Chapter 35
Giants and Centaurs
“But how is that possible? The bloke would have to be almost a thousand years old!”
The Christmas holidays had ended and Harry was back at Hogwarts. He was walking through the corridors with Ron and Hermione after lunch and had just filled them in on what Dumbledore had shown him in Gryffidor’s Sanctuary. Ron seemed incredulous. Hermione remained silent, a thoughtful look on her face.
“I dunno how it’s possible. That’s just what the wall says,” Harry shrugged.
Ron shook his head in disbelief. “Wait, how old would he be? Gryffindor founded Hogwarts a thousand years ago, probably had his kids not long after that, so that would make Wulfric…” Ron started counting on his fingers (math had never been a big concern in the magical world) “…seven, eight, nine. At least nine hundred years old, probably a thousand! There’s no way, even the oldest wizards barely make it past two-hundred.”
“Ron’s right, it does seem rather strange,” agreed Hermione. Harry couldn’t help noticing that the two had developed an annoying habit of agreeing with each other most of the time. “I mean, lets look at this logically. What are the ways a person could increase their longevity using magic?” She held out her hand and began to count off. “There’s anti-aging potions, but those are extremely expensive to make and only last for so long. I don’t think I’ve ever read about anyone making it over 200 years old using them. There’s the Ambriggio charm, but that is only a temporary fix”after a few hours you go back to how you were before and it would be extremely tedious to keep casting every two or three hours.”
Harry nodded along impatiently. He had already thought through all of this. There was only one theory that seemed plausible.
“What about the Philosopher’s Stone? Supposing he has one of them?”
“I doubt that,” said Hermione, biting on her lip. “First of all, they are extremely rare to come by”I don’t think anyone even knew how to make them until Dumbledore came along. Secondly, even if Wulfric Gryffindor had one, I don’t think he could stay alive that long. He wouldn’t want to. I mean, Nicholas Flamel and his wife only got to about six-hundred before they got tired of living, right? I can only imagine what it would be like to live for a thousand.”
“Well then, what are some other ways he could be alive?” replied Harry, a little irritated that his only idea had been shot down.
“Well, I’m thinking over that. Tell me again, what did the name look like on the wall?”
Harry rolled his eyes. He had already told them the story at least three times. “It’s written at the bottom of the wall, right over Godric Gryffindor’s. All the names at the top of the tree are lit up because the person is still alive. They have this twinkling, golden light shining through them. When they die the light goes out. Wulfric Gryffindor’s name is still lit up.”
“Hmmm,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “If it’s lit up, why didn’t you notice it the first time you went into the Sanctuary? It would seem that the name would stick out if all the others around it had gone out.”
Harry stopped. He had thought of that as well. “Well, the light from the top of the room kind of shines down on it so you can’t tell it’s lit unless you’re paying attention. Actually, I had to put my hand over the top of it to make sure.”
“So it’s dimmer than the rest of them?”
“Well…yeah.”
“Interesting…” said Hermione. They resumed walking.
“So why would it be dimmer? Does that mean he’s only kind-of alive?” asked Ron.
“I dunno,” Harry shrugged. “Maybe it means he’s alive, but not really in the sense we think of. Like in a different form, or something.”
“Like, a vampire, or something like that?”
“Er…yeah, I guess.”
“Hey, what if he is a vampire? That would make sense, wouldn’t it? How else could he live for so long? What if when he was young”“
“”I think,” interrupted Hermione with an air of putting an end to something foolish, “it is much more likely that there is a problem with the magic they used to make Gryffindor’s family tree. Charms only last for so long before wearing down. Remember those Irish rosettes we got at the Quidditch World Cup, how they were all but worn out by the end of the day? It’s the same thing. Gryffindor’s family tree is a thousand years old by now. The magic is old and worn out, causing odd things like Wulfric Gryffindor’s name lighting up for no reason to happen. It’s probably just a…a…malfunction or something.”
While he hated to admit it, there was definitely some logic to what Hermione was saying. Even in the magical world, there were still some things that were impossible. A human being living 1000 years was one of them. The only thing that kept him from conceding was the fact that he had been to Gryffindor’s Sanctuary and had seen the family tree himself. There was a definite feeling of awe, almost reverence, in the room and he couldn’t believe something so great could be ‘malfunctioning’. The way Hermione was talking you’d think the tree in Gryffindor’s Sanctuary was no more than a Muggle television set or something.
“I don’t think so. Everything else about it seems to be working properly. Besides, Dumbledore said Gryffindor’s followers made it for him after he died, as a sort of tribute. I doubt they would use some rubbish magic to do it.”
“Yes, but how do you know that?” Hermione asked stubbornly. “Besides, do we even know who put the wall together?”
“I don’t know, really powerful wizards, that’s what Dumbledore said,” replied Harry, feeling slightly defensive. Hermione simply shook her head.
“Well, it seems more logical to me that the wall is simply malfunctioning. More logical than a wizard living a thousand years, anyway. Unless one of you two have a more plausible theory?” She fixed them both with the know-it-all look that Harry hadn’t seen much of since their early years at Hogwarts.
“Yeah, I’ve got one,” chimed in Ron (who had been silent since bringing up vampires) excitedly. “What about the Dark Arts? There’s likely to be a few ways to do it with the Dark Arts that we don’t know about.”
“True, but I highly doubt the son of Godric Gryffindor would resort to using the Dark Arts, Ron.”
“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was someone else. You said that Wulfric Gryffindor had a lot of enemies, right? Well maybe some bad wizards captured him and found a way to keep him alive!”
“Yes but why would a group of Dark Wizards want to keep him alive for a thousand years?” Hermione asked.
“I dunno, maybe to make him tell them where his hidden weapon is. Or maybe to torture him. Maybe it’s like some sort of sick Slytherin club.”
Harry shook his head. Their explanations were getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. Malfunctioning walls? Slytherin torture clubs? It all seemed pretty far fetched. The most logical explanation was that there was another Philosopher’s Stone made and Wulfric Gryffindor had used it to stay alive all these years. Besides, the most important question wasn’t how he had done it, but where was he?
As he was pondering on this he realized Ron and Hermione had stopped walking and were looking just in front of him. Somebody was approaching. He looked up to see who it was.
Cho Chang.
She walked up to him and stopped, an uneasy look on her face and pulling nervously at a tassel on her bag.
“Hi Harry.”
“Hi.”
She was about to say something when she looked up to see Ron and Hermione watching”Hermione with a skeptical yet curious expression, and Ron with a look that was downright unfriendly.
“Er…can I speak to you in private?”
“Come on Ron,” said Hermione, pulling Ron to the side of the corridor and out of earshot. He cast one last distrustful glance in Cho’s direction then walked away.
Once they were gone Cho looked back up at him.
“Look Harry, I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry about what happened last year, with Marietta and our fight and all that. I…I was just wondering if it’d be all right if I came back to the DA meetings. Just me, not Marietta,” she quickly added.
“Yeah, no problem,” Harry replied, not understanding what Cho was so nervous about. “The next meeting is Wednesday at 7:00.”
Cho relaxed slightly. “Thanks. I’ll be there.”
She looked like she perhaps wanted to say a little more, but when she didn’t Harry figured the conversation was over.
“Well, see you.”
“Oh, yeah. Um…thanks. Bye.”
She walked away and Ron and Hermione joined him.
“So what did she want?” asked Hermione.
“She just wanted to know if she could come to the DA meetings. I told her yes.”
“Oh,” replied Hermione, as though she had expected more.
“You don’t fancy her again, do you?” asked Ron, rather bluntly.
“No,” Harry replied simply. He didn’t really have to even think about it, which surprised him for some reason. “I guess she’s just not my type.”
Ron nodded in approval. “Good. Because she wasn’t any good for you, mate. You need someone fun, that’s not always dragging you down.”
Harry shrugged.
“So, um, who exactly is your type then, Harry?” Hermione asked teasingly. “Because most of the girls at Hogwarts would be very interested to find out.”
Ron chuckled.
“Come off it,” said Harry, not too keen to continue that particular conversation. He quickly thought of something else to bring up to change the subject.
“Er…I was thinking we could stop by Hagrid’s cabin this evening since we haven’t seen him since before the break. What d’you guys think?”
“Sure,” replied Ron. Hermione didn’t answer at first, but instead smiled slyly at him with her eyebrows raised for a moment, just to show him she knew he was changing the subject on purpose. Then she agreed.
The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. After dropping their things off at the dormitories and eating dinner, they hurried out the front entrance and across the grounds towards Hagrid’s cabin. It was a bitingly cold winter night. The sky was completely clear, allowing thousands of stars to shine down on the grounds below and illuminate the snow covered ground with a beautiful, frigid light. The three of them huddled close together for warmth as they walked (Ron and Hermione a little too close, Harry noticed) and soon arrived at Hagrid’s cabin. Light shone out from the window and smoke wafted out of the chimney, promising a warm fire within.
Harry knocked on the cold, hard wood of Hagrid’s door. It was somewhat painful as his knuckles were already frozen stiff. They heard a rustling from within and Fang barking. The door opened.
“I was ‘opin to see you lot before long. Come in, come in,” said Hagrid with a giant smile as he motioned for them to enter. As they made their way in Fang ran up and gave Harry his traditional greeting of jumping and slobbering all over him. They sat down as close to the fire as they could.
“I’ll make us some tea. Mus’ be cold out there” said Hagrid cheerfully as he busied himself in the small kitchen.
“How was your holiday, Hagrid?” asked Hermione as she unraveled a long muffler from her face.
“Good enough, I suppose. Oh! Tha’ reminds me. Yer presents!” He put the kettle down with a small clang and began fishing through a cupboard.
“Wasn’ able to make it teh headquarters, er…Weasley Place, I mean…” he said, looking at Ron, “…fer Christmas, so I decided I’d jus’ give em to yeh first chance I got. ‘ere you go.”
He produced three large, tidily wrapped packages. Each was the same size and shape and had a frilly pink ribbon on top that seemed to be the last thing Hagrid would use when wrapping a present.
“They’re French Rose Truffles. Olympe found ‘em for me. Supposed teh be real nice.”
“Thank you Hagrid. And how is Madame Maxime?” Hermione asked politely as they each took their present.
“Oh she’s fine. Jus’ fine,” said Hagrid, seeming to brighten at the mention of her name. “Course it’s a little hard, her having to run her school and me being all the way over here. Wouldn’ mind being a bit closer to each other, to be honest…”
His voice trailed off and for a moment he had a faraway look in his eyes. Then he shook his head as if coming out of a reverie and nodded in Ron and Hermione’s direction.
“But you two know what it’s like, what with being…”
Hermione shot Hagrid an angry warning glance and made a quick jerking motion with her hand indicating not to say another word. Hagrid looked at her confusedly. Harry was fairly certain he saw Hermione’s eyes shift his way as an explanation.
“Oh…righ’…” Hagrid bumbled, obviously trying to come up with something different to say.
“Er…wha’ with being prefects and all,” he finished triumphantly. Hermione put her face in her hands. Harry had to look away from both of them to keep from laughing.
“So…why weren’t you able to make it for Christmas?” he asked in an effort to save his friends any more humiliation.
“Well, I bin real busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
Hagrid stopped suddenly and a closed expression came on his face. Then he said half-heartedly, as though he knew it wasn’t going to work, “Er…official Order business ‘arry. Not supposed teh tell.”
Harry exchanged a furtive glance with Ron and Hermione and was about to say something when Hagrid interrupted.
“Oh all righ’. ‘s not like you don’ know anyways,” said Hagrid, handing out the tea and sitting down in his chair, an enormous beat up old thing that would have passed as a sofa in anyone else’s living room. He stretched his legs out and took a long pull from his giant mug.
“We’re still tryin’ ter persuade some o’ the giants ter join us.”
Harry nodded. He had figured as much.
“Really? Is there a new Gurg now? Because I don’t see any other way they would even it,” asked Hermione interestedly.
“Naw, same mean old cur, Golgomath. I’m surprised he’s made it this long, actually. Though’ someone else woulda killed him by now. They mus’ be protectin’ him. Anyways, ol’ You-Know-Who’s workin’ on bringin’ the whole lot of ‘em down righ’ now teh so use in ‘is army. But not all of ‘em want to come, see, an’ not all of ‘em want to fight fer You-Know-Who, either, so that’s our chance. We try to get ‘em on their own so we can talk to ‘em and convince ‘em teh join our side.”
“Who is we?” asked Hermione.
“Well, there’s me and Olympe, o’ course. Then a few wizards and witches from the Ministry. And sometimes a differen’ member o’ the Order, Shacklebolt or yer brother Charlie,” he nodded at Ron. “Dumbledore’s even come a couple o’ times.”
“Wait a minute Hagrid. Didn’t it take you months to get up there before? How can you go there now and still be back in time to teach classes?” asked Ron skeptically.
“Well tha’ was when we couldn’ use magic, wasn’ it? The Ministry ain’ trackin’ us no more, they’re helpin’ us, so we ken come an’ go as we please.”
“Have you had any success?” asked Hermione.
Hagrid let out a great sigh and took another pull from his enormous mug. “No’ much, teh be hones’. Problem is You-Know-Who knows what we’re about. He’s got Macnair an’ some other bloke watching ‘em so closely it’s hard teh get any of ‘em on their own. Anytime those berks think we bin talkin’ with someone Macnair tells Golgomath an’ they beat ‘em till they’re either dead or don’ want teh talk to us no more.
“But we have been able to reach a couple. Ol’ Grawpy’s been a load of ‘elp…”
“Grawp goes with you?” interrupted Harry incredulously.
“Oh yeah,” Hagrid beamed. “You lot haven’ seen Grawpy lately have yeh? Right ol’ gentleman now, he is. Well, gentleman may be pushin’ it, but he’s loads better then he used teh be. Can almos’ keep up a real conversation and everything. Matter of fact, Dumbledore says he could be real useful to us, built a shelter for him in the forest out back an’ everything.”
Ron stood up and went to the window to see while Harry and Hermione exchanged an impressed look. The last time they had seen Grawp he was rampaging around the Forbidden Forest, throwing centaurs about as if they had been rag-dolls. To hear that he was helping Hagrid instead of hurting him was an improvement indeed.
“All I see is a big, pointy thing,” said Ron from where from the window where he was gazing curiously out, presumably to see the shelter Dumbledore had made for Grawp. It hit Harry that Ron had still never seen Hagrid’s giant half-brother, although he had definitely heard a lot about him.
“I reckon it’s too dark. D’you think…” Ron had started to say when he suddenly stopped and pressed his face sideways along the glass, apparently to get a better look at something far past the cabin. “Oy, Hagrid, come over here! There’s something standing out there. I think they’re trying to spy on you.”
The three of them rose from their seats to join Ron at the window. Harry had to squeeze in between Ron and Hagrid’s massive girth to get a look. He couldn’t see it very clearly, but it definitely did look like there was a solitary figure standing in the frigid night air, drenched in pale moonlight. The figure was far enough away, however, that Harry doubted it was trying to eavesdrop. It was also hard to tell if the figure was looking towards Hagrid’s cabin or away from it.
“Oh, that’d be Firenze,” said Hagrid dismissively. “He’s bin out there almos’ every night lately. Studyin’ the stars, I reckon. Actually bin meanin’ teh have a chat with him. Let’s go see what he’s up to.”
They grabbed their cloaks and headed out into the cold night. While there was no moon the snowy ground was illuminated with a beautiful, pale white thanks to the thousands of shining from the sky above. As they came closer to the solitary form of Firenze they realized he was indeed studying the stars and didn’t seem aware of their presence.
“Ho, Firenze!” Hagrid called when they were within hailing distance. The centaur kept his gaze heavenward and still made no sign that he knew they were there until they had come within a couple yards of him. He slowly brought his head down and looked at them.
“Greetings Hagrid,” he said in his calm, serene voice. He then fixed his gaze on Harry and said, “Greetings Harry Potter. We meet again.” He looked next at Ron and Hermione, said each of their names in turn, and nodded as a greeting.
“Noticed yeh bin out ‘ere a lot lately, Firenze. Anything unusual going on?”
“Mars is about to cross paths with Opheuchus,” he answered, gazing back up at the stars. He pointed at the planet and traced an imaginary arc sweeping down to the right. Hagrid, Hermione, Ron, and Harry looked up to see what he was talking about, though with the immensity of stars it was impossible to pick out the two he was talking about.
“This is an extremely rare phenomenon. It has never happened in the four-thousand years of recorded centaur history. My people are watching its progression very closely.”
“I’ve never heard of Opheuchus,” said Hermione, her brow furrowed.
Firenze fixed his gaze on her, the seemingly endless depths of his eyes reflecting the stars above. He took his time speaking. “Opheuchus is a comet, a dark messenger that can only be seen from this planet once every seven hundred years. You humans refer to as a Doomsday Star. It signifies an upcoming cataclysm.”
They looked at each other, shocked. Harry was about to ask more when Firenze spoke again.
“Yet the meaning of its crossing with Mars is confusing. Such a thing has never happened before. We do not yet know how to interpret it. It is safe to say that either a cataclysm is coming…” suddenly he brought his head down and looked directly at Harry. None of the others noticed.
“…or that a cataclysm will be narrowly avoided. Mars has been traveling across Andromeda since…”
Firenze pointed back up at the sky and began a lengthy explanation of the relationship between different star transits and distant galaxies that Harry soon lost interest in. Hadn’t Firenze taught them in their Divination class the year before that even the centaurs often misread the stars, that nothing could be known for sure? While Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid arched their heads back trying to see what he was talking about, Harry turned his attention on Firenze instead.
The light of the stars glistened off the centaur in the same pale, white color as the grounds around them. His human torso and arms were completely naked, yet, amazingly enough, he didn’t seem at all bothered by the pervasive cold. Looking down at his palomino legs and Harry noticed fresh tracks in the snow. Following them to his left he saw they led to the Forbidden Forest. Apparently Firenze had just come from there. This surprised Harry as the year before Firenze had been banished from the forest by the other centaurs for supposedly betraying them and agreeing to teach at Hogwarts. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Hagrid’s interference they would have put him to death.
As he studied the tracks further he noticed strange, dark splotches that appeared regularly in the snow, as though something had been dropping from Firenze as he walked. Following the trail to where Firenze was currently standing, Harry was surprised to see a large, dark line across his left arm with a black liquid dripping freely from it. Blood.
“Firenze all you all right?” Harry interrupted, slightly aghast. “You’re bleeding!”
The rest of them turned at look where Harry was pointing. Hermione gave a small gasp. While the wound probably wasn’t life threatening it was definitely big enough to require immediate attention. It almost looked like an arrow had grazed Firenze, taking a fair sized piece of flesh with it. The centaur looked down at the wound, completely unconcerned, then reached around to a small leather bag on his side and pulled out what appeared to be a clean bandage and a bunch of leaves.
“I have been visiting my former friends in an attempt to persuade them to join you humans in your battle. So far they have been unreceptive,” he said as he wrapped the leaves in the bandage and expertly tied it around the wound in his arm.
“Unreceptive?” Hagrid suddenly said in an angry voice, “I’d say they’ve bin downrigh’ abusive! That bruise wasn’ there last time I saw yeh, an’ yer ear didn’ have a chunk missin’ from it neither!”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked to where Hagrid was pointing. Sure enough there was a large, hoof-shaped print just under Firenze’s left collar bone. As for the ear, Harry couldn’t see it from the angle he was standing at, but seeing Ron recoil in disgust (he could see it just fine from where he was) told him all he needed to know.
Firenze regarded Hagrid placidly. It was hard to tell if he appreciated Hagrid’s anger in his behalf, or was annoyed by it.
“My people have never meddled in the affairs of humans, Hagrid. It is against our nature and tradition to do so. The mere suggestion that they assist or join the humans in any capacity is considered high blasphemy to them, especially if that suggestion comes from one who has been branded a traitor.” He bowed his head slightly to indicate it was himself he was referring to. “Their reaction is perfectly understandable.”
Harry was slightly taken aback by the disconnected way Firenze said this last part. He would think Firenze would be a bit more angry about being shot at and having his ear nearly ripped off. Hagrid shook his great, hairy head.
“Now, I respect yeh an all, Firenze, but I got teh tell yeh that seems like a ruddy waste o’ time. What makes you think you can convince that lot to join us?”
Firenze didn’t answer at first but stood gazing at Hagrid. Then he turned his head back to the sky.
“Because it is written in the stars.”
They watched as Firenze gazed back into the heavens, studying something that they couldn’t see. Taking his silence as a cue that the conversation was over, they began the walk back to Hagrid’s cabin.
“It’s a bloomin’ shame, too,” Hagrid grumbled softly once they were out of earshot. “We could really use the centaurs ‘elp in this war.”
“Really?” Ron asked, somewhat surprised. “Seems to me all they’re good for is looking up into the sky and speaking rubbish. What good would a bunch of centaurs be in a war?”
“Well, besides bein’ crack shots with their bows, they’re amazin’ healers. Did yeh see that poultice he put on ‘is arm?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that wound’ll be completely healed by mornin’. Not many creatures could top a centaur when it comes to healin’. But that’s not all. Centaurs have a way of seein’ things that are happenin’ in other parts of the world. Things that no one else could know about. I reckon Dumbledore’d find that handy when plannin’ a war against You-Know-Who, don’t you?”
They reached the cabin and Hagrid cast one long glance back towards Firenze. He was standing just as they left him, glistening white and staring up into the glittering infinity above. Hagrid gave a small chuckle and shook his head.
“In the same boat, Firenze and me, eh?” he said with a tone of amusement. “Both tryin’ teh convince our own kind teh join in the war. Though from the looks of things I’d say he’s havin’ the same luck I am.”