"Little foal, the affairs of our herd are none of your concern," Bane said, stepping in front of Roger Williams. His massive body blocked the path like a wall of muscle and restless hooves, and the force of his presence pressed down hard enough to make the air feel thinner.
"That's enough, Bane," Ronan said quietly, lifting his face toward the night sky. His voice carried the same mournful softness as before, as though every answer worth knowing had already been written above them. "Perhaps Firenze meant well."
"Little foal, my name is Ronan," he added after a moment, still gazing upward. "Mars is unusually bright tonight."
Roger followed his gaze, but all he saw were stars half-hidden by branches. Whatever prophecy Ronan had read in the heavens was beyond him, though that did not mean the centaur's knowledge was useless.
"Roger Williams," he said politely. "A pleasure to meet you."
Seeing Ronan so absorbed in Mars gave Roger a sudden idea. He reached into his pouch and took out the ancient star map he had been studying, then tapped it lightly with his wand.
The parchment unfurled in the air. Tiny points of starlight shimmered across its surface, each one glowing with a faint magical radiance.
"Ronan, I have a star map from roughly seven hundred years ago," Roger said. "Could you take a look at it for me?"
"A star map from seven hundred years ago?" Ronan's melancholy vanished at once, replaced by unmistakable curiosity. Even Bane, who had been glaring at Roger a moment ago, leaned closer despite himself.
Centaurs were born with a gift for divination through the stars. Their understanding of astrology surpassed that of most wizards, and even the elders of their herd had rarely seen a star chart that old.
"Yes," Ronan murmured after studying it for a while. "This is indeed an ancient sky."
He compared the glowing parchment with the heavens above, moving his spear slightly as if tracing invisible lines through the darkness. Bane looked over his shoulder, his nostrils flaring as he examined the southwest corner of the chart.
"There is a problem," Bane said bluntly. "The constellations here are completely wrong, little foal. Did you draw this yourself?"
"Impossible," Roger said at once. He looked where Bane was pointing, but to his eyes the chart seemed no different than before. "I copied it exactly."
"Hmph. Wizards only know how to imitate," Bane said, disdain sharpening his voice. "You do not understand true stargazing at all. If you make a mistake and refuse to admit it, the mistake remains."
He jabbed one thick finger toward the parchment. "The angle connecting Ursa Major is wrong. The entire constellation needs to rotate fifteen degrees counterclockwise. The third star should move upward by half a star's position, and the sixth star should drop by one and a half."
"And here as well," Ronan said, nodding as he pointed near the center of the star map. "Whether you measure it by right ascension or declination, this star has shifted downward by roughly zero point three degrees."
Roger listened with narrowed eyes. He understood each individual word, but once the centaurs put them together, the result might as well have been another language.
"Although the star map is seven hundred years old, it was forcibly pieced together," Ronan continued, warming to the subject. "For example, these stellar trajectories could not have been directly observed. Their existence was predicted through changes in the positions of surrounding stars."
"Ronan, no wonder you won the herd's astronomy trials ten years in a row," Bane said sincerely. The admiration in his voice was so open that it briefly softened his fierce expression.
"It is only what my grandfather taught me," Ronan said, looking almost embarrassed. His tail flicked once against his flank, though his eyes never quite left the map.
"We all attended the elder's lessons, but none of us can compare with you," Bane said. "Talent is one thing, but you must have worked harder than the rest of us too."
"Let me mark two lines first," Ronan said with a small smile.
He enlarged the star map with a careful motion, then used the tip of his spear to draw on the earth. The spear point scraped shallow silver-lit grooves through the dirt beneath the oaks.
"The first line begins from the lone star's position in Ursa Major and connects to Polaris," Ronan muttered, half to himself. "That allows us to calculate the exact time represented by the star chart."
He began working through the numbers with astonishing speed. Bane watched closely, occasionally adding a correction or murmuring a figure under his breath.
"The year is 1207," Ronan said after a while. "The second line runs from Polaris in Ursa Minor to the second northern reference point, allowing us to determine the trajectory and angular relationship."
Bane's eyes suddenly brightened. "I understand. Those two lines connect Polaris and Regulus."
"Yes," Ronan said. "Using Ursa Major and Leo, we can deduce the coordinates of the other stars on the map."
The two centaurs worked together with surprising harmony after that. Bane's earlier hostility faded into concentration, while Ronan's spear moved through the dirt like a quill crossing parchment.
"Look here," Ronan murmured. "This reddish star is very likely Sunflower I. If so, then the stars surrounding it should be…"
He adjusted the map again. In less than a few minutes, the entire star chart seemed to transform, the scattered points shifting into an order Roger had never seen before.
"Incredible," Bane said with genuine reverence. "Whoever made this must have possessed great wisdom."
Roger stared at the revised chart in silence. For all the centaurs' excitement, he felt as if he had watched two people solve a riddle by discussing the shape of smoke.
"What?" he finally asked. "What does any of that mean?"
"To put it simply, the creator of this map hid a puzzle inside it," Ronan said. Solving it had clearly lifted his spirits, and his attitude toward Roger had warmed noticeably. "Little foal, restore the map to this shape, and the puzzle will be solved."
"So I have the answer now, and all that remains is the process," Roger said, eyes sharpening at once.
He quickly copied the corrected star map, making sure every line and point matched Ronan's version. The key, after all, was to write the right pattern onto the Golden Snitch.
"Oh," Ronan said suddenly, looking toward the paling sky beyond the treetops. "Dawn is nearly here. The stars have disappeared, little foal, and it is time for you to leave the Forbidden Forest."
"Thank you for your help," Roger said.
He checked the copied answer one last time, confirmed there were no obvious mistakes, and then waved goodbye to the centaurs. Bane snorted but did not stop him, while Ronan merely turned his gaze back to the fading sky.
.....
"Harry, how could you leave Roger behind?" Hermione stood near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, her face pale with anxiety. If Hagrid had not repeatedly assured her that Roger was all right, she would already have rushed in herself.
"Perhaps our famous savior was frightened," Draco Malfoy drawled from the side. "He escaped the Forbidden Forest with the centaurs and simply abandoned his classmate behind."
"Shut it, Malfoy!" Hagrid snapped.
Harry's safety mattered most to Hagrid. As for a young Slytherin wizard, especially one who had been wandering the forest with Muggle weapons and Merlin knew what else, Hagrid clearly had very little concern to spare.
"Is everyone waiting for me so we can go back to breakfast?" Roger's voice came from the trees.
"Roger!" Hermione cried.
She saw him hurrying toward them, unharmed and as composed as ever. Malfoy immediately straightened, relief flashing across his face before he covered it with his usual arrogant expression.
"Roger," Harry said suddenly, his eyes fixed on him. "Did you recognize who that person was?"
On the way back, Firenze had explained what unicorn blood could do. Harry had pieced together a terrifying answer: Snape had killed the unicorn to take its blood and use it to keep Voldemort alive.
Roger visited Snape's office almost every day. To Harry, that made it impossible for him not to recognize the figure they had seen.
"Me?" Roger shook his head calmly. "I don't know who that was."
Harry took a step back, fear and disbelief twisting through his expression. Roger was lying, and if he was lying about this, then why?
Could Ron have been right all along? Were Slytherins truly destined to become Dark wizards, followers of the very person Harry had been marked by as a baby?
"Professor Snape may be able to deduce something from the corpse," Roger added, as if he had not noticed Harry's reaction.
"The corpse?" Hermione looked at him in shock. "Roger, you brought out the unicorn's body?"
Harry's face changed instantly. "The unicorn's body? No!"
He shouted the words and yanked out his wand, pointing it straight at Roger.
"Expelliarmus!" Roger cast first.
Harry's wand flew from his hand and landed in the grass several feet away. The speed of it left everyone frozen for a breath.
"Mr. Potter," Roger said coldly, "who disposes of the unicorn's body is my decision. You have no right to tell me what to do with it."
"Roger, the unicorn belongs in the Forbidden Forest," Hagrid said, stepping forward and placing his broad body between Harry and Roger. His dark eyes were full of anger. "It's part of the forest."
He had never expected a young Slytherin to be this bold. Stealing a unicorn's corpse was bad enough, but attacking Harry right in front of him was something else entirely.
"Really?" Roger's tone sharpened, and a dangerous red light flickered at the tip of his wand. "Since you care so much about protecting the Forbidden Forest, perhaps you can explain how those spiders managed to survive here for so long?"
Hagrid's face stiffened. The anger in his eyes faltered for the first time.
"If you want to take it from me, Hagrid, then draw your umbrella properly," Roger said. His voice was quiet, but every word landed with weight. "Do not even think about using your fists."
He smiled slightly, though there was nothing warm in it. "Maybe you can survive a Muggle grenade. But what about Harry?"
To Hagrid and Harry, that smile made him look like a wicked little devil. Hagrid stopped where he was, his face grim and twisted, as though he had swallowed something bitter and could not spit it out.
"If you can give me five hundred thousand Galleons, I might consider selling it to you," Roger said lightly.
Perhaps in the eyes of the Savior, he had already become Voldemort's accomplice. Since that was the case, there was no point pretending Harry would understand his reasons.
"Malfoy, what are you standing there for?" Roger called without looking back. "Do you want to get beaten up too? The Forbidden Forest is not strictly part of the school grounds."
He gestured for Hermione and Neville not to follow. Gryffindor treated Harry as their pride, and Roger had no intention of dragging Hermione into an impossible position because of his conflict with him.
"Roger, wait for me!" Malfoy hurried after him, then turned back and gave Harry a mocking laugh.