Chapter Five: Hecate's Glory

Fresh snow was light upon the ground as Harry made his way through the Forbidden Forest. His footsteps disappeared behind him, leaving only a faint whisper of magic in his wake as he walked to the familiar clearing where the Centaurs waited for him.

They were an impressive sight, greater in number than Harry had imagined, and waiting silently for his arrival. It was not often that the Centaurs met in a group, even here, where they were relatively protected by the Forest, for history had taught them that whenever they gathered, they ran the risk of hunters. It was a sign of trust for them to gather here before he arrived; it showed they trusted him to protect them even from a distance.

Magorian stood apart from the other Centaurs, who had arranged themselves around him in a semi-circle. As Harry entered the clearing, he bowed, and the rest of the Centaurs followed suit.

"Rise, Magorian. Your people need not bow to me. I come as a brother, not a master; a friend, not a Lord."

The Centaurs rose as one before him, and looks of approval passed along the faces of those whom he had never seen before. He intended to know all of them by name soon enough, but, for now, he had to let his actions speak for him. Harry's eyes rose upward, and the Centaurs' gaze followed his.

"The moon is in an interesting phase tonight," Harry murmured, his eyes glowing as they shifted. "In the light of the new moon, the magic of wizards is normally muted, while the magic of those who live in darkness is strengthened. Apollo's light, from which the moon feeds, refuses to shine upon me tonight. It is because of this that I come to you now, offer myself to you, at my weakest. Gaze to the northern skies; see Jupiter's descent into the reaches of Heaven. Jupiter, from whom Ravenclaw descends, and from whom I trace my blood, still shines even in his descent. He shines because his child rises to adulthood – he is no longer needed to guide his child's footsteps. Turn to the eastern skies, my brethren, see Hades – Pluto – my sire. See his light, too, reflected even in this – the darkest night – upon his child. See the planets under which I was born; see what I offer you. I come not to offer you up as servants or slaves, but to welcome you home, my brethren. What say you?"

Harry waited as the Centaurs looked to the stars, and then gazed at him. He remained still, all pretence of 'Harry Potter' gone and, in his place, stood Scylla, a dark wizard, Voldemort's heir, and the descendant of Ravenclaw.

Magorian looked back at the other Centaurs, who in turn looked to him to speak for them. He turned back to Scylla, and walked toward him, stopping an arm's length away. Though Magorian towered over Scylla in height, as did most of the full-grown Centaurs, looking at Scylla felt the same to him as looking up at his father when he was a colt.

"On this, the darkest night, when Hecate's glory dominates the skies, we have been shown light – a path, a way – and we, the Centaurs, are ready to come home." His arm raised, offered palm up to Scylla, who placed his palm upon it without hesitation.

"Welcome home, by brethren." Scylla's eyes lit as his power streamed from him in waves. It echoed through the clearing as strands broke from the waves to touch each Centaur. Even as the threads locked on their throats, the Centaurs stood firm, trusting, as Scylla's Mark adhered itself to their skin, burned its way into their veins. And, when the magic disappeared, the blue lighting bolt entwined with feathers glowed upon their skin between their prominent clavicles.

"Welcome home," Scylla repeated, "my Furies of Hades. As such, we are all family, united together under one cause, one blood, one flesh. Darkness courses through us all and unites us. The King of the Dead watches over us and is our father; Jupiter, from whom Ravenclaw descends, watches over me, and, as such, my protection shall cover you as it does all who are Furies."

Harry realized that Ron and Hermione were feuding yet again as he tried to keep himself awake the next day. He frowned into his reading as this realization came to him. He should have seen it earlier – he should not have let himself be so occupied with his true self that he forgot to cultivate his false one. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes in their human form, and his errant magic seemed to be more agitated than ever. It had calmed down considerably since he'd Marked the Centaurs, but even that wasn't sufficient to please it for long.

But magical problems aside, he could use this new problem to his advantage, he thought, if he could cultivate it in the right way.

"She can't complain." Ron was muttering beside him – talking about Hermione, Harry assumed. Ron wouldn't be talking about Lavender that way. "She snogged Krum. So she's found out someone wants to snog me, too." Yes, definitely Hermione. "Well, it's a free country. I haven't done anything wrong."

Harry mused that soon it wouldn't be a free country, but kept his thoughts to himself as he pretended to be absorbed in the book they were supposed to have read before Charms the next morning.

"I never promised Hermione anything," Ron mumbled beside him. "I mean, all right, I was going to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her, but she never said… just as friends… I'm a free agent…"

Harry's stomach dropped at Ron's words, though outwardly he merely continued reading. Slughorn's Christmas party… he'd completely forgotten about it. That had to be happening soon, though; he would have to do something about it, as well. He hid his smile as he turned a page, and Ron's voice trailed away into mutters. It was too bad he couldn't really shake things up and take Draco to the party. But that would make everyone sit up and take notice.

He was curious as to what Hermione would think of the feud between herself and Ron – since he'd apparently missed that as well, but he doubted she would mind refreshing his memory. Her schedule was so full that he could only talk to her in the evenings, when Ron was… otherwise occupied with his squid of a girlfriend. Harry joined her in the library, unable to sit in the common room without hexing something. How could he have been so blind as to miss that? It must have started during one of the nights he went to see Draco.

"He's at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes," Hermione said resolutely. "I really couldn't care less."

As she dotted an 'i''so ferociously that she actually punctured the parchment, Harry went back to his Advanced Potion-Making and tried to decipher the Half-Blood Prince's additions to the text on Everlasting Elixirs.

"And, incidentally, you need to be careful," Hermione added after a few minutes.

Harry fought back the urge to glare at her. "For the last time, I am not giving back this book. I've learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in-"

"I'm not talking about the book," Hermione gave him a nasty look and Harry blinked. If it wasn't about the book…

"I'm talking about earlier today," Hermione explained. "I went into the girl's bathroom just before I came in here, and there were about a dozen girls in there, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party, and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which, I'm afraid to say, probably work-"

"Why didn't you confiscate them then?" Harry demanded. Not that such things would even work on him, anyway – Voldemort had trained him to resist potions of all kinds. He doubted Fred and George could make something so strong…and so dark… that it would affect him.

"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom," Hermione replied scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt whether even the Half-Blood Prince" – she gave the book another nasty look – "could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you; that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night; they're getting desperate."

Well Harry didn't want to invite anyone else to the party, so they'd just have to get used to the idea. Secretly, he wondered how astounded they'd all be when he ate or drank whatever it was that they'd doused with love potion and his magic diluted it instantly. "There isn't anyone I want to invite," Harry lied blithely. Of course, he'd invite Draco if he could get away with it.

Wait a minute… how were those girls even smuggling in the potions? Weren't they – "I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?" Hermione asked, continuing her essay.

"So how are these girls smuggling them in?" If they could find a way, Harry could definitely use it… though his imports might be slightly more vicious than a love potion.

"Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions," Hermione replied. "It's part of their Owl Order Service."

"You seem to know a lot about it."

Hermione gave him a nasty look. She'd been considering something, Harry mused with glee.

"It was all on the back of the bottles they showed Ginny and me over the summer," she said coldly. "I don't go around putting potions in people's drinks."

"But Filch is being fooled, isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else!"

"Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don't they?" Hermione replied with a sigh. "They're used to find Dark Magic and Dark objects. They would pick up powerful curses, but something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register – and since love potions aren't Dark or dangerous-"

"Easy for you to say," Harry muttered. Well, there went one good idea.

"-so it would be down to Filch to realize it wasn't a cough potion, and he's not a very good wizard; I doubt he can tell one potion from-"

Harry's ears perked up as Hermione stopped dead. Someone had moved close behind them. They waited, and a moment later Madam Pince appeared around the corner. "The library is now closed," she said. "Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct – what have you done to that book, you depraved boy?"

"It isn't the library's, it's mine!" Harry protested as he grabbed his copy of Advanced Potion-Making­ out of her reach. Well, if writing in a book made him depraved… he wondered how truly awful he really was!

"Despoiled!" she hissed. "Desecrated! Befouled!" She looked as though she might have a seizure. Harry wanted to watch a bit more to see if she would, but Hermione grabbed him by the arm and marched him away.

"She'll ban you from the library if you're not careful. Why did you bring that stupid book?"

"It's not my fault she's barking mad, Hermione," Harry protested. "Or d'you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I've always thought there might be something going on between them…"

"Oh, ha ha…"

Harry ignored the sarcastic laugh, as he followed Hermione back to the Gryffindor tower. The moment he climbed through the portrait hole, he was hailed by Romilda Vane holding a goblet in one hand.

"Hi, Harry!" she said. "Fancy a gillywater?"

Hermione gave him a "what-did-I-tell-you?" look as he shook his head and declined the offer.

"Well, take these anyway," Romilda said, thrusting a box into his hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got firewhiskey in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don't like them."

Whose grandmother sends them candy with alcohol in it? Harry wondered as he hurried away from the girl.

"Told you," Hermione said loftily. "Sooner you ask someone, sooner they'll all leave you alone and you can-"

But her face suddenly turned black; she had spotted Ron and Lavender. Harry secretly agreed that it looked rather grotesque. Kissing could not look that disgusting from the outside, could it?

"Well, good night, Harry," said Hermione.

Harry nodded absently as she left for the girls' dormitory, even though it was only seven o'clock. Harry grinned to himself as he climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory – this feud did indeed have its advantages. Hermione was holed up away from Ron, Ron was completely oblivious to everything except his libido; it was perfect for Harry to get away for a few hours.

Hedwig hooted to him in greeting as he entered the Owlery, adding as an afterthought that she'd let the young Malfoy boy in earlier. Dropping a letter into his hand that she said she'd been told to give him, she declared that she was hungry and was going out to hunt.

"Good hunting," Harry wished her as the doorway to the Chamber of Wisdom opened, and he slipped inside before it closed again.

Draco was finishing what appeared to be the same essay Harry had been working on in the library as he entered. Harry noted that Draco's was about double the length of his own and that Draco appeared to not need the book before he draped himself over the other boy.

"Surely essays don't require that much work," he murmured as Draco set down his quill.

"They don't, but I was bored."

"Sorry to be late – I realized that Ron and Hermione were fighting."

Draco's eyebrow rose as if to ask why they were supposed to care.

"It's something I can cultivate to keep them occupied, I think. And, if things go as disastrously as possible, it will be even worse after Slughorn's party." Harry's tone was positively elated.

Draco frowned as Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "And who are you taking to the party?"

"No one. Though I'd be giddy if you crashed the party."

"I'll think about it." Draco's tone sounded smug.

"You know," Harry purred. "I can't always cater to your jealously."

"And why not?"

"Harry Potter hates Draco Malfoy, remember?"

"Shut up, Scylla, and kiss me."

There was nothing Scylla could say to that order, so he followed it.

Hedwig pecked him awake the next morning, and, from the lack of warmth, he realized Draco had left long before.

"Did you read the letter?" she demanded.

"No. I was distracted." Harry grinned lazily as he recalled how pleasant those distractions were.

"Sometimes you're more like a tom cat than a bird," Hedwig teased. "Are you sure you're not descended from Gryffindor after all?"

"You wound me with your accusations!" Harry shot back as he pulled out the letter from the mess of his clothes from the night before. "Besides, what could Voldemort have to say that is so urgent?"

"It's not from Voldemort, foolish chick. That is why I wanted you to read it."

"Well, you didn't say anything about it being important," Harry griped as he opened the letter. He stared down at the writing for a moment before Hedwig became impatient and hopped up on his shoulder to read it too. The awkward writing was barely legible, but the words were just clear enough to read.

Scylla
I would speak with you if you would see me
Firenze

"It is strange for Firenze to be writing to me," Harry commented to Hedwig as she looked down from his shoulder.

"It is strange for any centaur to bother with writing," Hedwig retorted. "He must respect you greatly for him to lower himself to such methods."

"What do you think he wishes to speak to me about?"

"The other Centaurs, most likely."

Harry frowned, thinking. He did not know how close Firenze was to Dumbledore; he had not had any Divination classes so he had not even seen the Centaur since last year. If this was a trap, and Dumbledore wanted to see through to his true intentions, it would be best not to go and pretend not to understand what Firenze had said. But, if this was genuine, Firenze had been a strong ally of his in the past, even to the point of enduring exile for him.

Harry left Hedwig in the Owlery as he headed for Firenze's rooms. He had time before that bloody party of Slughorn's to talk to the Centaur.

And, if he believed that Firenze was spying for Dumbledore, he would pretend he had no idea why Hedwig had delivered the letter to him and leave.

Firenze was waiting for him when he entered the Centaur's classroom. "Thank you for coming to see me, Lord Scylla."

Harry blinked at him. "Who are you talking about?"

The Centaur bowed. "Forgive me, my Lord. I did hope you would trust me, but I can see that I was wrong."

As the Centaur's gaze remained fixed upon the ground, Harry's gaze shifted to the more bird-like one. The only magic in the room was the residue of the students from his classes. There was certainly no magic left from Dumbledore, which would have left its traces, no matter how hard the wizard tried to hide it.

"Rise, Firenze. I apologize for mistrusting you. I have not seen you in a year, so I was wary."

The Centaur smiled as he rose from the bow. "You have truly come into your power, young Lord. It is as I saw before your eleventh year began."

"It is strange you say such," Harry told him. "When no other Centaur has said so."

Firenze shrugged. "Sol has always shed his light strongly upon me, and Apollo has always favored me. Your star rose in your eleventh year, though its light did not grace the sky until recently. Only when it lit in the sky, did the other Centaurs know what I had seen for years. I know they follow you, my Lord, and I know you have placed your Mark upon them." He gazed beseechingly at Harry. "I wish to join them again, my Lord. I wish to follow you as they do."

Harry considered this request. He knew only the basic structures of Centaur society; he did not know if it was possible for Firenze to return to the fold once he had been cast out of the herd. Yet, Firenze was loyal – he had proven that much. If the other Centaurs had a problem with it, he would deal with that later.

"It shall be done as you ask."

Heat lightning streaked the sky, and Harry touched his fingers to Firenze's neck, the junction between his collarbones. The Centaur hissed as lightning bubbled under Harry's fingertips, and his Mark appeared blue against the skin.

"Welcome, my Fury," Harry murmured.