Week 9
The following week, Aurelia diligently prepared for her adventure with Kettleburn. She frequently visited Madam Pomfrey to ask for guidance and consulted with Slughorn on borrowing the classroom for some extracurricular brewing. Madam Pomfrey was reluctant but ultimately very helpful. She taught Aurelia the bandaging charm, ferula, with a swish of her wand.
“Healing outside the Hospital Wing will be dangerous,” Pomfrey had huffed. “I appreciate your willingness to learn and be prepared, but… just try to get back to the castle as soon as possible if someone is injured.” She paused, giving Aurelia a knowing look. “If Silvanus is there, someone will be.”
Aurelia quietly agreed to herself. She left with the promise of vigilance.
On the other hand, Slughorn was so happy to be asked for any kind of advice that he launched into an impassioned monologue regarding one of his favorite students and his thirst for knowledge.
“Oh ho ho! Some extra time in the potions classroom, you say, eh Miss Aurelia?” Slughorn said jovially.
Aurelia opened her mouth to respond, but Slughorn was too fast for her. “Nigh on thirty years ago, my goodness, I had a student–not unlike yourself–who was quite ambitious in the pursuit of knowledge, yes! Something that I see to be very strong in you. I have to say, my dear, I am pleasantly surprised!”
“Thank you, Professor, but I–”
“Feels like it was yesterday… yes, you know he was Slytherin as well. An ambitious folk, we are, and he was not one to shy away from… the darker sides of magic…“
Aurelia nodded blankly until he finally granted his permission, recommending the essence of Dittany and the Wiggenweld potion for quick fixes. Aurelia thanked him dearly and brewed enough Wiggenweld so that she and Kettleburn would have two doses each.
Even Snape, who she was starting to get used to him being so near all the time, was helpful to her, once he realized that she wasn’t going to give up what he called “a fool’s errand.”
“I do not approve of this at all,” he said under a hushed breath during the Halloween Feast.
“Leave her, Severus,” Regulus said around sips of tea, barely flinching at Snape’s tone.
Aurelia fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“If you insist on this ridiculous, Gryffindor-ish–”
“I resent that,” she interjected.
“--adventure, then you should at least be prepared.”
Regulus and Snape shared a meaningful look. They knew something.
Aurelia’s eyes widened, but she said nothing, just watching her friend(s?) communicate with each other silently. Snape seemed to tilt his head, questioningly. Regulus nodded his head imperceptibly.
Resolute, Severus said gravely, “Let’s meet again in the Common Room.”
That night, just before Kettleburn arrived to escort her to Hagrid’s Hut, Severus taught her a healing spell of his own creation to seal gaping wounds.
Dazed, and having so many questions, Aurelia waited patiently with Regulus for Kettleburn to collect her outside the Slytherin Common Room. She wore her thickest cloak, warm trousers, and boots. She had packed the Wiggenweld in a small satchel she wore close to her chest. Although feeling a bit of nervous anticipation, Aurelia felt prepared.
She wondered absently at Severus’s ability to create spells. She supposed it made him useful to Regulus, and above him, the Dark Lord. The thought sends shivers down her spine. Although, what use would the Dark Lord have for healing spells? His intent was always to destroy. That much was clear. Was… Severus like them?
“Regulus?”
“Mm?” Regulus answered, his eyes shut and his head resting against the wall behind him. He always seemed so tired.
“About Severus…” Aurelia said, feeling awkward.
“He’s not like us,” Regulus said with finality.
“Hm. But what about… Evans?” Aurelia asked. Severus and Lily were close once, even if they were strangers now. Aurelia had seen the longing looks he sent her during Potions. Being as close as they were, Aurelia was sure that Severus felt some sort of lingering friendship toward her.
“I thought the same, but no.”
“I see… Does he know about you?”
Regulus responded by giving her a withering look. Aurelia blushed and nodded.
So, Regulus allows himself to appear close to Severus, even giving him commands. What did that make Regulus? Did he have some sort of leadership role after all? The thought sends shivers down Aurelia’s spine. What did Regulus gain by being involved with the Dark Lord? Aurelia couldn’t imagine it was all just to please his parents. Regulus was stronger in character than that.
Regulus seemed to feel content with the silence, so Aurelia said nothing. She turned to face the top of the stairs, hoping to catch sight of Kettleburn.
“Aurelia,”
“Mm?” she said.
“Look at me.”
She did. He was looking at her now. He seemed troubled, his eyes studying her face carefully. His arms were crossed tightly as if holding himself together. He looked so endearing to her in that moment, just like her cat.
“I’ll be fine, Regulus,” she promised with a small smile.
“Tell me when you’re back,” he said.
“Okay,” she said, still smiling. “I’ll send our dear little friend over to your dormitory when I’ve returned so you know for sure.”
He huffed a laugh and nodded his head. Aurelia was pleased.
Aurelia spotted Kettleburn descending the dungeon stairs. She squeezed Regulus’s hand in parting and ran to meet Kettleburn.
Peter Pettigrew always thought himself a simple boy with simple tastes.
He didn’t mind not being the smartest at school nor the most popular. He didn’t mind when his friends made fun of him for being a mummy’s boy. He didn’t mind that the food in the Great Hall was often plain or bland, it suited him just fine.
For a while, he didn’t mind that James and Sirius and even Remus often made choices for him. Choices that he wouldn’t necessarily make for himself. Honest, he didn’t mind.
As long as he rode their coattails, Peter knew he’d at least have a small glimpse of the glory that they earned for themselves.
But whispered promises of something more, something greater, were becoming harder and harder to resist.
Peter shook his head free of his thoughts. It wasn’t the time to think of such things. It was the night of the full moon, on Halloween no less. Peter shivered at the mystifying omen. A werewolf howling at the full moon on the night of Halloween? Peter felt nervous, and so he had sought to nurse his nerves through house elf made treats.
He made his way up to meet the other lads in the Gryffindor Common Room from the kitchens. His stomach thanked him with a gurgle. Nothing like a late night snack before a late night adventure, he thought to himself.
A sudden noise in the corridor made Peter squeak and hide behind a tapestry. Peter held his breath and waited for them to pass, peeking out from behind the thick tapestry fabric.
“…Your other professors were delighted by your eagerness for this assignment,” said the unmistakable gravelly brogue of Professor Kettleburn.
Kettleburn? Peter thought, wrinkling his nose.
“Is that so, Professor?” said a female student, their steps becoming louder.
After hours with a female student? Peter thought incredulously. Something was not right. Kettleburn was ancient, there was no way a student would engage in late romantic rendezvous with him!
“Oh yes, Miss Centore, your work in preparation for this venture has been commendable!”
Centore? Peter thought, feeling a delicious sense of accomplishment. Just wait until the lads hear this!
“Thank you, Professor,” Centore said.
“Yes, well, I only hope that we encounter them tonight,”
“I hope so, too,” she said.
Peter could see them now from his place behind the tapestry. Kettleburn was not wearing his normal Professor-ing robes; instead, he donned thick trousers and a warm looking fur lined cloak. Centore was dressed similarly in trousers lined with pockets, a jumper, and an expensive looking cloak, a thick pouch draped across her waist. The both of them were bundled with full winter kits; knit hats, mittens, and scarves.
Where are they going?
Peter watched them go, emerging from his hiding place, and rushing off to report back to the other Marauders what he’d seen. Oh, they were going to love this. Peter couldn’t wait to see Padfoot’s face!
Peter took the steps up to Gryffindor Tower two at a time, muttering “hippocampus” to the portrait of the Fat Lady. By the time he was before the raging fire, Peter was sweaty and gasping for air.
“Just where have you been, Wormtail?” hissed Moony, who was fidgeting restlessly on the plush red couch before the fire.
“I was—“
“Nevermind, Wormtail, it’s time to go,” Prongs said, shimmery fabric between his hands.
“But—“
“We all know you were busy stuffing your face, Wormtail, just save it,” whined Padfoot.
Peter felt his face heat up. To be so… so secondary was becoming more and more infuriating. I have a voice too! Peter thought desperately to himself.
“Fine,” he huffed angrily, “then you won’t know that Centore and Kettleburn are going somewhere outside the castle.”
He rolled his eyes and stared into the fire until his eyes burned and watered. He expected the other boys to get up right away, collect the essentials, and make their way to the Shrieking Shack, with Peter to follow them like the little shadow he was. But to his shock, the other boys were frozen still, staring at him like he’d grown another head.
“Did you say… there will be people outside the castle? Human beings?” Moony said, his face white as a ghost.
“Yes,” Peter said, “I saw them and—“
“You saw Centore and Kettleburn? Together?” Padfoot interjected, his voice laden with shock and… was it fear?
Peter nodded. “Yes, they were together and—“
“How do you know they were leaving the castle?” Prongs asked, his voice uncharacteristically stern.
Peter felt his irritation grow from deep within, burning in his belly and creating pressure behind his eyes.
“They were certainly dressed for it, they were—“
“But why?” Padfoot asked, sounding suspicious.
Peter felt something inside of him burst. “If you’d let me finish, you’d hear the whole story!” he bit out around gritted teeth. “Centore and Kettleburn were dressed for the outdoors. They were talking about a special project of hers, something about meeting someone or something tonight.”
Silence befell the boys. Peter flushed. Snapping at my friends won't do me any favors. Moony looked devastated, his skin pale and clammy. Padfoot looked confused and lost. Prongs looked resolved, his face serious and his shoulders squared.
“We’ll stick to the Shack tonight, boys. Problem solved,” Prongs said, his voice firm.
“Please don’t let me kill anyone,” Moony pleaded quietly.
“We’ve got you covered, Moony. Padfoot and I will take care of it.”
“And me, Prongs?” Peter asked, slightly affronted.
After delivering such an important boon of knowledge and information, and all of a sudden now Peter would be excluded? His form may be a rat, but he was formidable and worthy in his own way!
“Wormtail, you’ll go back out there and follow Centore and see what she’s doing. Can’t be anything too sinister if she’s out with a professor, but still, it’s the perfect opportunity to see what she’s up to,” Prongs said with finality.
Of course, Peter thought bitterly to himself, more dirty work.
“Now let’s go before Moony wolfs out in the Common Room,” Prongs said, allowing a small smile.
The boys went their separate ways, Prongs and Padfoot slipping beneath the invisibility cloak to trail after Remus to the Shrieking Shack.
Peter shut his eyes, and searched for the small bit of magic deep within himself. He became smaller and smaller, his skin sprouting short gray fur, and a worm-looking tail sprouted from his rear.
Wormtail blinked, and scurried out of the Gryffindor Common Room. He retraced his human steps to the tapestry he had hidden himself behind just minutes before. If rats could laugh, Wormtail would be rolling. Instead, he squeaked.
The tapestry was of a large centaur, its arms pulling the string of a bow taut, aiming an arrow across the hall.
Sagittarius.
Wormtail sniffed the ground and the air all around him. He was no dog like Padfoot, but he was still an animal with a far better nose than his human form.
Centore and Kettleburn’s scent began to take shape before him. A pretty rain smell and a cut wood smell. Their scents mingled together and stained the air a faint purple color in his near black and white animal vision. Wormtail scurried after it.
The scent became thick near the main entrance doors. He suspected that they congregated here for a short while before making their way outside. Wormtail squeezed out from under the crack beneath the heavy doors into the crisp October air.
The scent became harder to see as it floated about in the open air, mixing with the grass and earth, but Wormtail pressed on. He followed the well-worn dirt path, scurrying and hopping over stray rocks. The smell led him to Hagrid’s hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Wormtail shivered. He had never ventured this far off the castle grounds alone before. On their adventures under the light of the full moon, Wormtail had always perched safely on Prongs’s antlers, being too small to keep up with their loping pace.
“Aurelia! And Silvanus! Off on another charting trip are ye?” Hagrid bellowed from the window in his hut.
Wormtail scurried behind one of the large pumpkins in Hagrid’s patch, and listened carefully.
“Aye, Hagrid. We’ll be making contact with the centaurs this evening!” Kettleburn said.
“Give em my best, will ye? It’s been since my own school days that I’ve seen them,” Hagrid said.
“Of course, Hagrid,” Centore said, her voice high and light.
Wormtail heard their crunching footsteps over fallen leaves, walking away. Quickly, he scurried out from the patch to follow them more closely.
He watched them as they walked, Kettleburn stepping a bit precariously with his two peg legs. Centore dimly lit the tip of her wand, keeping it trained on their legs to see their steps. Deeper and deeper into the forest they went, both seeming familiar with the path they took. Centore occasionally pointed out various obstacles for Kettleburn, who in turn mumbled a thank you.
Wormtail felt a ripple of anxious anticipation as he quietly stalked them. Contact with centaurs? It was almost too good to be true, that he would be tasked to track them and spy and they would lead him right to the Marauders’ most desired prize: the hair of a centaur. Still, fear lurked in the back of his mind. Would the centaurs notice his presence? In truth, he didn’t know much about them. He reflected on the tapestry of the constellation Sagittarius, the centaur rearing up magnanimously, bow strung tight with a nocked arrow. Perhaps they were violent creatures after all? Ugh, his ignorance and fear waged war on his nerves.
Wormtail glanced behind him, and he could no longer see Hagrid’s hut in the distance. All he could see were trees all around them. He turned forward, scurrying after them, not wanting to be left alone in the dark.
Centore began to crouch, taking slow precise steps over fallen leaves and branches. Her cloak dragged over the forest floor, disturbing the dirt path. Kettleburn followed behind her, pausing while he watched her.
“There they are, professor,” she whispered. Wormtail could hardly hear. “The unicorns.”
Kettleburn murmured something under his breath, a small smile barely visible on his face in the darkness. Wormtail gave them a wide berth, but scurried up on a rotting log to see for himself.
Sure enough, emitting their own magical glow, was a small herd of pure white unicorns, nickering as they grazed on the grass below them. The light filled the small clearing, brighter than the lantern that Kettleburn carried. Wormtail felt his eyes water, like he’d been staring directly into the sun.
Centore slowly lifted her leg over the log she was hiding behind, delicately approaching the unicorns. As she took her second step, the unicorns heads jerked in unison as her boot crunched on the dead leaves. Centore froze, her arm outstretched and palm open. Did she… did she intend to touch them?
Sure enough, one of the unicorns near her stretched its long neck sniffing the air between its nose and Centore’s fingers. It took a cautionary step forward, inching closer and closer. Wormtail’s eyes widened in amazement. Centore took short quiet breaths, puffs of steam rising from her lips. The unicorn took another step, and plazed it’s nose in Aurelia’s palm. It nickered pleasantly, and the other unicorns returned to their grazing.
So near the unicorns now, Wormtail was warmed from the inside out. He felt pure happiness, like theIr light was filling him up.
“Hello, dear one,” Centore mumbled, drawing Wormtail’s attention again. She slowly brought her other hand forward to scratch along the unicorn’s jaw. The creature tilted its head, leaning into Centore’s touch.
“What is your name?” she asked quietly, bringing her head close to the unicorn's lips, awaiting a whisper from the divine beast. It nibbled her cheek, eliciting a small giggle from Centore.
“I will call you, Sole,” she said reverently, “like the sun you are.”
Wormtail felt shame rise up within his little rat body. He didn’t deserve to watch something so beautiful, something so sacred. Wormtail was about to forsake his mission and scurry his way back to the castle when Centore spoke again.
“Can you bring us to the protectors of this forest?” she murmured. “We seek the centaurs.”
Wormtail froze, and watched the unicorn back away from her, turning and walking past his brothers and sisters deeper into the forest. He turned his head and studied Centore over his shoulder, waiting and watching.
“Let us follow your friend,” Kettleburn said, approaching Centore with a hobble. He placed a thick hand on her shoulder. “Excellent work, my dear girl.”
Together, Kettleburn and Centore followed the unicorn into the forest, Wormtail hot on their heels. I’ll get that centaur hair!
The unicorn led them through the dense trees, Centore whispering words of encouragement all the while. Kettleburn was quiet as he hobbled after them. The unicorn brought them to a hilly formation of rocks, and paused. He drew near to Centore, sniffed her hair again, and galloped back the way the came.
Wormtail felt the unicorn’s absence immediately. The light the unicorn emitted must have had some magical properties beyond its mystical glow. He had felt warm before, high, elated, brave, and now he felt the cold and dark like he had stepped in something wet with his socks. Wormtail shivered, and drew near to Kettleburn’s lantern light.
Suddenly, Wormtail felt a rumbling beneath his paws. It began faintly, then grew and grew, loudly now, until Wormtail was sure the ground was opening up to swallow him.
Somewhere ahead of him, Centore gasped.
“Who enters this forbidden realm?” booms a voice. Wormtail stands on his hind legs, to gaze up at the tallest rock. There is Sagittarius personified.
A centaur with the deepest brown skin stood regally atop the cliff, staring them down, his bow drawn. His strong warhorse body was thick with rippling muscle, his coat blending into the night behind him. His hair was done in long locs pulled half out of his face in twists, a wreath of greenery and twigs crowning his head and brow. His nose and jaw were strong, and his eyes dark, barely visible in the darkness, and his ears had an elf-like point at the tip.
The centaur was then flanked by two more centaur warriors, one female. They were fairer in color, one chestnut, and the other blonde, but both held massive swords in their hands.
Wormtail trembled.
“My name is Aurelia Centore, and this is Professor Kettleburn. We’ve come from Hogwarts,” she called out confidently.
Wormtail was shocked. He was beginning to resent agreeing to any kind of prank involving these violent beasts. How could she stand there, so sure of herself, and speak to them knowing danger was surely imminent?
“Aurelia, the golden one, we saw of your coming,” the centaur said. “There is another among you.”
Wormtail froze. No… it couldn’t be? He spun and looked at Centore, who only looked blankly around. Kettleburn waved his lantern around, staring into the forest’s abyss. Just behind them, Wormtail saw more and more centaurs emerging from the depths of the forest.
“Sir, we are not aware of any others to be traveling with us,” Kettleburn said, turning back to the centaur.
“It is as we saw,” the centaur said, lowering his bow. “Aurelia, the Golden One. Welcome to our tribe. I am Asterion, chief and healer.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said earnestly. Wormtail watched her eyes light up in wonder as she gazed up at Asterion. “I feel most welcomed among you.”
The centaur, Asterion, nodded his head to her regally and turned his attention to Kettleburn.
“And Silvanus,” he said, “it’s been many years since the stars foretold your coming. What tidings of Hogwarts?”
Kettleburn jerked straight into attention at having been addressed directly.
“Hagrid sends his regards, sir,” Kettleburn said, a nervous warble in his voice. “Though Hogwarts could stand to see you more often.”
Asterion suddenly appeared affronted, his thick brows drawing low over his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a scowl.
“Centaur kind owes Hogwarts no more attention than a lion to a fly,” Asterion sneered. “Speak plainly then, Silvanus.”
Centore and Kettleburn share a surreptitious glance.
“The Care of Magical Creatures program is becoming less and less popular,” Centore interjected. “We hoped that by formally meeting you, your tribe would consider sharing your far superior knowledge of magical creatures with our class.”
Asterion softened but still shook his head.
“Centaurs do not enter the service of wizards. It is our way.”
Centore sent Kettleburn a crestfallen look.
“However!” Asterion boomed. “We will share with you the true reason for your coming. Firenze?”
Asterion gestured below, and a small centaur colt strode forward from behind Wormtail. Wormtail could hardly breathe as it stopped right above him. His little legs were wobbly and unsure, and his human half was childlike. Right in front of Wormtail, Firenze’s tail swished.
Gotcha, Wormtail thought to himself. He jumped up, plucked a rat’s paw full of hair from Firenze’s tail, and fled.
Aurelia felt her heart clench inside of her chest. The true reason for our coming? She studied the centaur foal, Firenze. He was a sweet little thing, of the palest coloring she had ever seen. She felt her heart swell as he stumbled on wobbly legs on the forest terrain. He wore a woven necklace and carried a small sword strapped to his back. His elf ears poked out from behind shoulder-length white-blonde hair.
She thought she couldn’t be shocked further this Halloween night, not after seeing the unicorns, not after being led to the centaurs, and certainly not after being referred to as “The Golden One.” It seemed she would never escape the silly nickname.
Firenze cleared his throat and jerked to attention, his eyes flicking shyly between Aurelia and Kettleburn. Aurelia offered a small tentative smile of encouragement.
Firenze spread his arms wide and began to sing a melancholy melody:
“In shadows deep, where darkness dwells,
A seeker rises, fate compels.
With guiding light and steadfast hand,
The cursed fragments he shall withstand.
Bound by blood, yet torn apart,
A friendship forged with wary hearts.
Through trials grim and bonds that fray,
Betrayal looms, yet hope must stay.”
Aurelia’s were glassy with tears. The other centaurs stepped forward, their hooves heavy on the forest floor. They surrounded them closely, and joined Firenze in haunting harmony:
“The path is set, the stars align,
One must fall, for one to shine.
The serpent’s reign shall meet its end,
If trust holds fast and wills defend.”
The whispering wood fell silent, and all Aurelia could hear was her heart pounding in her ears. Such dark words in such a dark place. Aurelia could barely collect her thoughts to respond. One must fall for one to shine? Aurelia thought to herself, her breaths coming rapidly. She looked again desperately to Kettleburn. He was an adult, surely he would know how best to proceed, but he only stared back at her blankly.
Asterion cleared his throat. “This is a prophecy that came to us many moons ago. May the stars light your path, as they have so faithfully lit ours.”
He reared up on his hind legs, and galloped away, Firenze and all the rest following after him leaving Aurelia and Kettleburn alone in the darkness. Aurelia heard nothing but her breath and the quiet sounds of the slumbering forest: crickets, rustling trees, and the quiet howl of a lone wolf in the distance.
Snapping out of his reverie, Kettleburn urges Aurelia back the way they came. “Best head back to the Castle now, love. I’d better tell Dumbledore all that we’ve seen and heard as soon as possible.”
With nothing but her wandlight and Kettleburn’s lantern to light the way, Aurelia silently walked the path back to Hogwarts.
The next morning, Aurelia woke up late without her sweet little angel baby to wake her with his meowing and darling purring and nuzzling. She missed Dolce, and yearned for the comfort that he brought. But, and perhaps more importantly, she wanted to make sure Regulus knew that she was all right, so she dispatched her cat to send off reassurances. He really is a dear little friend, Aurelia thought fondly of her sweet Dolce.
Aurelia bathed and dressed for the day in solitude, letting her hair air dry since it was going to do whatever it wanted anyway. She slipped her feet into her boots and began the climb to the Great Hall for breakfast alone.
In truth, Aurelia’s mind was addled with thoughts of the centaur prophecy. Her heart raced with the promise of a defeat of Lord Voldemort. Was it Lord Voldemort? It had to be… Aurelia thought to herself. Who else could the serpent possibly be? There was no other Dark Lord raging war across Europe.
And if it was about the Dark Lord, who was the seeker? Aurelia could only guess that it was someone like Dumbledore, someone powerful enough to defeat a Dark Lord as he already had. But she wouldn’t exactly describe Dumbledore’s home at Hogwarts “where darkness dwells.”
And what did Firenze mean by cursed fragments?
Aurelia wondered if Kettleburn was willing to try and find their centaur friends again, for the purpose of seeking clarity. Ugh, but Aurelia knew about centaurs after all that research she did. She knew that centaurs were not ones to decipher or meddle with the destiny fated by the stars. They were only messengers. Another trip would be fruitless, she was sure of it.
But then, if not the centaurs then who? Perhaps Regulus would be able to help her. If she was right, then he’d celebrate with her that the end of the Dark Lord was soon approaching. Then he’d be able to assist her in… well… she wasn’t sure.
Regulus would know. Regulus would take care of it!
It was these thoughts that brought her to the Great Hall, where the last dregs of breakfast were being served. Right away, she made eye contact with Regulus who smiled eagerly at her entrance. She smiled widely at him, but before she could join him, she was stopped by Professor Dumbledore.
He approached her from down the center aisle, his wrinkled face kind and twinkling eyes looking at her through half moon spectacles. He wore fine lavender robes with gold star constellations along the hem. His fine, white hair billowed around him like a haze, almost like his pointed hat was spilling smoke instead of hair.
She nodded to him in salutation and attempted to step aside from him to take her place next to Regulus, but Dumbledore stopped firmly in front of her.
“Good morning, Miss Centore,” he said.
“Good morning, Professor,” she said.
Aurelia couldn’t help but be confused. She shot a glance at Regulus, and he was still watching her. His smile was gone, replaced with an equally questioning look on his face.
Aurelia knew her headmaster to be a kind man. Everyone knew he had his favored students, but for the most part, he was a fair and just leader. Beyond that, no one could deny his powerful magical ability and the influence he held on Europe’s wizarding culture and society. Even Newt Scamander sang praises of his power and compassion.
Aurelia knew all this, but what surprised her was that he was speaking to her. Not once has Aurelia crossed paths with her headmaster, despite all she knew about him. He never spared her a second glance, but now, the night after her frolic with centaurs, he suddenly seeks her. What did Kettleburn say?
“Miss Centore, I thought perhaps you might join me in my office for some tea before your morning classes. Professor Kettleburn told me about your adventures last night, but I’m intrigued to hear your perspective.”
Aurelia gulped but nodded, allowing him to lead her away from the Great Hall and up the many flights of stairs to his office. Aurelia’s stomach grumbled. She was really looking forward to breakfast.
“Don’t worry, Miss Centore, the house elves will have brought something up for us,” Dumbledore said jovially.
Aurelia said nothing.
With a whispered, “ice mice,” Aurelia entered into Dumbledore’s office past the gargoyle. He swept into his chair behind her desk, and gestured to the seat across him. Aurelia sat down, pressing her fingers beneath her thighs.
In a snap, a tray of biscuits appeared and floated down to rest on Dumbledore’s desk, and a steaming cup of tea drifted to Aurelia. She took it and sipped gingerly. Chamomile.
Aurelia took a biscuit but waited. Dumbledore watched her closely as if studying her.
“I thought, Miss Centore, that you would share with me how your extracurricular project went,”
“Of course, Professor,” Aurelia said politely.
So she told him as much as she could. She told him all about the research that she conducted in preparation, as well as consulting Madam Pomfrey and Professor Slughorn should things have gone awry. She told him about seeing Hagrid and encountering the unicorns. She told him about Sole, Asterion, and Firenze. She left nothing out, until it came time to share of Firenze’s song.
“It was the strangest thing, Professor,” Aurelia began, “it was like they knew we were coming.”
“Centaurs are known for the gifting in the field of Divination, Miss Centore. Surely your research would have revealed that?”
“Yes, sir,” Aurelia hesitated.
She looked at Dumbledore, and he looked eager. His posture was rigidly forward, hanging on to the edge of her every word. Aurelia grew confused. Kettleburn said he was going to tell Dumbledore about what the centaurs said. What could he have possibly left out? What did Dumbledore hope to hear from her?
“Forgive me, sir, but I thought Professor Kettleburn was going to report to you on our experience,” Aurelia said plainly.
“That he did, Miss Centore. I just hoped to hear your perspective of things,”
Aurelia was about to open her mouth when she fell silent. The scene of standing next to Kettleburn played out in her mind. She heard Firenze’s lilting voice. She heard the combined voices of all the centaurs and their beautiful song. She could see Asterion so clearly, as if she was back in the Forest. She felt her own resolve that the Dark Lord would soon end.
Suddenly, her thoughts snapped to Regulus, and her mind was consumed with him. Sharing her book with him. All the nights spent before the Black Lake window. Seeing him with Dolce in his arms in the Hospital Wing. Sitting with him in the Great Hall. Seeing him at the top of the dungeon stairs, horror plastered all over his face.
Whispered voices, “You are all I have.”
Whispered voices, “He is not like us.”
Whispered voices, “I… I was looking for you that night.”
She saw Mulciber, Avery, and Snape sitting around the Common Room fire, studying her and Regulus. She saw the way Snape listened to Regulus’s every word and command. She recalled the way Mulciber held the door open for her in Charms.
Then, she was back in her chair in Dumbledore’s office. He was standing behind his desk, studying her. She blinked at him.
“Sir, I-”
“Miss Centore, as I’m sure you know, there are dark forces at play even within the castle. Should you ever feel the noble desire to bring light into the darkest of places, please let me know.” Dumbledore looked down at her regally but appeared open and compassionate toward her.
Aurelia’s had so many questions. What just happened? It was like her mind… had a mind of its own. She had never had her thoughts race so vividly before. Even now, after the haze, she couldn’t replicate the feeling. It must’ve been Dumbledore… he must’ve read my thoughts. But why? I have nothing to hide. Do I?
Aurelia nodded, stood, and left Dumbledore’s office, feeling more isolated than ever before.