Right. We're off to find the Stallion King, and Potter is sporting another flashy title. My payment as teacher does not even begin to cover this.
Logically, Snape knew that he should have been surprised. Shocked even. But after nearly a week with Potter, his ability for both was running thin. One could only so often be surprised by another person before starting to expect the unexpected, and Potter had overstepped that limit about an hour ago, when he had happily proposed his own death.
And after being adopted by a vampire clan and leading the British Druids, being friend to centaurs wasn't such a big thing. Dumbledore had contact to them, too, He thought, preferring to ignore that this contact had always been only with a selected few that were usually considered as outsiders by the herds. Stallion King, on the other hand, sounded a bit more important.
But it's not as if he rides on one of them to battle. He is just "friends" with them. I wonder if they like his other friends.
For a moment, he was badly tempted to ask the centaur about his view on vampires, but the tall horseman hadn't spared a glance at Snape. At least he didn't call me slave. Yet.
They followed the centaur deeper into the forest, and Snape couldn't help notice that Potter's steps had lengthened and that he held himself much more dignified and straighter than before.
It seemed that every new group of "friends" brought forward another facet of Potter's character. With Ayda it had been sarcasm and easygoing wit while the meeting with Shadow and his vampires had shown him the fighter that lurked inside Potter, as well as the humbleness the young man was capable of.
Snape just hoped that a meeting with centaurs, who celebrated a century-long tradition of stargazing and cryptic answers, would not bring forward Trelawneyish character traits.
But then the thought of killing him wouldn't disturb me so much anymore. Always look on the bright side.
While lengthening his own strides and keeping his back straight – he would not be excelled in the art of dignity by a Potter - Snape decided that he would not rant, nor shout, nor panic. Not again. Instead, he would take control. Now.
So he leaned closer to Potter, a sneer on his face.
"This is getting repetitive, Potter," He murmured into the young man's ear. "How much longer are you going to spring your important friends on me like this?"
"This is the last visit of this kind," Potter answered just as quietly, smiling genuinely at his professor.
"Are you sure? We haven't met dragons yet, and I am rather surprised that you aren't the Supreme Cleaner of the house elves or whatever they have at the top of their hierarchy."
In front of them, he could see the centaur's ears twitch irritatedly. Obviously, his hearing was much better than Snape had anticipated. And he didn't like being compared to house elves.
"Interesting idea," Potter answered. "I must ask Dobby about that. But no, Professor. All my other "important" friends are far, far away from here, and I don't honestly feel up to long range apparition at the moment."
Snape couldn't suppress a "Thank Merlin for that" and received an amused chuckle in reply.
"So who's this Stallion King," He then asked, his bored tone indicating that the question resulted more from curiosity than an acute wish to know.
"The Leader of the centaurs," Potter answered.
"The centaurs of Britain?"
Potter shook his head. "No. He's rather more important than that."
Snape's new found relaxedness evaporated into thin air. "The leader of all centaurs?" He asked, very proud that his voice remained so calm.
"Think so," Potter replied calmly. "Of course, there's this rebel herd in South America somewhere, but the centaurs don't take them very seriously. The rest of them are accepting the Stallion King as their supreme herd leader, at least in times of danger and conflict. They would never dream of rebellion against his law."
Snape sighed. Always look on the bright side, He thought again, and aloud he said weakly: "Well, at least you aren't their leader, too. That would have been very bad for my temper."
"Oh, no," Potter protested. "You could say that I lack the necessary physical prerequisites." But the way he averted his eyes guiltily made Snape wonder, and when he saw the centaur that was leading them deeper and deeper into the forest look back at them with a more than amused expression, horror dawned in Snape.
"Potter," He hissed. "If there is anything you haven't told me, this would be the right moment to spill it."
Potter cringed. Oh no, I've seen that expression before, Snape thought. The day was too long already!
"Well…" He began slowly. "If you ask that way, I…"
But before he could properly begin his confession, they were interrupted by the centaur, who had stopped in front of two especially tall trees. Long ago, someone must have bent their crowns to the side, braiding their branches into an archway so that they seemed to become one. Thick strings of ivy were falling down from that leafy bow, forming a green, glossy curtain to that portal of nature and obscuring whatever lay behind it.
"Behold," The centaur now announced, his voice even more grave and dignified than before. "The grove of the Stallion King. The Consort is waiting for you, Eques."
Oh joy, Snape thought, but Potter nodded just as gravely, and once more whipped back his head in the gesture that strangely looked like an inverted bow.
"Highest praise should be given to the leader of a peaceful journey."
"Yet higher praise still to the leader that guards us through the fields of war," Was the answer. The centaur, too, whipped back his head and then retreated with barely a look towards Snape, who sneered after him derisively.
He had always hated centaurs. They did not possess an inch of good manners, and they even seemed proud of it.
But Potter didn't seem to share his sentiments, for he watched the centaur leave with a mild smile playing on his lips. Then, he nodded to Snape.
"Ready, Professor?" He asked.
"How could I, having no idea what awaits me?" Snape answered, and Potter chuckled as if he had cracked a joke. Then he stepped through the curtain of glossy green leaves.
Not willing to let Potter out of his sight in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, even if this area was obviously infested with nothing but centaurs, Snape heaved a resigned sigh and followed him through the leaves.
He had expected a clearing, or grove, but what he found when he had brushed rests of the leaves from his face irritatedly was a garden. Strangely organized, and most definitely not to the taste of humans, but a garden nonetheless. Most wizards would not have recognized it for what it was, but Snape wasn't a Potions Master for nothing. He had spent months in gardens, learning the qualities of flowers, berries or herbs, practising how to tend and cultivate them, for not every Potions Master had the luxury to simply buy his ingredients from the very best stores.
It was this wealth of experience that helped him find the hidden patterns in the way shrubbery, trees and patches of flowers were arranged in seemingly natural wildness, although he knew few of the plants around them.
He had never heard that centaurs did gardening. Even the idea of a centaur carrying rake and watering can around was ridiculous. Ridiculous, but not unamusing.
Snape had half a mind to tell Potter about this mental image – let him remain dignified with that thought in his serene mind -, but when he turned around towards him, he found the brat concentrating on a different person altogether.
Snape hadn't seen him before, half hidden in between shadows and trees, and he supposed that this had been at least one purpose the garden had been designed for. The proportions were wrong for wizards to vanish before this background, but they were perfect for a centaur.
Especially for one as large as this one. He was standing with his back to them, but their steps must have alerted him to their presence. Nevertheless, he took his time.
Slowly, the huge centaur turned around to them, and Snape felt his eyes narrow in disbelief.
She was a female.
That in itself was surprising enough, considering that no human had probably seen a centaur mare for hundreds of years. The males were very secretive about them, and normally, centaur females lived deep in the forest, caring for and protecting their young ones.
But that wasn't the only strange thing about the mare now walking towards them. She was huge, larger by far than the centaur that had led them here, and he had been more than well developed. This one towered over them, and even with human legs she would have been the tallest woman Snape had ever met. With the additional height supplied by the horse part of her body, the effect was impressive.
"Eques," She now greeted Potter, who once more performed the centaur equivalent of a bow, the gesture far more expressive this time than when he had greeted their guard.
"The light of the evening star pales against you, fair horse lady," Potter said, and Snape had to agree silently. In a very nonhuman, slightly disturbing way, the female centaur looked gorgeous.
She smiled, and answered his gesture gracefully. "We are all but mirrors to the heavenly bodies," She replied. "And the only light we may spread is the flame of our virtue."
Potter smiled. "Modesty is the only shield against the envious rays of the sun, my Lady."
"And Mercury looks favourably on flatterers," She retorted playfully.
Potter smiled charmingly and inclined his head, as if he had been caught in the act.
"I present to you Master Severus Snape, my Lady, Potions Master, Professor of Hogwarts and Healer of your humble servant," He said.
"Master Snape," The centaur greeted him gravely, her eyes flickering over his black robes. Snape, unwilling to even try the strange movement Potter seemed to have perfected, bowed slightly.
"My Lady," He answered the greetings.
Then, they were silent.
Snape switched his gaze from the female centaur, who was looking up to the trees with an expression of serene peace in her face to Potter, who was concentrating on the flower bushes with very much the same expression, and couldn't suppress a snort. That explained everything, especially why he had found that serenity of Potter's so disturbing. A wizard who mimicked the facial expressions and mental state of centaurs had to be confusing.
His snort must have reminded the centaur of his presence, for her eyes and flickered over him with an unreadable expression, only to rest on Potter again.
"Black crows are messengers of death, one says," She remarked.
Although Potter seemed not to have noticed the short interaction and even now didn't bother to lift his eyes from the flowers, he didn't appear surprised.
"But though the roots of a tree stretch deep into the darkness of the ground, yet its leaves crave for the sunlight," He answered as if trading analogies was the most natural thing in the world, and the centaur nodded.
"True," She said. "It is the balance of light and soil that makes it grow."
The lingering look to his face told Snape that they were, indeed, talking about him, and he wondered whether he should feel insulted or complimented, being compared to a tree.
Depends on the tree, He then decided. For example, he had always loved the Whomping Willow for how it frightened the students, and after it had nearly mashed Weasley and Potter in their second year, he hadn't been averse to adopting the tree.
Right. Now that we have decided you would like to be a whomping willow in your next life, could we concentrate on the situation at hand again? A voice bickered in a corner of his mind.
"And the balance of the stars that guides our lives," Potter added, and the centaur nodded again.
Well then, how nice that we cleared this up, Snape thought, the need to utter something bitingly sarcastic rising nearly beyond his power to contain it. He had thought the vampires bad, but this was not only totally surreal but also extremely boring.
I wish they would stop talking about the stars. This is why I always avoided Firenze while he worked at Hogwarts. Not to talk about Trelawney, that madwoman.
"I had hoped for the Fighter's present tonight, my Lady," Potter announced after another moment of calm silence. "Will Mars lead him to us?"
An unreadable smile illuminated the centaur's face for a moment. "Still you carry the rashness of youth in you, Eques," She answered in a tone of gently reproach, and he inclined his head as if he accepted the admonishment.
"Nothing can be hidden from the Gazer," He admitted. "But it is the way of the stars to end our journey unexpectedly, and arrangements must be made before the soul can rest among them."
Her eyes softened. "I rejoice for you, Eques," She told him quietly. "We all long to return home among the stars, but to cut the ties to this earthly existence can be bitter and mournful. I will call, and the Fighter will answer if it is to be."
That said, she turned around and left the garden gracefully and slow.
"I thought we were here to see that Stallion King," Snape asked quietly after a moment. "Who was that female?"
"She is the Consort of the Stars, the Gazer," Potter explained just as quietly, and Snape wondered if there were hidden centaurs guarding the clearing. "She rules together with the Stallion King, who is the fighter. In the centaurs' philosophy, she stands for the vita contemplative and he for the vita activa. Or to put it differently, he gets all the action, and she does all the thinking."
"Whatever does that remind me of?" Snape asked innocently, remembering all too clearly six and a half years of interaction with the Golden Trio. Potter, obviously getting the hint, chuckled appreciatively.
"If I understood that gibberish you spoke correctly, you just told her of your untimely death and she 'rejoiced for you'," Snape commented after a moment. "Do you have any friends who are sad about your dying?"
"Shadow," Potter answered after a moment of real thinking. "He would rather kill me than let me die, I think," He chuckled again, then threw a quick look around and concentrated on Snape's original question.
"It has to do with their philosophy, Professor. According to the centaurs, the original home of the soul is among the stars, and only there can we be truly happy and free. When the soul descends to this plane, it is burdened with physical and emotional rubbish. Death frees us from all that, and only when we have cut those ties can we really gaze upon our fate."
"Very useful that," Snape grumbled. "To only see your fate when it's over. That's a typical divination approach."
"Ah, but your fate isn't over with death," Potter exclaimed as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "For the centaur's believe that the soul will return…"
"No Potter," Snape interrupted. "I will not talk about reincarnation with you. Even the thought of you returning to Hogwarts gives me the creeps! It is bad enough to teach the imbecilic children of imbecilic parents. Your returned soul would definitely scare me into early retirement."
Potter smiled. "Well," He said. "Then I'm glad that we found yet another good argument for my plan – to destroy my soul would get rid of that problem, too."
"Potter…" Snape began warningly, intending to inform the brat fully what exactly he thought about his sophistry, but the sound of steps silenced him. They both turned towards the approaching sound, Snape with a vague sense of dread and Potter with excited eagerness in his face that turned into pure joy at the sight of another centaur appearing on the clearing.
This one was even more huge that the consort had been, and Snape wouldn't have needed the strange crown of iron and laurel that sat on his forehead to identify him as the Stallion King, but all further observation came to an abrupt halt when Potter did the craziest thing Snape had ever seen.
Crazier than confiding in Druids. Crazier even than angering the Prince of Vampires.
With a fluent movement that spoke of grace and strength, Potter glided over to the large centaur and, Snape couldn't clearly make out how he did it, as his brain's function crashed to an abrupt, shocked halt, jumped onto the centaur's back.
He's jumped on the centaur's back. Potter's sitting on the centaur as if he was a horse. He's riding their king, for God's sake!
Snape thought, his mind unable to form any other thought than the obvious, while his mouth opened and closed in silent desperation.
If there was one thing he was thankful for in this whole mess, it was the fact that no one could see him like this. But apart from that, there wasn't much to be thankful for.
It took Snape a moment to realize that the centaur didn't seem to mind this treatment, in fact, his face sported the same, deeply content expression Potter wore. Both had their eyes closed, their face tilted up to the sky.
Potter again. I should have known that centaur's would turn into horses around him. It's just to be expected, really.
"It is good to feel you again, Chairon," Potter said, his voice nothing more than a whisper in the soft breeze that played around him.
"My heart is filled with pleasure, Eques," The centaur added. His eyes were still closed and his forehead wore a slight frown as if he was concentrating hard on something. "But I can feel a darkness growing inside you. You draw away from this plane, and the separation causes you agony."
"I am dying, Fighter," Potter answered quietly. "What you feel is the illness that will take my life and return me home. We are working on a treatment, but it is unlikely that we will succeed. Professor Snape here is my healer."
In a flash, the centaur's eyes opened. They were fixed on Snape, and there was such intensity in them, such spirit and power, that he had to fight the impulse to back away. Damn it, he could feel those eyes enter his thoughts, his innermost soul. But there was no magic involved, and his Occlumency shields were in place – he had checked them before they had entered Hogwarts, and they were still holding.
"Born to a snake," The centaur said quietly, his tone ominous and hinting at some hidden secret. "Grown to be a snake, serving a snake and carrying a snake – it is fitting that he would be your Healer, Eques. Very fitting."
Potter chuckled softly. "Snakes are noble creatures, Chairon, although I know how little liking you feel for them. And sometimes, they may enter places hidden to everyone else."
"The darkness is clawing deep inside you," The centaur replied as if he hadn't heard Potter's gentle admonishment, but Snape felt the burning eyes suddenly leaving him as the centaur's concentration turned inwards again. "It is reaching for your very soul. And soon, very soon, it will begin to taint you with its blackness."
"That is why I am here, Chairon. We must sever our connection", Potter answered, his voice controlled and gentle like a summer's day, as if he had not just received confirmation of his illness' effects. "The likelihood of my death is growing every day, and I would not have you come to harm."
Something in the atmosphere changed. It was as if a chill had suddenly befallen them, as if a sudden storm was brewing above their heads.
"You are asking me to abandon you in your need, Eques?" The centaur asked, his voice dangerously low.
"No, Chairon. I am asking you to remember where your primary duty lies, and that is not with me. We do not know how my death will affect you, and if my treatment doesn't work, this world might soon be plunged into darkness again. Your people will need you then. I will not have you and them suffer because of our bond."
"And yet you know that our bond is giving you strength to fight your predicament as we speak. Without me, without the centaurs' magic, you would be a shivering bundle of pain on the floor right now."
"My, my," Potter said softly. "Do not let the Gazer hear you talking in such vulgar tones. You almost sounded like a human there."
"HARRY POTTER!" Chairon suddenly thundered and Snape very nearly jumped in surprise, his mind still trying to make sense of what the centaur had just announced. So this bond they shared – whatever it was – gave Potter the strength to withstand the illness? But the anger, no, the pure rage that turned Chairon's words into a storm, quickly snapped him back to reality.
What was it with Potter and his mentally challenged friends, anyway? Ayda, threatening to cut his throat in the kitchen, Shadow, nearly suffocating his adoptive son. And now the Stallion King, shouting at the human still sitting calmly on his back for reasons unknown to every sane person in the vicinity. Or, in other words, unknown to Snape.
"Don't you dare drive me away! Our bond was forged to provide counsel and help. For both sides! I came to know you much too late to aid you on your difficult journey through your destiny. And now that the stars placed you into danger, you expect me to break our contract? Are you questioning my honour, wizard?"
"Sometimes, prudence should be valued higher than honour or courage, Chairon," Potter answered, clearly pleading. "Sometimes, a cause is not worth fighting for it.
"I was born to the rattling of Mars' spear," The centaur answered, deep conviction in his voice. "I was mated to the one who sees our fate, to watch over my people. And let me tell you this, Eques, as far as I am concerned, you are one of my people. I was born to fight for you. And I will."
Potter sighed, and slowly climbed from the centaur's back. Suddenly, all grace seemed gone from his movements, his shoulders were bent and his face looked like that of a dead man.
"There is nothing I can do to change your mind?" He asked, his voice holding no hope at all.
"Nothing," The centaur replied. "I will honour our bond no matter what the cost. And if death is attacking you, in whatever form, I will be right beside you, to fight of whatever danger I can."
Potter sighed, reached out with his right arm and let it rest on the centaur's shoulder for a moment.
"I was afraid you'd say that, Chairon. If you were a human, you would certainly have been sorted into Gryffindor."
Obviously sensing that Potter had given up on him, the centaur let anger and seriousness fade away.
His eyes took in Snape, then Potter, and he smirked, a positively Slytherin smirk that had Snape gaping in surprise for a moment. The smugness that spread on the centaur's face clearly showed Snape that he had noticed his reaction.
„Now, now, Eques," Chairon drawled, whipping his head back in a gesture of obvious amusement. „There is really no need to insult me like that!"
0o0
A/N: I'm sorry for the terribly long author notes that follows, but I tried to explain as many allusions as I could. If you understood the chapter anyway, just skip this part.
Crows are messengers of death – I don't know about other cultures, but in the Celtic tradition, this fact is linked to the Morrigan, goddess of battle and death, who would appear in the shape of a crow (as crows were often to be found on battlefields, doing lots of unsavoury things with the corpses).
The evening star is, if I didn't get this completely wrong, in fact Venus. Harry compares the consort with that planet because Venus is the goddess of love and beauty. Mercury was not only the god of the travellers, but also a rather mischievous guy to whom the… let's say more adventurous type of people looked.
the original home of the soul is among the stars, and only there can we be truly happy and free – We're entering concepts of Neoplatonism here, and I want to stress that I'm no expert (only in the medieval part of that philosophy). I took up some Plotin and a few medieval writings of that philosophical branch and gave them my centaur twists. If you're interested in that, just leave me a note and I will explain it in more detail in my forum.
vita contemplative – vita activa: a Christian concept of two life styles. The active life (vita active) is spent in the world, concerned with life and all it brings. The contemplative life however is spent in prayer, mediation and reflection, focused on eschatological rather than everyday questions. Often, both types of life were associated with concrete figures, e.g. in Dante's Divina Commedia, where Leah stands for the active and Rachel for the contemplative life.
Sophistry – The sophists were a bunch of ancient philosophers who taught rhetorics. They are often criticized in philosophical texts because they allegedly didn't connect their school of talking to any sorts of morals. One of the fiercest attacks on them is in Aristophanes' Clouds, which is, by the way, an immensely entertaining read. I have to stress, however, that I rather like the Sophists. Always thought they would have been sorted into Slytherin.
"Born to a snake. Grown to be a snake, serving a snake and carrying a snake – it is fitting that he would be your Healer, Eques" – Chairon's meaning is ambiguous (as is usually the case with centaurs). He refers to Snape's Slytherin mother, his own membership in Slytherin house, his service to Voldemort, who is certainly described as "snake-like" on more than one occasion, and his carrying of the Dark Mark that shows a snake. He thinks this fitting because Harry on the one hand has fought more than one snake – the basilisk and Voldemort, but on the other hand is a parseltongue. The snake also refers to the staff of Aesculapius, around which a snake is wound (it is still the main medical symbol to this day).
Anyways, sorry for the long wait, but this was a long chapter and quite hard to write. I promise that the next one won't take nearly as long (and won't need as many author's notes).
Now: Review!