CHAPTER 4
Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!
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The Burrow:
A blaze of emerald flames sprang up from the hearth of the Weasley's home, and Rebecca stumbled out, dropping to the floor. She gasped for breath, trying to calm her heart down.
After Harry and Ron (they had insisted on her calling them by their first names) had taken all the information they could get out of her, concerning the intruder, they had discussed what was to be done with her. They obviously couldn't let her go home, as the Centaurs might have learned where she lived by now.
In the end, Ron had suggested her coming to temporarily live with him and his family, as he was sure they wouldn't object. In fact, he said he was positive that his father would be absolutely delighted to jump at the chance. Rebecca had been fine with that, though she would have preferred coming by bus, instead of the Flu Network, or whatever it was called. It had been such a weird experience…weird but exciting.
Firenze hadn't been able to come with her, as he was too big to get into the fireplace, but they had arranged for a wizard to Apparate him as soon as possible. She didn't know what Apparating was, but they said it was as fast as the Floo Network.
They had guided her to one of the fireplaces in the Atrium, and gave her some powder, which was supposed to activate the magic that would transport her to where she wanted to go (magic still confused her greatly). She had done as instructed, tossed the powder, said "The Burrow", and the next thing she knew, it was like she was flying at light-speed. It didn't last long, barely a second, but it certainly left her heart pounding like a drum. And suddenly she was here, lying on the floor of somebody's house.
"Goodness!" a woman's voice cried out. "Who are you?"
Rebecca looked up to see a short middle-aged woman, with hair as ginger as Ron Weasleys, a little plump, but with a kind face and warm brown eyes looking right at her.
"Err, hello," she greeted her, standing up. "Sorry, Ron Weasley said I could come here. My name's Rebecca, Rebecca Leicester."
"Oh, did he?" The woman helped her up, and looked her over. "Well, I'm Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mother. Are you alright?"
"Yes, it's the first time I've ever used that flu thing."
"Floo Network, dear. Oh, are you Muggle-born? Only, forgive me for saying so, but you seem a bit old for using the Floo for the first time."
Rebecca shrugged. "I am a Muggle, if that's what you mean?"
Mrs. Weasley blinked. "A Muggle?" she said interestedly.
Before anyone could say anything more, the fireplace blazed up again in green flames, and a second later Harry came stepping out.
"Hi, all," he greeted them both.
"Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley, embracing him fondly. "What a surprise! Ginny's not here, though."
"That's okay. I'm not here to see her today." He indicated Rebecca. "I take it you've been introduced to Miss Leicester?"
"Yes? She says she's a Muggle?"
"Yeah. It's a long story. I'll explain in a bit." He looked over to Rebecca. "Ron's with Firenze. He can't Apparate him, so he'll stay with him until they can get a wizard who can."
Harry had insisted upon staying with her, as he was officially the one responsible for her safety, though he wouldn't be surprised if Firenze contested that remark.
Rebecca nodded thankfully.
He turned back to Ron's mother. "Can Miss Leicester stay here a while? I'll explain everything, but it's important that we keep her safe."
"Safe? Oh, yes, of course. She's more than welcome."
"Great." He turned back to her. "Miss Leicester…"
"Rebecca."
"Huh?"
"It's Rebecca. You may as well call me by my first name now. I mean, you've already saved my life once or twice, so I think we're past the last name basis."
He smiled. "As you like…Rebecca. Perhaps you'd like to make yourself comfortable here, while I talk with Mrs..."
"And that's Molly to you, too, Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley with an exasperated tone. "I've already told you a million times. After everything we've been through, I think we've earned that right. We've even had your and Hermione's pictures put on both of the clocks in the living room and kitchen. They're right by Ron, where George and Fred…" She suddenly stopped, and seemed to choke back a sob for some reason.
Harry reached out his hand and squeezed her shoulder. "I know," he said softly. "Ron told me. And I'm honoured, more than I can say. Though I wish you hadn't. I don't feel I have the right."
Rebecca felt a little uneasy then. She didn't know for certain, but it was just the way they spoke, the sadness in their voices, and in Molly's face, as they spoke this Fred's name, that whoever he was, he was no longer with them.
"You do!" Molly insisted. "You are family, and have been for years, and I know Fred would be honoured if you would. Besides…" She then had an almost wicked glint in her eye. "I almost feel like we're officially family…or so Ginny says."
Harry blushed brightly then, to Rebecca's amusement. She guessed that whoever this Ginny was, she was someone special to him.
"Anyway!" he said quickly. "Rebecca, why don't you sit down, and me and Molly will get back to you in a bit."
"Yes, I'll bring you some tea in a short while, dear," added Molly.
She smiled. "Thank you, that would be delightful."
"My, what a polite young lady. Please make yourself at home."
Rebecca said, "Thank you," again, as Molly and Harry went into one of the adjacent rooms, while she had a look around. She was in what was obviously the living room. It was nothing as grand as what she was used to, but it was cosy nonetheless, with a sofa and armchairs, and the large fireplace she had just come out of, giving it a homely feel.
One thing she immediately noticed was a large Grandfather clock, which she supposed was what Mrs. Weasley had been referring to (she hadn't been told she could call Molly by her first name yet, and had been raised never to do so unless the person said it was okay). It was a most curious thing indeed, for rather than the usual numbers a clock usually has, there were written words on it, such as "home," "work," "travelling," "lost," "hospital," "prison," and "mortal peril".
The last three made her pause. Hospital, prison and Mortal Peril? Were all their family in the police/Aurors?!
There were ten hands on the clock, which each had a small photograph on the end of it. She recognised Ron, Harry and Mrs. Weasley on three of them, and guessed the rest were obviously the family. Aside from Harry and a girl about his age, whose photos were right next to Rons', all of the people in them had red hair. As she looked closer, she noticed to her shock that the photos were moving, as though alive.
Her first thought was holograms, until she realised that a society based in magic wouldn't have any need for such things.
As she looked closer, she noticed that although there were ten hands on the clock, there were eleven photos, but only ten of them were in colour and moving. One of the hands had two photos on the end of it, both which she first thought were of the same young man, except one was in colour and moving, but he bore a sombre expression, while the other was more humorous, but he was in black and white, and was not moving at all, like a regular picture.
That was when she realised that the two had to be separate photos, of twins, and the black and white lifeless one had to be the person that Harry and Mrs. Weasley were talking about…Fred, the one she guessed to be no longer living.
She looked closer. The photo she guessed was Fred looked as though he were barely out of his teens, while his brother looked slightly older now, with longer hair. That told her that Fred must have died a year or so ago, as his brother didn't look that much older.
'Maybe he was a causality in that war Harry and Firenze were talking about?' she thought. She wondered if she could ask them about it, but then thought better of it, as it seemed entirely in bad taste. Mrs. Weasley was still obviously very much upset about it, and Harry as well, it seemed.
Deciding to forget about it, she looked at the rest of the pictures, most of which were under the written caption "Work", except for Harry and Mrs. Weasleys', which were under "Home".
After a few moments, something bumped into the side of her head, and when she turned to look…she yelped in surprise. There, floating in mid-air, was a small, flowery-patterned cup and saucer, with something steaming inside of it.
"Sorry!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called out from the other room. "It's just the tea, dear!"
"Oh, err…thank you," Rebecca hesitantly replied, and cautiously took the teacup and saucer. It's weight carefully dropped into her hand, as it lost its weightlessness and stopped floating.
She carried it with her to one of the armchairs, taking a seat and a sip. She sighed in bliss, allowing the cup's hot brew to steady her nerves.
The sound of Harry and Mrs. Weasley's voices carried on from the other room, but she paid them no heed. Her thoughts were still back on at the Ministry, her attempted kidnapping, and any information she might have forgotten. But no matter how hard she thought, she could remember nothing else.
And what she had brought up had been less than useless.
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Ministry of Magic;
Centaur Liaison Office;
One Hour Ago:
Firenze had guided her back up to the Liaison office, where they had awaited Harry and Ron to return. Once they did, an hour later, they had immediately started questioning her about the unknown witch, but alas there was nothing she could tell them.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know who she was," said Rebecca, exasperated. "I'd never seen her before today."
Ron and Harry both frowned, equally exasperated. Firenze just stood off to the sides, watching them all silently, ready to comfort Rebecca if needed.
"This just gets more and more confusing," said Harry. "I just got word that your former pilot, John Doncaster, currently lives in Wales. He only comes up to London once every while to visit family. The last time he came up was over three months ago. He hasn't been back since."
"He could have sneaked back to London?" said Ron.
Harry shook his head. "He's got a wife and kids in Wales. They can vouch for his presence there, as well as several others who saw him around the village he lives in. Whoever Rebecca saw was obviously not John Doncaster."
Rebecca looked up from the chair she was sitting at, staring indignantly at them. "It was John Doncaster!" she insisted. "I sat and had tea with him for heaven's sake for a good few minutes! I don't make a point of doing that with total strangers, you know. And I can tell the difference between someone I know and someone who bears a close resemblance."
Firenze gently squeezed her shoulder, to calm her.
Harry meanwhile held his hand up. "You misunderstand me, Rebecca. What I meant was, the person you saw was obviously not the real John Doncaster, but someone who was impersonating him."
"Impersonating?" she looked blankly at him. "If that were true, this guy would have to have a face of clay. I'd swear it was Doncaster I was talking to."
"Polyjuice Potion?" deduced Ron.
"I thought so, too. It makes sense, and it's the only explanation."
Rebecca glared at them both. "What," she snapped, "the hell is Polyjuice Potion?!"
Ron winced a little. "Sorry, Miss Leicester."
"We keep forgetting you're not a witch," added Harry. "You see, all this knowledge is pretty common to us and everyday magical folk."
"Whatever! So what is it?!"
"Polyjuice Potion is a magically brewed elixir that when drunk, grants a person a short time to appear as someone else," he explained.
She blinked. "What? You mean, like magical plastic surgery?"
Harry laughed when he saw the curious look on Firenze, and the honest confusion on Ron's. "Not quite. Polyjuice Potion doesn't just give you something like a new nose. It gives you a whole new appearance, namely someone else's. Say if I were to get you some, and then put a bit of Pamela Anderson's hair in it. The moment you drunk the stuff, you would change and look exactly like her."
"Yeah, height, weight, boobs an all," added Ron. At Harry's curious look, he shrugged. "Dad once brought a Muggle magazine home with him. It had an article of Pamela Anderson in it. Fred and George sneaked it upstairs with them, and I had a quick read."
She blushed, but couldn't stop feeling amazed. "Can all witches and wizards do this?"
"Oh yeah," said Harry. "Anyone who's got the right ingredients, knows how to make it properly, and got a sample of whoever they wanna look like."
"Anyone at all?"
He nodded. "But even if they have got all that, there are still setbacks."
"Take it from us on this." muttered Ron, but shut up at Harry's sharp look.
"Although Polyjuice does make you look like whoever, its effects aren't permanent. It only lasts about an hour at most, unless you keep drinking some more. And even when you are under its effects, there are still some things that it doesn't emulate, such as your voice. Plus, it doesn't work on any other creatures besides humans, and doesn't make you look like anything other than another human."
Ron sniggered. "One time we all had to look like Harry, so a large group of us took some Polyjuice to take on his form. One of them was my girlfriend. Can't tell you how funny it was, seeing someone with Harry's face talking with a girl's voice."
Harry frowned at him. "Even funnier than seeing you looking like Crabbe?"
"Ha-ha, Harry." His friend sneered at him.
"But it does raise some interesting possibilities." Harry adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. "Rebecca, you said so yourself that Mr Doncaster wasn't acting like you remembered. That he was acting slightly…out of sorts?"
She smiled sheepishly. "Something like that, yeah."
Harry went to kneel in front of her. "Rebecca, think carefully. I want you to think back to when you met the man you thought was Mr Doncaster. Don't focus on his face, but on his personality, his attitude, what you said seemed so unlike him. Then I want you to compare those attributes of his to the woman who just tried to take you. Tell me what similarities you notice, if any?"
Rebecca frowned, as she closed her eyes, attempting to concentrate.
"Take your time. Just let it all come flowing into your mind," he added.
She cast her mind back to the café a week ago. She remembered Doncaster, or whoever he was, sitting at the table with her and Chloe. She remembered the way he had dragged himself around, the way he talked, like a woman, and…
"Hem-hem," she suddenly said.
"Pardon?"
"Hem-hem," she repeated. "Doncaster and the woman. They both went hem-hem. It was like a small cough, like when you're trying to get someone's attention. That's the only thing I can really recall except…"
"Yes?"
She crouched a little uncomfortably. "Well, both of them talked like they were really sweet people. You'd think you were talking to someone's raggedy aunt or something, but…I don't know. There was just something about their tone that I didn't like."
"Like what?" asked Ron.
She shrugged. "I don't know. It was… You know Venus Flytraps? Those plants that catch insects by mimicking pheromones? It was kind of like that. Their tones were overly sweet, and yet there was a hint of…"
"Danger?" offered Harry.
"Something like that, I guess. I'm sorry, I wish I could be more helpful, but aside from that little cough, I don't know anything."
"It's alright. It'll come to you eventually."
"You know who that description reminds me of?" Ron suddenly interrupted. "That little cough, the sweet attitude with the hint of danger…reminds me an awful lot of old toad-face."
Harry visibly shuddered, while Rebecca just looked at him in confusion. "Who?" she asked.
"Dolores Umbridge, an old teacher of ours," said Harry bitterly. "Correction, an old teacher, headmistress, inquisitor, and most heartless bitch that ever lived!"
"She wasn't an official supporter of You Know…the guy we were all fighting against," Ron explained, also bitterly. "But she sure was foul enough to be one. She had a racist hatred for all half-breeds, and at one time, while the Ministry were all under the bad guy's control, she inadvertently but willingly did his dirty work by going after all muggle-borns. Any who had even a trace of muggle blood in them, she accused them of stealing their magic from pureblooded witches and wizards, and made them go through a trial and everything. Those who lost, and they usually did, were tortured mercilessly, and then sent to prison…a lot of them were never heard from again. And even the ones who did make it out were left severely emotionally damaged."
He swore beneath his breath. "I know you Muggles have overactive imaginations when it comes to witches, always describing them as being the bad guys and all. Usually that's not true, as most witches are just as good or bad as you Muggles, but with Umbridge…she was all that and worse, without a doubt."
Rebecca shuddered. "Sounds like a dreadful woman."
"Even worse," mumbled Harry, as he clenched his right hand, rubbing the back of it unconsciously. Rebecca noticed there appeared to be a mark there, like a white scar, but it was too faint for her to see clearly. It almost looked like lettering?
"Is there any chance she could be involved in this?" she asked.
Both men shook their heads.
"Umbridge was sentenced to life in Azkaban," said Ron, "for crimes committed against Muggle-borns. She died a few months later."
"Azkaban?"
"Wizards prison," supplied Harry helpfully.
"She got off lucky if you ask me," grumbled Ron. "Only spent a few months in that wretched prison, before she kicked the bucket. It didn't even have any Dementors in it when she got there. Merlin knows how many poor souls she tortured relentlessly, just because they had Muggle blood in them. If there's any justice in this world or the next, I hope she's currently sitting on a particularly hot pile of coals, getting that pork belly of hers stabbed with countless pitchforks!"
"Ron," said Harry warningly, indicating Rebecca who was staring at Ron.
"Oh…yeah…sorry," Ron apologised. "But she really was a nasty piece of work, Miss Leicester. Take our word for it."
"Is there anything else you can recall about either of them, or anything about just Doncaster?" asked Harry.
Rebecca frowned. "He seemed to have a love for sugar…oh, and cats."
"Cats?"
"Yeah, there was this stray cat at our table at the cafe. Doncaster really went all crazy, fussing it and everything. You'd almost think he was going to marry it or something."
A strange look came over Harry's face, as his skin paled slightly.
"Mr. Potter?" she asked worriedly.
"Mate?" added Ron, also looking worried on him.
Harry shook his head. "It's nothing. It's just that…Umbridge was a lover for cats. You remember, Ron? She had all those kitten plates in her offices."
Ron grimaced. "How could I forget? Every time I went in, it was like walking into a cattery. I can still hear those blasted meows."
He then looked alarmed at his friend. "Hang on, Harry, you don't think…?"
Harry just shrugged. "I'm not thinking anything, I'm just considering."
"Considering what?" Rebecca asked.
"That this man Doncaster, the unknown witch and Dolores Umbridge might be one and the same," Firenze answered for her calmly, speaking for the first time since arriving back at the office, nearly making her jump.
She looked at him startled. "But I thought you said she was dead?"
"That's right." said Ron insistently.
"It wouldn't be the first time that someone escaped from Azkaban by faking their own death," added Harry thoughtfully. "Don't forget Barty Grouch Jr, and he did it while the Dementors were still there."
"Yeah, but he had help, remember," said Ron. "His mum chose to go in his place because she was dying, and his dad was the one who smuggled her in, and then got him out. Even without the Dementors at Azkaban anymore, there's no way Umbridge could pull it off without help, and who'd be mad enough to help her?"
"Yeah, I guess." Harry frowned, chewing his lower lip.
"Anyway," Ron said finally, "we've gone over everything so far. Unless there's anything more you can tell us, Miss Leicester, I think we'd better get you somewhere safe."
"And where would that be?" Rebecca asked, looking at him. "I thought I couldn't go home yet?"
"You can't," Harry confirmed. "We have to assume that the Centaurs now know where your home address is. I've already sent some Aurors there to keep an eye out for them, but with all the Centaur sightings we've had, we're short staffed as it is."
"So where am I going to go then?" she asked hesitantly.
Harry smiled. "Ron here has been kind enough to offer you a place at his family's home. They'll put you up until all this is sorted."
"And just when will that be?" Rebecca gazed hard at them both.
The two of them didn't say anything, and just gave each other a worried look.
Rebecca felt Firenze's hand again, gently rubbing her back soothingly.
"It will take as long as it has to, my Rebecca," he said. "I'm sure Harry Potter and Ron Weasley will do all that is in their power to help."
"Yeah," she muttered bitterly, "but will it be enough to stop a war?"
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The Burrow; Present:
Harry and Mrs. Weasley had been talking now for several minutes, so long that the teacup in Rebecca's hand was now empty.
Rebecca had stayed where she was, idly checking out the room, and when she had grown to the point of knowing every nook and cranny of it; she then took a look out the window.
The window she was gazing through looked out onto a small yard in the front of the house. The garden seemed fairly typical, but there was a splendid view beyond it. Fields and hills surrounded the house, which obviously meant they had to be somewhere in the countryside. The yard itself had a chicken coop, from where she could hear the distinctive sounds of clucking, and a large garage to the side.
It was a very peaceful and quaint country-house, it seemed, which was almost disappointing to her, considering all the strangeness she had encountered today. She had been expecting something more from a wizard's home.
After taking a few moments to admire the view of the country, she walked to the back of the house, to see if the back garden had more to offer her.
She wasn't disappointed.
The moment she looked through the window at the back of the house, she shrieked, as something that looked like a potato with eyes stared back at her through the pane. The moment she shrieked, the thing, whatever it was, fell from her view.
"What is it?!" Harry asked hurriedly, as he raced in from the kitchen.
"There was something at the window!" she pointed out the back. "It was…it was alive, with a brown head."
"Oh, that'll be one of the gnomes," said Mrs. Weasley, calming her. "We have hundreds of the little blighters in the garden."
"Gn…gnomes?"
"Yeah." Harry looked sheepishly at Rebecca. "Wizarding families often get infestations of gnomes in places like their gardens."
"Tell me about it!" Mrs. Weasley moaned. "I've been trying to get rid of the foul little things for years, but no matter what, they always come back. Arthur's to blame, as he's always been too soft on them. He thinks they're funny, but how he thinks that, considering all the damage they do to the garden, I'll never know."
"Gnomes?" Rebecca repeated.
"Yes," repeated Harry, and pointed out the window. "See?"
She forced herself to look out again at the back garden. It was very big, but exceedingly overgrown, with dozens of molehills, and a pond where she could hear the multiple croaks of frogs. But that wasn't all she saw, as there were dozens more of those little brown gnomes, running all over the place.
"Are they dangerous?" she asked finally.
"Oh no," assured Harry.
"Not unless you're planning to enter the next garden show," muttered Mrs. Weasley.
"They're not dangerous," said Harry, ignoring the comment. "They're just…well, more of a nuisance really. See all those molehills? Those are actually gnome-hills. They live underground, you see, because they eat things like plant-roots."
Rebecca stared at the strange creatures. They certainly didn't look anything like the gnomes she had in her garden. These things were about a foot tall, completely brown, with huge oddly shaped heads, like misshapen potatoes.
"They don't look like the gnomes you see in most gardens," she mentioned.
Harry laughed. "Nah, a lot of mythical creatures' appearances and habits were often misinterpreted by Muggles…err, your kind. Ron says those model gnomes that you usually have in your gardens look more like miniature Father Christmases with fishing rods than anything."
Rebecca just nodded. She didn't know why she was having a hard time accepting all this, considering all that she had been through in the past several years. In that time, she had been chased by a giant spider, held captive by a Centaur herd, ridden on the back of a Hippogriff, and saved by a wizard.
But still…Gnomes?
There was a sudden knocking from the front door then. Mrs. Weasley was about to go answer it, but Harry stopped her, cautiously making his own way over to it. He peeped through the curtain at the side window, and then smiled.
"It's Firenze," he told them both, and went to open the door.
Mrs. Weasley gave a small sigh of relief, smiling brightly, though Rebecca could tell it looked forced. She couldn't blame her. After all, it wasn't long since they had had that terrible war, which cost her the life of one of her children, and now it looked like there was going to be another one so soon after the last one had just finished. The poor woman must be so scared for her family.
"Hey, Firenze," Harry greeted the Centaur warmly. "Umm, would you…" He paused, obviously at a loss whether to beckon Firenze into the house or not, considering his size. Firenze was already finding it difficult to fit through the door, and with his height he would have to bend over considerably just to get into the house.
Whether Firenze seemed to understand this or not, Harry didn't know, but he bowed his head respectfully and said, "Thank you, but I would rather not. I only came to check if Rebecca was safe. Now that I see she is, I would prefer to remain outside."
"Oh," said Harry. "Well, sure, if you like?"
"I would," he replied affirmably. "As you should remember, Harry Potter, I always prefer to be where I can best see the sky."
"Of course. If you'd like to go around the side, you can stay in the back garden, assuming that's okay with Molly?" Harry looked to Mrs. Weasley, who smiled and nodded her consent.
"That would be fine." Firenze looked over to Rebecca, smiling gently at her. "Would you care to walk with me, my Rebecca?"
"Delighted," she replied, and hurried out with him. It wasn't that she didn't like the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley or Harry, as they were both exceedingly nice to her, and the Burrow truly was an interesting place, but when you've got someone after you, you tend to feel more at ease with people that you know than strangers.
"Don't go too far!" Harry called after them.
She waved her hand back at him, but continued walking in tow with Firenze, as they made their way around the house, to the back.
As they left, Mrs. Weasley turned to give Harry a curious look. "My Rebecca?" she said, repeating Firenze's words to him.
Harry merely gave an equally curious shrug.
Meanwhile, Rebecca and Firenze went round to the back garden. As they walked, she wondered why Harry was so paranoid? After all, didn't he say they should be safe, as the Centaurs couldn't possibly know where she was now, and even so, they were only going round the back for heaven's sake. It wasn't like they were going hiking.
Besides, it didn't look like Firenze was taking any chances. He made sure to stay close to her, insisting she remain by his side, to the point where her arm brushed against his flank.
"I don't suppose they found out anything new since I left?" she asked him.
Firenze shook his head. "They are still trying to find any information concerning the identity of that woman who attempted to take you."
She sighed, merely nodding in acknowledgement.
As they walked on, they soon came into the garden. There were even more of those Gnomes out now, which confused her. She would have thought seeing an enormous thing like Firenze would frighten them back underground, but instead it seemed to be attracting more of them.
"Gnomes are not what you would call an intelligent species," said Firenze, as though picking up what she was thinking. She often wondered if he was psychic. "Their speech is limited, and they tend to run towards danger instead of away."
"I guess you must be used to them, what with living in the forest?"
"Actually, the first time I learned of Gnomes was when some students at Hogwarts told me about them. This is the first time I have ever actually seen one."
She looked curiously at him. "You've never seen a Gnome?"
He shook his head. "Gnomes are more attracted to wizard's houses. I have never seen or heard of one in the Forbidden Forest. Apparently, they prefer people's homes because they enjoy some kind of sweet that wizards eat. Since they obviously can't get sweets in the wild, they have to remain close to the houses."
"Must be pesky to wizards," she said.
"Unbelievably so, from what I've been told. Apparently, Gnomes are a giveaway to wizards who try to conceal their magic from your kind, since they only go to wizards, never Muggles."
She shrugged. "Who needs radar?"
"Pardon?"
"Nothing."
The garden was large and overgrown, as she had seen through the window. She also saw the pond, which was filled with even more frogs than she originally thought. A huge fence surrounded the place, and there was a small stone building, like a shed, off to the side.
As she looked further, she saw that behind the garden there were some high trees. Firenze seemed to be heading over towards them, which she supposed made sense, seeing that he grew up in the forest, so she assumed the trees would probably feel a little bit like home to him.
In the distance she could see more extensive fields and hills, including a cornfield that she could make out through the fence.
"It's beautiful out here," she said.
Firenze nodded. "Yes, this is the closest to feeling at home I've felt since I left Hogwarts and my home-forest behind. I only wish they had more trees."
She nodded in agreement, and was about to comment when she remembered something that she had wanted to ask him.
Firenze?" she asked. "Do all the Centaurs feel as Magorian do, about coming after me?"
He frowned deeply. "Mostly," he admitted. "Ronan is neither for it or against it, as I told you. He has always preferred to keep himself open for all sides of negotiation. I am the only one who has openly opposed it."
"Just as before," she muttered quietly, but then added more loudly, "What about Safyph? What does he have to say about all this? I mean, I know he didn't exactly stand against you lot keeping me in the first place, but that was when no one knew I was with you, and now somehow I doubt he would approve of you risking war over me."
Firenze had immediately bowed his head at the sound of Safyph's name, looking down at the ground, though Rebecca did not notice until she had finished talking.
"I mean, this war would be risking loads of lives, Centaurs as well as humans, so I doubt he'd…Firenze?" She halted, noticing the look on his face, and looked at him curiously.
He lifted his head to look at her with those penetrating blue eyes of his again, and this time Rebecca saw true grief within them.
"Firenze, what is it?" she asked.
"With everything that has happened today, I have not had the chance to tell you," he explained. "Safyph, elder of our herd, and its former leader…is gone."
"Gone… Wha… Oh, you mean…"
Firenze nodded. "The Fates cut his thread of life over two years ago. He died peacefully in his sleep."
Rebecca remained quiet for a couple of minutes, staring at him sorrowfully. Out of all of the Centaurs, besides Firenze, Safyph had been the most likeable. She wouldn't go so far to call him a friend, but he had had wisdom in his years so easy to see, and despite his great age, he had been so bold and strong, it had been hard not to respect him so.
But what hurt the most, was that he had also been the one whom she felt could sort all this mess out the quickest. Every one in the herd had looked up to him, even Magorian the leader, as all had revered his wisdom.
Now, he was gone, and with him her best chance at ending all this. That meant that the coming war was now inevitable, and...
She paused for a few more moments, idly looking at the flowers, shrubberies, frogs and Gnomes. Firenze, of course, stayed by her side, waiting.
"Did he find out by the way?" she then asked casually.
"Pardon?"
"When you helped me escape, did Safyph ever find out? I'm just curious, as he seemed the brightest out of everyone."
Firenze smiled lightly, and shrugged. "I would be surprised if he didn't know. But if he did know then he never said."
Rebecca gave a small smile. Safyph had been a Centaur full of mystery, and apparently this was just another one of those mysteries that would leave people forever wondering.
As time slowly stretched on, she finally took a deep breath, and spoke again. "Firenze…" she started to say.
"No!" Firenze interrupted her.
"What?" she said, looking up in confusion.
"I know what you are planning to ask, my Rebecca," he said, looking at her intensely, "and the answer is no. I won't allow you to give yourself up to my herd."
She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it and sighed. "Someday I'm gonna have to ask…are you psychic, or am I just totally transparent?"
He smiled weakly at her. "I just imagine what I would be feeling if I were in your position."
"Firenze, two races are about to go to war because of me!" she said exasperated.
"You don't know that…"
"Firenze!" she said warningly. "Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot. I've been thinking of nothing else since Harry brought me to that Ministry. I've spent time with your herd, so I know what they're capable of. I know they will never give me up without a fight, and if what Harry says is true, that he and his Ministry won't give me up either, then what's the alternative? Because I certainly don't see the two sides sitting down and willing to come to a compromise!"
"It doesn't matter!" he insisted.
"How can you say that?! Harry said that neither your people or his are in any shape to fight again after that Voldy guy fought you both!"
"That doesn't mean we can't."
"Even if that were true, do you honestly think I could live with myself, knowing that people were going to risk their lives fighting for me?"
Firenze stayed quiet.
Rebecca's eyes filled with tears. "I should never have come back to England," she said, crying. "If I had just stayed away, none of this would have happened."
"You don't know that," he said. "If anyone's to blame, it's that wizard, whoever he was, who posed as your friend Doncaster. He meddled in our affairs, informing us of you, which in turn led to this tragic mess."
"Even if he did, it doesn't matter. If I had just stayed away, the herd would never have been able to get to me, and there'd be no danger of this war ever occurring."
Firenze sighed. "There's no point looking back at what might have been, Rebecca. The possibilities are endless. What's important is now."
"I know that," she said tearfully. "Why do you think I've been thinking about going home with you to your herd?"
"It won't be home to you!" he said, suddenly fierce. "It will be a prison, now and until the day you die. You cannot give yourself to my herd, Rebecca, no matter what, do you understand?!"
She moaned. "Firenze, I get that you feel responsible for me, and I am grateful for that, but with everything that's happening…"
"It's not just that! Even if you do give yourself up, do you really think Harry Potter will just stand by and allow you to remain a prisoner?"
"If I give myself up willingly, and if he wants to avoid a war that could cost countless lives, he'd better!"
"Rebecca!" Firenze glared down at her at first, but then his gaze softened, and he looked at her with a sort of tiredness. "My Rebecca, please…you have no concept of what awaits you in my herd, should they take you."
She frowned. "I think I have a pretty good idea, Firenze. I remember too well what happened when Magorian tried to…"
"What happened that night will be nothing compared to what my herd will do to you on your first night back with us," Firenze interrupted. "Not to mention what Bane would probably do. He's long been waiting for an excuse to make a human, any human, suffer so."
Rebecca froze. "Wha…what do you mean?"
"Do you not remember how Bane acted around you, during your time with us?"
She nodded. Bane had been, without a doubt, the bitterest Centaur towards her out of the whole herd. She didn't know what she had done to offend him so, but he had first treated her like an unwanted guest, and later as a vile pest, like a rat or a cockroach.
"I…I think I recall you saying something to me once, about him hating all my race, because of things we'd done in the past, or how we acted today?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Bane has always had an intense dislike for humans, that is true. You humans tend to waste nature, while we Centaurs treasure and protect it. Bane has always been like all Centaurs in that respect. But… Bane harbours a huge grudge against your race for a great wrong that was done to him many years ago."
She looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"
Firenze paused, as he chewed on his lower lip, as though in deep consternation. He seemed unsure of what next to say.
"It's…not really my place to say anything," he admitted. "Recall when you first left, I said that I suspected there was more to Bane's hatred of humans than I originally thought. Well, it turns out I was correct. Not too long after you left, Safyph himself told me of Bane's past, about a time when…" He paused, clearly uncomfortable with talking of another Centaur's history. "Long ago, two human foals were in the Forbidden Forest, and they…" He halted again.
"What?"
He heaved a big sigh, and looked at her sadly.
"They killed Bane's son."
To Be Continued…