The centaurs' system of prophecy is a tradition unto itself, divining the direction of history by reading the stars.
The heavens and fate are often bound together. A more obvious example would be the world of The Elder Scrolls, where people born in different months correspond to different constellations, and those traits show up in them.
In the world of Harry Potter, at least to Muggles and most witches and wizards, the stars don't have much to do with destiny. Skyl had observed this world's night sky as well, and it hadn't given him any occult inspiration.
The centaurs invited Skyl to their water source.
The red-haired centaur in the lead spoke with a hard edge, as if to say: if you don't come, we'll drag you there.
Skyl lightly rubbed his pendant. The Eye of the High Tower gave off a dim, eerie glow. He planned to have a proper talk with these centaurs—at the very least, to teach them what sincerity and the right attitude toward cooperation looked like.
Just then, a clear phoenix cry rang out. A magnificent golden-red bird punched down through the mist from above and landed heavily on Skyl's shoulder.
"Hello there." Skyl had seen this phoenix—Fawkes—in the Headmaster's office.
Panting, Hagrid arrived with Dumbledore in tow. The old man was riding on a centaur's back; his purple robe streamed like a knight's battle standard, revealing white silk sleep trousers and cotton slippers underneath.
"Damn, Gandalf," Skyl laughed and waved. "Professor Dumbledore, here to rescue your student?"
Dumbledore chuckled, dismounted, and bowed in thanks to the centaur who had carried him. The silver-coated centaur placed a hand to his chest and slightly bent his forelegs. With that kind of natural harmony, Dumbledore would have been a master at caring for magical creatures if he'd chosen that path.
"Firenze!" the red-haired centaur exploded. "You let a human ride on your back! You are not livestock!"
"Enough, Bane! You're the one who broke the agreement and forced your way into the school. I'm stopping your mistake."
Dumbledore stepped in front of Skyl like a mother hen shielding her chick.
The lakeside mist was already thinning. As the sun rose higher, the morning light grew dazzling. Students who had been jogging nearby gathered to watch, but Hagrid held them back and wouldn't let them come closer.
While the centaurs were still arguing, Dumbledore tilted his head and asked in a low voice, "What happened?"
"They made a prophecy. They think I'm connected to a disaster two years from now."
"Oh, I wouldn't doubt that," Dumbledore blinked, looking almost mischievously boyish. "After all, your appearance tends to bring surprises."
"Professor, you wound me," Skyl laughed. "But I promise you this: Hogwarts won't be harmed. No one—no one—gets to make trouble in the school and hurt the students."
"I believe you." Dumbledore's voice drifted like lake wind—light, airy—and then settled like iron sand, heavy and sure. "As I always have."
The centaurs' argument came to an end. The centaur named Firenze persuaded some of his companions to return to the Forbidden Forest. The rest stayed behind Bane.
"This must have a conclusion," Bane said with a frown. "We won't harm you, human. If you don't trust us, you may bring someone to accompany you." As he said that, he glanced at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore respected Skyl's choice in such matters and let him decide.
"Then let's go." Skyl patted his sportswear, transfiguring it into a proper black wizard's robe. He used Scourgify to remove the hot sweat from his run and prepared to visit the centaurs' territory fresh and clean. "I hope your stargazing prophecy will make this worth the trip. Professor Dumbledore—may I?"
The Headmaster nodded, looking in rather good spirits, and Hagrid decided to come along as well.
The centaurs' settlement lay deep in the Forbidden Forest. Setting out from the Black Lake, they walked for more than three hours before they drew close. The dangerous creatures along the way didn't attack—centaur warriors were keeping watch around the group. Even without weapons, their deterrence was more than enough.
Once they reached the outskirts of the water source, the centaurs around them visibly relaxed. Ancient oaks grew thick here; dark green vines poured from the canopy like waterfalls, forming a wall of living vegetation. Firenze and several elderly centaur elders were already waiting.
Bane stepped forward to speak in a low voice. Heads leaned together. Then the tone grew sharper and sharper—another argument, by the look of it.
In the end, an aged centaur elder stopped the farce. He wore many ornaments and a horse-blanket woven from ramie and linen. On the humanoid part of his upper body, a colorful totem was painted across his chest, and atop his head sat a feathered crown.
The elder led the guests through the sea of vines and into the water source. It opened into a forest clearing where streams gathered into a clear little lake. On the stone shore lived only male centaurs.
They had pitched nomadic tents shaped like yurts. In the clearing were stacks of hunted carcasses, along with several enormous remnants of acromantulas. Outside each tent were tanning frames, with pig, rabbit, and fox pelts stretched on thin wooden poles. By the lake stood weapon racks holding javelins and long spears, and across the water, straw targets had been set up near a low cliff. When Skyl and the others arrived, several centaur youths were practicing their shooting there.
Hagrid seemed to be a regular here; he greeted many of them. After a brief tour of the centaur community's customs, everyone sat down in a small meeting area ringed with broken stones. The cushions were woven from soft dried grass and stuffed with rabbit fur and herbs. The atmosphere was actually decent—though the tribe was wary of outsiders, their hospitality wasn't careless or crude.
"So," Skyl said, "can you tell us about that prophecy in detail now?"
"The stars are… wrong," the elder said, deeply troubled. "The sky we see is not the one we once had. And yet this happened without a sound. Our memories are flawless—yet even our star-dials have changed, as though they had always been this way. But our… (he garbled a name) says that the world above our heads has shifted."
Skyl understood at once: the discrepancy in the constellations was caused by his Eternal Transfiguration. It seemed these centaurs had a way to 'remember' the abandoned version of history—which genuinely surprised him.
"I want to meet the one you just mentioned. The person who said the sky has changed."
"That's impossible." The centaurs around them refused in unison, their eyes filling with suspicion.
Dumbledore's expression turned grave. "What sort of change has the sky undergone?"
"The sun has disturbed the workings of the planets. One fawning star vanished—then Leo was struck by a dark star. We can no longer gain guidance from the heavens. They have all gone mad, chaotic. Stars will go out one after another; dark stars will continually appear, taking turns, replacing each other—without end. Two years from now, the sun's radiance will cover the whole of the sky."
Dumbledore relaxed his brow and said calmly, "That sounds like the end of the world."
Skyl, without meaning to, performed a precise prophecy. A cold, deep-blue magical vapor seeped from his eye sockets; both eyes turned green, making him look as though he'd caught some dreadful disease.
When he came back to himself, everyone was staring.
"Are you all right?" Hagrid pulled off his rabbit-fur glove and pressed the back of his hand to Skyl's forehead. "Feel sick anywhere?"
Skyl shook his head, amused. "No. I just did a bit of divination. Yes—I know what that disaster in two years is now. It's rather interesting. I'm still deciding whether to interfere."
The centaurs didn't believe Skyl.
While everyone argued noisily, a white ashwood fletched arrow suddenly shot in from across the lake, landing on the stone shore and driving deep into a pebble. The arrow's arrival startled the centaurs. Dumbledore pointed at the runes on the shaft. "That is the symbol of Arawn—the Lord of the Otherworld in Welsh legend."
"Yes, I can tell." Skyl nodded. "I see. No wonder there are only males here."
Only Hagrid looked blank. "What?"
Firenze picked up the arrow and presented it to the elder for inspection. Then he raised it high and ran a full circle around the centaur tents. At last, he returned to Skyl's side.
"Please, come with me," Firenze said. "Rhiannon wishes to see you."
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