Chapter Four: Magorian

Harry recounted to the Wizengamot how he had come upon his choices for the Furies of Hades. Other than Draco, he was wary of having other humans under his control. They were just too similar to him – too opportunistic. Even those steeped in the old Wizarding traditions were still able to change their minds and break away from those traditions. He wanted those whom he knew were steeped in ancient lore at their very cores – those whom he could count on not to betray him, because he would mold himself to fit their unshakeable traditions.

So, he turned to Dark Creatures and their lore, and began to research. He snuck into the restricted section of the library, and when that proved useless, he turned to the books of Rowena Ravenclaw. She had only kept one book on Dark Creatures, and it was obvious from her notes that this was the book which had prompted her to get a Basilisk for Slytherin.

But Harry wasn't interested in Basilisks, or even the more bird-like Creatures. They were too unruly and unpredictable. And, while powerful, they were not what he was looking for. Two types of Creatures did catch his eye though, the first of which were the Centaurs.

The book had a very large section on Centaurs, he told the Wizengamot, and, more importantly, it told of how they read the sky. This was no Divination; this was a kind of magic much more complex and reliable, which dealt with one's blood.

Rushed whispers flew through the room as the Wizengamot allowed Harry to stand and draw out on a blackboard, which they provided, the runes that the Centaurs used to identify stars and the future by their place in the heavens. These runes, Harry explained, could be seen by Centaurs if they just looked up at the sky. Humans, however, would have to memorize them. So Harry had. He then used his own blood to find out what Centaurs would think of him, and thus how he should approach them.

He drew this rune, too, on the blackboard, and it quickly became so intense, so curved in on itself and complex, that even Hermione – who had always loved Ancient Runes and had paid utmost attention in class – lost all hope of following his explanation. Yet, from this mess of circles, lines, and letters, Harry had seen that he was under the protection of many celestial bodies.

Each person had a spot in the basic rune for a 'sire' and a 'parent', assuming that one was the dominant father being and the other was the nurturing mother being, respectively. Normally, if one of your parents had been born under a particular star, it showed in these slots. Harry's slots were filled with two planets – Pluto and Jupiter – with Pluto as his 'sire' and Jupiter as his 'father'. From Hermione's study of Ancient Runes, this was unheard of, yet Harry pressed on as if he hadn't just astounded Professors of Ancient Runes across the Wizarding World.

He pointed to the center of the circle, and spoke of how every person in the world was born under a star. This fact alone was not really important, but what was critical was the age of the star which held sway. A star was born with the rune character of zeroth, and, as it aged, it grew in number – monoth, duoth, treoth, quaroth(1), and so on – until it reached cenoth, which was the number for a hundred. Once it reached a hundred, the star died, and though the light from the star would continue to come to the planet for years afterwards, a person who was born under a 'dead star' would have a very bleak future. The lower the number of the star you were born on, the more successful you would be.

Harry's star held the number zeroth. This was important, Harry explained, for only at the very instant the star was born did it hold this number. A moment after, and it would hold monoth. No other person in the world could hold this number, he told the Wizengamot in a voice completely void of pride.

Around one's birthing star, there were three spaces, three points on a triangle, which showed the influence beings. Influence beings, Harry explained, were like older sisters or brothers; they loaned you their strength and guidance. Two of Harry's influence being points held celestial bodies. The first was the moon – Hecate, Harry informed the Wizengamot, for the Moon had many forms and each was very different. The second was Mars, the planet – the god – of war.

This had both amused Harry and given him confidence, he said, as he was again fastened to the chair. It told him he should continue onward just as he was, and act in his true nature to the Centaurs. From that, they would accept him.

His only problem was how to contact Magorian, who he remembered was the leader of the Centaurs. He could not write a letter, for Centaurs could hardly read or write any language. In the end, he turned to Ravenclaw's book and Hedwig for help. Centaurs had no real lore regarding opening communication, but they always sent a messenger to each other. Worth was shown by how important that messenger was.

Harry sent Hedwig, for though Magorian would not be able to communicate directly with her, by viewing her in the backdrop of the stars, he would know that she was Scylla's mentor and confidant – a very important messenger indeed.

Harry entered the Forbidden Forest warily, yet with a confident, silent step. He trusted that Magorian would understand the importance of his presence in the Forest, and that he was coming only to talk, yet he would not be caught off guard in case Magorian decided he would not see him.

Hedwig landed on his shoulder with a rustle of feathers. "The leader of this herd of Centaurs is waiting for you deep in the forest, chick. He was most interested in me, and thus in you."

"That is good," Harry cooed, as he followed her directions deeper into the Forest. "I'd hoped he would be."

"He is very wary, as you should be, chick, for he knows well what humans have done to Centaurs in the past. He will not be one to be caught off guard."

"I know. That is what makes him a noble leader."

Magorian was waiting for him in the middle of a clearing, about a kilometer into the Forest, if Harry's guess was accurate. Magorian was as he remembered from the previous year: the chestnut colored body of a horse, with a proud countenance and long black hair. He was as opposite to Firenze as was possible – in both appearance and attitude.

Harry bowed low. Magorian – in fact all those he wished to unite with him – deserved his respect.

"I remember you," the Centaur murmured as Harry straightened. "You were one of the foals with the half-giant a year ago. Yet, now you walk like a stallion. Has so much changed in the interim?"

"I would not dare to insult you by assuming you could not see the change, the shift in my star and those that affect it."

Magorian viewed him with a calculating look. "There has been a shift, yes, but it will take months to decipher – years even. The future, like the stars, is always in motion. It is sometimes difficult to divine it."

"If I, a mere human, can see the shift and realize its potential, then surely the Centaurs knew long before I."

Magorian stepped close to Harry, leaning over to look in his eyes. Harry did not bother to hide their shape, allowing the Centaur to see the bird irises looking calmly back at him.

"You are changed, little foal. In the space of a year, you have indeed grown to a stallion. I had wondered why you sent a bird ahead of you, but I see now the connection. You have old magic brimming in you, which you did not before. To gain such wisdom in a year is something to respect."

He pulled back, though he continued to watch Harry, as if trying to divine his blood and, through it, his purpose. "What business do you have that you have called upon the Centaurs?"

"I seek an alliance with you, for the war that is to come."

"You speak for the Dark Wizard that wishes to throw his brethren into chaos."

"I speak for myself. I am Scylla, sired by Hades, son of Jupiter, brethren of Hecate and Mars."

Magorian's gaze softened as he looked at the Wizard before him. "Yes, I see that you are. But you are also a willing child of the Dark Lord who rose before and is rising again."

"I am more a Fury of Hades, than I am Voldemort's heir."

Magorian's gaze drifted upward. "What an interesting ideal, Mars' Furies working for Pluto."

"I wish to achieve that ideal. I invite the Centaurs to join with me."

"And, in return, what do we receive?"

Harry's gaze joined Magorian's, looking at the stars. "Wizards have hurt your kind since its creation, because of your nature – something you cannot change. In return for your aid and council, I would make you my brethren."

Harry said nothing more, for there was nothing more that needed to be said. Again he bowed to Magorian and walked slowly from the clearing.

"Scylla."

He stopped at the clearing's edge and turned again to see Magorian watching him with a strange look, as if he was looking at something truly great, yet could not see why it was so.

"I will speak to my herd about this. Send your messenger in a week's time, and you will have your answer."

Dawn was breaking over the Forbidden Forest as Harry slipped into the Gryffindor Common Room.

After thinking it over in the early dawn light, Harry decided that he would tell Hermione and Ron of what Dumbledore had shown him. Nothing but the truth would do in this situation… but that was no reason not to pepper the truth with lies. He tweaked the life of Tom Riddle so that the boy was brought up – groomed in fact – to be a Dark Lord, by a family steeped in Wizarding tradition, yet hiding the shameful fact that the boy's father was a muggle-born. He was quite proud of his tale when he'd finished. In fact, if he held up the two versions of the Dark Lord's past in his mind, he would say that his version of it made more sense. It had been perfectly timed, too – he finished right as they arrived for Herbology.

"Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who," said Ron quietly as they took their places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps and began pulling on their protective gloves. "But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"

"Dunno," Harry replied, and truthfully he didn't know. "But he says it's all important and it'll help me survive."

"I think it's fascinating," said Hermione earnestly. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?"

Harry changed the subject abruptly – he didn't want them thinking too far down that line, at least not yet – "So how was Slughorn's latest party?"

"Oh, it was quite fun, really," said Hermione, now putting on protective goggles. "I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so well-connected, but he gave us some really nice food and introduced us to Gwenog Jones."

"Gwenog Jones?"

Harry didn't really get Ron's excitement over this… person… whoever she was, but Hermione's explanation of what she thought of the captain of the Holyhead Harpies was cut off by Professor Sprout.

"Quite enough chatter over here! You're lagging behind, everybody else has started, and Neville's already got his first pod!"

Well, that was really nice for Neville, Harry thought darkly as he eyed the bloody lip and scratches that Neville was sporting. That certainly didn't motivate him to move any faster.

"Should've used Muffliato, Harry," Ron muttered as Professor Sprout moved away.

"No, we shouldn't!" Hermione replied, as Harry knew she would. He found Hermione's paranoia when it came to the Half-Blood Prince rather amusing, though annoying as well.

They wrestled with the innocent-looking stump – which sprang to life with bramble-like vines when they touched it – until Hermione pulled out a pod like the one Neville had held. As they let go, the vines shot back inside the stump. Harry glared at the innocent-looking plant darkly. It was much more trouble than it was worth.

"You know, I don't think I'll be having any of these in my garden when I've got my own place," Ron said, echoing Harry's own, rather more colorful, thoughts.

"Pass me a bowl," Hermione said, holding the pod at arms length. Harry handed one over, and she dropped it in, a look of disgust on her face.

"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out; they're best when they're fresh!" called Professor Sprout.

Hermione continued the conversation as if a stump had not just attacked them. "Anyway, Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one, because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."

Harry groaned, visions of murder filling his mind at the thought. He was sure that would be loads of fun.

Ron, who was attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up, and squashing it as hard as he could, said angrily, "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"

"Just for the Slug Club, yes."

The pod flew out of Ron's fingers, and Harry used this as an excuse to get away from the two of them for a few seconds. When he got back, Hermione was saying, "Look I didn't make up the name 'Slug Club'-"

Ron's sneer was worthy of Draco, Harry mused as the redhead shot back, "Slug Club. It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug-"

"We're allowed to bring guests," Hermione cut him off, and Harry groaned inwardly as he saw she had turned a bright scarlet. He had an idea of where this was going. "And I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"

Harry wished that the pod had flown farther – like out of the greenhouse all together – so that he didn't have to sit though this. He seized the bowl and began to try and open the pod by the noisiest and most energetic means he could think of, but that still did not drown out their conversation.

"You were going to ask me?" Ron asked, in a completely different voice.

"Yes," Hermione replied angrily, "But obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen…"

Harry felt his anger begin to spark into heat between his fingers.

"No, I wouldn't," said Ron in a very quiet voice.

Harry's fingers sparked, and the bowl shattered.

"Reparo," he said hastily, poking the pieces with his wand. The crash had managed to solve his problem, though: Hermione and Ron had realized they were getting mushy in the middle of a greenhouse.

"Hand that over, Harry," said Hermione hurriedly – still flustered, "It says that we're supposed to puncture them with something sharp…"

He had realized this would happen sooner or later, Harry thought as he handed the pod and bowl to Hermione. He'd seen it coming. It could actually be helpful if they got so entangled with each other that they didn't notice if he disappeared for hours on end – and then, even if they did, he could say he was giving them 'alone time' or something. But with this came a possibility for disaster. One disagreement, and they were sure to have one sometime, could set them up for a huge argument – one that he'd be entangled in eventually. That would give him even less freedom to move about in. No, it was better if they didn't get together at all.

Hermione managed to burst the first pod open as Ron pulled the second from the stump, both seemingly oblivious to Harry's musings. Harry grimaced as he looked down at the bowl, now filled with tubers wriggling like pale green worms.

Disgusting… just like Ron and Hermione.

Harry didn't bother to hide his presence long enough to check whether anyone was in the Slytherin Common Room or not. If they heard him, he could modify their memory later, anyway.

"Those two make me sick!" he hissed, flinging himself on top of the couch and Draco, unheeding of Draco's protests or the blonde's quick grab at of the ink bottle to move it out of harm's way.

"Which two is it?" Draco asked, less flustered, as he replaced the stopper on the ink bottle and set it down on top of the table.

"Oh, pick your pair," Harry's voice groaned from the vicinity of his lap, "Ron and Hermione, Ginny and Dean, Ron and Ginny-"

"Weasley and his sister?" Draco's voice sounded strangled.

"Not like that." Harry grinned insanely despite himself. "Though that would explain his over-protectiveness."

"So what happened?"

Harry started back at Herbology with Ron and Hermione's sudden revelation that the other existed and continued through Quidditch practice, during which Ron and Ginny began tearing into each other over her relationship with Dean.

"You're going to win the game, you know," Harry groaned, "There's no way to make them all work together."

Draco's hand stilled from where it had been following the trail of Harry's hair from his temple to his jaw, "Well, I'm not going to win the game. I'm not playing tomorrow."

"You're not?"

"No."

Harry sat up abruptly. "Why?"

"I'm not going to play against you anymore. That's all."

Draco wouldn't catch his eye as he spoke, but Harry was sure he was lying. Draco was a good liar, Harry had to admit, but something was just off about that reason. He stared at Draco until the Malfoy heir looked back at him. Shock was not the expression he thought he would see, though.

"Harry, what happened to your eyes?"

Harry blinked, and realized that he could again see the band of grey around Draco's neck. He must have triggered the transformation to his owl eyes, though he had no idea how he'd done it.

"It's just… part of being Ravenclaw's descendant," Harry muttered. "Hedwig told me that I'm just growing into her powers."

"Hedwig?"

"My owl."

Draco was staring at him. Harry frowned. He supposed it did sound a little weird – after all, hadn't he challenged Lord Voldemort when he had said Harry was Ravenclaw's descendant?

"I'll show you." He took Draco's hand and pulled the boy toward the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room.

Hedwig flew to his shoulder as he entered the Owlery without prompt, turning to gaze unblinkingly at Draco.

"Who is the golden chick you bring with you?"

Harry pulled Draco further into the Owlery and presented Hedwig to him. "This is Hedwig, Draco. Hedwig," he added in her aviantounge(2), "this is Draco."

Hedwig blinked once at Draco and then dismissed him, "He is a strange little chick, but I do not mind his presence."

Harry gave her an amused glance before leading Draco over to the window. "Open up," he ordered, and pulled a startled Draco through the opening before it could close on them.

"What is this?" Draco asked as Harry led him down the small hallway to the chamber door.

"This is the entrance to the Chamber of Wisdom," Harry felt he need not explain further. Draco was smart enough to make the connection from the Chamber of Secrets to the Chamber of Wisdom. "Voldemort bid me find this before he would make me his heir."

The Chamber of Wisdom, in Harry's opinion, had never been as grand or majestic as the Chamber of Secrets. It was simply more lived in. It was obvious that Ravenclaw had actually worked in the Chamber, instead of just housing a pet there. Then again, he supposed that her Chamber would look more lived-in than Slytherin's, considering that he had left Hogwarts long before the other Founder had died.

Still, it was a treat to watch Draco look around the room in amazement. "This is yours?"

"Well, it's not technically mine; but, since I'm the only human who could get in here, you could say that. Dumbledore doesn't know it's here, either, so I can practice in here without being watched."

"You mean like with your eyes?"

"Yes, and with the other things I'm supposedly growing into as well."

"Like what?" Draco asked curiously from where he was examining one of Rowena Ravenclaw's bookshelves.

"Whenever I get a strong emotion, my magic starts to manifest itself as a tingling or a heat in my fingers. If it's a very strong emotion, it comes out as sparks of lighting. If I try to ignore it, it comes out more frequently, and for smaller emotions, so I come here to let it out."

Draco pulled a book off a shelf. "And it comes out as lightning? Real lightning?"

Harry nodded before realizing that Draco was skimming the book and wouldn't see him. "Yes."

Draco looked up with a curious expression. "Show me."

"What?"

"Show me," the blond repeated.

"Yes, show him," Hedwig agreed from her perch. "It would be good practice for you to create the lightning yourself, for once. Impress the chick; make it a big one."

Harry blinked at his familiar, wondering how he was going to create the lightning when he had no real emotion to burn off. He looked down at his hands, as if they would just suddenly start sparking on their own. They didn't, and he frowned at them. He blinked, and the world shifted.

He realized that he'd again brought out his owl eyes, as he looked down at his hands. The blue veins of his magic twirled around his fingers as he watched. Looking up at Draco, he saw a flicker of the other boy's magic twining around him, different and distinct from the grey band visible at his neck. Draco was waiting expectantly, so he looked down at his fingers, pointed at the fireplace, and pulled.

The magic pulsed forward, and shot out. The stone of the mantle exploded as a blue flash of light connected to it with a hiss.

"This boy is a good influence on you," Hedwig murmured. "I approve of him. He got you to do in one night what I have been waiting for you to do for weeks."

The look on Draco's face was a cross between triumph and awe. "That's definitely a new trick, Scylla."

Harry grinned and shrugged. "I still have to work on the accuracy a bit. That landed much higher than I wanted it too."

Draco nodded, returning to the book. "Have you read all of these yet? They're fascinating."

"Never been much of a book person," Harry drawled. "But you can read them, if you want."

Draco looked up, puzzled. "I thought you were the only one who could get in here."

"Well, I'm the only human that I know of. I assume any bird could get in, if they wanted to."

He looked over at Hedwig for confirmation. Hedwig huffed, "Of course we could, chick, but why would we want to? This is a place for your kind, not ours."

"Then if Draco wants to come in here, will you open the way for him?"

"If you wish it, chick."

Harry nodded, looking up at Draco, who was watching him with a bemused expression. "It was much more unnerving when you were talking to snakes, you know," Draco drawled.

Harry could have sworn Hedwig snorted at that. He grinned at her uncomplimentary words. "Even though I think you just insulted her, Hedwig will let you in here if you want."

Harry lay awake long after Draco's breathing had evened out in slumber. The Quidditch game for tomorrow really was screwed for the Gryffindor team if he didn't think of something in the next few hours, and, with Draco not playing, he didn't even have someone to blame it on to Ron when they lost. The problem was that Ron had no confidence.

Harry's eyes drifted shut as he cast about for a solution, and he was rewarded when a thought appeared. A memory of the little vial he had stored away in the dorm for an occasion when he needed luck. A cruel smile adorned his face as he drifted closer to Draco with a murmured request for Hedwig to wake them long before breakfast.

He wouldn't really use the Felix Felicis… but that didn't mean he couldn't manipulate Ron's luck in his own way.

(1)Zeroth, monoth, duoth, treoth, quaroth… cenoth - are all numbers I got by fiddling around with Latin (and English for the 'zero' number) and Greek numbers. No real significance other than that should be attached to them… though personally I think they are kinda cool.

(2) 'Parsel' from 'parseltounge' denotes something to do with snakes. So… using that logic, I named Harry's "bird speech" as aviantounge, the 'avian' denoting something to do with birds.