Thicker Than Water: Year Six

Chapter 23 - Of Giants and Beasts

True to his word, after the initial few days of his recovery, Remus began to write frequently to Harry, in the diary he had bought him for his last birthday. Sean was sent for, and Remus wrote that he was glad his son hadn't been at home the day after the battle at Azkaban: Sean had been quite shaken up by his father's injuries. It brought home the reality of the war in the wizarding world to the young schoolboy as nothing else could have done. Harry promised Remus he would look out for his son. Sure enough, upon his return to Hogwarts, Sean sought him out and Harry spent some time telling him all about Voldemort, and the old but divisive issues he had thrust back into the collective psyche.

Remus also wrote scathing criticism of the Minister of Magic. He likened Amos Diggory to the deceased Bartemius Crouch and his reign during the first war with Voldemort. Remus explained that Crouch had been ruthless in his pursuit of evil, often resorting to questionable methods of finding and apprehending the Death Eaters of the time. Harry had heard some of those stories during his Triwizard Tournament year, when Percy worked for Crouch and the younger Crouch taught him Defence Against the Dark Arts, in Moody's name.

It was chilling to hear Diggory described in those same terms. Remus lambasted the man for cutting a deal with the Dementors, who had resumed guardianship of Azkaban. The cost had been the souls of any new prisoners who were Death Eaters. One Death Eater had just recently been apprehended and turned over to the Dementors to feast on. Though Harry knew him to still be a top-security inmate, haunting images of Lucius Malfoy facing hungry Dementors wracked his dreams. Harry thought uneasily of Sirius: had his Godfather been turned over for a Dementor's Kiss all those years ago, he would never have had the chance to know him, and to be convinced of his innocence.

The general public continued to be enamoured with Amos Diggory, and the Daily Prophet gave his hard-line approaches their stamp of approval. But Remus told a different view of the Minister's aggressive and often dangerous directives. Undertones of dissatisfaction plagued the Ministry especially amongst the Aurors, the ultimate enforcers of the fight against Voldemort. The Order of the Phoenix continued to consult with Diggory, but their paths had diverged and Dumbledore's supporters consistently made greater headway with their offences against the Death Eaters.

Harry read the latest entry from Remus, written in the early hours of the morning while Harry had been asleep. After digesting the contents, he tore out the pages and incinerated them with his wand-tip. The stories and rumours Remus related in the journal's pages firmed his determination to face Voldemort again sooner, not later.

Opening his trunks to pull out the day's clothing, Harry pondered the vials containing the Revellius potion and wondered when the time would come to use it. Sighing, he closed the trunk lid on the two bottles, the heavy feeling of anticipation accompanying him like a constant companion as he set about in his daily routine. That morning's defence training was his best ever: he managed to keep both Bill and Neville at bay for quarter of an hour, using both his wands in a double duel.

*

Malfoy's arrogance appeared to have flared up again, and his superior tones were heard with greater regularity around the school. He routinely made snide comments to Hufflepuffs and threatening ones to muggle-born students. Harry saw that, for all his swagger, Malfoy's entourage had shrunk to one. Though Crabbe was always at his side, Goyle had put a distance between himself and his fellow roommate, and seemed to go out of his way to avoid getting too close to Malfoy. Theodore Nott was regularly seen talking to the ferret, but their interactions lacked the warmth of a real friendship.

Taking a short-cut to the library one evening - down a hidden passage that gave Harry and Luna a few minutes of light snogging en route - they emerged from behind a tapestry to see Ginny cornered in the hallway by Malfoy and Crabbe. The boys had their backs to Harry and Luna, and didn't see the coming.

"...Forget your Gryffindor boyfriend, I'll give you a taste of a real man!" Malfoy said maliciously, eyeing her curvy figure with glinting eyes. "I'll even pay - that way, you'll finally have a few sickles to your name."

Crabbe snickered. Ginny's freckles seemed to jump out from her pale face, but her eyes were narrowing into angry slits as she raised her wand arm defensively. Just as Harry and Luna had stepped out from behind the tapestry, the library door opened at the far end of the corridor, and Ron walked out with Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein.

Seeing Malfoy and Crabbe closing in on Ginny, Ron rushed forward furiously. "If you touch one hair on my sister, Malfoy, Merlin help you, they'll be sending you home by owl post!"

"Are you sure your wand won't explode, Weasley?" taunted Malfoy, nonetheless backing away from Ginny. Terry and Anthony came up behind Ron, who had his wand pointed at the Slytherin's face.

Before any of the others had a chance to attack, Ginny snapped out of her momentary paralysis and shouted, "Peos Reducto!"

Malfoy let out a sudden, high-pitched screech. He turned a panicked face to Crabbe, hands flying to the crotch of his pants. Doubling over, Malfoy fled as quickly as he could, his half-witted goon in tow.

Ron looked up at Ginny's raised wand in astonishment and said, "What on earth did you just hit him with...?"

"Let's just say he'll be singing falsetto for a while..." said Luna in an amused voice, when Ginny continued to stare angrily down the hall and didn't answer Ron's question. She hurried over to comfort her friend, but Ginny shook her off. She assured them that she was fine; though still shaking from the confrontation, her eyes blazed with an angry fire.

Muttering darkly about the incident, Terry and Anthony finally left, seeing that Ginny had friends to accompany her back to Gryffindor Tower. As they walked, Ron asked, "What exactly did you do to Malfoy?"

"A little bit of human transformation Harry taught us," said Ginny quietly, "I shrunk his willy down to the size of a bean."

Ron mouth fell open in shock, and he tried to speak but not a sound came out. When he finally managed a few words, he spluttered at Harry, "You actually taught them how to do something like that?" Harry nodded, and Ron murmured, "Sadist!"

"He deserved that, Ron!" snarled Ginny, and Harry noticed that Ron nodded appreciatively, looking at his sister with the utmost respect and no little amount of fear.

Ron fell back, pulling at Harry's arm to put a bit of distance between themselves and the girls. "Er... Harry, who else did you teach that transformation to? Did Hermione learn it?"

"In fact, she got it as soon as I showed her; even I can't do that hex properly!" Harry told him.

"I should hope not!" Ron said, lamenting, "But did you have to teach Hermione...?"

"Why are you worried? You're not giving her any reasons to use that one, are you?" Harry asked coolly.

"Of course not!" replied Ron, shocked.

Harry shook his head. "It's only right she should learn how to defend herself, with low-life like Malfoy and his father out there. She is muggle-born, after all! And it worked for Ginny..."

"That it did," murmured Ron.

"I'm just worried that Malfoy will come up with some kind of revenge; that's definitely his style. I've asked Luna to keep an eye on Ginny; maybe you and Hermione should try keeping tabs on her too," Harry said. Ron agreed, and they caught up with Luna and Ginny again.

*

Harry sat working diligently on a roll of parchment that was due the next day in Transfiguration. He had successfully turned it into a parrot then transfigured it into a quilt with the same colours as the bird's feathers had been; the difficult part was actually churning out twelve-inches of coherent description about the process, once he turned the quilt back into parchment.

Hermione rushed breathlessly into the Gryffindor common room and, sighting Harry, hurried over to him. Pulling at his arm, she gasped, "I need you! Now!"

"Not another woman throwing herself at you, Evangy!" called out the obnoxious fourth-year from his armchair. Harry quickly closed his potions textbook and stuffed it in his bag, glaring at the younger boy. Hermione dragged him out of the common room and up to the Prefects' bathroom. She uttered the password - "Dentifrice" - and yanked him inside behind her.

Before Harry could even ask, she launched into a panicked dialogue. "Listen to this, Harry! I just heard it from Susan Bones who was with Hannah when Pansy Parkinson came to see them, and she was crying! Hannah's all upset now - you know she hates Malfoy since he practically molested her in the Great Hall. And Pansy was scared of being found with the Hufflepuffs, and Susan just told me what happened..."

"Would you slow down, Hermione!" Harry insisted, putting a hand to her mouth to stem the torrent of words that were rushing out. "I don't understand what you're saying when you speak so fast!"

Hermione took a deep breath and began again, more coherently this time. "Pansy Parkinson walked in on a huge row between Goyle and Malfoy. She heard Malfoy saying that, for the price of a little muggle-torture, they could join the club. Goyle was yelling that he wanted no part of that scene, and that Malfoy was getting in way over his head. Malfoy told Goyle that his father would sooner see him dead than let Goyle just walk away. Anyway, Pansy ran off before they saw her, and she told Susan what she had heard. They're friends from this year's Herbology class, and she was crying that she needed somebody she could trust to talk to..."

"So, what, Malfoy's planning on joining the Death Eaters now?" asked Harry incredulously.

Hermione, her eyes round, replied, "Yes, that's exactly it! Ron's off practising Quidditch and I just had to tell somebody, I couldn't wait!"

Harry walked back and forth across the spacious bathroom, thinking, So that's what the little ferret is up to! He muttered aloud, "There's be more muggle deaths, more lives lost! I've got to end this already!"

Hermione started and pulled on Harry's sleeve again, trying to get him to stop pacing. "No, Harry, I didn't mean... I just thought you should know! Don't go getting involved with that sorry excuse for a person; Malfoy's not worth getting tangled up with those Death Eaters again! There's the Order, and now the Ministry... We could tell Dumbledore..."

Harry had stopped walking and stood facing Hermione. The cold look on his face made her shudder, as he said in a low voice, "You don't understand, do you Hermione? This isn't about muggles or Malfoy or what that rotten git's plans are. It's all about me and Voldemort. Last year, I was Voldemort's secret weapon; this year, I'm the wizarding world's last hope. What do you think this disguise is all about?" He indicated his face and hair. "This isn't just respite schooling for poor old Harry! I actually got to hear the prophecy, in Dumbledore's office, after we went to the Ministry. Once again, I'm a tool; I'm the only who can defeat that evil megalomaniac! It's his death or mine, Hermione."

Frozen to her spot, Hermione gasped and her eyes filled with tears. "Harry, no! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell Ron?"

"Like you've given me plenty of opportunity!" he snapped, then relented. "I don't want to get into that again. Even presumed dead, I'm still a marked man."

In a dull monotone, Harry told her the precise wording of the prophecy. Though his face remained stoically blank, he relived the fury and numb disbelief of that night in Dumbledore's office, when the old man had told him the truth. When he finished reciting, Hermione stared blankly at the floor tiles while coming to terms with the reality of those ill-fated words.

The bathroom door suddenly swung open and Ron entered, sweaty from his Quidditch practice, peeling off his robe for a bath. When his head emerged from under his robe, he looked in puzzled surprise from his best mate to his girlfriend and back. "What are you two doing in the Prefect's bathroom?" he demanded suspiciously.

The silence deepened, the Hermione said softly, "You've got to tell him, Harry."

Harry looked at his friends and began to feel himself sliding into that pit of despair that he always tried to keep at bay; it was a montage filled with images of howling victims, highlighting Sirius' graceful fall backwards through the veil, featuring Voldemort's high, cruel laughter. In an oddly choked voice, Harry said, "You tell him, Hermione! I simply can't."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Darkness was descending by the time Harry got around to the far end of the lake. He crouched down at the spot where he and Sirius had been overcome by Dementors, and raked his fingers through the dirt. Talking to the night air, Harry murmured, "Sirius! Where are you? Come back now..."

But of course, the answer wasn't in the mist gathering on the lake, or in the cool evening

air; it lay dormant and waiting to be called up from the glassy surface in his pocket. Harry was compelled to reach in and withdraw the small mirror, staring heartsick at his own reflection in its surface.

"Sirius Black, loquitur ab imo aevum!" He spoke the words clearly but quietly, as though uttering them against his better judgement. The lines that crackled over the mirror's surface obscured his own reflection, but made it impossible to see anything else either. Harry stared a while at the stormy lines until he suddenly realised that Sirius' features were resolving themselves somewhat through the haze.

"Speak to me, Sirius! Speak!"

It was as much lip-reading as hearing when Harry perceived the shadow of his Godfather speak the word "Vengeance!" Then Sirius seem to get farther from the mirror, and Harry caught one more word: "Freedom..." Sirius appeared to raise his hand towards Harry but, again, the other figures swarmed towards the surface. They leered at him, lamenting, hungry, and their seemed to be a unified cry, "Revenge!" "Avenge us!" "Flesh for sins will set us free!"

The last cry was an echoed whisper as the lines crackled more furiously and the images faded into obscurity. Harry dropped the mirror onto the ground as though he had been stung. He stared at it in horror and said aloud, "I am going crazy!"

Backing away from the mirror, Harry came to the edge of the lake, and stared dispiritedly at it. A movement under the water some ways to his left caused ripples to flow smoothly outwards, towards him.

His pendant seemed to glow warm under his shirt, and Harry pulled it out. By the feeble light of the evening, augmented by the yellow glow from his wand, Harry saw the tiny snowflake swirling purple with wild flecks of red shooting through it. His own cube was a uniform, medium grey.

It wasn't long before Luna hurried through the trees and out to the bank where he stood. She was breathless as she spoke, "Oh, Harry! I was so worried about you! I've been looking everywhere for you - what are you doing out here?"

His gaze shifted to the mirror lying darkly on the nearby ground. "I was just looking into the depths."

"There's those who drown in the depths, and those who rise above them to tread lightly on the water." Her voice was ethereal, like the misty vapour of the lake.

"Which one are you?" asked Harry quietly.

"I count myself with the living. Harry, you cannot always be torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do." Luna moved closer to him, and Harry wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"You looked into that mirror again, didn't you?" Luna asked in a whisper.

"I just wanted to try and talk to him," replied Harry unhappily. "When I thought Remus might die, I just couldn't stand... Luna, do you remember what you said to me last June, about the voices behind that veiled arch? Do you really think we'll meet the ones we love again?"

Luna nodded and said quietly, "Yes." She began to hum a piece of classical music he hadn't heard before, and Harry leaned in closer to her warmth to hear it. The evening wind had picked up speed over the length of the lake, and grazed them with its chill. Finally, Luna stopped humming and said, "We should get back. It's well after curfew by now."

Harry reluctantly pulled and, wand lit, began to scour the ground for Sirius' mirror. Luna joined in the search and found it first.

"Why don't you just leave it?" she suggested. Harry shook his head morosely, and reached out to take the mirror from her. When it was safely stowed in his pocket again, he took Luna's hand and the two walked across Hogwart's dark grounds and back to the castle.

*

In a London suburb, a key scraped in the lock of a townhouse door and the vague scent of tulips wafted through the air. A tall, bald black man in cream pants and a striped shirt escorted a much shorter companion into the hall. She wore a trim dark suit, offset by a conservative pink blouse beneath her jacket. Tottering slightly in her dress shoes, she grabbed onto the man's arm and began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Whoa there, Dorine! Remind me never to let you drink daiquiris again!" the man laughed back, steadying her as she fell onto a hall bench and yanked off the offending footwear.

"I'm so clumsy in these shoes! That's why I don't wear heels too often!" She flung them down and giggled some more. "Do you have a washroom here?"

Her friend gave her a strange look, and pointed down the hall. "I always keep one on hand in case of emergency! I'm going to be in the kitchen; I think you need a strong dose of the King's own coffee."

She laughed heartily at his play on words, then stumbled unsteadily to the bathroom. Kingsley went into a small, spotless kitchen and pointed his wand at the coffee maker, which started to drip and steam aromatically.

When she returned, Kingsley was pouring out two cups of coffee. Looking around, she said, "My goodness, what a neat kitchen! I'm a right old slob at the best of times, I don't know how you keep it so tidy."

Kingsley looked up in sharp surprise, and she muttered, "But maybe it's just the lighting. It is far too bright in here!"

"No more daiquiris is right!" Kingsley peeled out a sudden laugh, low and melodic, as he pointed his wand towards the ceiling dimming the lights significantly. "There, that should make your eyes feel better. I've never met anyone whose drinks go to her head as quickly as you, Dorine."

She moved towards the counter to get her coffee, tripping clumsily into the tall man. He reached out an arm to steady her, then suddenly pulled her close against him.

"May I have this dance?" he asked graciously, waving his wand towards a wall unit where quiet music began to play. Dropping his wand on a table, he waltzed her skilfully around the small, darkened room. She was caught up in the way he whirled her around, and the feel of his strong arms gripping her in the dance. Unexpectedly, Kingsley bent low and planted a long, tender kiss on her tiny mouth.

The warmth of the kiss combined with her intoxication left her breathless, pulling him in for more. She suddenly fell back laughing at the absurdity of the situation, though she couldn't exactly explain to herself why it was absurd. At her outburst, he laughed back and picked her up in his arms. He carried her up the stairs, all the while drawing at her lips, and moving his slow kisses down to her neck. The upstairs chamber was dark, but she didn't notice as he gently unbuttoned her blouse and explored beneath it with his sensitive hands. She responded eagerly, moving in time to the magic in his wand.

Later in the night, a startling snore caused Tonks' eyes to fly open. They darted wildly for a moment before resting on the heavy black arm that lay draped against her own unnaturally darkened skin, fully exposed to the cool night air. A suddenly sober Tonks, disguised as Dorine Evangy, stifled an alarmed cry. She rolled uneasily out from under Kingsley's arm, freezing guiltily as he turned in his sleep.

Once she was off the edge of the bed, Tonks searched fruitlessly for her wand but couldn't find it. With the moonlight filtering in through the window, she hurriedly gathered her clothes. Before she turned and fled, she looked back once more her colleague, the innocently sleeping Kinglsey Shacklebolt. "Oh dear Merlin, what have I done?" whispered the horrified Tonks, her clothes clutched to her chest, eyes round with shock.

At the bottom of the stairs, she quickly dressed and found her wand on the counter in the dimly lit kitchen. Echoes of Moody's mantra, "Constant vigilance!" rang ironically in her ears. Grabbing her shoes in her hands, Tonks ran off into the night, desperate to escape before Kingsley woke up.

*

Ever since their encounter at Grimmuald Place, Snape had reverted to his historic, abusive treatment of Harry. Though he didn't blow Harry's cover with personal snide remarks, he reverted to cool criticism at every turn. Harry's performance in the class fell somewhat from its unimpeachable standard of the rest of the year. His blood boiled as the oily potions master paced up and down the dungeon aisles looking for some flaw to remark on. As a result, Harry started to make small slip-ups, such as overheating a potion, or adding too much powdered dragon-claw.

The day's potion completed, Harry bottled and corked a sample and set it down hastily on Snape's desk. He turned quickly away from the professor, when a smashing sound caught his attention. Harry rotated slowly on the spot, to find his labelled bottle lying on the dungeon floor. He glared furiously at Snape, who silently dared him to make a scene in front of the rest of the class.

"Uh, Leo, here's another sample of your potion," Hermione called, holding up a ladle and a bottle from beside his cauldron. Harry went and retrieved it from her, and placed it ever so gently on the desk with the others. Several students putting away potion supplies had looked over curiously, and it was clear that Snape couldn't knock over his vial again with an audience looking on.

"It's a good thing, Mr. Evangy, that you have Miss Granger around to bail you out," said Snape in his most provocative voice. Harry turned on heel and walked angrily away.

Harry hurried out of potions in a fury, shaking Hermione off near the dungeon doors. He was still shaking with anger when he ran into Neville, who was also heading back to Gryffindor Tower. Neville began to talk about a project he and Eloise were planning over the summer, which involved breeding hybrid plants with the intent of magnifying their magical properties; the work was to be conducted under the supervision of Professor Sprout and would count for a seventh-year credit. Harry nodded, but he wasn't really listening. His blood was still boiling at the unfair treatment Snape was again meting out.

They walked into the common room to find knots of younger students standing around gossiping in scandalised voices. Colin Creevey extricated himself from the nearest group and walked over to Harry and Neville. "Did you hear the news?"

Neville shook his head, but Harry just stared at Colin apprehensively. Colin said, "Death Eaters attacked Hogsmeade this afternoon! Professor Trelawney told us that they brought a Heliopath to burn up the shops! And then - guess what?"

Colin had bated breath, as if the best was yet to come. The slim first-year, Peter Pevensie, had just climbed in through the portrait hole and edged closer to them to hear the tale. Harry, irritated by Colin's unnecessary melodrama but eager to find out what had occurred, growled, "What? What happened?"

Dropping his voice to a shocked whisper, Colin said, "Hagrid showed up in the middle of the attack, and he brought a giant!"

Neville made the appropriate sounds of surprise and Peter gasped in surprise, but Harry found goosebumps rising on his skin. "And then...?"

"The giant fought the Heliopath, and it was burning him but then he smashed and killed it. And then the Death Eaters started hexing the giant, and he killed a couple of them! But they surrounded the giant - who can't do any magic - until they brought him down! They all disapparated after that. Can you believe it?"

"No," said Harry, icy fingers gripping his heart in a terrible squeeze.

"Where did Hagrid get a giant?" the first-year student asked.

"He was hiding it in the Forbidden Forest, that's what Professor Trelawney told us!" Colin squeaked excitedly.

Peter looked thoughtful and said in a soft voice, "Well, that explains it: that's probably why the Centaurs have been so mean lately. They can't stand being near giants..."

Neville and Colin nodded their heads, but Harry, after scanning the room for his closest friends, quickly excused himself and hurried out the portrait hole.

He soon found Ron and Hermione huddled together at the back of the library; Ron was holding Hermione's hand, while she sobbed inconsolably into the sleeve of her robe. Ron looked up anxiously at Harry and asked, "Did you hear about...?"

"Is Grawp...?" Harry interrupted urgently.

"Dead," Ron replied, wearing a sad and solemn face.

Harry's face went ashen at the news. The three friends huddled together in a moment of emotional sympathy. Then Harry abruptly pulled away and said, "I'm going to see Hagrid."

Hermione lifted a tear-stained face, her eyes red and puffy, and hissed, "No! You mustn't tell him - your disguise...!"

"Damn this disguise!" Harry replied in an angry whisper. "Hagrid needs us now, and I'm sick of hiding behind a stranger's face...!"

"Fine! Tell him who you are!" Hermione's ire was raised and pushed her grief from the forefront. "Tell him, but not now! Don't mix the two up! He needs a bit of time to deal with the loss of his brother. If you tell him later, you might actually manage to help him once the initial shock is over!"

Ron pushed himself between Hermione's determination and Harry's stony expression. "We'll go and see him, now. He won't be alone in this ordeal, I promise you, Har--Leo. Please listen to Hermione, and give him a day or two at least."

Harry slowly deflated and nodded his acquiescence as Ron and Hermione turned to leave the library. He followed them to the end of the corridor, then turned his steps to a fourth floor hallway that had windows overlooking the section of the grounds containing Hagrid's hut. He watched as Ron and Hermione appeared below, walking quickly from the castle to the gamekeeper's cottage. They stood outside the door for a minute, then it opened and they went inside.

Then, another series of movements caught Harry's eye. At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a small, familiar figure stood talking to what appeared to be... Centaurs. Four or five of them stood in a circle around the boy; they turned to one another in consultation, and more than one gesture was made to the skies above. The Centaurs appeared to come to some resolution, and the boy pointed into the Forest. A tawny feline form emerged from the trees and led the way back into the Forest; the Centaurs followed, and the boy brought up the rear.

Harry was puzzled, but decided he wanted more details about the attack in Hogsmeade, and made his way down to an early dinner in the Great Hall. When he arrived down the sweeping staircase to the Entrance Hall, he saw the front doors open and none other than the lithe first-year Gryffindor, Peter Pevensie, talking to Firenze at the threshold.

Firenze pawed the stone landing, and Peter bowed his head apologetically. He then came towards the marble staircase, passing Harry with a small nod, an enthusiastic smile plastered on the boy's face. Firenze, on the other hand, stood with shoulders drooping, wearing a gloomy expression.

Harry walked over to the desolate Centaur. "Have you received bad news, sir?"

Firenze raised his head with a look of sad wisdom, and shook his fair head. "The other Centaurs have left the Forest. All except the old and the weary. They have found a more-- ideal place to dwell, where they need not answer to humans, nor share their ground with them. What is left of the herd will welcome me back; I will no longer be forced to live in the castle."

"Well, er, that's a good thing, isn't it?" asked Harry.

"I suppose it is... They wouldn't have taken me with them anyway," Firenze said, a breeze from outside the castle lifting his blond tresses. "And yet, we cannot all go searching for a Garden of Eden, Mr. Evangy. I have made my choice, and I stand by it. I will gather the remaining Centaurs. They will cleave to me, and there will be peace again between the Centaurs and the Humans, at least in this Forest."

The mighty creature lifted his sad head to the heavens, its markers still obscured by the light of day. "This journey of theirs - who would have thought it? It was not foretold in the stars, in any of the constellations... Who would have guessed at the coming of the One? Those who rejected me, they did not really understand. Sometimes anomalies will happen, spiting even the heavens themselves. And now I must go, Mr. Evangy. I will gather the willing as allies, and we will face the Darkness side by side with our two-legged friends and neighbours."

With those words, the palomino Centaur tossed his head and galloped off towards the Forbidden Forest. Harry was left with an immense sense of loss, as though - in addition to the death of Grawp - some mighty sacrifice has been made that day, in the name of peace.