A/N: revamped and reedited

-----CHAPTER FOUR-----

Brenna wandered down the halls, hastily tying a leather strap around her left hand, her right already wrapped. She was going to the river today, and since she couldn't stand gloves these were her last options. She then ran and put on her boots, careful not to disturb the still sleeping residents. She through on the protective magically lightened and feather light chain mail tunic before throwing a black sweater over it. Thankfully, it was barely noticeable, and Brenna quickly pulled her hair back. She put on her steel cross made from nails, a ward her grandfather gave her after her father's demise. Brenna sighed, and then reminded herself she'd moved one, perked up, and walked down to the stairs.

Brenna went into the kitchen, just in time to watch Molly Weasley's morning routine of bewitching pots, pans, and foods to cook themselves. She set the table, brewed tea and coffee, said a quick "hello, dear" to Brenna, the rushed to the garden. Brenna shook her head, and grabbed a seal-away mug of tea. She sipped on it as she walked outside, her boots clicking amiably on the cobblestone path that followed the slope of the hill.

To Brenna's surprise, the fields were empty and vacant. On occasion, she would see a centaur or animal run across from one forest to the other, or a bird dive down for its prey. But today it was uneasily quiet. She knew that the estate was a natural host to all kinds of things, be it ghosts, or bugs, and there was always something there. But today, all was quiet. There weren't even the numerous and delightful bird calls.

Brenna considered turning back, the silence was eerie to her and she became tense. No, she thought, I have to at least check the river, make sure nothing's wrong. Drinking the last of her tea before setting the mug on the last bench she passed, Brenna went into the forest.

The forest shaded the dirt path beautifully in the morning sun. Brenna sighed, enjoying the feeling of peace. The birds had picked up their tunes again, and tension had decreased. Brenna found herself jumping along the hollowed, fallen logs, and dancing around in the haze of the morning. She soon left the path, going amongst the trees for a change of scenery. Soon, the sound of the running water filled her ears.

Brenna smiled as she came to the river. The spot she came to was a familiar one. Large rocks jutted out of the moderately flowing water, creating pools where small fish inhabited. The river averaged ten feet wide, but there was a crossing point with three logs tied together across to form a bridge. Brenna turned, watching the bend worriedly. Mistakes had taught her to look ahead. But, when nothing seemed out of the ordinary, Brenna continued to it, rounding it and then screaming. Her hands eventually covered her mouth as her eyes stared at the scene, wide with fear and shock.

Lying on the rived bed, half-way in the water, was a dead stag. Its throat was slashed, and knees bloodied from a crippling blow. All along the sides were long trails of claw marks. The horns were snapped off, leaving only stubs. The stag was a magical one, pallid grey and not so common. There was blood everywhere, tainting the small pool red and then floating away with the waters.

Brenna took a step back, but bumped into something-tall and warm. She turned around slowly, stepping back and gasping. There, standing behind her, was a tall, black centaur. His dreadlock hair fell to his broad shoulders, and his horse-half was that of an elegant black stallion, tail flowing to almost touch the ground. Brenna's eyes slowly traveled up to meet the centaur's steel blue.

"Ah-Ah-" Brenna stuttered, stepping backwards. In her haste, she tripped and fell to the ground.

"Elf-witch," the centaur said, in a low, raspy voice. He stepped toward her, and Brenna got up and backed into a tree; "What have you done?"

"Ah-Ah found the st-stag as it w-was!" Brenna said, her voice rising in fear.

"You've killed a sacred Shadow Beast," the centaur said icily, glaring at her.

"N-no, Ah'm on the same page as you! Ah-Ah wouldn't hurt one, not even if Ah was forced to!"

The centaur watched her in silence, sizing her up. He brushed a braided lock from his face, sniffing the air. He turned around, and waved his arm back behind him. Two more centaurs, one a young foal, the other an older male, stepped out. The centaur then turned back to Brenna, who was trying to suppress the shaking in her legs.

"Elf-witch, tell me false and you will be slain," Centaur said; "Are you offspring of Anestrothea?"

"Ah... Ah am," Brenna said, not knowing whether to regret her answer or thank the heavens for truth.

The centaur simply nodded, and the other two came around.

"Well, where could she be?"

"I'm sure she's doing chores, Malfoy. Shouldn't you be in bed or something? Perhaps drowning yourself in the bath?"

"Oh, ha-ha Potter," Draco sneered; "Come on, where could she be? Where are all the others, anyway? I've seen the bloody pictures of those elves everywhere. And how come the portraits don't move? That's a bit odd, wouldn't you think? Are you even paying attention to me? Hello, Boy Wonder!"

Harry had since given up listening and had returned to reading his book. Draco had wandered from his room and found the first person he could- Harry. Harry had been quietly enjoying breakfast in the study, trying to catch up on an essay. Now he groaned as Draco continued talking.

"Look, Draco, shut up, will you?" Harry said irately, turning on the blonde; "I don't know what kind of chores Brenna has, I don't know why the portraits don't move, and the reason why all of the other elves aren't here is because you're F-ing father and those damn Death Eaters slaughtered them all! And stop calling me Boy Wonder, Ferret."

Draco simply crossed his arms and scowled; "Well, blatant you," he said, "I had no say in what my father did, I only followed his shadow. Thought you knew that. And the reason why I'm talking so much is because the only human contact I've had are from people in hoods and a few house elves! I'm desperate for conversation! Even if it is with you he added with a sigh, walking over and looking out a window; "So," he said, "Any more Weasley's coming, aside from the mother and Weasel?"

"His name is Ron, and her name is Mrs. Weasley, to you," Harry replied curtly, "And I'm not sure..."

"Wonderful," Draco said; "And, Granger-"

"Hermione..."

"What ever... will she be here as well?"

"Who knows," Harry said, turning the page.

"Well, don't be cheerful," Draco said; "I'm just glad to be out of that prison."

"Oh? You had everything in the world, Malfoy, why would you want to leave?"

Draco turned, looking at Harry with the "I-can't-believe-you-don't-know- why" look; "You serious wonder why?" he asked, "I'll tell you. That manor was dark, dank, and at night people came whenever they felt like it. You'd wake up to screams, voices pleading for either forgiveness or release," he sighed, and looked back outside; "The sun is beautiful," he mused; "The curtains were always drawn whenever he was around..."

"Sorry to hear that," Harry said, turning and looking at the blonde briefly before they could make eye contact; "But that's still no reason to still be the pompous jackass that you are," he commented as he continued reading.

"It's my image, can't let that go, can I?" Draco asked smugly, smoothing his hair back; "That would be like you trying to lose your scar."

Harry laughed dryly; "Yeah, what a dream that is," he said.

"I honestly don't know how you stand it," Draco said, walking away from the window; "It is the ultimate blemish, isn't it?" he sneered as he left.

Harry snarled and slammed the book closed, glaring over to the open doorway where Draco had left. He closed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, and sighed; "For a roof over your head, keep your mouth shut," he told himself as he rose and set the book down. Harry walked out; "Hmm, perhaps I'll see if Ron's up. Might be able to get some flying in for Quidditch..."

"Ya nevah 'ave me alive!" Brenna exclaimed suddenly, ducking and rolling underneath the centaur. She rolled out to the side, got to her feet, but just as she got to a good run she was lifted off the ground by the older, tawny male centaur by her arms.

"Easy, elf-witch," the tawny male said gently, trotting back over to the black stallion and promptly dropping her. Brenna landed in a crouch, taking a handful of leaf litter in her hand. She gazed up at the centaur, brushing stray hair from her face.

The centaur gazed at her, then chuckled; "I would not risk the life of my herd harming one of Anestrothea's, especially since you are the last of his own," he said; "What brings you this deep into the forest, away from your citadel?"

"First off, what's ya name?" Brenna asked, getting up and dropping the fist of litter.

The centaur chuckled again; "I am Eamnonn, and this is my son, Cathmor-" the tawny-male nodded; "And my grandson, Brice-" the teenage-foal was stooped over the dead stag, examining the cuts along its throat.

"Eamnonn," Brice said, looking up gravely; "It's been killed by blades..."

"Ah'm unarmed," Brenna said; "Look, anythin' odd pass through lately?"

"No," Eamnonn said, walking over to his grandson; "Until now," he mused; "What kind of blade, Brice?"

"Not sure," Brice said, getting up; "I will take it away," he picked the carcass up, slung it over his horse back, nodded to them all, then jumped the river and ran off.

"Ah dunno know what could've-" Brenna began, but they all heard a sound resembling a tree falling to the ground. Everyone froze.

"Eamnonn," Cathmor said uneasily, taking a step back; "Something comes... from the west..." he took another step, his hind hoof going into the water.

"Calm mind, Cathmor," Eamnonn said, his steel eyes darting everywhere.

Brenna looked around, backing over to Cathmor; "Gimme ya staff," she said quietly.

"What? Why?"

"Just give it ta me!"

Cathmor wordlessly tossed the stout, short pole to Brenna, and she caught it with minor difficulty. Brenna held it firmly in her hands, inhaling the exhaling slowly to calm her nerves.

Then it came.