Cast yourself (you are the spell)

Chapter 23

Thursday night finds the professors of Hogwarts convening in the Forbidden Forest. They all have their thickest robes on, some shivering from the cold.

Others grumble as to what they're doing in the middle of the forest instead of their usual meeting spot in Dumbledore's office. Nevertheless, they follow the old man as he walks calmly through the eerie environment.

After a short trek, Dumbldore suddenly stops and turns to them.

"I understand that you are all probably wondering as to what we are doing here," he sympathizes, pausing as if waiting for something. He hears nothing and continues. "Indeed, we are waiting for the leader of the centaurs. He wishes to discuss matters of the prophecy with all of us."

In seconds, the staff begins to hear the harsh sound of hoof beats against the ground. Many take out their wands in fright, but Dumbledore signals them to put the magical sticks away.

"Ahh. Firenze!" he greets warmly as a large centaur comes trotting in followed by others. The half-man, half-horse welcomes the headmaster kindly to his forest, to which the old man makes a comment about the weather.

"I am afraid we have more important affairs to discuss than the rain, which-I confess-has not let up for several weeks," Firenze says solemnly. Dumbledore gestures for him to continue. "The Forest is barren now. It knows no life or death. The sun does not shine-the moon does not gleam. Flowers hold no beauty, the sky has no color. Spirits and ghosts do not wander along the trees any longer. I admit, I cannot say for certain whether the creatures of this forest still reside here. If so, they are hiding, somewhere of which I cannot uncover.

"The only sign of any activity whatsoever is a a single spark of fire that lies directly in the middle of this land. Sometimes...sometimes..."

"It's okay, Firenze," Dumbledore tells him kindly. "Go on if you can. Say nothing if you must."

Firenze nods, his large, naked chest filling with a heavy breath.

"Sometimes I see shapes in the flames of which this fire ignites. Shapes, like magical animals. There are two of them-one forms a mighty dragon, the other, an enormous wolf. They are equal in size, and one does not transcend the other." He takes another deep breath, as if trying to muster the strength to proceed. "At first glance, these animals appear as though they are fighting. The wolf bites the tail of the dragon, and the dragon breathes fire at the wolf. Yet, take a deeper look, and I swear they are almost dancing, my friend!"

He stumbles over his words in subdued excitement as he speaks. His people make small murmurs of agreement behind him.

"Can you describe this dance?" Dumbledore inquires, completely vexed. Firenze knits his eyebrows together.

"I cannot do it enough justice, but if I were to try..." He thinks for a long moment. He had always been the type of centaur who liked to have his way with words. "I would say it was like they were moving in circles. One step forward, two steps back, not anything more, not anything less."

Dumbledore looks off into the distance as the centaur concludes. "Thank you very much, Firenze. I will keep our conversation in mind, and I will get back to you as soon as possible with a solution, if it should ever come to me at all."

Firenze thanks him as well before galloping off into the distance with his companions. Dumbledore turns to his staff once again. He finds half of them in a daze, their thoughts still plagued by the centaur's words.

"While I am more than aware that we are all deeply perplexed by this turn of events," Dumbledore starts. "I will not allow any of you to discuss it until the morning. We cannot begin to analyze something we have no knowledge in. Furthermore, it is growing late already. We mustn't waste time."