Chapter Two
The Forest's eerie countenance was one that disturbed many students and was to be regarded with utmost caution. One who was almost blinded with anger that had been bottled for years, was less than careful of his surroundings.
Indeed Harry was making more noise than was safe. His heavy breathing synchronized with the loud beat of his heart, adding in his footsteps presented a recipe for danger.
Many creatures in the Forest were aware of his presence. They didn't act upon it, however, seeing as they were at their prime in the night. The plenitude of nocturnal terrors saved Harry from being devoured, or at the very least, brutally attacked the minute he stepped under it's leafy roof. They were biding their time, spreading the word through the whisper of leaves moving against each other.
Harry was blissfully unaware of this all. He trudged through the Forest, occasionally stopping to go out of his way to kick a particularly fluffy bush, sending creatures scuttling out of it.
"Why?" Harry suddenly shouted. "Why me? Why always me?"
He was furious at the unfairness of it all. How could he be expected to do something most grown, fully qualified wizards cowered at the thought of? It shouldn't be expected, yet it was. The way people were looking at him, like he could do anything, like it was his responsibility to defeat Voldemort.
Harry snorted derisively when he remembered, how, just last year, hardly anyone believed he was telling the truth about Voledomort having returned. And now…Now I almost like the idea of last year, Harry thought to himself.
He came to a halt when he suddenly remembered his friends. Harry groaned. Here he was, thinking only of himself, when his friends had stood by him the whole time, sharing everything he felt. Sharing the burden. Could he share the burden with them? It wouldn't be fair, but he had had his fair share of unfairness.
His anger was slowly fading, the true reason behind it emerging. Fear. Under the guise of the Chosen One, he was just a scared teenaged boy. All his earlier adrenaline was gone and Harry suddenly felt very cold.
Harry looked about him like one who had just realized his surroundings. He saw things that, in his anger-ridden state, he had missed. The ominous stature of the trees, the whisper of the messages about a newcomer in the Forest, the prickly sensation of being watched. His unease only escalated when he registered the pinkish tinge of the little patches of sky he could see between the branches, indicating that it was dusk. Darkness was approaching, and this was not a place that he, of all people, should be.
He had walked deep into the Forest. He had no idea where he was. Racking his brains, he tried to think of a way out of this recent fix. The last time he was here was when he was eleven. How had he gotten out again? Right, he was saved by Firenze. Maybe…? Maybe he'll come again, Harry thought hopefully.
"Firenze?" he whispered, before clearing his throat and saying it louder. "Firenze? Firenze? Firenze!"
He had yelled the last one and almost immediately regretted it. Clapping his hands to his mouth he looked around quickly and let out a breath of relief. The relief, however, was short-lived. He jumped as he heard the sounds of hooves and tried to figure out which direction they were going…or coming from. Harry desperately hoped it was Firenze, but he knew from the sinking feeling in his stomach that it wasn't.
About a dozen centaurs burst from the undergrowth and bushes. Tall and rearing with indignation, they emanated strength and power.
"You shouldn't have come here, Harry Potter," said a silver-haired centaur, one Harry faintly recognized, stepping forward. Bane, Harry thought with an icy jolt, I'm in deep shit.
"It's a free country," Harry said in a clear voice. He saw instantly that he had made a mistake when the centaurs beat their hooves on the dirt floor of the Forest.
"It is not a free country, Harry Potter," Bane spat.
"I believe it is," Harry said coolly, pulling out his wand. The centaurs grew still angrier at the sight of it.
"You dare threaten us?" Bane sneered. "Get out of our Forest, youngling."
"It's not yourForest," Harry retorted.
"You speak of an ownership you do not understand, it is our Forest and you, Harry Potter, are not welcome."
"You don't own it, I am allowed to be in it just as much as you are."
"Enough youngling, we are not going to have a petty argument you humans hold so dear. Out of our Forest," Bane demanded.
Harry was beside himself, he raised his wand but before he could put to words an incantation, Bane reared onto his hind legs, hooves hitting Harry squarely in the chest.
Harry fell hard onto the dirt. Spitting out blood, he tried to get to his feet, but the pain in his chest, which was slowly giving way to blinding agony, stopped him. He watched helplessly as centaurs circled him, muttering strange words Harry knew enough to know was magic.
They looked terrifying, the sun had gone down fully and the moon barely gave any light. In the ghostly glow, the centaurs continued their dance.
Harry shivered as a great cold swept over him, his skin tingling. Suddenly, he wasn't in the Forest anymore, he was falling down, down, down into a deep abyss that was strangely peaceful. In fact, he didn't mind. In the midst of the falling, ironically, he fell asleep.