Chapter 5 – Blessings in the Moonlight
"All right, ten laps of the pitch, everyone!" Oliver shouted and jogged off without looking back. Behind him, the rest of the team looked at each other in shock. He knew he was being harsh on his players, but he didn't have a choice.
The way he saw it, Oliver only had three years left to win the Quidditch Cup. If they wanted to win it this year, their next game against Hufflepuff would be crucial. If they won that match, they'd beat Slytherin in the standings, almost securing a top-two finish. The fact that Snape would be refereeing the match only added to his stress. It didn't escape him that the head of Slytherin house was refereeing the game which might put his house out of cup contention.
By the end of the run, even Oliver was panting heavily. He looked at his players – the best Quidditch team he'd seen Gryffindor put together in the five years he'd been at Hogwarts. If he couldn't win it with this squad… Well, he didn't want to consider that possibility.
Gryffindor would lift the cup this year, he'd make sure of it.
After a gruelling workout, Oliver's players were scattered across the grass. He walked over to the water pitchers and handed out little paper cups of water. Goblets made of plant-based parchment. Oliver thought it was amazing some of the things muggles thought up to live without magic.
After a few minutes of rest, Oliver stood up and dusted the grass off his shorts. He walked over to Alicia, who was lying near him, picked up her green and gold Holyhead Harpies bandanna and dusted it off before throwing it in her face. "Up you get," he forced the cheeriness into his voice. "We've still got a whole practice left to get to."
Alicia picked the bandanna off her face before glaring at him. He grinned back. He held out his hand and she accepted it, pulling herself off the ground. She stretched gingerly before stalking back to the lockers where her broom was stashed. One by one, his players filed inside, and he followed behind them.
The locker room was dead when Oliver walked out of the captain's office. Normally there was chatter. Alicia and Angelina could usually be found teasing Harry or Katie. Fred and George were usually joking around about something or the other. Right then, everyone looked borderline comatose. Oliver hoped he hadn't pushed them too far.
"All right, brooms out," Oliver lifted his trusty Cleansweep 7 off its rack. "Double practice routine today. We'll do a couple manoeuvre drills and a scrimmage or two. Then finish with chase drills and situations."
His players groaned before shuffling out the door. Harry jogged back in with a sheepish grin when he realised he'd left his broom behind. Oliver shook his head fondly and walked outside, shaking off the tight feeling in his gut.
The practice was a bust. The chasers were barely keeping upright on their broom, and Oliver hadn't seen this many missed passes in the entire time he'd known them. Harry was struggling to keep his eyes open. He flew around slower than usual, and though Oliver could tell Harry was trying his hardest, it simply wasn't up to the standard he'd come to expect from the first year. Fred and George weren't even pretending to practice. The bludgers were still in their crate and the twins flew around the pitch, dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.
"Will you two stop messing around?" Oliver snapped, flying over to the twins. The rest of the team stopped what they were doing and watched as a red-faced Oliver chewed out the twins. "This is exactly the type of messing around that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing the next game, and you all know he'd do anything to make sure we lose!"
George slipped and fell off his broom for real.
"Snape's refereeing?" Harry flew over, snitch entirely forgotten.
"He volunteered," Oliver grimaced, and his players matched his expression.
"Everyone knows he hates Gryffindor," Fred complained as he helped George get back on his broom. "He'll probably foul us for breathing."
Oliver shrugged helplessly, then gestured at everyone to hit the ground. "We're done for the day. I don't think anyone's got their heart in it anyway." He was certain that if they 'practised' anymore, someone would end up getting hurt. His players were trying their hardest, but after the gruelling warmup and the bad news, they seemed drained.
Oliver decided he'd pushed them too far.
The team trudged through the muddy pitch in a sombre mood. The thought of Snape refereeing had sapped the players of the little energy they'd had left.
Just like it had been earlier, the changing rooms were sombre. Once his players had left, Oliver went into the captain's office and locked the door. He slumped in the desk chair and stared at the Gryffindor emblem on the door.
Guilt gnawed at him as he absently tapped on the desk. The emblem mocked him every time he entered the office. Where was the nobility in pushing his players to near-collapse to soothe his insecurities? Where was the bravery in hiding in this office, surrounded by the accolades of his predecessors that he could never hope to live up to?
Oliver slumped forward and held his head in his hands.
He was tired.
He was tired of being the leader. Of being the person that everyone looked to for guidance. He was tired of having to be everyone's rock, pretending to have his life together when he was desperately in need of an anchor of his own.
Oliver felt like he was adrift at sea. OWLs, Quidditch, and even childish crushes battered away at his resolve. He didn't know when he would crack. A part of him wondered if he would feel better afterwards. He'd been tempted to let it all out before. But Harry would ask him for advice on a charms essay, or Katie would ask him to teach her an aerial manoeuvre, and he would retreat behind the façade of control and carefree confidence once more.
Under the easygoing grin and Quidditch obsession was a boy desperate for reassurance and someone to lean on. Yet, he was so busy being that for everyone else that he never asked or received it for himself.
A part of him felt he didn't deserve it.
No matter what he did, he couldn't convince himself it was enough. He felt like an imposter. He didn't deserve to be their leader. What did he have that they didn't? Angelina was as dedicated and athletic as he was. Harry was the most talented flier he'd ever seen. The twins had an innate charisma that he couldn't possibly replicate. Alicia was funny and Katie was so caring and kind. There was nothing he could do that they couldn't do better.
But they still looked up to him for whatever reason.
Oliver felt like he was drowning and didn't know what to do. They all looked to him to guide them. He felt that showing weakness was failing them, even if it was only in the privacy of his own office.
Sobs racked his body as the guilt and overwhelming feeling of inadequacy tore at him. It ripped him to pieces over and over, and though he knew the solution, he couldn't find it in himself to let anyone share the burden. He knew he had friends who would listen. He knew they would.
But it didn't matter.
Because they needed him. They needed him to be strong.
Oliver wiped the tears and squared his shoulders. He stretched and cleared his throat. He rubbed at his eyes and looked in the mirror. His eyes were still a little red around the edges, but he felt he could excuse it as a rough facewash.
He fixed his usual carefree smile and walked out of the captain's office. He checked on his players' brooms, and once satisfied, took a leisurely stroll back to the castle.
Over the next week, Oliver held two more practices. While he'd learned his lesson and tempered the intensity of the training, he'd upped the frequency.
He spent all his free time either studying for his OWLs or jogging around the lake. The weather was rather cold, but the icy air helped clear his mind. It was his only escape when things got overwhelming.
On the morning of the team's second match of the year, Oliver was feeling rather claustrophobic, so he decided to go for a run. He ran two laps around the lake. The sharp clarity of the frosty air burning in his lungs cleared his thoughts. He'd barely broken a sweat when he returned to the castle, but he wanted to conserve his energy for the game and the warmup he would put his players through.
"What're you doing up this early, Oliver?" asked a voice with a slight Irish lilt.
Oliver inhaled sharply before turning around. "Hey, Penny. Just going for a bit of a run."
"You sporty types all have a screw loose in your heads," Penelope Clearwater teased with a grin. "Going running outside in this weather…" She shook her head in disbelief.
"Well, I reckon the Quidditch Cup isn't going to win itself," Oliver said. He casually slipped his hands into his pockets to hide his clammy palms.
"Don't get too confident on me now," The pretty blonde prefect wagged her finger with a playful smirk. "Ravenclaw's got it in the bag this year, I tell you."
Oliver snorted. "I guess we'll have to see then," He winked at her. "I'll let your precious 'Claws get to the finals then we'll beat 'em there just so I can wipe that smirk off your face."
Penny let out a laugh like tinkling bells and Oliver found himself joining in. The two walked into the Great Hall, where they split up. Penny turned at the Ravenclaw table while Oliver walked further down to the Gryffindors.
Angelina was the only member of the team at the table, so Oliver sat down across from her.
"So, you and Penelope Clearwater, eh?" Angelina turned around and looked not-so-subtly at the Ravenclaw table. Oliver blushed into the roots of his hair. "Did you think dating a prefect would allow you to hold practice after curfew or something?"
"We're not dating," Oliver hissed with narrowed eyes, though he felt the blood rush up his cheeks.
"But you fancy her?" Angelina asked. Oliver remained silent, which prompted a predatory grin. "Oh, Alicia's going to LOVE this. Oh Merlin, imagine what Katie's going to say!"
"You can't tell anyone," Oliver begged, and her smile turned into a pout.
"You're no fun, Oliver," she gave him a pleading look. "Can I just tell Alicia and Katie? I won't tell the twins or Harry. Pleeeaase?"
Oliver just stared at her with a silent plea.
"Fine." She conceded with a huff and Oliver smiled gratefully. He ate in silence until Harry dropped into the seat next to him.
"Morning," the firstie mumbled sleepily, already lathering a sausage with ketchup.
"Good sleep?" Oliver asked with amusement. "Rather chipper, you are. Especially compared to last match."
"Dunno," Harry shrugged. "Don't feel as nervous this time." He took a large bite out of his sausage.
"Good. You shouldn't be," Oliver slapped him on the back. "You're too damn good on a broom to let nerves get the better of you."
"'Fank you," Harry said through his sausage.
One by one, the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team shuffled in. Oliver was happy to note that, just like Harry, Katie seemed a lot less nervous. Alicia looked like she would fall asleep on the table.
"Late night?" Oliver asked her. She nodded sleepily.
"Charms assignment. He's going to kill me one day, Flitwick," Alicia grumbled, and Harry snorted. She glared at him. "Can you pass the kettle, Harry? There's a dear, thank you."
"I love how sleep-deprived Alicia turns Victorian," Angelina elbowed her best friend, who swatted at her sleepily. Oliver grinned.
"If you need any help, 'Licia, I can go over it with you tonight after the match," he offered. Alicia took a long swig of her tea and nodded slowly.
"I'll take you up on that. Thanks, Oliver."
He nodded and turned to Katie. "Not nervous today?"
Katie shook her head and grinned. "Nah, I know I'm the best chaser at Hogwarts, I'll be fine."
"Hey! I resent that," Alicia mock glared as Angelina pelted Katie with a cube of cheese. The second year only grinned at her fellow chasers.
An hour later, the Gryffindor Quidditch team stood in the locker room, waiting to be announced.
Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and Harry grinned at each other, wearing their matching goggles. Oliver thought they looked a little silly, but at the same time thought the gesture was rather sweet. "Looking good, you four! Prettiest princesses, the lot of you," He called out as he passed them on the way to the door. Katie and Alicia made a rude gesture simultaneously before looking at each other and breaking into giggles.
Madam Hooch's voice rang through the room, informing them they would be announced in a minute. Oliver beckoned his players into a huddle.
"All right. We all know the stakes today," Oliver looked at each of his players and was pleased to see the same fierce determination in their eyes. "We win this game, we're in running to win the cup. If we win this game, we knock out Slytherin."
Fred and George cheered, prompting a round of laughter.
"I know Snape is refereeing. I know he's going to be horribly biased against us. But we're the better team. As long as we play our game, and we play a clean game, we'll win. We've got the better team," Oliver looked at the chasers. "We've the best chaser trio at Hogwarts, and the scariest beaters I've ever seen," Oliver nodded at the twins before turning to Harry. "We've also got the youngest seeker in a century. Catch that snitch fast, Harry. We're counting on you today."
"- IS GRYFFINDOR. CHASERS BELL, SPINNET, AND JOHNSON. What a flier, Johnson is. Stunning too…" Lee's voice echoed through the room, punctuated by McGonagall's loud "JORDAN!"
Angelina snorted. Oliver nodded at the girls, who picked up their brooms and flew onto the pitch.
"KEEPER AND CAPTAIN WOOD, BEATERS WEASLEY AND WEASLEY. Bloody difficult to tell those two apart, I tell you. Couldn't even help your best mate out by colouring your hair, eh, Fred, George? And last but not least, SEEKER HARRY POTTER, GREEN LIGHTNING!"
Oliver laughed as he flew out with the twins and a red-faced Harry right behind him. He watched Harry fly past him to join the chasers on their lap around the pitch. Oliver flew straight for the middle, where the sixth-year Hufflepuff captain, Hartley Summers, was waiting for him.
"Nice day out isn't it, Wood?" She greeted him pleasantly. He smiled at her in return, always enjoying the refreshing behaviour of the Hufflepuff after dealing with Flint and the Slytherins.
"You should've seen it earlier this morning," Oliver responded. "Right freezing. I went for a run and thought my toes would fall off."
Summers laughed as her teammates floated into the air behind her. Oliver looked back to see his players behind him as well.
"All right, I want a clean game," Madam Hooch spoke, though missing was the bite that'd been in the same words before the Slytherin game. At the nod of the captains, she gestured to them to shake hands, and they complied. "Good luck to both of you. To your positions."
Oliver flew to his hoops and watched his chasers form a semi-circle for the first contest. Madam Hooch tossed the quaffle into the air and Katie and Alicia shot for the ball.
A Hufflepuff chaser flew at Katie, while Angelina headed off a second one. Katie turned away from the quaffle, tricking her mark into getting in the path of the third chaser. Alicia flew out of the chaos clutching the quaffle. Angelina and Katie stayed close behind her, forming a tight Hawkshead formation.
Oliver watched proudly as the Hufflepuff chasers struggled to break the Gryffindor formation until a bludger scattered them. Alicia, pursued by two Hufflepuff chasers, threw a pass to Angelina. Oliver watched the ball soar towards his lead chaser with concern. She was struggling to break free of her mark, who was simply waiting for the ball to come to him. When it seemed Gryffindor would lose possession, a red blur swooped down and snatched the quaffle. Katie adjusted the elevation, so she was well below the other players. She shot toward the hoops with the Hufflepuff chasers far behind her. She dodged a bludger and entered the scoring zone.
Katie was still too far below the scoring zone, and Oliver watched her next move with bated breath. Angelina had reached the penalty box, while Alicia stalled the opposing chasers.
The Hufflepuff keeper was only a dot from Oliver's perspective, but he could tell that his counterpart was struggling to keep track of the two chasers. A Hufflepuff broke into the scoring zone and flew for Katie.
She feinted a shot for the left hoop. Oliver was certain the keeper wouldn't fall for it, as Katie's lowered elevation made that shot very awkward to hit. A second Hufflepuff chaser had now entered the penalty box and made for Angelina.
As one, Katie crossed from the left to the right hoop, and Angelina flew from the right hoop to the centre. Their marks followed them, creating a tiny gap as they trailed behind. Katie careened past the centre hoop as the keeper approached it.
But the quaffle wasn't in Katie's hands. She'd thrown it straight up and flew for the right hoop. When the keeper moved back toward the right hoop, Angelina curved around, making a circle back to the right. Instead of catching the quaffle, she used the inertia of her turn to punch it, sending it rocketing into the centre hoop.
The crowd cheered as the ball sailed through. Angelina stood still momentarily, and Oliver assumed she was regaining her bearings after all that spinning. Alicia joined the girls for their victory lap and Oliver cheered as they crossed him.
These moments in the air made Oliver feel he could forget all his worries. The stress and the pressure faded away as he watched his players succeed.
The rest of the game was rather boring. Oliver barely got to do anything. After that first play, the ball stayed in the middle of the pitch, since the chasers were mostly evenly matched. The quaffle came to him only thrice, and of those, only one went through. Snape tried to award fouls to Gryffindor at every opportunity, but the upside of playing Hufflepuff was that both teams understood sportsmanship. The game was clean, with teamwork and strategy prevailing over roughhousing and cheap tricks.
"POTTER'S SEEN THE SNITCH," Lee Jordan's voice boomed just under the five-minute mark. "Diggory's on the other side of the pitch. He's gaining on Potter fast, but it seems like Potter might have it. Beautiful bludger by Weasley sets Diggory back. Bludger from Rickett towards Potter but it's intercepted by the other Weasley. Potter's slowing down. HE'S GOT IT. GRYFFINDOR WIN, ONE-HUNDRED-SEVENTY TO TEN. A CATCH IN UNDER FIVE MINUTES THAT MUST BE A RECORD -"
Oliver flew over to the mass of scarlet that was his team. The chasers were all landed, surrounding Harry in a bear hug. "Dog pile!" the twins yelled in unison grabbing Oliver by the sleeve, tearing him off his broom, and jumping on top of the chasers and Harry, sending everyone tumbling to the floor.
Oliver laughed merrily from where he was lying on top of someone, until that someone shifted to get up, and elbowed him in the solar plexus. Oliver groaned before rolling off the pile into the grass. "Sorry!" Harry's muffled voice sounded from under Fred's arm.
"Geroff, you ginger devils," Angelina grumbled from under the pile and shoved George and Alicia off her. The team untangled themselves as they were flooded by students wearing red and gold.
"You didn't even let us score more than two goals," Alicia had her arm around Harry's shoulders and mock pouted. Her new goggles were propped up over her bandanna. "I wanted to show off my Christmas present."
"Next time, I'll let the other guy catch it," Harry grinned. "Let's hope you can make fifteen points by then."
Once again, the twins hoisted Harry on their shoulders, and the younger boy whooped as they made a running start for the castle. Somehow, they made it halfway through the pitch before the three of them fell over. Oliver helped Katie off the grass before he walked with his team back to Gryffindor Tower where he imagined a party would be brewing.
For the moments like these, all the trouble really was worth it.
Harry and Hermione were not happy campers as they reported to Filch's office for detention. Neville followed them but kept his eyes on the floor, unresponsive to any of Harry's attempts to talk to him. Their moods only worsened when Malfoy joined the group that was heading for Hagrid's hut, complaining the entire time.
"Yeah, yeah, your father will hear about this," Harry grumbled. "Shut up Malfoy."
The other boy just glared.
At his hut, the gamekeeper waited for the students and Filch. He stood on his front steps, with a gigantic crossbow slung over his shoulder and his boarhound, Fang, at his side.
"All right there, Harry, Hermione?" Hagrid asked, smiling down at them.
"Now, now, don't go too soft on them, Hagrid. This is a detention after all," Filch leered at the four first years. "The forest's got some nasty things lurkin' inside. Stay close to Hagrid, else you might run into one."
With a curt nod to Hagrid, Filch turned back to the castle.
"Surely, we aren't going into the Forbidden Forest? Father says there are werewolves in there!" Draco squeaked and his already pasty complexion paled further. Harry found himself sharing the other boy's sentiment. Neville looked on the verge of fainting.
"There aren't going to be werewolves, Malfoy," Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed at the sky, where a half-moon shone dully. "It's not even the full moon." Harry snickered as Malfoy glared at Hermione.
The quintet and Fang entered the forest. The students tread carefully, looking at each nesting squirrel or rustling leaf as if it would eat them. They arrived at a fork in the path and Hagrid told them they would have to split up. Harry and Hermione went with Hagrid while Neville and Malfoy opted to go with Fang, the latter glancing at the canine's sharp teeth.
"If ye run inter anythin', ask Fang to take ye back to the castle," Hagrid advised, looking unnaturally serious. "Nothin' in the forest will attack if Fang's with ye, they'll know yer with me."
The quintet split, with Malfoy and Neville veering off to the left fork. Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid traipsed through the underbrush, searching for the telltale signs of conflict – specifically for some evidence of a unicorn.
A distant rustling sound came to their right, and the trio turned to look at it. Hagrid levelled his crossbow in the direction of the sound, and Hermione clutched Harry's arm in a vice grip. The rustling grew closer and closer, and Harry saw Hagrid tense. A creature burst out of the trees, coming to a stop before them.
The creature had a human face and chest, with long red hair. From the waist down, the creature had the gleaming chestnut body of a horse – a centaur, Harry remembered from a cartoon Harry had seen Dudley watching. He winced as he remembered Uncle Vernon's reaction when he caught Harry watching from the foyer.
"Ronan!" Hagrid called, and Harry felt Hermione's grip loosen as he lowered his crossbow. "Blimey, ye can't be goin' around scarin' people like that."
"Hello, Hagrid," Ronan spoke in a low, mournful voice. He looked old, and his red locks were peppered with grey. "Were you going to shoot me?"
"No, no, of course not," Hagrid shook his head. "There's somethin' in the forest goin' around attacking unicorns. I'm a little jumpy, s'all. This here's Harry and Hermione. Students from the castle."
Harry nodded warily as Hermione gave an awkward wave. Ronan didn't acknowledge them, opting to look up at the sky.
"Mars is bright tonight."
"Er- yes, yes, it is," Hagrid also looked up, but he looked more confused than anything. "Say, Ronan, have you seen whatever it is that's attackin' the unicorns?"
Ronan didn't hear him. "Mars is bright tonight."
"Right, 'bout the unicorns –"
Hagrid was interrupted by the appearance of another centaur. This one had a black coat on its horse-body and scraggly black hair which gave it a wild look.
"Hullo, Bane," Hagrid greeted the newly arrived centaur, who inclined his head in response.
"Mars is bright tonight. Luna is in anticipation," the other centaur said as a form of greeting. Harry saw Hagrid's face contort in frustration.
After another minute of Hagrid trying to unsuccessfully cajole information out of the centaurs, they cantered off, leaving Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid alone once again. That was when red sparks illuminated the sky.
"Malfoy! Longbottom!" Hagrid yelled, running in the direction of the sparks. Harry and Hermione followed close behind him. He couldn't care less what happened to Malfoy, but he'd never forgive himself if something happened to Neville. It was Harry's fault that he was in the forest to begin with. They found him on the ground with Fang next to him. "Where is it?"
"There's nothing," Neville mumbled. "Malfoy scared me."
The blond had hidden behind a tree and jumped at Neville, who panicked and sent up the sparks.
Hagrid groaned. "Damn it, Malfoy. All right, split up again, but this time Harry, can ye swap with Neville?"
Harry nodded and looked at the grumbling boy on the ground. He held out his hand for Neville, who took it gratefully. Harry gave him a weak smile before walking off behind Fang. He heard Malfoy following him.
The two boys waded deeper into the forest. The sound of nature was punctuated unpleasantly by Malfoy's complaining.
"This is servants' work. I shouldn't be out here. When my father hears about this, he'll have Hagrid sacked."
Harry could only roll his eyes. He hoped Malfoy would run out of breath soon.
Fang stopped just before a clearing, and Harry realised why. A pure white stallion lay sideways on the dirt. Harry could just barely see its horn peeking out over its head. Leaning over it was a hooded figure. Harry was frozen in place. Malfoy, who'd been following closely behind him, let out a shriek and bolted backwards, with Fang following him. The figure looked up at Harry and his forehead felt like it exploded with pain.
It was a sensation like Harry had never felt before. He felt like someone had taken a power drill and was driving it into his skull, right through his scar. His vision blurred and he stepped backwards, tripping on an exposed root. The cloaked figure approached him, and Harry couldn't make out any features under the shadow of its hood. The only feature Harry could discern was a silver liquid, glimmering like mercury, dribbling down the figure's chin.
Adrenaline pumped through Harry's veins and his vision cleared. He felt his senses extend as his mage sight activated. The forest changed colours as the many magical flora and fauna were highlighted. His attention was still on the hooded figure that looked up at him and the unicorn it had just drained of blood.
The unicorn's magic was a brilliant, blinding white. It seemed to call to him, begging him, pleading him to save it. Watching the creature's suffering filled Harry with righteous anger, cutting through the blinding pain. He glared at the monster that had slain such an innocent creature.
The figure's magic manifested as smoke. Silver strands bound the pitch-black smoke to its form. Harry's rage increased tenfold when he realised why the thing that killed the unicorn had such familiar magic.
Harry glared hatefully at the approaching figure. Harry heard behind him the clamouring sound of hooves. A bright, golden creature jumped over Harry, right into the hooded figure. The figure bowled over and snarled at the creature before flying away, contorting itself in ways Harry didn't know was possible.
In the absence of the figure, the pain in Harry's scar subsided. His breathing slowed down, and he gingerly stood up. Standing in front of him was another centaur. This one was younger, with silky blond hair and a gleaming golden coat.
"Hello, Harry Potter," the centaur spoke softly. "My name is Firenze."
"Hi Firenze," Harry said meekly. "Thanks for the save."
"You are welcome, Chosen," the centaur inclined its head.
"Chosen?" Harry asked. Was this another moniker the wizarding world had given him to celebrate his survival from Voldemort?
"Ah, you do not know," Firenze looked amused. "It matters not. We must get you out of here, for it is not safe for you in the forest. Can you ride?"
Harry nodded and scrambled on top of the centaur. Before they could move, the two centaurs from earlier, Ronan and Bane, burst out of the woods.
"Firenze!" Bane roared. "Have you no shame? Letting a human ride you like a common mule!"
Harry made to get off. He didn't want to cause problems for his saviour, but Firenze gestured for him to stay put.
"This is no ordinary human, Bane!" Firenze said. "This is him. This is Harry Potter. You divined it yourself. Luna is in anticipation – clearly it is for her mother's chosen."
That seemed to placate Ronan, but Bane was undeterred.
"It matters not. We do not interfere with the plans of the Moirai, Firenze. We only observe," Bane spoke angrily. "You know the Chosen's destiny. Do not set yourself against the gods for these humans."
"I do not set myself against the gods," Firenze glared at the older centaur. "I set myself against the monster that is killing the Light Mother's sacred animals. If that means I must aid humans, so mote it be."
With that, Firenze galloped back the way he'd come.
"Do centaurs not get along with humans?" Harry asked curiously.
"Humans tend to view centaurs as creatures to be studied, rather than equals to live among," Firenze explained. "As you can see, my kind don't take lightly to being patronised."
"Well, I think of you as an equal, for what that's worth."
Firenze chuckled. "Thank you, Chosen."
"Why do you keep calling me that?" Harry scrunched his nose. "Is it because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived?"
"No, no, it has nothing to do with your human-given title. Among the centaurs, there is a legend. Beings who can see magic in its purest form," Firenze explained. "There are those who can not only see magic in its most primal form but can harness it to manipulate the world in ways that most cannot even imagine."
"Sensomagy?"
"To an extent, yes. Theia is the mother of illumination and sight, from whose womb sprung the sun and the moon itself. You, Harry Potter, are the recipient of her blessing. You are her Chosen."
"Her Chosen?" Harry looked nervous. "Are you sure she picked right? I'm not really worthy of a goddess's blessing. I mean, I'm just Harry."
"The Light Mother does not make mistakes, Harry Potter. She sees all and knows all. She sees greatness within you. Even the centaurs have foreseen it."
"My mother also had my powers. Did she also have – um – Thea's Blessing, like me?"
"They-ya's Blessing," Firenze enunciated patiently, and Harry turned crimson. "But it is possible, as the blessing can be passed on through bloodlines."
"Mum was a muggleborn," Harry scrunched his nose. "She wouldn't have any magical bloodline to get blessings from."
"Perhaps your mother had magical ancestry that was dormant for a time." Harry wondered if that meant he might have other family members. If they existed, he'd like to meet them.
"Do you know someone who can teach me to use this – this blessing?" Harry asked hopefully. "I've looked in the library and I can barely find anything."
"Theia's blessing is rare, Chosen," Firenze shook his head, to Harry's dismay. "There is none among the centaurs who are capable, and the last of her Chosen died half a century ago, since your mother never fully accepted her blessing. Regardless, only one Chosen can exist in the world at a time, so your blessing never would have been realised until her passing anyway."
Harry nodded sadly. Once again, he met a dead end in learning to harness his mother's abilities. He noticed absently that Firenze had slowed down to a trot.
"What do you mean, fully accepted?"
"That I cannot tell you, Harry Potter," Firenze shook his head. "Every Chosen's journey is their own. But fret not, the Light Mother will come to you. She has already marked you as her Chosen."
"She's marked me?" Harry's hand went to his scar.
"Not that mark, Chosen," said the centaur. "This mark is unseen, except for when you channel her domain. Try using your true sight tonight in front of a mirror. You will see her mark."
Harry was unsure what the centaur expected to happen, but he nodded anyway.
"Wait, but Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin were both Sentiomagi," Harry pointed out after a moment's silence. "They were both alive at the same time, right?"
"Ah, they were Sentiomagi," Firenze said, and Harry could tell the word was foreign to him. "But were they both Chosen?"
"But you just said –"
"I agreed with you that Sensomagy is the ability to see magic in its purest form," Firenze corrected. "But I never said that was the same as being Theia's Chosen."
Harry frowned. The centaur was just speaking in circles now, which seemed to be a trend among his kind. He thought that meant Firenze had nothing more to tell him.
"Firenze, what did Bane mean when he said that Mars was bright tonight? Or that Luna was in anticipation."
"Mars is the harbinger of war, Chosen," Firenze spoke solemnly. "There is one brewing as we converse. Do you know what unicorn's blood does?"
Harry shook his head. "Not really. We only use their horns and tail hair in class."
"That is because killing a unicorn is one of the most heinous crimes to commit against nature," Firenze looked mournful, and Harry thought he was remembering the unicorn carcass they'd abandoned earlier. "That is because to kill a unicorn is to kill something pure. To slay something so innocent is unforgivable. Drinking its blood will restore you to life from even the brink of death. But you can only live a half life, a cursed life."
"Wouldn't it be better to just die, then?" Harry asked, horrified and fascinated. "Better die than live the rest of your life cursed."
"Yes, but for some, such a measure is worth it. For someone with nothing to lose and everything to gain," Firenze said, and Harry knew that the disgust he felt was mirrored by the centaur. "Tell me, Chosen, do you know what is being hidden in the castle right now?"
"Uh, no…" Harry wondered if it had something to do with the forbidden corridor on the third floor. He and Ron stumbled upon the area during their first week, but he hadn't paid much attention to it afterwards. He had been so preoccupied with Quidditch and his mage sight. Not to mention the troll and the cursed broom.
"No matter," Firenze waved him off. "But that which is hidden within the school is a powerful relic. One that has the potential to grant someone the power to spurn Death himself. Do you know of someone desperate enough to go to such lengths?"
Harry's blood went cold, and it had nothing to do with the cool night. It couldn't be him. He was dead. That's what everyone said. Harry was famous for killing him.
No. The word everyone used wasn't killing. It was defeating.
"Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die." Echoed Hagrid's words from his eleventh birthday.
"That was Voldemort?" Harry croaked. Now that he'd said it, it all made sense to him. Why else would the hooded figure want to curse Harry's broom? It was Voldemort, trying to unseat and kill the boy who was famous for his defeat.
"Yes, Chosen." The two remained silent for the rest of their journey. Harry's head swam as he considered the possibility that Voldemort was alive.
When they'd almost reached the edge of the forest, Firenze stopped, and Harry took that as a cue to dismount the centaur.
"Thanks," Harry said, brushing hair off his robes.
Firenze inclined his head. "To answer your second question, Chosen. As I mentioned earlier, the Light Mother birthed the moon goddess, Luna. The moon maiden's anticipation simply means that she is awaiting something. It is usually rather vague as to what she is anticipating, but in this case, I thought it was quite clear."
"What was she waiting for?" Harry quirked an eyebrow. Firenze smiled.
"Who do you think sent me to save you, Harry Potter?" Firenze bowed and galloped back into the forest. Harry noticed that Firenze's hair and tail seemed to shine abnormally bright in the moonlight.
"Harry! Harry!" Hermione's voice rang through the woods as she tackled him into a hug. Hagrid huffed as he jogged behind her. "You're all right! I was so worried."
"I'm all right 'Mione," Harry mumbled, afraid that if he opened his mouth wider, he'd get a mouthful of her bushy hair.
Once Hermione let go, Harry turned to the gamekeeper and pointed towards the clearing. "There's a dead unicorn down that way. The thing that attacked it was there, but Firenze scared it off."
"You ran into Firenze?" Hagrid raised an eyebrow. "Good lad, that one. Anywho, let's get you kids back to the castle, then."
The students made the trek back to the castle in silence. Harry could tell Hermione had a million questions for him but had the sense to wait till they were back in the common room.
Once there, Neville mumbled good night before heading up the stairs. Harry ignored the twinge of guilt as he looked at the boy. He saw Ron sleeping on one of the couches and shook the boy awake.
"Five more minutes, Mum," He mumbled. Harry snorted and shoved the boy off the couch.
Ron fell to the floor with a yelp. "You're evil, mate." He grinned at Harry as he sat next to Hermione on the couch he'd fallen off of. Harry sat opposite them in an armchair.
"What happened in the forest, Harry?" Hermione looked at him, worried. "I've never seen you look as terrified as when we found you."
Harry steadied his nerves before telling them the story. He paused as he got to the clearing. Should he tell his friends about mage sight? Especially now that Firenze said he was a 'Chosen'. Whatever that meant. But at the same time, he still wanted this secret for himself. It was still the only thing that was uniquely his. According to Firenze, he was the only person in the entire world with his powers. But he really should tell them.
"Firenze thinks it was Voldemort," Ron and Hermione flinched. The room seemed to get colder as a heavy silence settled over them. "I think it makes sense. I also think he jinxed my broom, back in my first Quidditch match."
"Harry, are you sure?" Hermione worried her lip between her teeth. "Everyone says Voldemort's gone."
"Gone, Hermione, not dead," Harry pointed out. "Firenze says there's something hidden in the castle – in the third-floor corridor. Something that could resurrect Voldemort."
"Bloody hell…" Ron looked terrified. "Then why would he bother attacking you?"
"Same reason he came after my parents, I suppose," Harry said bitterly. "I reckon he wants to finish the job."
Hermione let out a strangled sound somewhere between a sob and a wail. Ron patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.
"Now what?" Ron asked him. Harry looked at him in surprise.
"You're sticking around? You want to help?"
"Of course we want to help Harry," Hermione sniffled. "We're not letting him get you."
"Yeah, can't let You-Know-Who off my best mate, can I?" Ron grinned, and Harry choked back a sob of his own.
"Thank you."
He'd never had people willing to stick by him through a trip to the principal's office, let alone a dark wizard coming after him.
You'll only get them hurt. Just like everyone else who cares for you. Just like your parents.
Harry pointedly ignored the stray thought.
"If Firenze thinks there's something hidden in the third-floor corridor, then we should see what's down there," said Harry. Ron nodded but Hermione looked hesitant.
"I don't know, Harry," Hermione frowned. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore is protecting whatever is in that corridor. There's not much we can do. We've already gotten in so much trouble. I don't want to give our housemates more reason to hate us."
Harry agreed with Hermione. Because of the Norbert incident, Harry, Hermione, and Neville were pariahs within Gryffindor. Even the rest of the school was unhappy with them, minus Slytherin, who was overjoyed to see Gryffindor drop to fourth place. Despite three of them having lost the points, Harry, as the Gryffindor seeker and Boy-Who-Lived, took the brunt of their ire. Hermione and Neville weren't as well known, and Harry was happy that they weren't ostracised with him.
He hadn't seen his Quidditch teammates since the incident. He had avoided them out of fear of their reaction. He didn't know if they would want to be his friends anymore and he found that thought hurt him more than he expected.
"You're right Hermione," Harry said grudgingly. "We'll figure something out. Maybe Firenze was wrong."
The three first years sat in silence next to the fireplace, and Harry tried not to think about Voldemort. Just the thought of his parents' murderer sent shivers down his spine. But there was a part of him that felt differently. The sight of the dying unicorn crossed his mind, and Harry felt that same boiling rage within him. Harry didn't know why he was so angry at the thought of the dying unicorns, but he let it fill him as he stared into the flickering flames.
First his parents, then the unicorns. How many more innocents would Voldemort hurt?
Harry's fingernails dug into his palms.
Hermione let out a long yawn and announced she was going to her dorm. When the boys entered theirs, Ron, already in his pyjamas, promptly fell into his bed. Harry hadn't even closed the door to the bathroom when he heard Ron's snores fill the room.
He looked in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. As always, his eyes went to his scar. When he was little, he loved the scar. A boy in his elementary school had said it was "wicked." Then Dudley caught the two of them talking and the boy never spoke to Harry again. The scar made Harry unique. It distinguished him from the relatives he loathed. But now, knowing the story behind it, he couldn't look at it without thinking of all that could have been if he had never received it.
He was so focused on his scar that he never noticed he'd triggered his mage sight until the bathroom began glowing around him. Harry gasped as he stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes glowed emerald, like sunlight peeking through stained glass. He looked down at his hands. Glowing white markings shone from his palms, travelling up his arms. He pulled down his loose nightshirt and found the markings travelled up to his chest and stopped at his neck.
His attention was caught, not by his glowing markings or eyes, but by the black wisp of smoke that leaked from his scar. He touched it carefully. He gasped and tore his hand away. His fingers felt cold like he'd dipped them in the Great Lake in January. He touched the rest of his forehead, which felt warm like the human body was supposed to.
The feeling from his scar was similar to the feeling from the figure in the forest – Voldemort. But it felt weaker than the being in the forest, and it was missing the silver binding. Instead, this magic was bound by strands of red, green, and white. Harry's magic wrapped the foreign signature, and he watched it twist and fizzle underneath.
Harry shivered as he watched the never-ending battle. Once again, the magic felt familiar, but it was just different enough that Harry couldn't confidently say it was Voldemort.
Perhaps he should visit Madam Pomfrey and ask her to check it over. He disabused that notion immediately. If something was wrong with him, he couldn't risk his relatives finding out. The nurses from elementary school always reported his injuries back to his aunt. She would smile and nod at the nurse, before going home and shoving him into his cupboard without meals as punishment for causing a scene.
Harry sighed and blinked, watching the world return to gloomy darkness. He spat out the toothpaste before climbing into bed. Feeling something cool under his sheet, Harry pulled out a bundle of dark, shimmering fabric – his invisibility cloak. Harry held the cloak with awe. He thought he'd lost it for good on the Astronomy Tower. When Harry shifted to stuff his cloak back in his rucksack, a note fluttered out from within the folds.
Just in case.
Harry was in a considerably better mood when he went back to bed. His thoughts drifted back to Voldemort in the forest, but he managed to distract himself with his relief over getting his cloak back and the excitement that he'd managed to use his mage sight without closing his eyes for the first time. It was a huge step forward in his studies to become a Sentiomagus like his mother.
That night, Harry's dreams were invaded by unicorns, cloaked figures, and a woman with pale features and the brightest grey eyes he'd ever seen.