Chapter 06
• Friends •
Harry awoke the next morning to a weird sensation. It was as if Dog were lying on top of him, but without the weight. He became aware of the events that had transpired before his long sleep and remembered the blanket. He smiled inwardly, remembering how the spiders had lost to he and the wolves. He was smart and cunning, though he had been injured, he'd have to make sure he wasn't injured next time.
Dog was just outside. Harry could hear him sniffing about unusually close to the shelter.
Rising, Harry went to investigate, feeling the light of the sun as it peaked over the landscape beyond the forest. A bird was perched at the edge of the clearing, staring down at something beyond. Harry did not mind it though, lots of animals crept beyond his shelter in the morning and evening, there was a trail that led past it.
He moved to see what Dog was investigating instead. Dog, who had only awoken a few minutes before, moved back to let Harry further examine it. Harry just circled the thing for a while, he recognized its shape, he hadn't turned so primitive that a knife and its sheath would be foreign to him.
The hilt was a sheen bright silver color. The sheath and belt was made of the whitest leather Harry had ever seen, it was so white that when Harry had first looked at it he had shielded his eyes.
Slowly and cautiously Harry leaned forward and picked up the item, the knife first. It gave him jolt the moment his fingers came in contact with the hilt, but it disappeared before Harry had even drawn back his hand. He stared at it for a long time, thinking strange things about it before finally reaching out to touch it again. There was no pain this time, just the smooth feeling of the hilt slipping into his hands.
Slowly Harry pulled the knife from the sheath, examining it thoroughly. The very first thing he noticed was that the hilt and the blade were made of the same material, it was almost as if someone had carved it from a silver bone. Next he ran his finger very gently along the blade itself and found that it was razor sharp, slicing his finger just enough to make it bleed. Harry gripped it, twisting and plunging it into the air, he liked the knife, though not because it was a weapon, he had another weapon still, the crossbow, but this weapon was much prettier.
The crossbow still sat just inside the door of his home. He had tried to load it many times, but still found it was too difficult even with his solid muscles. The arrows were good for other things though, the tips of them were almost as sharp as the knife and he used them to cut open the potatoes so he didn't have to tear at them as much.
Without thinking Harry reached out again, snapping the sheath and belt from the ground, and then hurrying inside his house. He spent a few minutes examining the sheath, finding that it was made from a single piece of leather. The inside was even softer than the blanket, so soft that Harry believed that he'd never felt anything like it. He spent a few minutes figuring it out, and finally got it strapped to his waste were it held what was left of his outer garments together.
Once he'd made sure that the belt would hold, he sheathed the knife and then took it out again, seeing how fast he could pull it out. He noticed that the knife was almost weightless, but it still easily sheered a piece of his door when Harry struck down with it.
He was not careful enough though and he struck his arm, putting a nasty gash in it. Harry nursed it as best as possible and left his home. Almost immediately there was a slight noise outside the clearing and something sailed through the trees, landing at Harry's feet. A thin strip of hide was lying there and Harry looked up, surprised. He hadn't sensed someone outside his clearing, but apparently someone was hidden out there.
He pulled the knife again, ready to fight the new enemy, but no one came.
Slowly he bent down and picked up the wound up piece of hide, trying to decide what to do with it. Why had someone thrown it to him? The thought of using it as a sort of wrapping cloth never occurred to him. At the Dursleys he'd never been given proper medical care and so he hadn't learned what a band-aid was truly meant for, though Dudley seemed to get them all the time.
Ignoring the cloth, Harry looked to the trees of his clearing; the mysterious stranger was just beyond them. Harry sheathed the knife on more time and climbed a nearby tree, moving along its branches until he was outside the clearing. A man-horse was standing, waiting for him. Even Harry hadn't been expecting this and didn't have enough time to get away from the roaming eyes of the centaur.
It was Firenze that was sitting there, and he wasn't sure how the man-horse had found his home, but he was angry that the man-horse thing had found his house. The centaur spoke first, he didn't seem at all angry or untrustworthy, he seemed happy and caring. "Hello young one," he said heartily. "I see you've gotten my present."
From deep within Harry came a growl, the man-horse wanted the knife back and he liked the knife, he didn't want to give it back. Besides, he'd found it and it was in front of his house, why should he have to give it up? The knife was in Harry's hand, and though it was a bit awkward, he was able to look menacingly enough that Firenze stepped backwards.
"Do not worry, I bear you no ill will." Harry growled, but didn't approach any more. The past experiences with the centaur filled his mind; the last time they'd met was only yesterday, though at the time the centaur was not awake. It was curious, that the centaur was guarding the cave where he slept, and yet it contained no bars or walls to prevent him from leaving. And he'd been healed; he remembered before that when he was attacking the spider he'd been badly injured. Slowly Harry's hand rose to his ear, the one that had been nearly been sliced off, it was still there, all of it. Had the centaur healed him?
Before, the first time he'd met the centaur, there had been no fighting, they'd simply both been surprised by each other. The man-horse had even lain his weapon down to show he had no ill intentions. Dog had surprised him again though, but he hadn't even tried to hurt Harry. The hoofs could have done a great deal of damage had they come down on him.
Finally, deciding that the centaur was not his enemy, he pulled the knife from its sheath and began throwing it forward when Firenze shook his head. "Keep it," the centaur said calmly. "It was a gift, a gift to show I only want friendship."
Some of what he said didn't sound right to Harry, he could make sense of the words, but he did understand friend. He quirked his head slightly, not understand the man-horse at all.
Why would he want to be friends? Harry had nothing that he would want, and wasn't that what friends were for? All of Dudley's friends wanted his protection. No one had ever wanted to be friends with Harry because he had nothing to offer them, and Dudley would beat them up.
Dudley wasn't around though, and maybe this man-horse wanted something from Harry. Or maybe he just liked having friends, the girl with silver hair had been nice enough - and she'd never met Harry. Maybe there were other people in the world like her; maybe this centaur was like her. Whatever the reason, Harry reconsidered the first thoughts he'd had about the centaur for several minutes. Finally he concluded that he could try to be friends, but he would be careful, there might be some trickery involved. He spent another few minutes trying to remember how to say the proper words.
"We is friends," he choked and, though it barely sounded human, it was recognizable. He didn't plan on being friends just yet, but he would accept the gesture for now and be careful about the centaur. There wasn't really anything else that could be done about it. The man-horse knew where he lived, he was bigger and stronger, and there were more of him, Harry had seen them from a distance.
Because the threat of having more people find him out, Harry thought for a long moment, trying to place the words. "Not tell others?" he asked, trying to seem as nice as possible.
"No," Firenze said kindly, smiling because he seemed to be getting through to the boy. "I won't tell any of the others."
Harry smiled as an instinct; he was already liking the centaur more. The smile reminded him of the girl.
"Why don't you come down here child," he said quietly, taking a few steps back like a peace offering. Then, remembering what else he had brought with him, he opened the pack that was slung over his back and pulled over what looked like a leather coiled rope, laying it on the ground in front of him. Then he pulled out a small wrapped package. He carefully unwrapped it and laid it on the paper it had been wrapped in, on top of the rope. More food came, bits of chocolates and sweets, and finally, across the top he laid three arrows from his quiver.
He took three more steps back. "Those are for you, young sir. If you'll permit me I can show you how to use the weapons, including the one you took from me before."
It wasn't much, but Harry didn't feel like trusting him that much at the moment. He shook his head quickly, staring hungrily at the food, he hadn't ever had a real cake, and the one on the ground looked terribly inviting.
"Alright, how about I return tomorrow, would that be alright?"
The longer the centaur was there the longer it would be before Harry could get to the food, so reluctantly he nodded. Maybe the centaur would bring more food.
Sweeping quickly to one side Firenze made his way along the beaten path near him, and then disappeared among the trees. He stopped for a moment to see if he could see the boy, but a set of eyes was following him, and when he realized that the wolf dog had suddenly appeared and was following him, he continued on his way.
Harry had whined softly to Dog the moment the centaur had turned to leave and Dog, following Harry's will, had taken off after the man-horse. Meanwhile Harry had dropped to the ground and was collecting the food. The rope was a great treat as well, but he left it while he took the food into his house. He returned just as quickly, a large piece of one of the cakes stuffed into his mouth. He picked it up, and found that it was not a normal rope, instead one side was thick and hard, a sort of handle, while the other was thin and flexible, coming to a single thin strand of leather.
Never having seen anything quite like it Harry took the handle and waved it in the air around his head like a helicopter. It moved fluidly until it caught a nearby branch and wrapped itself around it. Harry had to tug it free, and then he coiled it again, happy for the present, whatever it was.
The next morning, Harry was eagerly awaiting the visit of the centaur. He'd had a small meal already, but compared to the sweets of the previous day the potatoes were almost unbearable.
When the centaur cantered into view a good deal of time after the sun had risen, Harry watched him eagerly, waiting to see what he'd brought. Firenze stopped just below the tree Harry was perched in and waited, looking around. Harry, not seeing any gifts lain down, dropped from the trees just in front of the centaur startling him a great deal.
"Fir... Firennss." Harry said, trying to say the centaur's name, it was hard to pronounce, and he rolled the letters, making it sound more like a dull hiss.
Firenze smiled after he had caught his breath. Harry seemed to glow with anticipation. The clothing was different, he had removed the dirty leathery robe that he'd been clothed in before and now wore very little more than the belt of unicorn hide. In some ways it made him more human, and in some it made him even more animalistic.
From within his backpack came more food, he laid it down in front of Harry and then took a step back. This time he did not leave immediately, but watched as the boy collected the food and then disappeared into the trees like he was a part of them.
For weeks it happened like this, Firenze bringing food and small presents to Harry. He even spoke to him little by little so that Harry could get used to words again. It seemed that words had been the reason Harry had been so scared the first time the two had met. Firenze did get a few words from him, like his name and his favorite foods.
Harry began looking forward to seeing Firenze and was far more comfortable with his presence.
While Firenze was far from the wisest of the centaurs, he was young, smart and willing to spend the time with the boy. It was subtle at first, just the words, but by the beginning of winter Harry was eating with him in front of a fire - something the boy had never known. They conversed, although it was almost completely one-sided, Harry would motion and nod a great deal, but it was a conversation.
None of the other centaurs knew he had made friends with the little foal, who he'd begun calling Harry because when he'd asked Harry's name he'd gotten a reply that sounded like a choked 'harrrea'. Harry was the closest name the centaur recognized and since it was close, the centaur had christened him with that name. Harry had just sort of accepted it not caring either way; his name didn't matter much anymore until Firenze had come along.
"You never knew your parents?" Firenze asked one night as he was giving slicing the fur from a rabbit that he'd caught only a short time before. It was custom to share it with the pack if it was large, but it had only been a set of rabbits, and it wouldn't have made much of a meal so he'd stayed out on the pretense that he would be star-gazing and gone to share a meal with Harry instead. He did stargaze now and then, but since he'd met Harry it seemed to take up a lot less of his time.
There was the problem of another one of the pack coming along, but he was so far off from the rest of the pack, that it was barely of note in his mind. If they moved again, which they did rarely, he might have to worry. Eventually he wanted to gain entrance to the muti glade, just to have been there once, but Harry would have to invite him in - and to do that he'd have to be able to speak.
After carefully laying out the fur of the rabbits, Firenze used an arrow, which had lost its balance, to skew one of the rabbits and set it over the fire so that it could cook. He offered the second to Harry who took it and bit into it without a thought. Though the centaur knew most animals liked their food uncooked he still shivered at the way Harry ripped his apart.
Harry on the other hand loved it uncooked, it was a good deal more flavorful to him and when the centaur had first brought cooked meat; he'd only eaten it reluctantly - but he would never allow the centaur to cook it in front of him if he was going to eat it. Some foods, with sugars he liked cooked, but not meat.
It was almost two minutes since Firenze had asked the question when Harry shook his head as he ripped another chunk from the rabbit and chewed it slowly. He shivered slightly, a sign Firenze had picked up as a sign of pleasure, and then looked at Firenze with his startling green eyes. "D-d-d... die." he said, rather slowly, but still as keen as ever. His aunt had once told him he wasn't supposed to speak, he'd never learned it quite as fast as everyone else because of her, and he'd forgotten it even faster. Some words, like death, dead, died, all seemed the same word to him even though he knew there where others he should be using.
Firenze was a bit startled at the word; he'd always had a hard time coaxing any words out of Harry until now.
"They died?" he asked, amazed as Harry shook his head. "Here?" he continued, suspecting that Harry had been alone because his parents - who were almost certainly magical, had died in the forest. But Harry shook his head and then bit into the rabbit again, forgetting the centaur's presence. Firenze was quite used to this behavior though and just sat quietly thinking to himself about Harry.
There were many reasons Harry could have ended up along in the forest, but none were as absurd as the real reason.
Harry reached the ribs of the animal and started to break the bones when Firenze cleared his throat. Stopping, Harry pulled the knife from his belt and used it to clean off the meat instead of doing it by hand. Firenze nodded, happy that Harry had at least learned something.
"Have you tried the whip yet?" he asked as he took his piece of meat from the fire, testing it to see how well it was cooked.
Shaking his head Harry bound off into the darkness, returning with the whip in his hand only a few seconds later. In his other was the crossbow he'd stolen from Firenze on their first meeting. On his face, a smile, he liked it when Firenze demonstrated the weapons. The crossbow was not his favorite, but at the moment was the only one of the two he had any competency at. When Firenze had come a few weeks before, he'd finally brought it out to offer it as a gift - like Firenze had offered him gifts - but the centaur would not take it, instead showing him exactly how it worked.
Setting the crossbow was not an easy task, but after Firenze had shown it to him he'd gotten the basics of it and been able to do it a few times before Firenze left. Since then he'd done it over and over again until his already strong arms were even stronger and he was with relative ease, able to cock the weapon. The arrows he had were fast depleted, some splintering after hitting a rock, some lost in the forest because they'd gone further than he even thought, and some just quit shooting straight after being used so many times.
Firenze smiled and took the weapons from Harry. The crossbow was uncocked just as he'd told Harry to do, and the whip was coiled properly.
Harry had tried the whip too, but even with the centaur showing him things, he had only gotten worse. At first he'd been able to swing it, but never hit anything he'd meant to, once Firenze had shown him how to whip it he'd used it a few times - but only been able to hit himself. He still had a scar forming on his leg where the whip had wrapped its long leather thread around Harry's leg. That had been the last time Harry tried it.
"Go find a piece of wood," Firenze said as he lay the whip carefully upon a nearby rock. He cocked the crossbow and put one of his arrows into it.
"Good," he said as Harry picked up a small fallen branch from the forest floor. "Now throw it like I taught you," he continued as he shouldered the weapon.
The branch flew towards a nearby tree and there was a slight pinging noise. Only a brief moment later the piece of wood was hanging from a nearby tree, the arrow embedded almost perfectly in the center of a large knot on it
Harry smiled so brightly that Firenze almost blushed. He knew he was one of the better hunters at his age even if the pack didn't recognize it. Firenze didn't have to wait for long before another piece of wood was flying through the air and yet another arrow had made a dull thudding sound as it struck the dead tree. Over and over again Harry threw pieces of wood and Firenze was able to strike them in midair and embed his arrow into the dead tree. When his quiver was finally depleted he placed the crossbow on the rock and picked up the whip.
The whip was something he had not mastered, and he was far from being as good as some of the others in the pack, but he was still good with nonmoving objects. Almost as if it were a signal Harry moved to the left side of the centaur, waiting eagerly to see the demonstration. Another tree was the focus of these attacks, and the whips coils dropped from his hands. But even before they found the ground, the leather cord was yanked in another direction and shot out, wrapping itself around the branch. With a gentle tug it came flying back to Firenze. He took another step back and aimed a bit to the right at a broken arrow, which had been embedded in the tree pointing up. The whip cracked and a small piece of the top of the arrow went missing. Firenze was not at all surprised, the arrow had been broken already and had been there for a long time, it's shaft no longer as sturdy as it had been when he'd cut it down.
Harry was nothing but smiles as Firenze used the whip a few more times. He stopped rather abruptly and coiled the whip again, making Harry turn to him in disappointment. "I've got something else for you today," Firenze said pulling out another leather thong, this one much different from the whip.
"This," he said, showing Harry the weapon, which didn't look like much more than a long leather string, "is called a sling. I was never good at it at all, but all the children play with them, I thought you might like a try at it."
Harry looked at the string for several seconds before just shrugging, it didn't look that interesting nor did it look anything like a real weapon. Firenze took a minute to search out something on the ground then bent over and picked it up. "It is one of the simplest weapons we use," he said as he stepped closer to Harry and showed him the rock. "You take one of these and put it here," he said as he carefully fit the rock into a small pouch that was along the strand of leather. Then, slipping the loop over a finger and taking the other end between another finger he proceeded to twist it in the air. After a full loop he released the string and the rock shot forward, striking the nearby tree. The limb it had struck exploded and the strange sound echoed through the night air.
Harry with delight, it was an amazing device, and nothing more than a simple piece of leather cut right. Harry might even be able to make from the skin of potatoes.
When Firenze offered Harry the weapon, he took it quickly and then darted off, looking for a smooth rock as Firenze had found. When he found a sizable one, he loaded into the pocket of the sling and after slipping his finger in the loop and catching the other end with his finger he swung it hard. When he released it, the rock shot through the air barely finding the target Harry had been aiming for - the same dead tree. It struck the trunk of the tree this time and the sound reverberated through the forest. Harry smiled widely; he really liked this weapon.
"I must go," Firenze said when he saw Harry's eagerness to play, he knew he wouldn't be much use anymore; he was never even good at the thing. Most of the other centaurs learned themselves anyway, no one instructed them; so Harry could learn it on his own. "Good night little one," he said as he turned and disappeared into the forest.
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