A mighty amount of thanks to those who continue to review, you know not how appreciated you are. There is a poll up for the Star Wars fic that I am writing, for those who might be interested but have not yet seen it nor voted in it, just by way of announcement. Otherwise, we press onward, please enjoy. ~F

Chapter Forty

Strength of the Fel

Deep within the Twisting Nether, upon a foreign world named Nathreza, which had everlasting night seeping down from a sunless sky, the Dreadlord Mephistroth walked the halls of the citadel of the Nathrezim. Underlings scurried after their master, knowing well that his plans were well in motion and to disturb him now was to court certain death.

But alas, the third most powerful of the vampiric demons was being summoned but his one of the two superiors of his own race. And the mighty Tichondrius was not a being to be crossed, even by his fellow Dreadlords.

Much to his bemused surprise, when Mephistroth arrived in the uppermost chamber of the citadel, he found that not only was it Tichondrius who awaited him, but the Nathrezim's second in command, Anetheron, was present as well.

"Brothers…" he said calmly, "To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?"

"We ought to be the ones to ask that, Mephistroth," Anetheron retorted, "as it is your little pet warlock down on some backwater planet that is the cause of our meeting."

"Oh, what of the little human?" Mephistroth commented lazily, inwardly growing concerned. He had hoped that such attention to his warlock would have gone unnoticed until much later, when the boy would be of great use to them, but that was dashed already.

"You know our masters want only to invade Azeroth," Tichondrius stated flatly, "why would you allow some pitiful creature the opportunity to open a different world to the Legion, forward thinking though the idea is, it is not what we are commanded to achieve."

"I have a greater use for the human…" the third ranking Dreadlord affirmed. "He may well be our means of invading Azeroth itself, once we take the small detour to burn his pitiful world to cinders."

A deep rumble surged through the tower that was their citadel and archive. Turning, all three Dreadlords paused at the sight of Kil'jaeden's massive projection, hovering in the air just beyond the tower. Clearly the powerful Eredar sorcerer had been spying on them.

"Your pet amuses me Mephistroth, and even though you acted without authority, I am pleased at the progress we have seen in the little thing's attempts to open the pathway to us. I will convince Archimonde to send a force to the world. Once the way had been cleared, and should the boy survive the ordeal of opening a portal large enough for us, he will be rewarded with the opportunity for further glory, in having a hand in preparing the way for our invasion of Azeroth.

Mephistroth couldn't withhold the smirk of pride as he glanced back at his fellow Nathrezim once the illusion of the Deceiver vanished. "I believe there is no further need to criticize my plans now, is there?" he said, much to the displeasure of his superiors, but there was nothing they could do. Mephistroth had received the official go ahead from Kil'jaeden, and the other Nathrezim were forbidden from doing anything that could hinder the work of the Legion.

For his own glory within the Legion, and the opportunity to show up both his superiors in the ranks of the Dreadlords, the priority of one Nobu'tan, the orc-raised human warlock, just became the highest in Mephistroth's sight for the time being.

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He had been so long trapped, unable to act, unable to see or feel the world around him correctly. Lost and alone, without his faithful servants to attend him, the spirit hung lifeless over the forests where he had once secreted part of himself, possessing animals of the forest to do his bidding.

Until now... Fortune had smiled upon him once again, and through acts of fear and cowardice, one of his own had managed to find him at last, and return him to a near form of humanity.

As he was now, in his hated father's house back in the land of his birth, the shadow of malice and hatred swarmed over and around the room he had nearly incapable to leave. Still so frail and weak, he had to rely on a combination of the weak servant and his most loyal pet, who had returned to him the moment he had been returned to this land, and came with all haste to his side.

Curse the boy who had done this to him. His death would be slow and painful, and then every person who had believed in him, who had celebrated his supposed victory would feel the awful sting of defeat, and the utter hopelessness of their folly.

The muggle caretaker of this place had been the first death he had seen in a long time, and it had been more than exciting enough to sate his bloodlust, for the time being at least. But there would be blood in earnest in due time, and his patience had been greatly improved after the years of torment as less than the meanest ghost.

He had a plan, and he suspected that a superior servant would be somewhere, able to act in his stead as the long arm that he needed while the pathetic excuse for a human being would take care of him here, where his form would be safe and away from all potential harm.

Even now the rat was seeking out his servant, whom he had seen in vision, so close to magic as he was. His familiar, the great snake that so loved him, hissed contentedly as it digested the muggle that had discovered them a week back, lying lethargically in front of the fire, allowing the tiny figure in the overlarge armchair to plot and plan in near silence.

Oh yes, his plan would go very smoothly, with no hitches, with the information he had received about the Triwizard tournament. It would prove to be a most revitalizing event, for him at least. The Dark Lord Voldemort would rise again, and Harry Potter would be his first and greatest victim in this endeavor.

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Nobu'tan was irritable, the scar upon his forehead still stinging from the nightmares or vision he had experienced for the last few days. First it had been of some wizards in a village far from him, and somehow he had just known that it had something to do with the man who murdered his biological parents, little that he cared notwithstanding.

But later on it had morphed to something even more sinister. The Dreadlord Mephistroth had returned to him, invading his dreams like a nightmarish shadow, whispering his congratulations at garnering the attention of the mighty Kil'jaeden, one of the great Lords of the Legion, and that they now had the full backing of the Legion, and would be given everything that he might need to make sure he succeeded in his endeavors to bring the Legion to this world.

That alone had truly discontented the warlock more than anything related to the madman Voldemort. Had the Legion truly not been supporting him before, what in the Nether would that have meant if he had succeeded earlier and opened a portal to their worlds, with no clear orders of what was to be done? Would he and his followers have died just as quickly as all others here?

He had done as Morgan had requested, and read the tome she had given him, and yes, he understood why she had betrayed the Legion quite well. The book documented at leave thirty different witches and wizards that had attempted to aid the Legion over this world's long history, throughout many ages of time, and each time they were defeated or betrayed at pivotal moments, by with their fellows or the Legion itself.

Nobu'tan heeded her warning. The Legion could not be trusted, but he had little choice now that their focus was on him fully. He would open their portal, but as soon as he could he would escape to Azeroth and disavow any connection to them, seeking out Gul'dan would be his first priority.

But then, there came the other nagging things that he had learned over the three, nearing four, years that he had spent on this planet. The being of light in the Department of Mysteries had alluded to the notion that Gul'dan might already have been betrayed, or turned traitor to the Legion. Nobu'tan's memory was rather fuzzy of the happenings of that encounter now, despite magical attempts to recall it better.

It seemed as though to get his full answers would require his return to Azeroth, which he was fully intent to pursue regardless. With only one artifact remaining to claim, they were well past the point of no return.

Lucius and Draco, as well as many of the other ex-Death Eaters and their families had gone to a massive Quidditch game, to keep up appearances that there was nothing amiss in their households, while Nobu'tan, Teg'Ramm and the other minions who were not human remained behind at Malfoy Manor, making further preparations and strategizing out means to wrest the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's grasp without the need to level the castle around him.

There was always the option of holding the students hostage and threatening their lives in exchange for the wand. Nobu'tan was sure that such a ploy would work, and truly he had little desire to actually harm the innocents of this world, he would allow the Legion that heinous honor.

But still, he knew that the moment he departed with the wand, Albus would pursue him to his dying breath, as Merlin had clearly told him and his people everything they needed to know regarding Nobu'tan and the Legion. Now, while the man lacked knowledge on where they would attempt to open the portal to their world, it wouldn't take a genius like the Headmaster to notice the massive influx of energy once they commenced, and when that happened, Nobu'tan would not be able to defend himself, as all his energy would be trapped ripping open the largest hole in time and space possible.

He had the Order of the Black Harvest, the ogres and their newfound magi, he had the Fel Veela, and there was always the goblins he could potentially call upon, but he felt that there had to be more that he could use to defend himself at the pivotal moment. If even one person got through and disrupted the ritual, Nobu'tan calculated that the magical backlash would kill him and everyone around him, at the least, or split open their world to the core, at the worst.

Not a bright concept, and therefore the driving force that demanded that he have all the protection possible. So, once again he was sending out a horde of Fel charged eyes to seek out potential allies, as well as delving into every aspect of the Nether he could in effort to make absolutely sure he had the best advantage once the inevitable moment came.

He didn't dare venture his eyes too close to Hogwart's castle, as he had already heard from Draco that Dumbledore had retaken his position in the school, and it was highly likely that he was fortifying the castle with arcane magic, just in case Nobu'tan decided to attack directly, which even though the old man wasn't sure of his true objective was still the best maneuver he could possibly make.

However, pulled by curiosity more than anything, Nobu'tan couldn't resist at least seeing what his enemy was up to however, and against his better judgment he sent eyes closer and closer to the Scottish highlands, where the mysterious castle and fortress were hidden.

Soaring over the dark forest, the warlock could see the castle looming over the trees, still as inspiring as when he had first seen it, but shimmering with Arcane magic. It was clear that the man had been busy, making absolutely certain that anything that happened within the walls of the castle would be known by him. A typical move for the old man, as from what Nobu'tan had observed, Albus Dumbledore loved holding all the cards, so he could act and react with impunity.

Movement in the shadowed trees below his vision drew his attention however, and Nobu'tan directed his expanded consciousness through the eyes downward to see what crept in the forest.

Horse-like creature thundered over rocks and low shrubs, hot in pursuit of game, with the upper bodies of full grown men, powerfully built and menacing in their physical strength. They intrigued the warlock. He had not had the pleasure of meeting any of the centaur that lived within the dark forest, although he had sensed their presence easily enough, and knew that they were aware of his power.

Perhaps a mission deep into the territory of his enemy to see if he could persuade these mighty magical creatures to his side would be worth his time.

With the wizarding world so focused on the game that took place far to the south of the castle, it ought to have been a relatively simple matter, if he conserved his Fel powers and relied on the wand-based magic of wizards to protect him in those trees.

He had already dressed in his usual garb of the Grand Warlock and was muttering spells to open a portal to the forest when he started to think of doubts. Dumbledore was already spreading the power of the arcane around the castle grounds, looking for any sign of intrusion. Was it likely that he had also covered the forest in his magic? Was it worth the risk for some race of creatures that would have to be persuaded much like the Fel Veela?

Just as quick as it arrived, Nobu'tan banished the thoughts, as he would love to see the old man's face if he was discovered so close to the castle, and even still, the opportunity to create more allies on his enemy's doorstep was too good to pass up.

It was well known to Nobu'tan, through the other classes in history he had taken at Durmstrang, that centaur hate all things to do with wizards, for the humans seeing them as lesser beings and for the forbiddance of magic use from wands as major contributions to that sentiment.

It was an issue that was easily corrected with the Veela, and could just as easily be gifted to the Centaur, so long as there were those with the capabilities to wield Fel magic, and if there were not, they could be changed much like the ogres, and made into magi of their own right.

Stepping through the portal to the very path that the centaur he had seen were running along in pursuit of their quarry, Nobu'tan started to send out small tendrils of magic to locate their village or central community, if there were more than one concentration of them in this forest.

It seemed to not be the case, as after a minute or two of maintaining the spell, Nobu'tan turned in the opposite direction that the hunters had been going, retracing where they had come from and heading toward the heart of the forest, directly in line with where he detected that their village had to be located.

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Draco hadn't been sure how much he would enjoy Quidditch anymore, after the beginning of his, his father's and their mutual friend's journey into the realms of magical discovery with the knowledge of the Fel arts of the warlock, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that the game was still as intriguing to him as ever, although this world cup final in particular had added benefits that amused him greatly.

Not only was the game very strongly played between Ireland and Bulgaria, but in specific the mascots that the red clad team had procured; Veela. Normally this would be a cause for alarm, as Veela were typically women of great beauty that commanded the lusts of men to do their whims, but these ones were strikingly different, and only those who served under Nobu'tan knew why.

"So that's what Lord Nobu'tan was up to for so long…" Lucius commented quietly as the mascots had filed out.

Draco smirked as he leaned forward for another look. Despite their outward appearances of normalcy for their race, those with the eyes to see through Fel illusions, and with a whispered spell, Draco and Lucius could see straight through to the cruel looking beaks and talons, coupled with the massive green and purple plumage that radiated dark magic, just waiting to burst into flames at the slightest offense.

That was going to prove to be the most interesting thing about the game, despite the fact that the flying was superb and the competition intense, and Draco was proven right in time. Constantly he had his eyes drawn back to the ground to see what the Fel creatures were planning, and while the Leprechauns that the Irish had brought were doing their best to infuriate the Veela, they were more than preoccupied trying to lull the referee into a state of uselessness, although to Draco's trained eyes he spotted that they were attempting to siphon his soul from his body rather than cheat for their team.

It didn't stop the foolish man from Egypt attempting to have them sent off the field, which served as the final straw for the creatures. Draco wasn't sure why they were so ready to fly into a rage, possibly the terms that they accepted to even be here in the first place, but in a flash they were fully revealed as what they were, fel flames leaping from their hands as they charged across the field, setting everything they could alight with a crimson gleam in their eyes.

The lower stands went into a panic from the mad rampage of the creatures, but Draco was not worried, not only were they too high for the Veela to get at them, but his powers of the Fel would be protection enough from their magic.

"I believe that we must depart before things get too out of hand," Lucius said, also glancing down at the mayhem, "I trust that they are intelligent enough to get themselves out of this and return to their lives without inciting too much of Lord Nobu'tan's wrath…"

Narcissa rose gracefully then, leading her family as they departed the Minister's box, much to the surprise of Cornelius, who was looking between the Bulgarian Minister, and the other occupants of the box for someone to tell him what to do, which for some reason had included the Weasley family, but neither of the Malfoy men even paid the red headed family a moment of thought.

There was far too much to prepare now for them to be concerned with the blood traitors, or what they would have once considered blood traitors. For Draco at least, magic was magic at this point, and whether it came from a muggleborn or a pureblood it was irrelevant, it was the extra skills of their internal power that gave them an edge over pure Arcane or Fel wielders.

The three Malfoys returned to their luxurious tent that had been placed in one of the prime locations, awaiting the end of the game so that they could potentially slip away in the midst of the celebratory crowd, regardless of who had won. Draco was sure that he would hear the blow by blow for the rest of the game at least a hundred times on the way back to Hogwarts, so he wasn't concerned. It was more important that they not be in the same place as rampaging Fel creatures, just in case some of Dumbledore's lot tried to make the connection.

They had been prepared to wait for days, as these World Cup matches were wont to do, but Draco was surprised when a torrent of screaming came from the nearby stadium, and fireworks shot into the air in grandeur. "Well, that was a quick final match…" he commented aloud.

"Yes, and complicates our plans a touch," Lucius added, watching from the doorway of the tent with his son, "We'll have to wait at least a day before departing, as it would be suspicious to not be among the common spectators for a short time after the match, and most would be exhausted from the highlights of the match."

And so they had waited, watching the sun set slowly over the trees as parties sprung up from the green covered sea of tents, celebrating the Irish victory over Bulgaria, but at the same time Draco had heard that the red clad seeker, Victor Krum, had actually caught the Snitch, and so there was cause for celebration in those tents loyal to them as well.

All seemed to be as it once was for a time, like the old days before Draco went to Hogwarts and found out the secrets of Nobu'tan, just sitting there in from of a nice fire with his parents, enjoying the aftermath of a good match of Quidditch, when Lucius hissed unexpectedly, reaching out to grasp his left forearm.

Narcissa looked shocked and afraid at the motion, something that Draco had never seen on his mother's face before. "What is it?" he asked quickly, knowing that with their power he could burn away any sort of sore or disease with careful application.

"He is returning…" Lucius said, glancing first at his wife, who darted inside to fetch something, an ointment presumable, before Lucius turned to look at his son, pain in his eyes. "The Dark Lord is trying to rise again; I can sense it through the Mark…"

Draco's eyes widened. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was returning? "So, what does that mean for the Order of the Black Harvest?" he asked after several long minutes of silence, in which Draco's mother returned and wrapped a sopping wet bandage over Lucius arm, clearly treated with something that dulled the burning pain that the old mark was clearly inflicting on him.

"It means," Lucius said after straightening himself and glancing about to make sure none had overheard or seen something, "that we must stay closer to Lord Nobu'tan than ever, as the Dark Lord will stop at nothing to destroy him, and given the option of the Legion or that man taking control of our lives again, I would gladly take the demonic invasion."

"I will not allow that man to torment our family again," Draco said boldly, balling his hands into fists. "I'll have my demons rip him limb from limb first."

"You might have to get in line for that, young Lord Malfoy," said another voice, and the three turned to see Nott Sr. enter the firelight, rubbing his own forearm as Theodore followed close behind, moving to stand beside Draco, "I doubt that any of us have a better claim to slay that man than Lord Nobu'tan himself."

"This is true, however if it came down to it," Draco countered, but before he could say much more, a spell flared up into the air from the other side of the campgrounds. Vivid and green, the looming skull with a snake for a tongue froze all those who recognized it, the ex-Death Eaters included.

"We've got to leave; now… before the Aurors show up and ask unwanted questions…" Lucius said quickly, as the massive crowd started to panic at the sight of the Dark Lord's mark in the sky, a symbol of murder committed at the sight of its appearance.

The others scattered, returning to their own tents and gathering all their possessions rapidly. With a wave of his wand, Lucius had their tent packed and ready to depart within moments, and held tightly to his wife and son as he murmured their emergency Portkey's command phrase, which returned them in a whirl of color to the safe room of Malfoy Manor.

Draco knew that they would be safe here, as not only were there powerful wards protecting the manor, and this room in particular, overcharged now by the magic of the Fel, but the sheer bulk of demons and other creatures would deter even the mightiest of forces from attacking, but this was a lesser concern to him than the whereabouts of Nobu'tan.

"I sense that he had used portal magic recently, and is out and about somewhere," Lucius stated, able to feel the ambient magic in and around his home with ease, as Lord of the Manor.

Narcissa departed to make sure that everything was accounted for, and the two warlocks sought out confirmation that their allies were also safe. Several Floo calls later and they breathed far easier. None of their number had been accosted or admitted participation in summoning the Dark Mark, indeed they had all derided even the notion that they would return to that man's service after all they had seen and learned.

This was good news for them, but still the threat that someone had conjured the mark, and only a Death Eater knew the secret incantation for it, meant that there was someone outside their Order that had done so, or they had a traitor.

"Do you believe we could be betrayed so close to our victory?" Draco asked his father as they meandered down to the training room, seeking out any possible discrepancies in their defenses, just in case.

"I doubt that it has happened, but even we Ex-Death Eaters hold close to Alastor Moody's adage of constant vigilance." His father replied, "I suggest you learn as much as you can from the man when he takes over the Defense position… you know, between bouts of him trying to interrogate you and the others regarding Lord Nobu'tan."

Draco smirked, the small amount of levity making the entire situation feel much better all of a sudden. "I just wish we knew where Nobu'tan was right now." Lucius continued, becoming thoughtful and pensive.

"He'll be safe," Draco affirmed, recalling their mutual mentor's personal tastes, "He wouldn't go within fifty miles of a Quidditch stadium after what happened the last time he went to a game…"

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Alastor was not in the best of moods. It seemed that, once he had been recalled from retirement, all hopes at returning to it were utterly dashed from moment to moment. Striding through the charred grass of the ruined campsite surrounding the World Cup Stadium, the old Auror tried to make sense of the stupidity of the wizarding public.

Someone, an old Death Eater no doubt, had shot the Dark Mark into the sky, an act of terror that had set of the chain reaction of panic that transformed into a riot as thousands of people, British wizards and foreigners alike, stampeding for the nearest exit points, fleeing by apparition or portkey, and leading to countless injuries via trampling. Mercifully there had been no deaths, the heartiness of wizards allowing them to survive such injuries with ease.

Still, it had been a potentially deadly scenario, and the perpetrator was still nowhere to be found, seemingly having disappeared into the night. Alastor had in the back of his mind the usual suspect list, but somehow it didn't seem to fit the bill anymore. If Lucius and his cohorts were backing Potter, why would any of them want to draw attention back to Voldemort at all...?

Possibly as a ruse so that the wizarding world placed their guard in the wrong place, allowing them to sneak in and do whatever damage they desired. If so, than they would need to do much more than this, as although panicked and jumpy, this was less than what it took to send the entirety of wizarding Britain into an uproar.

No, it felt right to believe that this was a new, third party, who might still be completely loyal to the fallen Dark Lord, and either cast the mark for his own reasons. Indeed this part might even be altogether ignorant of the entirety of 'Nobu'tan' and his people.

Truly, what had interested Alastor the most when he came here were the reports of the vile and demonic Veela that had attack the referee during the match, and he had spent a great deal of time within the stadium, taking note of the various traces of Fel magic therein, wondering just how it was Nobu'tan got his claws into such beings as Veela, and what his purpose for them would be in the end.

The particular clan had vanished immediately following the game, and although Aurors were sent to their normal residential lands, Alastor felt that they would not be found there. This particular plot, at least, screamed of Potter and his demonic masters. The boy was gearing up for something big, and the aged Auror did not like the looks of it one bit.

Returning to the matter at hand however, much as he would prefer to rather return to Albus and report these Fel Veela, Alastor started to follow the trace amount of magic that was attached to and holding the mark suspended in the air.

The tethers led down to a small knot of trees at the very edge of the forests where the Department of Magical Games and Sports had decided to host the match, and seemed to end there. Quickly searching the spot where the spell had apparently been cast from, Alastor sensed no sign of the presence of Fel magic, which unfortunately limited his selections of suspects, indeed removing all those who were associated with Nobu'tan.

He, Albus and Severus had noticed that even the spells they cast with the wands now carried hints of the Arcane in them, and he was certain that it would be the same for the warlocks, even if that cleared any of them from wrongdoing in this general instance.

No, it was some sort of independent, or perhaps an initiate to the warlocks that had not been given the Fel gift yet. Looking down along the ground, Alastor immediately spotted something else out of place in the small wooded spot. A house elf, sprawled in the grass, quite dead.

Clearly not the intended target for the Dark Mark, although they had not as of yet found any human victim, nevertheless Alastor recognized the elf as belonging to Bartemius Crouch, Head of International Magical Cooperation. Apparently the man had not actually come to the game himself, despite being one of the founding persons behind sponsoring the event being held here in Britain.

But then why would his house elf have been found here, and dead no less? It led to a great deal more questions, and Alastor was sure that there were no more answers to be found here. Leaving his findings with the next most senior Auror, Alastor took his leave, preferring to go back to Hogwarts first, rather than deal with prim and proper Crouch. He'd leave that glorious task to someone with more patience and less sense.

Albus seemed to grow more eager as Alastor entered his office, "I'm starting to get tired of climbing all those stairs every time I need to report something," Alastor commented offhandedly, but the Headmaster shrugged, clearly unable to rebuild all of Hogwarts for the aged Auror's needs in a heartbeat.

"There were Veela at the Quidditch World Cup…" he added, looking around for where Albus hid his liquor.

"Not surprising, as the Bulgarians were playing," Albus replied, waiting for Alastor to finish a small glass of Firewhiskey, Albus' private stores being one of the few outside drinks Alastor felt that he could trust, even if he did have over half a dozen antidotes on him at all times, just in case.

"They were corrupted by Fel magic," Alastor added between drinks, which wrought a massive change in Albus. The man sat forward, more than desirous to hear every detail regarding Nobu'tan and his minions.

"I am led to believe that they were affected by the power that Nobu'tan himself possesses, but how I cannot say, or when. Reports indicate that they were quite transformed from what typical angry Veela appear like, with green and violet plumage rather than the typical red. More than that, I do not know, as the clan has all but vanished."

"Probably retreated back to Nobu'tan's side once they realized that they could not operate in normal society any longer," Albus suggested, "He is gathering allies, for what purpose I do not know for certain, to besiege Hogwart's itself? Or to pave the way for the Legion?"

Alastor was about to answer, when together both he and Albus turned and looked out the widow toward the forest. They had both clearly sensed the dark taint of Fel magic being used in those trees. "I can sense Nobu'tan's presence," Albus stated, and they rose together, fully intent on investigating why the warlock dared to approach the castle during the summer.

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Nobu'tan found the centaur village easily enough, but he was disappointed to find that it was quite small, and most of the creatures seemed to want nothing to do with him, even if their courage was to be commended.

"We smell your stink of dark magic, foal," a large black centaur said, striding forward with a proud stance, bow in hand, "and we will have nothing to do with it or your desires. The stars have show us what you intend, and death awaits all those who follow your banner."

Nobu'tan studied the rest of the village quietly, ignoring the ravings of the beast before him. He could simply kill the naysayer and see of that changed their tune, but at the same time the warlock could see that many others were skillfully attempting to conceal weapons from his sight, and would likely attempt to slay him if they felt threatened.

"Ah, but I've come to give you all gifts…" he said slowly, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence and bowing slightly, "Nothing more or less. Please, at least allow me to present them before turning me away."

The black creature that must have been the clan's leader stamped a hoof once, "We do not trust in the gifts of humans," he spat back, but Nobu'tan was already slowly conjuring, summoning the same basin of Fel Blood that the Veela had partaken in.

"Then you will be pleased that this gift comes not from me, but from another nonhuman," the warlock said knowingly, producing the same chalice of bone, etched with demonic runes along the brim.

"I come on behest of my masters to present you the power to throw off the oppression of humans forever, and the strength to take back lands that they stole from you. All you must do is drink…" he said, slowly dipping the cup in the green pool of blood and offering it, still dripping, to the large leader.

He knew that the beast before him would likely refuse, but there was always the chance that something could happen to forestall that event. "We are neutral in your war, human, and want nothing to do with whatever dark powers you claim to be gifting us… We refuse to become slaves to anyone or anything, and no gift is freely given." The centaur said boldly, straightening to its full height and glaring down at the warlock.

"If you weren't a foal yourself, we would slay you for the insolence you have shown, but your youth and ignorance is to be expected, and therefore I demand that you leave our village and never return, or you will forfeit those protections completely." He added, fingering the bowstring in his hands, and Nobu'tan knew a lost cause when he saw one. Banishing the well of Fel blood with a wave of his hand, the warlock smirked slightly as he turned away slowly, "Just remember that my offer stands the next time wizards come to trample on your liberties and rights…" he added casually, as though an afterthought, and walked calmly from the village.

He could feel eyes watching him, and not only the anger filled ones of the leader. Nobu'tan had sparked interest in at least some to throw off the shackles with which their tribe was bound, and perhaps in time they would seek him out, once he was past the lines of their village and well into the free realm of the forest, where any could approach him without fear.

This was why the warlock delayed his return to Malfoy Manor via portal, wandering the woods at a leisurely pace, just waiting and watching, sensing the moment that other creatures came near.

"You might as well come out now, centaurs, I sense you…" Nobu'tan said softly, turning in the vague direction that he sensed their presence. A small group of centaur, around six in total, partially stepped from the surrounding trees and undergrowth, weapons drawn and neither loaded nor aimed at the warlock. Their leader, a large brave with red hair and coloration stepped forward to speak on their behalf.

"I am Edgran, and I speak for those who have come." He said formally, and Nobu'tan waved a hand for him to approach.

"What is it you wish to speak with me regarding, young centaur," he replied, wisely noticing the youth of these half dozen when compared to the relative age of the leader.

"We want to know more of your offer, and what power you wish to give to us centaur to throw off our oppressors. We refuse to be so close-minded as to think that only centaurs are worth trusting, there has to be some other beings of honor out in this wide world, even if the stars foretell dread and doom around all outsiders." The red haired centaur said, not lacking in bitterness as he spoke.

Nobu'tan grinned, and summoned the plinth with the Fel blood once more, watching their eyes as they turned to look at the bubbling green sludge that was the blood of a Pit Lord. "I offer you the chance to become conquerors, to grow in size and power where the spells of these wizards will reflect off your hides without effort. The powers of the Fel will grant you untold abilities, and your strength will be magnified at least ten-fold."

"And what is the price of this power?" another centaur, female this time, said from back in the trees.

Nobu'tan smirked; he loved answering this question, as the reaction was always varied and amusing. "Everything…" he said solemnly, doing nothing to hide the blunt truth that they would be signing over one master for another. One would have thought that would be enough to dissuade many, but from his personal experience, by this point in the conversation, it didn't matter what Nobu'tan said, as the creature or person was already thinking of what they could do with the power, and that they needed it, regardless of whatever price it required, and never bothered to stop and listen to his one completely truthful statement.

The smirk widened as Edgran stepped forward, and Nobu'tan produced the horn-carved cup once more, dipping it and withdrawing some of the blood, "Drink, and become a powerful leader of your people, Edgran of the Centaur…"

The lust for power was clear in the creature's eyes, and the recognition of being as great as the horse-man thought he was in his own mind was plain to see, and he took the cup from Nobu'tan.

The warlock was vaguely aware as the centaur drank that they were being observed, but it was too late for him to withdraw safely at this point, not when there were more servants to be had, and one in the process of changing.

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Albus was horrified at what he was seeing. Nobu'tan was indeed in the dark forest, speaking with a small group of young centaur, and had just offered something from a green glowing font of Fel magic to one of them, which took what appeared to be a chalice of some sorts from the warlock's hand and drank deeply from it.

At the same time that the centaur returned the cup, Nobu'tan turned to look straight at them, smirking wide as the centaur dropped to his knees in pain, mutely screaming as the Fel energy took control. Dipping the cup again, Nobu'tan held it aloft for another to take from him, and the others stepped forward, eager to participate as the first started to mutate horrifically.

"No, we cannot allow this!" Albus said, stepping forward into the small clearing.

"Ah, Headmaster Dumbledore, how nice of you to come and witness the ascent of my newest allies…" Nobu'tan said calmly as he appeared, even as a fourth centaur out of six took the offered chalice.

"Nobu'tan, you are not welcome this close to Hogwarts," Albus said sternly, drawing the Elder Wand, its tip crackling with energy in desire to be used for violence. "I must demand that you leave this place immediately."

The last of the centaur was already writhing on the ground, even as the first two were looking each other over, seeing the new greenish skin and Fel spikes and horns that had grown in strange places. "I come and go as I please, Albus, and you would do well to remember that," Nobu'tan said defiantly, looking back with a crimson gleam in his challenging eyes. "That is… unless you wish to do something about it and stop me?"