The moment the centaurs appeared, Hagrid went on high alert. His massive frame shielded Sean protectively, his hand gripping a bow and arrow tightly.
The Forbidden Forest was shrouded in darkness, the moonlight blocked. Somewhere nearby, a centaur snapped a branch, the sound piercing the eerie silence and sending a chill down the spine.
"Firenze, don't think we don't know what you're up to!" one of the centaurs barked.
"Bane, can't you see?" Firenze replied calmly. "Neptune shines so brightly. We must embrace the coming change."
Neptune?
Before asking Hagrid to pass on the message, Sean had prepared. He pulled an ancient book from his bag, its pages so brittle they threatened to crumble.
The book had been with him since his first month at Hogwarts. Now, at last, he could unravel some of the mysteries of Astronomy magic.
"Neptune represents ideals, dreams, and fascination," he read. "The parts of us touched by Neptune yearn to transcend mundane reality, to break free from the limits and boundaries of everyday life. Planets influenced by Neptune carry a longing quality. We resist accepting things as they are, which can leave us restless or unwilling to face reality."
The words sparked something in Sean's mind as the conversation in the Forest continued.
"This is betrayal of our kind!" Bane snapped, his sharp, angular features stark on his gray coat. Like Hagrid, he was armed, a quiver of arrows and a longbow slung over his shoulder. "Spreading our knowledge and secrets among humans is a disgrace you can't wash away! Do you want to be their slave?"
"Slave?!" Hagrid roared.
Bane turned to him. "You should leave, Hagrid. I'll let you go today because you're with your young—"
"He's not mine!" Hagrid interrupted, bristling.
"A student, Bane," another centaur, Magorian, said calmly. "From the school up there. He's a good one…"
"Regardless," Magorian continued, "harming a young one is a terrible sin—especially one who makes the stars shine brighter. We don't hurt the innocent. Hagrid, you may pass today. But make such a bold request again, and you'll lose our friendship."
The centaurs' discussion ended abruptly. They surrounded Firenze, who remained composed, his expression unchanging.
Hagrid whispered to Sean to stay hidden, then barreled into the group as the centaurs raised their hooves, looking ready to deal with Firenze.
"Slave? What kind of nonsense is that?" Hagrid bellowed. "At Hogwarts, sharing knowledge is what professors do!"
Even in the tense standoff, Hagrid's booming voice carried his usual carefree tone.
Bane fell silent for a moment before responding. "We've spent ages honing this skill. We respect this wizard, but we won't meddle with the paths of the stars."
"And if our actions are part of those paths?" Firenze countered, gazing at the sky. "Can't you see Saturn's alignment? It's the aspect of overprotection."
The other centaurs studied the night sky, their expressions darkening. They were clearly shaken.
As quickly as they'd come, the herd of centaurs dispersed. Soft, dappled moonlight spilled back into the clearing, bathing the mossy ground and leafy trees.
Hagrid had already left to feed the Thestrals, leaving Fang behind. The dog was happily wrestling with a bone that seemed to throw itself around.
Sean heard the faint flutter of sparrows taking flight in the distance. At Firenze's gesture, he stepped forward, anticipation stirring in his chest.
The centaurs' ways weren't hard to grasp. They read the future in the stars and followed it religiously. But blindly obeying fate meant letting it dictate everything—even outcomes they didn't want.
"Sean Green, don't be afraid," Firenze said. "Centaurs never harm the innocent or the young. Yet, time and again, it's the innocent who suffer first. That's never changed in a thousand years."
Firenze gestured to the ground. "Lie here. We have time to study the stars."
Sean settled onto the soft moss.
"I know you've studied the names of planets and their moons in Astronomy class," Firenze said evenly. "You've charted their movements across the sky. Centaurs, over centuries, have uncovered the secrets of those movements. Our findings suggest that, from the heavens above, we may glimpse the future."
Sean listened intently as Firenze spoke.
It seemed the stars had guided the centaur to teach him Astronomy magic—a rare opportunity.
"Have you learned anything already?" Firenze asked.
"Yes," Sean replied. "I've read divination books, like this one. They say Mars can cause accidents or burns when it forms an angle with Saturn, like this—" He flicked his wand, sparking a right angle in the air. "It means people need to be extra careful with hot things."
"That's human nonsense," Firenze said flatly.
Sean made a mental note to return Unfogging the Future to the library.
"Petty injuries, trivial human accidents," Firenze continued, his hooves thudding softly on the mossy ground. "Compared to the vast universe, they're as insignificant as crawling ants, untouched by the planets' movements."
That made sense. Sean's quill scratched notes instinctively.
"Some wizards, like Sybill Trelawney, may see the future—I'm not certain," Firenze went on, swishing his tail as he paced. "But she wastes her time on boastful drivel, what humans call fortune-telling."
Sean couldn't argue. If Professor Trelawney didn't make a death prediction every year, maybe they wouldn't have to sift through ninety-nine false prophecies to find the one that was true.
Firenze's voice rose again. "What I'll teach you is the centaurs' objective, impartial view. We watch the skies for signs of great disasters or changes. Sometimes, the heavens mark these events. It may take a decade to confirm what we see."