brief moment she had thought he was going to hit her-- even Persephone had gone defensive-- but he had not; he had released her, seeming to come to some decision within himself.

     She shook herself. She had gone from equal to inferior in his eyes and that was something she would not stand for, but now was not the time to have it out with him. She had something to do that was far more important than her personal pride or a little spat with Professor Snape.

     Over and over she had rehearsed what she would say-- how to convey the horror she saw. The justifications for her actions seemed so shallow in the face of reality. In a way, Snape was right. She had been secretive. She should have seen the Headmaster sooner. She felt that were she to look back on her months at Hogwarts, she would see the actions she should have taken drawn out for her like a first year Charms primer. Dumbledore should have been informed as soon as she had realized there was something very wrong in the Forbidden Forest.

      "Butterscotch disk," she told the stone gargoyle. Persephone took one look at the moving stone creature and tore off down the corridor with an abused yowl. Zahirah was beginning to doubt the kneazle's usefulness as a companion.

     Professor Dumbledore greeted her by name without looking up. She couldn't help glancing at the perch in the corner of the office-- his phoenix had been absent during her initial job interview. He was there now, looking bedraggled: a featherless, wrinkled hatchling. A disturbing image of the magical bird under the claws of a self-satisfied kneazle made her briefly glad Persephone was so frazzled. Even at this ugly stage, a phoenix was a fascinating thing. Maybe this one would consent to an examination?

     "Fawkes has had better days, but it appears so have you."  She imagined under different circumstances the gentle comment would have set her at ease; as it was, the Headmaster's words brought her back to the reason for her visit with unwelcome force.

     "Excuse me, sir." She couldn't quite bring herself to meet the great man's eyes. "I didn't mean to waste your time."

     "Think nothing of it, Professor Zahir, or may I be so familiar as to use Zahirah?"

     She nodded her assent-- resolution or no, she doubted there was any keeping Albus Dumbledore from knowing her if he set his mind to it, even if she had managed to avoid his invitations to tea thus far.

     "I suppose you would like some tea?"

     Had he known what she was thinking? He was smiling at her, his hand poised over a kettle, two cups waiting.

     "Sir--"

     He waved off the honorific. "My dear Zahirah, if you allow me the familiarity of your given name, I beg that you use mine." He poured himself a cup while waiting for her to answer.

     She circumvented his inquiry about tea, pressing on with what she needed to say. "I came because I found something in the forest last night."  She kept her hands folded in her lap and tried to ignore the feeling that she was in trouble. After all of her anger at Filch and Professor Snape for treating her like a student, she was doing it to herself.

     "I'd love to hear all about it, but won't you tell me how you take your tea? Or," realization dawned on his face, "I suppose it's coffee, isn't it?" He reached around for an ibrik and poured the rich black liquid.

     The smell was heavenly. That was real coffee, roasted the old Muggle way, the kind her father had his family send them, ground into a fine powder to boil. Dumbledore poured with the expert tremble that ensured the correct amount of foam and just enough sediment for reading. She accepted the cup, wrapped her chilled hands around it and breathed the spice and sugar and smell of her grandmother's home. It had been years since she'd had boiled coffee she hadn't made herself.

     The headmaster again captured her attention, drawing her from the aromas of memory, "Now, what was it you found that so interested you in the forest?"

     She jerked herself upright in the overstuffed chair she had allowed herself to sink into. "I received some disturbing news yesterday by owl from my Department at the Ministry." The coffee was put aside-- she was too apt to slip into the comfort of it, to let her exhausted mind drift to past contentment and then into sleep.

     "I had written them to reference some records regarding a phenomenon in the Forbidden Forest." She took a steadying breath. The wizard in front of her remained interested, quiet, waiting for her to continue.

     "You know I have a background in Centaur Affairs; I felt the centaurs here might be helpful in getting to know the Forest-- but I've found no trace of them since my arrival here." Two and a half months was a long time not to have mentioned this to Dumbledore.

     He sat up and put down his tea. "Missing?"  She had his full attention now, his usually-twinkling eyes sharp on her, glittering like shattered ice. "They have been missing for two months and only now you come to me?" There was a hint gravel in his voice.

     "Yes, sir," Zahirah felt the formality was appropriate, despite his earlier words. She held her voice steady, calm in spite of her cold stomach. "I have been investigating their disappearance. I believe I know centaurs better than any wizard, and so did not feel the need to disturb you." She steeled herself-- she spoke the truth as she saw it, and could not get defensive about it despite the overbearing feeling of inadequacy.

     "And it did not occur to you, Zahirah, that someone else might have more insight into the workings of this particular Forest?"

     "It has been my experience that centaurs behave in similar manners regardless of habitat. I had several theories as to the reason for this disappearance." She pressed on, forcing herself motionless, keeping the doubt from infusing her voice.

     "My first thought was that they had gathered elsewhere for a meeting, a mass stargazing, as they sometimes do. I have been out of Centaur Affairs for two years and it would not be beyond the realm of possibility that I would be unaware of a gathering. I received word that this was not the case. Since then, I have been doing a good bit of research in both my personal books and the library here. It was only yesterday that a reply to my further inquiries into the centaur records arrived." She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. The way she presented the next bit of information could remove her from immediate blame and focus the headmaster's attention elsewhere, but she felt incredibly inadequate to the task of manipulating Albus Dumbledore. She didn't feel clearheaded enough to even attempt such a thing on the great man, but she didn't have other options if she wanted to maintain her credibility.

     "Unfortunately, the current occupant of the Centaur Office could not find anything that might explain their disappearance. He did, however, inadvertently give me the most plausible reason yet for the centaurs' evacuation of the Forbidden Forest." She chose her words as carefully as she could without losing her natural speech flow.

      "Sir, I have been informed in a most casual postscript that a chimera egg in the possession of the department was stolen almost two months ago." She was almost afraid to hold his gaze, to see the reaction the news brought out.

     There was a power in the old man so deeply rooted and held so humbly one almost forgot she was dealing with one of the most powerful wizards the world had ever seen. She did not forget it now. If he had been upset before, he was furious now. He gathered his authority around him like a mantle he usually left aside. "A chimera egg went missing and no one in your department thought it advisable that the caretakers of the magical places in the world be warned?

    "You went into the forest last night." It was a statement infused with a question-- a dangerous question; a question on which hung the heavy weight of meaning.

     "The egg hatched here, sir. Once I knew what to look for-- well, it wasn't hard to find, but, sir, what I found--" Even in her need to tell Dumbledore, even with his awesome authority around him, she had to stop, to swallow, to regain control of her stomach. The images came unbidden, unwanted, sickening in their vividness. "It's started." She turned away, unable to watch his reaction; unable to witness what she was sure would be an awful silence. She had to escape, for just a moment, to think of something other than the strewn corpses and fur and bone, pictures and scents she was too tired to banish.

     "My dear, I'm afraid you have seen something terrible." His voice was shockingly calm, almost obscenely calm against the images in her head. He reached for her coffee cup to refill it, handing it back to her as he spoke. "But we can only react to things we do not have the foresight to prevent."

     Zahirah took the mug, drinking the soothing drink unconsciously. Dumbledore's words were incongruous with his previous emotion. He was going on in the same matter of fact manner: everything was under control in his mind. Silence overtook the office and Zahirah realized he was looking expectantly at her. Had he asked a question?

     "Do you have any ideas about precautions?" he repeated with no accusing infliction in his voice.

     "No one should go in alone." It was hard to focus, to wrap her mind around solutions rather than slipping into a hazy daze. "The students might be best kept away from it altogether." It would become necessary soon. The creature's range would increase tenfold daily. "I didn't see it, sir-- "

     She was cut off again by a headshake and a benign smile. "Albus," he said firmly.

     She remained silent while she re-gathered her thoughts after the interruption. "From our new information, from the Ministry, and from what I-- what evidence I've found of its growth, I estimate we have a couple of months before it reaches full maturity. We need to find it before then, and we have to do something to protect the creatures in the Forbidden Forest before we do."  Even in her rambling explanation, through her muddled mind, she tried to convey the knowledge that the balance in the forest had to be protected from the unstoppable predator.

     The headmaster nodded in agreement. "I suggest you discuss it with Professor Lupin when you ask him to accompany you into the Forest."

     He caught her in the middle of a long sip of coffee. She narrowed her eyes at him. When she did what? "There's no need for that. I can take care of myself."

     There was a slight crinkle to his mouth. "I'm sure you can, but did you not say that no one should go in alone? Professor Lupin will be going into the forest on my request. He's a Defense Against the Dark Arts expert; I trust him to help you, and you to help him."

     "I had extensive training in detecting and disarming dark magic-- my family has a long history of defense. My grandfather, and my great grandfather, and all of my uncles . . .  They are what you would call Aurors, I think." Certainly she had spent enough time working with her cousins and uncles during holidays in addition to the comprehensive training she had at school. In theory, anyway.

     "Professor Lupin has intimate knowledge of the Forbidden Forest; I don't doubt your abilities for a moment, but I would feel more confident if he took a look as well, and I will not risk either of your going in alone.

     "You look exhausted," and then he was just the kindly, eccentric old man again, "Why don't you take the morning off and get some sleep. You can speak to Remus when you're more refreshed."

     He put down the tea cup and picked up a thick roll of parchment. She was dismissed and she was certain that no amount of reason would sway Dumbledore's decision, at least not any reason she could come up with in her current mental state.

     "I hope you wake rested, and that you'll come see Fawkes sometime when he's in better shape," he said just before she exited the room.

     There were really no words in either language she knew to describe the relief at making it to her rooms without meeting anyone she had to talk to. She was fairly certain she'd thanked Dumbledore before leaving the office, but the whole last half of the conversation was hazy around the edges like a badly charmed photograph. The walk through the corridors was a surreal experience only heightened by the changing staircases and visiting portraits. She fell into bed without registering the absence of Persephone.

*****

     Severus had second year Hufflepuffs first thing. That gave him plenty of opportunity to think about what in the world Professor Zahir was doing in the Forbidden Forest at night. What had happened to break that hard mask into such exhaustion and fear? And the kneazle-- so conciliatory, so protective.

     "You dice the root, not shred," he snapped at some anonymous boy. Severus barely broke his attention from the internal monologue to scold the student. The Forbidden Forest was so close to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore and Potter and him. What if Professor Zahir had seen something Death Eaters had done? Would she recognize it? She certainly didn't seem inclined to report anything she may or may not have seen in her almost nightly excursions.

     He knew he was close to overreacting. The woman probably had a run-in with a boggart or something equally as inane. The Forbidden Forest was grown up around the grounds to protect the school-- surely Voldemort wasn't powerful enough to disrupt the creatures there. It would take something immense to gain a foothold in the magical habitat.

     Stifled giggles caught his attention: giggles meant some idiot was trying to be clever and would probably end up covered in thick green fur or screaming boils. Severus looked up and saw not a stupid child aiming a wand at a cauldron, but a puffed up kneazle skittering across the dungeon towards him. Oh, please, he thought, not now.

     "Ten points from Hufflepuff for failure to focus on the task at hand," he bit out before the ball of fur was at his feet and trying to climb his robes. His scowl was in no way put on to cow the children back into looking only at their books, though it had that effect as well. That woman, Severus seethed, should not be allowed to keep a pet-- regardless of what she called it-- if she couldn't control it. Some magical creature expert. Obviously, he was doing a better job of calming the kneazle huddled in his arms than she had.

     He was cradling the large feline in one arm, his billowing robes swathing her in black, almost concealing her, and calmed her with murmured words and soft strokes with his free hand. The faster the kneazle settled down, the faster he could get her out of his classroom.

     His growled reassurances whispered back at him: echoed through the room. The sound of cutting, stirring, and rustling robes that masked the sound before had ceased and his low voice was easily audible over the gentle bubbling of the cauldrons. Again he looked up. Twenty-two eyes were staring back at him. Eleven snaggle-toothed mouths hung open. The insolent, stupid, useless Hufflepuffs were gaping at him in undisguised amazement while he comforted the creature in his arms. The incredulousness was less than flattering; getting caught in such a soft act was infuriating. "Get out!" he roared, and the dungeon again reverberated with his voice.

     The Hufflepuffs fled.

     And then he had to comfort Persephone all over again, having sent her into another fit of trembling. One thing was certain: there was no way in hell he was going to Pomfrey to have the deep scratches in his arm healed.

*****

     "He was what?" Ron, wide-eyed, spoke around a particularly large bite of pot roast.

     Seamus Finnigan nodded gleefully. "'S what they say. Th' bugger was right near cuddling it-- an' when he realized they was lookin' at him, he yelled 'em out o' th' dungeon as angry as y' ever seen him."

     Harry doubted that, remembering the Potion master's enraged face towering over Sirius. But still-- Snape with a cat?

     "I told you she liked him," Hermione said over the top of a book.

     Neville was the only one among them who looked worried.  "I just hope Professor Zahir's okay. The Ravenclaws said she wasn't in class this morning, and that Professor Sprout had them weed Hagrid's garden instead."

     "She was at breakfast." Hermione looked up at the head table. She wasn't the only one to check for the Care of Magical Creatures professor. She might be unapproachable and cold, but at least she hadn't made them walk blast-ended skrewts or tame hippogriffs.

     "They're both gone," Harry said, inciting a fresh wave of speculation about the whereabouts and conditions of the two professors.

*****

    Zahirah had previously had little occasion to venture from her ground-floor suite to the heights of the castle, but for the second time that day she was ascending the stairs to the loftier corridors, this time to seek out Professor Lupin's office.  She was alone in the great stone passageways, her dancing anklet echoing loudly against the space. Persephone padded along with her, close about her feet as she had been since she awoke.

     Lupin might be a Dark Arts expert, as Dumbledore said, but what good would that do against the chimera? Dark arts were used by wizards against wizards, not by creatures, and certainly not against a monster with skin as resistant as this one. What she needed was an expert on chimeras.

     Any specialist on chimeras, however, would have to be strictly academic. Zahirah couldn't think of a single sighting of a chimera in the last thousand years, and of course the only known slaying was by Perseus centuries and centuries before Rome. Perhaps someone well versed in mythology might be useful.

     But thing held true at Hogwarts: Dumbledore's orders were unquestionable. So, she would ask Lupin to go into the forest for the Headmaster, regardless of her opinion about the usefulness of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professional in the situation. After all, if she objected, someone would surely tell her that Dumbledore had his reasons and remind her of his legendary insight. So it went with bosses everywhere-- their word was indisputable. There was just less red tape than with her and Department Head Tomas Nunden.

     She knocked on Professor Lupin's door and waited. Two students came around the corner holding hands and the girl squeaked when she caught sight of the stone-faced Care of Magical Creatures professor. The boy dropped her hand like it had burned him and the two of them walked past on egg shells, heads held high. It was then that Zahirah recognized them as sixth year Gryffindors. Perhaps Gryffindor Tower was nearby-- she was certainly high enough in the castle to merit the name.

     She was watching the students slink off when Professor Lupin opened the door. He hid his surprise well, but not fast enough to keep Zahirah from seeing it. She inclined her head slightly to acknowledge that the reaction was justified.

     "Professor Zahir. Is there something I can help you with?" It only took Lupin time enough to finish speaking her name to decide on a course of action. Zahirah could hear the renewed confidence in his voice. It didn't keep him from giving her a good once over, though: evaluating her, his eyes pausing, she noted with habitual annoyance, on her low slung hat. They never asked-- just accepted it wordlessly and wondered, then forgot about it after a while. It was better than the alternative.

     "Professor Dumbledore suggested that I come and discuss a few things with you, Professor Lupin. It's a matter of some urgency." She could see the red-orange tinge to the light in his room-- night was fast approaching and she needed to be out there again, to direct her search more carefully.

     "Do come in," he said politely, staving off his obvious curiosity long enough to step aside and let her in. "Can I get you some tea? Anything for your kneazle?"

     "Nothing for me, thank you, but if you would be so generous as to serve Persephone a little cream? I missed dinner tonight and I don't know if Prof-- if she got anything or not." Had she really come to rely on Professor Snape as much as to assume he would feed Persephone? She regretted her slip of tongue even more when she realized Professor Lupin had noticed it.

     "Yes, certainly. I'd hate to have her hungry. Persephone, you said?" He had gone after the tea things and it gave Zahirah time to sit down in one of the comfortable chairs in what appeared to be Professor Lupin's sitting room. Professor Dumbledore had sent her to the man's personal rooms rather than to his office as she had supposed.

      He returned with a cup of tea in one hand and a saucer in the other. "Persephone," Zahirah answered his earlier question. "After the goddess."

    Professor Lupin set the cream down by Zahirah's chair. But instead of setting to the cream immediately, the kneazle peered from behind Zahirah's ankles, wrapped up in the tails of her robes, then shrunk against the woman's boots and growled as Lupin approached.

    Zahirah kept her expression even despite her surprise. Professor Lupin's lack of reaction to the hostility seemed to indicate that it was not wholly unexpected. He stepped back slowly and took a seat of his own. "She's had a rough day," Zahirah politely explained.

    Professor Lupin waved it off. "Animals don't usually like me," he said with little expression in his voice.

    Zahirah looked at him for a long few moments while he settled into his chair with his tea. "Again, forgive the interruption, Professor Lupin. The Headmaster requested I speak to you as soon as possible, or I would have certainly waited to visit you in your office." At his dismissive hand gesture, she pressed on to stall any protests.

    "You may or may not know that my duties as Hagrid's substitute also include overseeing the Forbidden Forest." She could see by his light nod that he had. "The Headmaster felt that some of the things I reported to him would be of interest to you." He was listening with every indication of rapt attention- - it was no time to put off what she had come to say. "There is a chimera in the Forbidden Forest, Professor. It is Professor Dumbledore's request that I should not go back alone. He suggested that you accompany me." Her manner didn't even hint that she was opposed to the idea, didn't give away a whit of her inner turmoil or her fear. The sleep had done her well.

    Professor Lupin's tea stopped halfway to his mouth and held steady there for two breaths before it was lowered to the table. "A chimera?" he asked slowly, clarifying.

    "That is what I said."

    "But Professor Zahir, no one has seen a chimera in thousands of years-- it was rumoured that they are extinct." He sounded as though the prospect was something he hoped were, true rather than believed.

     "I assure you," Zahirah answered in a neutral tone firmly detached from the swirling in her mind, "that I am not mistaken. There is a chimera in the Forbidden Forest and there has been for at least a month and a half." She tried to keep her anger in perspective, to not hold his disbelief against him. It certainly wasn't unreasonable to find a chimera hard to swallow.

     "A month and a half!" She wanted to bristle at the accusation in his voice. "That's nearly full grown, isn't it?" He put his tea cup on the table and clasped his hands over a knee.

     "Fully grown, yes; fully mature, no.  Its skin is still soft enough to use magic against, but not for long-- it has started slaughtering." He looked unable to respond, so she continued, explaining, "It is marking its territory by killing everything around the place it hatched. It will continue to slaughter other predators and threats in a range that includes the forest and the school." She felt Persephone's reassuring presence before she realized the kneazle was physically in her lap and rubbing her head against her arms. Zahirah ran her fingers through Persephone's thick fur and soaked up the calming feel of the warm creature. It was enough for her to keep her collected, confident manner.

     He had gone pale while she spoke. "Professor Lupin." She said his name almost sharply to get his attention. "The Headmaster wants us to go into the forest to evaluate our options. Will you come with me?"

     The direct question got a response. "Of course, if that is what Professor Dumbledore thinks best." He rose when she did, regaining some of his color.

     "I will meet you at Hagrid's hut at half-past eight. Arm yourself as you see fit, but I do not intend to be seen." She thanked him for the cream as she left the room. She could almost feel his gaze on her back until she turned a corner.

* * * * *

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.

Thanks to Natasha Simonova and my usual beta team, Mike and Joyce, for the very helpful suggestions and corrections.