A Deepening Shadow – Part 1

A/N's

Aurochs – an extinct species of wild cattle. The bulls' horns were around 80cm (31 inches) long and 20cm (roughly 8 inches) in diameter at the base.

The chapter in The Lord of the Rings which fired Toby's imagination is: The Ride of the Rohirrim – Chapter V of Book V in The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkein, 1955.

"Good oil" – trustworthy information.

Vānara (Hindu mythology) – an ape-like humanoid with magical powers.

Kali Yuga – the last of four ages the world goes through before being renewed. Described in the Indian scriptures as the 'Age of Vice'.

The historical character 'Subāhu' is borrowed from the Indian epic, The Ramayana, as is his ability to cause a rain of blood and mangled flesh. I have altered the circumstances of this delightful entity and his modus operandi for the purposes of this fic. No disrespect is intended towards the storytelling traditions of India... or any rakshasa who might be reading over someone's shoulder.

Pugsley Addams is the property of the cartoonist Charles Addams, and I make no profit from his character.

Canon characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from them.

Linlawless bravely beta-read this chapter. I thank her profusely, and I also convey my gratitude to Minikitty for not hissing when Lin opened the document.

Bane led the way, placing each hoof with practised care as he stealthily moved between the mist-wreathed boles of ancient trees. Behind him, Ronan and Magorian scanned to the left and right, occasionally looking back along the way they had come. Skilfully mingled with the night noises of the Forest, call signals from patrolling centaur triads slid through the mist and the dark – the hoot of an owl, the bark of a fox, the growl of a Thestral, the nervous snort of a unicorn.

An unseen drift of leaves rustled softly ahead of them. Bane sent his own signal: the guttural hiss of a weasel. There was no countersign. The three centaurs halted. Bane and Ronan drew their bows. Magorian held an arrow loosely nocked to his bowstring with one hand and reached down to touch the aurochs horn slung at his side with the other.

Bane held his breath and listened. The faintest whisper of a sound reached his ears: the furtive friction of cloth on skin.

Bane reared and pivoted in an explosive burst of motion, shooting his arrow at the source of the sound. A bolt of green fire passed through the space his chest had recently occupied and seared into a tree, sending shards of smouldering bark in all directions.

Ronan covered Bane's flank and loosed his arrow before the green light faded. A muffled grunt of pain and a heavy thud confirmed Ronan's arrow had found its mark.

Magorian charged after the retreating footsteps of a second trespasser, swerving as a hex narrowly missed his upper arm. Without breaking stride, he aimed and shot, then cursed as he heard his arrow deflected into the ground. His quarry kept running. Magorian raised the aurochs horn to his lips and used the combined force of his human and equine lungs to bring a sound to the Forbidden Forest that had not been heard for over nine hundred years.

Ronan reared and pawed the air with a savage yell of exultation as the horns of the scattered centaur triads sounded in answer.

Bane quickly secured the writhing, wounded prisoner. He took a parchment-wrapped cylinder from his quiver. Looking up to make sure no tree branches were in the way, he violently threw it to the ground and leapt clear. Just as Firenze had assured him it would, the cylinder detonated with a dazzling flash and sent a dense column of bright orange sparks high into the night sky.

Severus bounded out of bed as an unearthly sound rolled over the castle in a wild, primal challenge.

Clawing her way to wakefulness, Hermione wrestled into a winter-weight bathrobe, pushing another such garment into Severus' hands as she moved to stand beside him.

Gratefully accepting the insulation, Severus backed away from the window when a jet of orange sparks shot skyward from the depths of the Forbidden Forest, hidden behind the sloping shoulder of a low hill. "One of Pugsley's flash-bangs," he commented automatically, still trying to gauge the nature of the disturbance.

The shadowy forms of Aurors on brooms swooped from the watch towers and converged on the source of the sparks.

Severus mentally probed the wards. "It seems the castle is not under direct attack," he affirmed. Hermione nodded warily. Both had their wands ready. Another volley of sound poured into the air in a sonorous harmony of tone and pitch.

"What is that?" Hermione breathed, feeling her magic respond to the resonance in a series of powerful surges.

"Horns, of some kind," Severus postulated, his own magic throbbing restively in his fingertips. "My guess is that they are being sounded by centaurs. Nothing else in the Forest has that kind of lung capacity. That is, nothing else we know of." He quirked an eyebrow at Hermione's suddenly wistful expression. She turned to him with her eyes brimming with tears.

"They sound... so free, fierce, and indomitable. I am ashamed of myself, Severus."

Mystified, Severus grasped her shoulders and searched her eyes. "Whatever for?"

"When Parvati told me Firenze was teaching Divination, she asked me if I regretted ditching the subject. I told her I wasn't too keen on horses."

Severus could not hide his surprise at the admission. "I assume that was a throwaway line? You, of all people, would not deliberately deploy a personal slight on Firenze."

"But I did! I used a throwaway line, never thinking I was applying it to a proud race with their own traditions and history – and dignity. I was no better than anybody else who treats them with suspicion and scorn!"

Severus quickly dispensed with the idea of saying he felt another S.P.E.W.-like symptom coming on. Hermione was deadly serious and, by the fire in her eyes, was considering a whole new cause to fight for. Before he could think of a suitably sensitive response, the Floo in his study activated. Minerva's sleep-burred brogue drifted up from the ashes.

"Severus? Sorry to wake you – if you are not awake already after that extraordinary commotion. The centaurs have apprehended a Death Eater. He is wounded, and the Aurors are taking him to..."

Severus scowled with apprehension as the message abruptly ceased. He raised his wand to summon his clothes, quirking an eyebrow when he found that Hermione had already done it for him and was nearly dressed.

The Floo activated again. This time, Minerva sounded wide awake and very alarmed. "They had him... Travers, it was... Dementors... They attacked... Drove the Aurors back. The Aurors counterattacked with Patronus Charms... There were too many Dementors. One of them ate Travers' soul. The centaurs...

"Severus, come to the Great Hall at once! Bring Hermione; I assume she is with you."

Wrapped in his warm cloak, Toby silently cursed at the lack of vantage point from his window. He could not see where the sound had come from, or what had made it. As he gazed out into the darkness, a flickering orange light, like the glow from distant fireworks, illuminated the sky somewhere to the north. His blood jumped in his veins when he heard the sound again.

Some years before, he had read The Lord of the Rings in its entirety, simply because it was too bloody hot to do much else. Even as a boy, Toby had not considered imagination as a thing worth his indulgence, yet he had lost himself in the book's pages – something he would never have thought possible. His favourite chapter described the arrival of the Rohirrim at the siege of Minas Tirith. At the time, Toby had wondered what the massed war-horns of Rohan might have sounded like as six thousand cavalry thundered into a furious charge.

He now considered that he had his answer.

"Tocky? You around?"

The house-elf appeared, holding a large, brown teapot from which steam slowly curled. "Yes, Master Tobias. Tocky is always knowing when Master is awakes."

"D'y know what that noise was?"

"Tocky is not being certain. Tocky only knows it is coming from the Forbidden Forest. Tocky has not heards it before."

Toby scowled thoughtfully. He made his way to the bathroom and picked up the Llygad. Noting the time, nearly four in the morning, he dismissed the idea of more sleep. "Merlin," he said out loud, weighing the object in his hand as the niggling ghost of an idea resumed its haunting with fervour.

Tocky paused in his pouring of tea. "Merlin, Master Tobias?"

"Yeah, Merlin. Can you tell me anythin' about 'im?"

The house-elf blinked in astonishment. "Tocky can – if Master Tobias is requiring it."

"Ta, mate," Toby said, accepting a mug of tea. "I is o-fficially requirin' the good oil on this Merlin bloke."

Poor Tocky was completely perplexed. "Good oils...?"

From the shade of the enormous main stupa, Master Vu, Sage of Borobudur, listened as Oriens recited the most difficult sūtras known to Eastern magic.

Standing before one of the sixteen smaller, perforated stupas, Oriens chanted with perfect pronunciation, unlocking the power held within the words until his magic pulsed around him in a halo of light. On the final syllable, he positioned his hands to match those of the Buddha seated within the stupa. A section of stone rippled and vanished. With a flash of white light and a crack like distant thunder, a scroll appeared in the statue's lap. Entering the stupa, Oriens sat at the Buddha's feet. He took the scroll and began to read.

Master Vu slowly exhaled. Oriens had been one of the most adept pupils he had ever taught, and the venerable sage had great confidence in his skill. However, the Scroll of the Downward Spiral was a dangerous work to study. Oriens would need all of his objective detachment to read its contents without being drawn into the Spiral himself. Master Vu would stay and watch, ready to act if his aid was needed. Summoning a Vānara, he politely requested a pot of ginger tea and two jade cups and settled down to wait.

With Hermione close behind him, Severus stepped through the Floo into the Great Hall, coming to an abrupt halt as he beheld the completely unexpected. He gave a startled grunt as Hermione cannoned into him, drawing the attention of a great number of temporarily re-housed portraits, a small assembly of Aurors, two armed centaurs, and a frazzled headmistress.

He recovered himself quickly and included the stern-faced Bane in a general exchange of courtesies. Bane stared at him for a moment, then turned to whisper something to Firenze. The palomino centaur listened solemnly, then signalled to Minerva, Severus, and Hermione to follow him out of earshot from the Aurors.

"We need to confer in private," he said. "What the planets have revealed cannot be held silent. We waited for signs to tell us when to speak – now we have them. Headmistress, please send for Minister Shacklebolt." Firenze waited until Minerva's silver cat streaked away with its tail at maximum bristle. "I need your permission to bring Tobias to the counsel we intend to give."

Minerva raised a hand to her throat and glanced uneasily at Severus. "May I ask why he should be present? I mean..." She searched for words. Severus narrowed his eyes. Minerva could feel the raw edge of his power as he folded his arms. "Would it be advisable?"

Firenze regarded them both seriously. "Advisable or not, he needs to be here."

"Why?" Severus' question snarled between them like an angry predator.

"Tobias is one of the signs," Firenze answered, completely unperturbed. He looked from Minerva to Hermione and Severus, and back again.

Minerva adjusted her shawl. "Severus, I have some idea of your opinion on..." She steeled herself. "Are the centaurs asking too much?"

Severus glared at the floor, a sullen fire lurking in his black eyes. "At least you have the courtesy to ask me, Minerva. Albus would have gone ahead and done it regardless of anybody's opinion." He saw Hermione watching him anxiously and, with an effort, recovered his impregnability. "If you must. I assume I have to be present?"

Firenze nodded an affirmative. "Headmistress?"

Minerva spoke hesitantly. "Very well. I shall go and fetch him."

"That will not be necessary, Headmistress," Firenze stated. "I will bring him here. The portraits gave me detailed directions as to his whereabouts when he went exploring yesterday." The centaur raised an eyebrow at Severus' scowl of irritated disbelief. "Perhaps Severus should accompany me."

Ignoring Minerva's shocked silence, Firenze moved towards a side exit and passed through without a backward glance. After a moment, Severus swore under his breath and strode after Firenze, leaving hastily vacated portraits and trepidation in his wake.

Hermione took a suddenly pale Minerva's arm. "Do you need to sit down?" she asked.

"I didn't think Severus would take up that offer," Minerva whispered, allowing Hermione to lead her to the Hufflepuff table.

Hermione shook her head as she chewed her lower lip. "I know things were far from good between Severus and his father. I should go with them – or follow at a distance – in case I'm needed."

Minerva placed a restraining hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Not this time, Hermione. I know it isn't the most fashionable thing to say these days, but sometimes men should be left to sort out their differences in their own way. Great Merlin! I don't know what Firenze is thinking, but I hope he has not misread or underestimated either of them."

Master Vu stood as Oriens carefully rolled the Scroll of the Downward Spiral and placed it in the Buddha's lap. The mid-afternoon sun poured a relentless assault of stifling heat over man and beast, tree and stone, yet Master Vu knew his former pupil would be chilled to the core by the knowledge gleaned from the Scroll. As Oriens emerged from the stupa, the stonework restored itself and the Scroll faded from sight.

Oriens' pale gold eyes focussed on the waiting sage. "Master Vu," he said, pressing his palms together in the traditional gesture of acknowledgement for a revered teacher.

Master Vu smiled and pointed Oriens in the direction of the main stupa. Oriens wearily obeyed and allowed his body to sink onto a soft, woven sitting mat. After some moments of simply breathing, he vaguely realised that Master Vu, with attentive ceremony, was pouring two cups of ginger tea.

"Master, it is I who should be serving," he stated, sitting forward in protest. "You are the Sage..."

"One who would lead must know how to follow. One who would command must be content to serve," Master Vu interrupted amiably, his almond-shaped eyes briefly disappearing as his face crinkled with a beaming smile. He handed Oriens a cup of fragrant tea. "The Scroll of the Downward Spiral drains yang energy; this will amend the deficit." He signalled that Oriens should drink, but there were some traditions the Unspeakable would never relinquish.

Oriens placed the full cup on the mat. "After you, honourable Sage," he said, joining his palms once more.

The sage raised his cup and saluted Oriens. He sipped the hot liquid and sighed in contentment. "Ah, that is better. My bones insist on telling me I am beyond one hundred and twenty years old. Catching chickens is not as easy as it used to be."

Oriens blinked at this unexpected disclosure. "You were catching chickens?"

Master Vu shrugged casually. "At heart, it seems I am still a village boy from the mountains of Vietnam. I will catch chickens anywhere, anytime, no problem. Besides, they needed to be returned to their true form." He chuckled heartily. "A spell went awry in Defence classes this morning, and five first-year Initiates suddenly found they had a different embodiment to the one they were accustomed to. I cannot blame them for panicking; a black eagle chose that exact moment to have a rest on the window ledge."

Drinking gratefully, Oriens closed his eyes as yang heat vanquished the chill of the Scroll and swept away the shadows which threatened to depress both mind and magic. As his thoughts cleared, he cast a wall of silence around himself and the elderly sage. "During my time here," he began, "I learned of the three great powers which shape and move the world and everything existing in it. These powers are always in complementary motion: creating, sustaining, and dissolving."

At the sage's silent nod, Oriens continued. "The Downward Spiral is a path to destruction. At first seductive and compliant, it draws into itself sentient beings who seek to control the power of dissolution – beings who hold the mistaken belief that the power of dissolution is stronger, and more inexorable, than the powers which create and sustain.

"In such beings, the dance of the three powers falters, and becomes warped and tortured. They become cold, cruel, incapable of empathy, murderous, and remorseless: their souls enslaved to the Spiral's energy. As they descend in the Spiral, they seek to pull others down with them. They begin to desire absolute dominion. The will to destroy overtakes them – and this is what they do to anyone or anything that does not unquestioningly yield to them. As their souls weaken and fade, they draw on the energies of those who follow them in an attempt to fill the growing emptiness within."

Oriens swallowed another mouthful of tea. "Many times, the Downward Spiral has taken such blighted souls to their final place. At the very end of the Spiral, souls beyond help and healing are consumed, eaten by the creatures inhabiting that place. Master Vu, what happens to a soul after it is eaten?"

"That question has bewildered the wise since it was first asked. Some think the soul may be re-born after a time. Others say it becomes merged in the Unseen, never to appear again. Some of my peers in western lands suggest that eaten souls become more of the creatures doing the eating – Dementors, as they call them. But I do not think your mission began with a question about the destiny of souls."

Oriens pensively shook his head. "The Scroll told of events in history where acts of terrible ignorance caused profound disturbances to the motion of the three powers on a much larger scale. The resulting turmoil, sometimes lasting many decades, could be large enough to create rifts in the very substance of the world.

"The Scroll documents the first appearance of the soul-eaters, more than ten thousand years ago: 'Subāhu, servant of Dark powers, gathered his army to stand against those who defied him. With a curse that brought crippling agony to all who heard it, he caused blood and flesh to rain upon his enemies – the blood and flesh of their own children.

"So dreadful were the words he spoke, the three powers recoiled, convulsing and writhing in pain. A great rift appeared, grey and dull, disgorging a wave of paralysing cold. Through it came beings untouched by light or love, denizens of the darkest depths of the Downward Spiral. Sightless, speechless, and deathless, they gave fealty to Subāhu in return for the souls of his captives.' We know that Voldemort had a similar arrangement with Dementors."

"As did many other despots desirous of dismantling the very fabric of life and rebuilding it according to their own emaciated perception. None of them considered the inextricable danger of associating with the creatures. Reports come in daily of Dementor sightings. How many did Voldemort have in his army?"

"A number between one hundred and three hundred. But the tallies of the sightings over the past month suggest greater numbers – perhaps seven hundred or nine hundred. More than could be accounted for by confounding factors, such as double counting." Oriens took a deep breath of blood-warm air already heavy with the building moisture that would sluice down in welcome torrents when the gathering clouds could hold no more. "The Scroll contained detailed information on the circumstances in which rifts occur... Created is not the word for them: they are the results of unbridled destruction."

"You propose that another rift has recently come into existence. Movement of Dementors into our world is occurring unchallenged."

"I have found much to support the idea in the Scroll. Splitting a soul into pieces, as Voldemort did, is not enough in itself to cause a rift to form. But when a piece of a soul enslaved by intensely powerful Dark Magic passes through the Veil, this would be enough. The laws of Nature are broken, the powers stumble, and the barrier fails. Dementors cannot be destroyed, can they?"

Master Vu tucked his hands into his sleeves. "They are in our world, but they are not of it. They exist within laws that are fundamentally different to our own and so they cannot be destroyed. We may defend ourselves against them, certainly, even contain them as one would a contagion. Memory tells me there is another possibility mentioned in the Scroll."

Oriens immediately knew what Master Vu referred to, but it seemed impossible. "Send them back where they came from. Master, that would only be viable if they were massed together. The description of the magic needed to assemble them, let alone to open a rift and force them through, is power beyond my comprehension. Then the rift must be closed..."

"As you have read, Oriens, it has been done before. Only once – but it has been done. It can be done again, though not necessarily by the same means. Another rift need not be opened when one is already in existence – a saving of energy and effort if one has a mind to look for an advantage. Of course, not every Dementor in the world can be sent back. I'm afraid they will be represented among Earth's inhabitants until the end of the Kali Yuga, whenever that may be." The sage stood up. "When it is time, contact me. Borobudur will be ready to assist, as will Angkor Wat."

Severus followed Firenze at enough of a distance to make conversation impossible. He was quietly relieved that Hermione had not come along. He was completely unsure as to what the outcome of his centaur-provoked mission would be.

He tried not to be attentive as Firenze approached a broad staircase and ascended easily enough – there was a rumour that Firenze had a charm to make staircases centaur-friendly. Severus supposed that if such a charm existed, it was only applied to the more challenging, steep and narrow constructions. Firenze passed through a sconce-lit hall, then turned into a broader hall with a barrel-vaulted ceiling. Still at a distance, Severus halted when Firenze knocked at a recessed door. A house-elf appeared and, after a short, inaudible exchange, bowed Firenze into the room.

Severus waited.

In an unexpectedly short time, the door opened and Firenze reappeared, Tobias and the house-elf close behind him. Severus glared at his father, willing him to dare to meet his eyes while wishing the Muggle would just go away.

It seemed that Tobias was not about to do either. He pulled on a sheepskin jacket and knelt to address the house-elf. Severus heard the words: 'See you later, Tocky', and could stand it no longer. As the house-elf popped out of sight, Severus strode to the middle of the hall.

"You!" he hissed, slicing the air with a single word.

Toby slowly got to his feet and stared at his son. A cold ripple of fear ran through him as the reports he had read about Death Eaters and their activities came back to bend his thoughts. He took a step back and bumped into Firenze, who moved between him and Severus. Among other strange snippets of information which seemed to make no sense at all, Firenze had also told him Severus was in the immediate vicinity. At no time had the centaur given any indication that violence was on the cards.

Toby surveyed Firenze carefully. Either centaurs were unreadable to an incredible extent or Firenze still did not believe that Severus was about to kill, maim, or otherwise destroy. He decided on a perilous gamble. "Firenze, go on ahead. I'll meet you at the bottom of the stairs."

Firenze calmly raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Toby squeezed his eyes shut. God's Teeth! I just made me bloody mind up and then y' ask a question fit to unsettle a body all over again. "Yeah."

The centaur gave both humans a dignified half-bow and departed, leaving them to assess each other.

Toby was the first to break eye contact. He had forgotten how closely Severus resembled Eileen, but he had not forgotten the ferocious intensity in Eileen's eyes as she created the thing that still haunted his occasional nightmares.

Severus had the same intensity – but his was darker, deeper, and laced with restrained fury. Toby resisted the urge to retreat or plead. Somehow, he knew these actions would aggravate Severus to a point beyond reason – and neither of them needed the results of that. Steadying himself, he chose his words carefully. "I won't fight you, Sev'rus, if that's what yer 'ere for."

Severus stiffened, then relaxed into what Toby recognised as a pre-combat stance. "Why ever not? Afraid to attack someone who can fight back?"

"Fear's got nothin' to do with it. I'm not gonna raise a finger against you 'cause it's somethin' I should never 'ave done in t' first place – to you or yer mother. The drink was no excuse."

Severus gave a sarcastic snort. "Don't try to tell me that you are at all penitent. You are not evolved enough to comprehend such a sentiment..." he sneered. With sudden strides, he approached Toby and stood in front of him. "...let alone experience it," he concluded.

Close up, for they were now less than an arm's length apart, Toby could feel the sheer force of Severus' presence. Every hair on his body stirred in response. He held his ground. "Don't bet on it."

With a lightening-swift movement, Severus drew his wand and pressed the tip hard into his father's throat. After a moment, he gave a sinister smirk. "This is not a toy, I can assure you," he said, giving the wand a slight twist. "I wonder if you fully appreciate how easily I could pay you back, welt for welt, pain for pain..." His eyes flared ominously. He seized Tobias roughly by the front of his jacket and slammed him back against the stone wall.

"I know what a wand is: I seen one before," Toby gasped, instinctively gripping his assailant's wrist. Sensing a split-second pause in Severus' momentum, he pressed on. "I saw Eileen usin' 'ers one day. Only once. I gave 'er an ear-full about it 'cause..."

He flinched as Severus pressed the tip of his wand even harder into his throat. "'Cause I thought magic was trickery and games – nothin' that'd ever put food on t' table, or get a job done. That's when she fessed up about... about bein' a witch – and stuff about a wand bein' some kind of focussin' tool. I didn't believe what I saw. Didn't believe a word she said. Told meself I'd seen and 'eard nothin'."

"And?" Severus let the question hover – a scalpel poised over exposed flesh.

"Since then, I've 'ad some bloody good reasons to change me mind. Are you gonna change yours?"

Severus lowered his voice to a threatening growl. "Do. Not. Dare to assume anything concerning my intentions."

"Are you gonna kill me or not?"

"There are worse things than death," Severus snarled. Without taking his eyes off Toby or relaxing his hold, he silently pointed his wand at one of the suits of armour. The armour began to glow dull red.

Toby could feel the heat emanating from it as the glow brightened to yellow-orange. The metal slowly changed shape, distorting as though left too long in a forge.

"Finite Incantatem," Severus intoned. "I can do the same to the marrow of your bones," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah. You could." Toby stared at the deformed armour, but the only thing he felt was a profound regret mingled with sorrow. "I said I won't fight you. If you want revenge, I can't stop you."

"No. You cannot." Severus studied him disdainfully for a moment, then abruptly released him. "Move," he ordered, indicating the staircase with his wand. Revenge levels the balance; it pays back what is due, he thought bitterly as he followed a moment later. But it does not replace that which was destroyed, nor does it go back in time and undo a misdeed.

Severus had noticed his father's reaction to the sight of plate armour slowly melting in response to an effortless onslaught of magical power. He had not seen fear, or shock, or defiance. He had seen something much deeper. Something he himself was familiar with. Years of remorse and guilt left very distinctive scars.

Minerva could have wept with relief when Firenze entered the Great Hall with a noticeably dazed, but unscathed, Tobias. Firenze gave her a placid glance and a slight nod, a vague communication to indicate the absence of bloodshed. She wondered if some sort of confrontation had occurred, deciding that it had when Severus acrimoniously stalked through the door.

Any informative expression he might have worn was hidden behind his hair. He did not look at anyone. As if moving on autopilot, he went to stand beside Hermione. The two exchanged a quiet word and a fleeting touch of hands.

Minerva sighed and turned to Kingsley. "We shall adjourn to the Room of Requirement to hear what the centaurs have to say, now we are all assembled and, thankfully, in one piece."

"Looks like Firenze knew something you didn't," Kingsley replied, referring to Minerva's anxiously related misgivings about Tobias' safety in the company of an unrestrained Severus.

"Maybe," Minerva mused discreetly. She glanced at Hermione and Severus, who were now standing so close their bodies were nearly touching. "Or Severus knows he has something too valuable to risk damaging for the sake of settling a score."

With a series of succinct orders, Kingsley sent the Aurors back to guard duty on the watch-towers, then followed Minerva, Severus, Hermione, Tobias, and the centaurs into the Room of Requirement. Bane and Firenze headed for a sward of soft grass on one side of a wide table. The humans took their places in carved chairs on the other.

Everyone – except Severus – looked expectantly at Firenze, who held his hand out to accept an animal horn of huge proportions from Bane. "It has been many hundred years since these horns were sounded. Bringing them out of hiding was not an easy decision to make."

Out of habit, Hermione partially raised her hand to ask a question, then changed her mind when Severus gave her thigh a warning squeeze under the table.

Bane stamped a hoof to claim everyone's attention. "We detected intruders in the forest not long ago. As far as we know, there were two of them. Ronan will wait at the site until daylight to examine the ground for tracks. Of the two, we wounded one. The other fled and was pursued by Magorian, who curtailed the chase to avoid being led – alone – into a potential ambush.

"As planned in the event of a capture, we signalled the Aurors, who arrived promptly. They identified the prisoner as a Death Eater known as Travers." Bane paused and fidgeted, the muscles in his flanks twitched fitfully. "A Dementor came – from where we could not tell. It went straight for Travers. The Aurors cast Patronus charms, but more Dementors arrived, perhaps fifty in all." He nodded to Firenze, who continued the report.

"Our herd assembled quickly when we heard Magorian sound his horn. We arrived to find the Aurors repelling Dementors with Patronus charms. As quickly as one Dementor was thrown back, another arrived to take its place. We arrayed ourselves with the Aurors; then, I called upon the horn-bearers to sound them in unison. We did so, and true to the legends of our forbears, all the Dementors retreated immediately. Unfortunately, in the preceding confusion, one of them had succeeded in eating Travers' soul."

"Thereby rendering him useless as a source of information," Severus muttered.

"The same thing happened to Barty Crouch... Junior," Hermione added, knowing that she and Severus had just reached the same conclusion. "A Dementor had been assigned as a kind of bodyguard for Minister Fudge. Crouch could have provided evidence as to the truth of Voldemort's return. Neither Fudge nor his foul toady, Umbridge, wanted to hear of it," she explained for the centaurs' edification. "Their denial of the growing danger was absolute."

Bane's expression of unyielding distrust finally changed. "Umbridge," he snorted in disgust, pawing the grass with a fore-hoof. "We were glad to be rid of the shrieking fiend."

"She is in Azkaban, where she belongs," Hermione said. She glanced at Severus, catching his eye while wondering if she should make her next statement. She felt his reassurance slip into her mind. "We... Severus and I... think Umbridge ordered the Dementor to attack Crouch to keep him quiet."

"Well," Kingsley mused, addressing both Severus and Hermione. "That suggestion fits with your ideas on targeted Dementor attacks – particularly the incident in Little Whingeing. What I find very disturbing is that someone else knows how to do it – and that someone is not an inmate of Azkaban."

"Do you have an idea as to the someone's identity?" Minerva asked, looking around the table.

"We have sound reasons to suspect an absent-without-leave Unspeakable," Severus answered. Aware of the sensitivity surrounding high-level accusations, he turned the discussion back on the centaurs. "What do the planets have to say?"

An evaluative silence followed, then Firenze spoke again. "Not since Merlin's time have we seen such patterns in the planets and in the smoke of sacred herbs.

"Jupiter, harbinger of power, shines brightly in the sign of the archer and begins his transition to Capricornus. Saturn, in the aspect of devourer, stands before the celestial void in opposition. Neptune, keeper of mysteries, hangs in the sign of the balance. We heard word, from a land far away, of a red dragon blazing across the night sky. We went to the stone circle and burned the herbs, interpreting these signs in smoke and ash."

"Will there be another war?" Minerva interrupted, her voice thready with concern.

"Mars lingers in Pisces," Firenze answered. "The prospect of battle could go one way, or the other." He swished his tail and handed the aurochs horn back to Bane. "A great magic has lain hidden, its power unused for centuries. It has been discovered and now it begins to stir. The time for its use draws near; for good or evil, we could not tell.

"From beyond the lightless depths, another force is gathering. It follows the hidden power, hungry to command it, and hungry to consume it. We burned the herbs again, using our most ancient rites. In the smoke, we beheld again the sign of power. Then another sign obscured the first: a centaur wielding a bow. We wondered if one of our own might hold a great secret. We conferred among ourselves, but none knew of it." He gazed steadily at Tobias. One by one, everyone – including Severus – stared at the Muggle.

Toby glanced nervously at Kingsley. Kingsley nodded once. Without a word, Toby drew the Llygad y Ddraig out of hiding and placed it on the table for all to see.

"It was not a centaur we sought, but a human born under the sign of the archer," Firenze concluded, cancelling the charms he had placed around Tobias to mask the aura of the Llygad's power.

"The power that shines brightly," Bane murmured. "And devouring entities from the unknowable void do indeed circle us."

Hermione frowned and shook her head. Divination, in any form, made very little sense to her. She remembered Severus' description of a dream in which he saw a red dragon depicted in a mosaic. "But how do all these signs tie in with the red dragon crossing the sky?" she asked, trying not to sound supercilious.

"We do not know," Firenze answered, his hooves making muffled thuds as he walked across the grass, brow furrowed in thought.

Never try getting sense out of a centaur, Severus thought jadedly, echoing Hagrid's grumbled sentiments. He Accio'd the Llygad and held it in his hand. Sensing Kingsley's scrutiny, he looked up and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Have another close look at it, Severus. See if you can garner any useful information," the Minister said. "And if you see that ruffian boy again, try some Legilimency on him!"

With a half-smirk, Severus nodded and settled himself. Using the same method as he had before, he allowed his awareness to merge with the flow of power within the Llygad. Despite his preparedness, the twisting, dropping sensation caught him off guard...