Chapter 2
McGonagall exchanged a glance with Leonardo's father. Without a word, he understood, adjusting his coat as he strode towards the Forbidden Forest, his gait steady and unwavering while slowly transforming.
Leo ran blindly, his mind a storm of emotions anger, fear, desperation. He told himself it was rage that fuelled his flight, but deep down, he knew the truth. It was fear. Fear of losing his friends. Fear of losing Daniel. Fear of losing his freedom. His chest tightened, breath coming in ragged gasps, but he pushed forward, deeper into the trees, heedless of the branches clawing at his clothes and the uneven ground beneath his feet. His legs burned, his heart pounded, but he didn’t stop.
Then the world went black with a loud crack.
A sharp, jarring pain shot through his skull as he collided headfirst with something solid. Staggering back, vision swimming, he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the stars from his sight. A deep chuckle rumbled through the clearing, low and knowing. As his senses sharpened, he found himself staring into the eyes of a centaur.
The creature stood tall, his powerful form bathed in the moonlight filtering through the canopy. Behind him, others watched, some openly chuckling, others exchanging amused glances, though there was something else in their gazes—recognition.
Leo knew them.
During his excursions with Hagrid, he had encountered the centaurs before. They had always been wary, distant, rarely welcoming. Tonight, however, they did not send him away. They were watching him. Waiting.
The leader of the centaurs regarded him with a bemused expression. “What is it that troubles you, child?” His deep voice carried both curiosity and wisdom, the weight of centuries behind it.
Leo hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t know. I just… I can’t go back.” He made himself smaller, shame curling in his chest.
The centaur let out a hearty laugh. “A descendant of her, afraid of something? Now, that is a sight I never thought I’d see.” His sharp gaze lingered on Leo, reading him like an open book. “What has you so shaken, young one?”
Leo opened his mouth, ready to answer, but the words refused to come. How could he explain the chaos twisting inside him? The fear? The helplessness?
Then, a presence.
His body tensed, every instinct screaming at him to run again, but as he turned, he saw his father stepping into the clearing.
Alexander’s expression was calm. Not angry. Not frustrated. Just understanding.
Leo froze. His father knew what was about to happen.
To his utter bewilderment, Alexander turned to the centaur and smiled. “It’s been a long time, Thold.” His tone was warm, almost nostalgic. “Looks like my son has inherited my talent for finding trouble.”
Leo stared. He hadn’t imagined the familiarity in his father’s voice.
Thold dipped his head in acknowledgment, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Alexander. Indeed, it has been too long.” His gaze flickered back to Leo before returning to his father. “Your son is just as reckless as you were in your youth.” His expression softened slightly. “And how is Astrid? I assume she still leads? A fierce woman, that one.”
Leo’s mind reeled trying to find an answer to what was happening. His mother and his father knew the centaurs? How? Why?
Alexander chuckled, shaking his head. -- She’s well. She’ll be pleased to know you asked after her.-- He sighed. -- And yes, she still leads. Strongest of the pack, though her decisions remain… let’s just say, bold as ever. --
Thold laughed knowingly. -- As expected. -- Leo could only stare, his heart thundering not from the run this time, but from sheer disbelief.
They knew each other. They knew his mother.
What else had his parents kept from him? What else had they chosen not to tell him?
He sat there in stunned silence as his father and Thold spoke with the ease of old friends, his world tilting on its axis.
Thold cast his gaze upwards, his sharp eyes tracing the constellations as if reading something unseen to others. -- Tonight is an important night,-- He declared, his voice carrying a weight of meaning Leonardo couldn't quite grasp. -- Join us for the feast.-- Without waiting for a response, the centaur turned and strode away, his powerful form moving effortlessly through the undergrowth.
Alexander followed without hesitation, his posture relaxed, as if this was all perfectly natural. Leonardo hesitated for only a moment before trailing after them, his mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions. How did they know each other? Why had his father never mentioned this before? What was so significant about tonight?
As they ventured deeper into the forest, the terrain beneath Leonardo’s paws shifted. The damp earth and tangled roots gave way to something softer, lush grass, its scent rich and clean. The ground had an odd, springy quality, as if woven with magic itself. Flickering lights danced ahead, fire lit torches illuminating a vast clearing. At its heart blazed an enormous fire, its flames licking hungrily at the sky. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat, herbs, and freshly baked bread.
Centaurs moved gracefully around the fire, some setting down great wooden trays laden with food, others engaged in quiet conversation. Despite their usual standoffish nature, they welcomed his father with open arms, clasping his forearm in a gesture of familiarity. Leonardo watched in stunned silence. This was no mere diplomatic gathering, this was kinship.
The sight stirred something deep within him, a buried nostalgia that pulled at his chest. It reminded him of home, of the great hall his mother had insisted on building, where their pack would gather to feast together every evening. The warmth, the laughter, the unspoken sense of belonging t was all here, among these creatures he barely understood but who, somehow, knew him.
His father, still in his wolf form, nudged him forward. -- Come, Leo, -- He said, his voice a low rumble. -- Eat. We have much to talk about. --
Leonardo swallowed, glancing around at the centaurs, at the fire, at the unfamiliar yet strangely familiar gathering. With a deep breath, he stepped forward, his heart hammering with anticipation for the answers he was about to receive.
As dawn edged closer, the centaurs moved with quiet purpose, clearing the remnants of the night’s feast. Yet their preparations were for something far older than a mere gathering. The air shifted, thick with anticipation.
Leonardo’s ears twitched as the surrounding murmurs took on a rhythmic cadence. The centaurs formed a wide circle around the dying embers of the great fire, their towering forms casting elongated shadows against the pale starlight. There was something ancient in the air, something beyond time itself.
Then, the first notes rang out.
A low, resonant hum rose from deep within the centaurs’ chests, vibrating through the earth, through Leonardo’s very bones. It was not a song in the human sense—this was something primal, a harmony older than words.
Thold stepped forward, lifting his arms towards the sky. His voice wove through the chorus, not spoken but sung—slow, deliberate, carrying the weight of generations.
“Before the sun knew the sky, before the moon knew the tide,
Two wolves ran across the heavens, bound by fate, torn by pride.
One bathed the world in golden fire, one drowned it in endless night,
One burned too bright in fury’s name, one swallowed all in hunger’s might.”
The centaurs stomped their hooves in unison. The earth trembled. Their voices rose like a storm gathering at the horizon, deep and guttural, raw as the elements themselves.
“She, born of flame, her steps turned fields to embers.
She hunted shadows, cast them low, but in her rage—none remembered.
Mercy lost, fury found, her light became a blinding crown.
Justice turned to wrath, and all who strayed were struck down.”
Leonardo stiffened as a strange heat curled in his chest. The embers of the fire flickered in response, as if the very words held power. His golden fur bristled. This wasn’t just a tale—it was a warning.
The song slowed, darkening, the rhythm shifting like a heartbeat faltering.
“Then him, beast of night, his hunger endless, heart grown cold,
Devoured light, devoured hope, swallowed stars in endless fold.
Chained by fear, bound by steel, yet still he howled beneath the sky.
Not in rage, nor in wrath—but in sorrow’s mournful cry.”
Leo’s breath hitched. He did not just hear the story; he felt it. It seeped into his bones, into the marrow of his very being.
The chant softened, the centaurs’ voices whispering like wind through leaves.
“Sun and shadow, fire and night, neither wrong, neither right.
One must burn, one must hunger, let alone, both fall to blight.
The world does not need a tyrant’s fire, nor the silence of the grave.
It needs the dusk, the dawn, the balance of the ones who brave.”
The tempo rose again, voices entwining in a fierce harmony that made the very air vibrate.
“Will you stand or will you flee?
Will you fight or bend the knee?
Burn with fury, choke it down—
Seize the crown or fade and drown?
Feed the fire, unleash the hunger,
Carve your path, wolf of storm and thunder.”
As the final note lingered in the air, the last ember of the fire faded into darkness, leaving only the cold glow of the stars above.
Leonardo stood unmoving, his massive wolf form bathed in silver light, his breath steady for the first time in what felt like years. He felt something settle within him, something that had long been adrift, now anchored.
His father stepped beside him, silent but knowing.
Thold’s dark eyes met Leonardo’s. “You do not need to fear your fire, nor your hunger. But you must know when to wield them. That is the path forward. That is balance.”
As the first rays of dawn kissed the treetops, Leonardo understood. He had not simply found an answer, he had found the beginning of understanding.