The Centaur's Shrine

Chapter 13 - Transitions

France,

"Take the next exit," said Hermione, after consulting the big Michelin map and checking the address on the description flier. "It will be number 8, and then you should follow the signs for Chantilly"

"Right."

Jane Granger turned around toward Harry.

"This will be your first night in France, so we tried to make it a little special. It's really the kind of place that you can only find here."

Harry had to smile at that. The Grangers loved France and always spent their winter vacations there. They traveled a lot around the world, but this was the country to which they returned the most.

"I found out about it last year," added Marc Granger enthusiastically. "The BDA organized a three day seminar there, and it was fantastic."

"Especially the food and wine, I suppose," teased Hermione.

"Well of course, but the whole atmosphere is magic." He chuckled. "Our kind of magic."

"Very romantic too," added Jane, winking at her daughter. "There's a big park that's ideal for promenade."

"Of course it's a bit chilly at this time. You'll need to find a way to stay warm," said her father, deadpan.

Hermione stuck out her tongue at her parents. Harry laughed. He found the Grangers to be a cheerful epicurean couple, quite different from Hermione in personality. Maybe she had grown up in reaction to their attitude, although they displayed as much energy in their respective ways. In any case, he felt very much at ease with them. Hermione's reaction to the perpetual taunting of her father was a look of quiet indignation, but it gave him an excuse to hug her affectionately.

They'd taken a hovercraft to Calais, recovered the car and started down the French highway system, following the A1 southward. The trip could have been made in one lap, but it would have been a long one.

"Not a good idea to start tired when you're skiing. It's the best way to break something."

Actually, he understood that they didn't need much of an excuse to show off their knowledge of the country's hospitality and cooking. They exited the highway, paid the toll and followed Hermione's precise directions along the little country roads. With characteristic French emphasis, the hotel was listed as a castle, Château de la Tour, but it was actually a small double manor in the Picardie country style, not at all a medieval citadel like Hogwarts. After Marc parked the BMW, everybody was glad to stretch their legs. As they collected their luggage, Harry began to wonder about room arrangements. He hoped they wouldn't get too stuffy about he and Hermione sharing one, but still, it was a delicate subject to bring up. She was apparently thinking along the same lines because she walked up to her father to talk to him privately.

"Er, Dad."

"Yes?" He stopped to look critically at the menu displayed just outside the hotel door.

"This looks like an expensive place."

"Well yes, but I wouldn't want Harry to get the idea that we're stinkers. Nothing but the best."

"Sure but, I mean... Er, I hope you don't think we need separate, er ... bedrooms?"

He looked at her and frowned.

"What? Oh no. I'm afraid sharing the same bedroom is out of the question."

She couldn't help blushing, but she frowned back as well.

"Dad! Please, it's stupid really."

Jane and Harry caught up with them.

"What is it dear?"

"The girl proposed a single room. I said no." Harry's eyes went wide in shock. Hermione looked ready to blow her top, if only for the tactless way her father was handling it.

"Do you really think so, dear?" asked Jane in a kind voice.

"Absolutely, love. There's no way I'm going to share the same room as another couple. I mean, I know it would be cheaper, but we can perfectly afford two double rooms."

"Dad!" almost screamed Hermione in exasperation. "You're impossible!" She didn't know whether to be furious or thankful. Once again she'd been baited and trapped. "It's unfair. You knew I would fall for that."

Marc showed the wide smile of the successful prankster.

"Of course I did. You know all my other tricks, and I'm glad that Harry's among us if only for giving me new occasions."

"You're quite welcome sir," added Harry, not missing the beat. He got a cheerful wink of complicity from the other man. These people were the funniest adults he'd ever seen. It was one more reasons he was so happy to be in love with their girl.

They went inside, and of course the Grangers had reserved two rooms from the start. They got their keys and took the stairs up. Both bedrooms were the same, furnished in what the French called rustique furniture. Rough wood but with the beautiful patina that came of decades, or centuries, of waxing and use.

"Let's meet downstairs in half an hour," proposed Marc.

Harry and Hermione entered their room and closed the door. They shared a look, grinned and went into each other's arms.

"You know, this makes it almost official," he said. "Your folks are really great."

"Yes they are, and I'm glad that you get along so well together."

He held her close and looked at the bed.

"What can we do in half an hour?" he whispered in her ear.

"You can do what you want, but I'm getting dressed up for dinner." She gave him a quick kiss and pushed him away. "And I want a shower first."

He hadn't been really hoping, and besides they would have time later.

"Can I wash your hair?"

- - -

Some time later, Marc and Jane were waiting for the youngsters in the lobby sofa. He took his wife's hand and kissed it.

"That face she made was priceless. If only I could have taken a picture of it."

"You were cruel. You should remember what it was like when we were going out in the beginning."

"No different from now. I still love you as much as then," he said, looking at her with a tender smile.

She smiled and snuggled closer.

"Hmm. They make such a nice couple."

"Weren't we afraid she'd bring back some dour spectacled bookworm?"

"Actually, he has glasses."

"That's not the part I was afraid of."

"I know what you mean."

Harry and Hermione came down. He wasn't dressed in anything fancy, but Hermione had put on a long creamy colored robe. They were escorted to their table, where dinner was served in the finest Gallic tradition. They started with a glass of Champagne and some pastry tidbits while the waiters presented them with large menu folders, and an even larger wine list. Harry let them chose for him as he could only understand a fraction of what was written, even in the english translations.

"Don't worry. It's part of the game to use fancy descriptions."

They all started with Foie gras de canard served with brioche toastée, dices of gelée au porto and figues confites. This with a half bottle of Montbazillac, a sweet white wine. For the main dish he followed Marc's suggestion of Pièce de boeuf sauce landaise while Hermione took a Soufflée au Morilles and Jane a Carré d'agneau. Marc spent several minutes humming into the wine list and finally choose a vintage Saint Emilion to go with it.

Their plates arrived, and they proceeded to eat. The wine was good. Harry knew that it was probably excellent, judging from the hums and ahs coming from the others, but he wasn't really used to the taste, and so his appreciation was limited. He was only half surprised to see that Hermione seemed quite knowledgeable and familiar with the subject.

"Just as well we're not driving."

"Indeed. This is why we always pick hotels with a good restaurant."

Dessert was something beautiful, Millefeuilles aux framboises, made of thin sheets of pastry with raspberries and cream under a delicate domed cage of webbed caramel. The rest of the plate was decorated with small slices of fruits.

"This is the finest meal I have ever eaten, sir. It was just fabulous."

"Glad you like it Harry. It really a pleasure to have you with us. I understand that your foster parents didn't treat you very well." He exchanged a quick glance with his wife. "We'll do our best to make up for it."

Harry was touched. He reflected briefly about how it would have been, living with a family like that. He pushed the thought away. That part of his life didn't merit any attention.

He looked at Hermione.

"Nothing important happened with those people. I'm not even sure that they ever existed."

End of flashback,

- - -

Forbidden Forest, Centaurs' camp, late morning,

Flitz was just finishing his first meal of the day, when he heard Lyman approach. He quickly swallowed the chunk of gruel in his mouth and brushed the last leaves still clinging to his mane.

"Blessings to you, Herd Mentor," he enunciated as best as he could.

He still had difficulties with spoken words, but that phrase was the most important one to get right. After all, he used it every day. Since coming back from the Ritual, the pace of his training had accelerated brutally. One good thing with his new situation was the awe he could see in his former foal friends' eyes, even the ones who had shunned him before. The other adult Centaurs were friendlier as well, but they still looked at him strangely, and he didn't fully understand why.

"Blessings to you, Flitz," replied the old Centaur. He was carrying several tools and a number of wooden sticks. Flitz looked at them with undisguised interest. This could mean only one thing.

"Today you will make your first bow, young one. I have chosen three branches of fine chestnut wood. Let us hope you will not need more."

The previous days, they had discussed the theory of bow making and stringing. Flitz had even been allowed the use of a small knife to practice cutting and carving various types of wood. He had listened with care, quick to understand the basic principles. Centaurs had been using such tools since the beginning of time, and the knowledge was almost inborn, at least for those who had the right instincts. His first attempt would be a simple project, but it would still be an important part of growing up.

The Herd Mentor watched him scrutinize the wood, and test the flexibility and the strength of each rod. It was a test of course, as most things were for him these days, but the old teacher was confident of the outcome. If truth should be told, he was proud of this pupil. The youth was willing and even desperate to please. More important, he had real talent as well. There was no doubt of that.

Flitz finally selected one stick and proceeded to work out the irregularities, using the knife and a rasp. It would take him most of the day to do a proper job, and that only because they would forgo the complex procedure for soaking and drying the wood. Those intricacies would come later, and they were not necessary at his current level.

"I leave you now, and I will see you in the evening," said Lyman after a while. The lad would not need help, and he had other things to do, but he was looking forward to seeing the finish product.

- - -

France,

One afternoon, as they were coming back to chalet, an owl was waiting from them on the window ledge.

"Hedwig! Hello there girl," said Harry, taking the bird on his glove. He fished out a chocolate bar from his suit and gave her a bite, after recovering the letter she was holding. They went inside.

"Is it from Grimauld?"

"Yes." He scanned the letter quickly. "Everything's fine. They're coaching the kids in Quidditch. Ron says that Alicia and Richard should try out for the House teams next year."

"Well, one for us and one for Slytherin. What else?"

"There's a note from Helen, thanking us for taking the kids. I think this part is for you. Something about experiments in potions." He handed her a sheet. Hermione read silently for a moment.

"It's about what she's been doing with professor Snape. She really seems to want to follow up on that." She continued reading, and a slight frown crossed her brow.

"Who's Helen?" asked Jane.

"She's the mother of two kids who are in first year," answered Harry. "They're friends with Draco's sister, and they've been staying with us for part of the vacation." He turned toward Hermione. "What else is she saying?"

"Nothing much. Just that she would be glad to see us again," she replied, folding back the letter. He sensed some reticence and didn't press it at the time. "I think that we should use Hedwig to send back a letter asking Ginny and Ron to pack our things for Hogwarts. That way, we could stay an extra day here and just meet them back at King's Cross.

"Now that's what I call a brilliant idea," said Marc.

Later when they were alone, Harry asked her about the letter, and why she had cut off the subject.

"Nothing really. It's just something I don't want to discuss with Mom and Dad."

He looked back with an interrogative expression. She sighed and gave him the page she'd read. There was nothing remarkable until the last paragraph.

I'd like to ask you one last thing, Hermione, but please tell me frankly if you don't think it's a good idea. I understand that both your parents are Muggles like me. Would they be interested in joining me in a kind of parents' association? Its only purpose would be to simplify our relations with the Ministry and Hogwarts, and for example, to make it easier to keep in touch with our children. I haven't contacted anyone yet and I will wait for your feedback on this.

Wishing you the best - Helen

He looked up.

"That doesn't sound too bad."

She grimaced.

"Actually, I think it's a very good idea, and I get the feeling that she's really keen on this."

She balanced her head left and right, clearly bothered by something else.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Well, you've seen my parents. They don't really want to take a more direct role in that part of our lives."

He frowned, not understanding. It was true that Marc and Jane didn't talk a lot about the wizard world, but they were completely at ease with Hermione and him.

"They spent a good part of the summer with the Krums last year. I got the impression that it worked out well."

"Yes and no. They got along fine on most subjects, but they were frustrated whenever magic came up." She tried to explain it, lest he got the wrong idea. "They're not at all like the Dursleys who hate it. But there is a lot that they find irrational, and it bothers them."

"So they'd rather stay out of it?" he asked carefully.

"Yes. I think so."

He looked at the letter again. He remembered how enthusiastic Helen had been at Grimauld.

"While she wants in as much as possible."

"She was married to a Wizard, so I guess it's different for her."

Hermione had been thinking about Helen's proposition, and her own ideas for their association. Bringing in motivated adults could be just the spark they needed. These peoples would be freer to act than students were, and the Ministry would probably take them more seriously. She explained some of this to Harry.

"Hum," he said, thinking about what Dumbledore had told them. He wasn't sure that the Headmaster would exactly approve such an initiative, but on the other hand he didn't see what harm it could do, and anyway, they weren't going to ask for permission for every little thing they wanted to do. He looked at her. She was evidently thinking ahead on how it could advance her pet project.

Our pet project, he corrected.

"Here's what we can do," he replied. "Write back and ask her to meet us back at the train station. We'll be in early anyway, so we could discuss this in detail. If we all agree, then we can go ahead in this."

"Okay."

- - -

Centaurs' camp,

When Lyman returned, Flitz had finished his bow. The older Centaur took it and checked the quality of the work. It was good, remarkable for a first try even. He remembered that Firenze had been gifted in this art as well. The instincts evidently ran true in his blood.

"I see that you have reinforced the extremities with leather straps. I did not teach you to do that."

"I saw it ... done on other bows, Herd Mentor," articulated Flitz. "I felt it was better. The wood is ... springy but dry. I feared it would break."

Lyman nodded a silent approval. The youth had taken the longer of the three rods, one he had selected because of that very weakness, and he had corrected its only flaw. The resulting weapon would be much better than needed for a trainee.

"Where did you get the material?"

"I asked the mares." He gestured toward the center of the camp, where the female Centaurs were going about their business.

Lyman snorted. He had already noticed that the youth was very popular over there. A lot of them had opposed Firenze's banishment. He handed him a length of braided gut string.

"String it now."

Flitz tested the strength of the string and tied the first knot. He fixed it on one end and measured the proper length for the bow's tension under the Herd Mentor's approving stare. He then bent the rod, affixed the second knot and checked his work. He didn't have any arrows so that was all he could do, but the bow's feel was proper, as was the sound of the cord's vibration when released. He presented the completed weapon to the Herd mentor.

Lyman checked it carefully and ran his hand along the wood and string. He tensed it several times and, to Flitz's chagrin, made a minor adjustment to one of the knots. It wasn't really necessary, but it wouldn't do to have the youth become too confident.

He took an arrow from his quiver, nocked it and took aim at a distant tree. Flitz held his breath, anxious as he saw the wood flex dramatically under the strong pull of the teacher. If anything broke now, it would be terribly humiliating. Lyman held the tension, carefully sensing the bow's reaction to the stress. There was no excessive cracking sounds, nor any other telltale signs of weakness. He released the arrow which flew straight across the clearing and into the tree bark.

Not bad.

Actually it was excellent. The bow would be on the light side, but a real weapon nonetheless. He marched toward the reserve storage hut, selected a small quiver with a dozen arrows, and gave it to the youth, along with his finished work.

"Good work. You have earned the right to carry this with you from now on."

Flitz beamed with pride and pleasure. He strapped the quiver and then the bow across his back, feeling like a real Centaur. Wearing this symbol of maturity would make him that much closer to adulthood.

"You can go and eat now." The young Centaur thanked him and trotted quickly away.

The Herd Mentor watched him go away, proudly displaying his new possession to any who would look. A smile of affection came to his face. He sensed another presence, and his smile deepened. Bane had looked flustered when he'd learned that a Pure One had been present at the Ritual. Others among the Herd had been surprised and embarrassed as well. It was a sign that Flitz was favored by the fates, and therefore that his isolation had been a mistake. The unexpected development got them thinking and that was a good thing.

"Blessings to you, Lyman."

"Blessings to you, Bane."

"How is he doing?" asked the Herd Master gruffly, nodding toward where Flitz had gone.

"I am pleased," replied the old Centaur simply.

Bane grunted. He had been trained by this Herd Mentor, and he had seen countless other Centaurs pass through his harsh schooling. He had not heard these words spoken very often. Lyman was a difficult enough teacher to satisfy, let alone to please.

The two stood silently together in the clearing. The first stars were starting to show and, like every Centaur did at least once every night, they looked up and searched the heavens for Signs. Not everyone saw the same thing, and often there was nothing special to observe, but tonight the Patriarch star was unusually bright, and several other clues pointed toward a vague menace.

"Trouble looms, and he will ask about Firenze," said Lyman, indirectly asking Bane for the new official position of the Herd.

Bane was torn between his lingering anger toward the traitor, and his strong sense of duty toward the Herd. Others would see the Signs and wonder. The Herd had been divided on that issue, and his decision to banish Firenze had brought it to within a fraction of a permanent rift. They would ask for his ruling again, and if he wasn't convincing enough, then that could happen anyway.

The unity of the Herd was paramount, and he didn't know what to do. He turned toward the Herd Mentor.

"You will advise me, and then I will decide."

After saying these words, he looked pointedly at Lyman and went away. The old Centaur hid his amusement at the admission of doubt, wrapped up in the delegation of finding a solution. Bane was a good traditional leader, unwavering when he felt a decision was needed, but he was smart enough to understand when he couldn't force an issue. Lyman knew that he had the authorization to explain the situation to Firenze's son, and in practice influence the fate of both Centaurs. It was an important responsibility, but it didn't bother him. It was much easier for him than for Bane who would have to take the actual decision.

But that's what leaders are for.

Some times later, Flitz came back from eating, the bow still proudly strapped on his back. He approached the older Centaur diffidently.

"I am ready master," he said, hoping that they would start actual archery training.

"We have spent enough time on one subject," said Lyman, dashing his hopes. "Tonight we will review the medicine plants."

Transitions Ch13 - 8