[Note: Read up to Chapter - 129 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]
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"Bane, please—calm yourself," Dumbledore said, his brow creasing slightly.
He had a fairly good idea of what was going on. No doubt the little red dragon had done something to upset the centaurs. He didn't know exactly what, but knowing Iris' temperament...
Dumbledore felt a headache coming on.
This wasn't going to be easy to smooth over.
"Dumbledore," Bane growled, "the Centaur Tribe respects you, but this is a matter of honour between us and the intruder who violated our home. I ask you not to interfere!"
His tone was sharp, and he looked seconds away from losing an arrow.
Around him, other centaurs glared daggers at the little red dragon nestled in Aris' arms.
"Are you sure you want to make enemies with a dragon?"
Aris's voice rang out—calm, cold, and unexpectedly indifferent.
Bane snapped his gaze towards him.
"You're the one who commands that beast?"
His eyes narrowed. He was beginning to suspect this boy had ties to Dumbledore—perhaps a student at Hogwarts?
"A Hogwarts student... keeping a dragon as a pet? And the Ministry's just letting that slide?" Bane barked in disbelief.
"What are those office-bound layabouts even doing? Sipping tea all day while a dragon tears through the Forbidden Forest?!"
His fury grew with every word.
"I'll be filing a formal complaint, mark my words—in the name of the entire Centaur Tribe!"
Although the Centaur Tribe's relationship with the Ministry of Magic was far from cordial, Bane clearly believed the Ministry was his best chance to pressure Dumbledore. After all, it represented the full weight of the wizarding world's official authority.
"Bane, I must ask you to calm down," Dumbledore said firmly, his frown deepening.
Now that he'd seen Iris's magic for himself, his curiosity about Otherworld dragons had grown to rival even his fascination with elemental magic. He had no intention of letting Bane—or anyone—hand the little red dragon over to the Ministry.
Because if they did… the consequences could be catastrophic.
At best, Iris would never be allowed to stay at Hogwarts—or with Aris.
At worst, the Ministry might investigate Aris himself. The summoning contract could land the boy in serious trouble.
"There's nothing to discuss unless you hand over that wretched beast!" Bane snapped, his voice like thunder. It was clear he'd been thoroughly humiliated by Iris and wasn't about to let it go.
"Ronan," Dumbledore said, turning to the red-maned centaur nearby. "Do you feel the same way?"
Ronan's expression was grim. "Bane speaks for the entire Centaur Tribe," he said coldly.
"Ronan! Bane! What exactly do you think you're playing at?!"
At last, Hagrid stepped forward, unable to bite his tongue any longer.
He lumbered ahead, crossbow in hand—he didn't raise it, but the mere sight of it being readied was enough to put the centaurs on edge.
"Hagrid," Ronan growled, "are you threatening us with that bloody great crossbow of yours?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that!"
Realising that his actions might make things worse, Hagrid quickly lowered the crossbow and said earnestly, "Iris is still young—she doesn't really know what she's doing. If there's blame to be had, bring it to me instead…"
"Iris—is that the little one's name?"
Bane raised an eyebrow, and Hagrid turned around, genuinely checking.
"It is, right, Aris?"
"Yeah," Aris replied with a faint smile. He found the moment oddly amusing.
Only Hagrid, in a tense standoff, would pause to confirm a dragon's name.
He's a proper one-of-a-kind, that bloke.
Still, Aris hadn't planned on letting Hagrid defend him. The trouble Iris had caused was real, and it wasn't right to let someone else take the hit. This was his to handle.
He stepped forward and stood beside Hagrid, facing the centaurs directly.
"If my pet has wronged you, then I sincerely apologise," he said, his tone calm and steady. "Any damage she's caused—I'll make it right. If your homes were destroyed, I'll rebuild them. And I promise they'll be even better than before."
He glanced around at the gathered centaurs.
"I'm not here to make excuses for what Iris did. But I do hope you'll see I mean what I say—and that you'll consider giving her a chance."
"Forgiveness? Forgiveness means nothing!"
Ronan suddenly stormed forward, his hooves thundering across the ground.
He reared up sharply, slamming one hoof down mere inches from Aris's head, clearly trying to rattle him.
To him, Aris was just a boy—a green Hogwarts student, barely old enough to know which end of the wand to hold. Negotiation? Not likely.
"Ronan! That's enough!"
What the centaurs didn't expect was Dumbledore—usually calm and composed—raising his voice.
And this time, there was fire behind it.
He stepped swiftly in front of Aris, magic rippling around him, and his long robes flared dramatically though no wind blew.
Even his voice, sharp as it rang out, carried power—raw, commanding magic that echoed across the Forbidden Forest like a thunderclap.
For a moment, every centaur froze. The sheer weight of his presence held them still.
Dumbledore wasn't about to stand by and watch Aris get hurt—not even potentially.
The moment he had glimpsed the world of elemental energy through Aris, the boy's importance had, in truth, surpassed even that of Harry Potter.
If it came down to it—if someone forced his hand between the two—Dumbledore knew which one he'd protect.
Not that he'd ever answer one of those daft "Who would you save?" hypotheticals.
So when Ronan's hoof came crashing down, Dumbledore had acted without hesitation.
"Dumbledore!"
As the centaurs recovered from their shock, Bane's face twisted in disbelief.
"You'd stand against the Centaur Tribe—for a first-year? You'd raise your wand against us?!"
"I don't wish to be anyone's enemy," Dumbledore said evenly, "but I'll not stand by while someone harms one of my students."
His meaning was clear as crystal. Aris was under his protection.
Bane and Ronan exchanged glances, then sprang back and drew their bows in unison, arrows trained on Dumbledore and the group.
"Don't do it! Stop—now!"
Just as things reached a boiling point, a voice shouted from behind the centaurs.
A figure raced forward at startling speed, inserting himself between the centaur warriors and Dumbledore's group.
"Ronan! Bane! What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!"
The newcomer was a centaur too—his human torso crowned with platinum-blond hair, and his equine body gleaming a soft silver in the moonlight.
He moved with striking agility and carried a youthful air about him. By the light of the wands and torches, one could see his piercing sapphire-blue eyes—eyes full of quiet strength and intelligence. Among the centaurs, he was clearly a standout—strong, charismatic, and noble.
Even by human standards, he was undeniably handsome.
"Firenze! I should be asking you what you think you're doing—why are you standing between us and the enemy?"
Bane's voice dropped to a furious growl the moment he recognised him.
"Have you decided to betray the Centaur Tribe?!"
Aris turned his gaze to the centaur named Firenze with interest, and a faint memory stirred.
In the films, Firenze had helped Harry Potter during his first year—rescuing him from Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest.
And if he recalled correctly, Firenze even went on to become a professor at Hogwarts later on.
But still... the Firenze in the films didn't look anything like this one.
This Firenze was younger, stronger, and—to be perfectly honest—way more dashing.
Despite the situation, Aris found his thoughts drifting aimlessly for a moment.
Still, this might be a turning point.
If Firenze could get through to the others and cool their tempers, it might just prevent all-out conflict—and that was certainly something Aris hoped for.
"Bane, stop trying to frighten me with hollow threats," Firenze snapped, stepping forward. His expression darkened as he locked eyes with Bane and Ronan.
"Don't tell me you've failed to notice tonight's stars—can you not see what they foretell?"
"You've let hatred cloud your judgement—you've turned your back on the mission and destiny of the centaurs!"
Firenze's voice rang out across the clearing.
"Look properly—look at the path of the stars tonight, and tell me what that shining star in the east truly means!"
Just then, as if stirred by some mysterious force, the thick clouds cloaking the moon slowly parted.
Pale silver moonlight poured through the tangle of branches, casting soft glows on every face present.
Above them, the starry sky brightened considerably. And in the east, a single brilliant star shimmered with crystal clarity.
"The eastern star rises, shining alone in the night sky..."
"This omen..."
Ronan's expression shifted. He glanced at Bane, uncertainty now flickering in his eyes.
"That's right," Firenze continued, voice calm but firm. "A great one is born—carrying the ancient power of creation itself..."
"He hails from the East, with unmatched potential, unlike any seen before. No one can dim his light!"
"That child shines even brighter than the other one born under fate's watchful eye..."
Bane turned sharply toward Firenze, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Are you saying... he's the other child? The one spoken of in the stars?"
"Perhaps you should ask Headmaster Dumbledore," Firenze said, his tone gentler now. His sapphire gaze moved to the silver-haired wizard nearby.
"Surely he can tell you whether this boy matches what the prophecy foretold."
Dumbledore gave a small shrug and a wry smile.
"I've never had much talent for prophecy—must've missed out on that one," he said lightly.
"But I can say this: young Mr Shafiq here is quite remarkable. His talent may well outshine that of the other boy you're thinking of... assuming, of course, you mean young Mr Potter."
At that, Dumbledore's tone grew more relaxed.
He understood exactly what the centaurs valued most—and how best to speak their language.
So long as the centaurs believed Aris was the irreplaceable figure foretold by the stars, they'd never dare lay a finger on him again.
The centaur race was peculiar in its own right—eternally obsessed with reading vague astrological prophecies and treating them as sacred destiny.
Perhaps that very obsession had something to do with how they'd managed to endure through the centuries.
"Are you from the East?" Ronan asked, his gaze returning to Aris.
This time, though, his eyes held no anger—only a flicker of uncertainty.
"Well, if dreamin' about the East counts, then sure," Aris replied with a shrug.
Of course, he couldn't outright admit he was from the East—or from another world entirely.
Travelling through time and space wasn't exactly your everyday tale in the wizarding world.
Letting that slip would only invite more questions—and more trouble.
"You saw the East in your dreams?" Ronan frowned, trying to make sense of it.
"We mustn't rule anything out," Firenze said firmly.
"You all know the Forbidden Forest hasn't been stable lately—and the source of that disturbance isn't this little red dragon at all..."
"If this boy was truly born under the stars' guidance, destined to bring great change to this world, then we must tread carefully.
Surely you wouldn't want to extinguish the world's last hope before it's even had a chance to shine?"
A heavy silence settled among the centaurs.
Bane and Ronan exchanged looks, the fire in their eyes dimming, now replaced with visible hesitation.
Then Aris piped up again, his gaze curious as it landed on Firenze.
"You know, what I'm really wondering is this—your ability to read the stars… is that something you're born with? Or something you lot learn?"
"It's in our blood," Firenze replied without pause. "A gift from birth."
"Ah, I see..." Aris nodded thoughtfully.
In that moment, another memory flashed in his mind—one of the talents he'd gained after merging with Merlin's legacy: Astrologer.
This talent—it seemed tied to celestial divination. Could it be connected to the same astrological foresight the centaurs possessed?
With that thought, Aris couldn't help but glance up at the star Firenze had pointed out—the one that "rose from the east and shone bright in the night sky."
It was dazzling, more luminous than any star Aris could recall from the night skies of his previous life.
There was something almost mystical about the centaurs' prophecy...
If that star really did represent him, then perhaps more of their predictions might apply than he'd thought.
The power to create the world…
Could that not refer to the rebirth of elemental magic?
Thinking it over, it wasn't such a stretch. The revival of elemental magic could very well be interpreted as a beacon of hope for this world.
And if such a day did come—when elemental magic returned in full force—it would no doubt change everything. The world itself might be reshaped, as though re-created from the ground up.
Even Aris had no idea what form such a future might take.
But one thing was certain—his soul truly had come from the East, a place wrapped in mystery and magic.
As this thought crossed his mind, the bright star above twinkled more rapidly, as if in silent agreement.
At the same time, Aris's eyes began to shift, subtly but unmistakably—fading into a strange silvery-white.
It was as though some long-dormant power was beginning to stir once more within him...
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Drop power Powerstonessssssssss!
[Note: Read up to Chapter - 129 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]