Hell Is The Talking Type
Harry
“Human. You have intruded upon our territories. What intentions have you?” The chestnut-haired centaur asked.
“Ah. An unintentional intrusion Good Centaur. As far as my intentions with regard to your eminence, I have none, as I had been informed of neither your presence, nor the bounds of your territories. More generally, however, I seek an entrance to Annwn.”
Cantering forward, lowering their bow as they did, a cream-haired centaur gave him a critical look, taking in his entire ensemble.
“A bard. You must then know you will not find what you look for within these woods?”
“Indeed? So far, I’ve managed to locate entrances to Elphame, with nary a henge leading to Annwn.” Harry replied. “Though, now that I’m aware of your presence, I would propose a barter.”
“A dealing with a góēs? I think not.” The last of the centaurs, a dark-haired centaur, scoffed, still training his arrow at Harry.
“A barter, not a dealing, Good Archer.” Harry responded, glancing at the centaur. “More importantly, a barter with one who is a step removed from humans. I would request information on planar entrances within these lands, in return for a request of yours.”
“You speak of being inhuman. Explain.”
“Prolonged exposure to Annwn. Now, your request?”
As the chestnut-haired centaur moved to speak, the centaur who still held his bow ready to fire spoke first.
“You claim distance from others of your kind and ask for a barter. We name an artifact of ours as payment for your requested information.”
“Bane, you speak when it is not your place.” The spear-wielder admonished.
“And you prevaricate when not related to the events the stars have told, Ronan.” The centaur, Bane, responded. “Do you accept the terms, bard?”
“A treasured item, for treasured knowledge? I would think it well-weighted, Good Archer. Tell me, what does this item look like?”
“He refers to a spear.” The chestnut-haired centaur, Ronan, answered. “A sacred relic of ours, that a prior Headmaster demanded as payment for allowing our people to reside within the Forest.”
“First a Founder, now a Headmaster.” Harry sighed. “What is it with magicians and theft of sacred items?”
“Which Founder?” The cream-colored centaur asked.
“I’ve no hint, but a Founder found and stole Durendal, a sword of legend that ought to have been returned to a Lake.”
“It appears those of the Goldin Lion’s lineage have a penchant for theft, as it was a descendant of Godric Gryffindor’s that demanded the Spear.” Ronan commented.
“What would the spear look like?” Harry asked, filing the information about the sword away for later.
“A meter long haft, with an arrowhead of darkest obsidian, prayers and promises engraved on the head and haft.”
“Would the engravings be in Ancient Greek?” Harry asked.
“Indeed.”
“Considering the upcoming equinox and solstice, and the preparations I shall have to undertake for a proper observance, the research and acquisition shall have to occur in the last months of the year. Accounting for research, searching the castle for the spear itself, dispelling what spells may be present, and the acquisition, I think it might take a while. Would the day after the solstice suffice?”
“We shall meet at the appointed date.” Ronan replied. “Now, we part ways.”
-{╣ ҉ ╠}-
“Hello Cedric.” Harry idly greeted the teenager, reading through a tome about ghosts he had loaned from the library.
“Hey songbird!” Cedric responded, flopping down onto the couch Harry was sitting on. “So, what happened with Binns?”
“Songbird?” Harry asked, turning from the book to face Cedric.
“What can I say? I like nicknames.” Cedric responded. “My one neighbor Luna, she gave me those glasses by the way, is really artsy, so I chose Arty, ‘cus it’s also a shortening of Artemis and, y’know, moons. Anyway, that doesn’t answer the question.”
“He responded to the bell on my staff and became lucid. He also asked that I help him pass on.”
“Bell?”
“It’s from Annwn.” Harry said as an answer. “In return, he offered his research materials, but I’m rather struggling to find any information on dispelling spirits. I suppose I could perform a Christian exorcism, though that feels… drastic.”
“You could always help him complete his unfinished business.” Cedric commented, propping his head against his arm. “Though that might be a little hard, seeing as he probably doesn’t remember what led him to be a ghost. Hmm, what a situation.”
-{╣ ҉ ╠}-
Cedric
Cedric watched as Harry stared pensively into the fire, eyes filled with a heavy look. Maybe the first month had been tiring, he knew it had been for him the prior year, he thought, hoping it wasn’t something more dire. Deciding to shake his mind from whatever topics were troubling him, Cedric nudged Harry’s leg with his foot.
“Did you hear about the Groundskeeper?”
“No, what happened?” Harry replied, his tone light, but still sounding concerned.
“Rumor is, he had a bad encounter with a faerie.” Cedric said, leaning closer to Harry. “Professor Kettleburn was visiting him to ask if he could borrow a thestral for a class with the sixth years and Groundskeeper Hagrid didn’t recognize him. Obviously the Professor took him to Professor Huckleberry, thinking he might have been hit by a stray jinx or something, but all of the diagnostics came back negative. The Headmaster got brought in, and turns out, he doesn’t even know who he is.”
“That’s awful!” Harry exclaimed, still using the same, odd, light tone.
“Some of the Ravenclaws I know think it might be brain damage, from dealing with some of the things in the forest, but popular opinion seems to be that he ran afoul of a faerie.”
“Well, if his position had him entering the forest, it isn’t out of the realms of possibility.” Harry mused, petting Lenore, who was perched on his shoulder as was normal.
“It’s kind of a bummer.” Cedric said, resting his head against the top of the couch’s back. “Guy was really nice the few times I spoke to him. He’s being sent to St. Mungo’s to be looked after.”
“Well, would you like to help me make candles?” Harry asked. “There a few more that I need to make.”
“Sure?”