Chapter 23 – A Warning Vision
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We entered the Great Hall for breakfast at exactly the same moment as the post owls on Monday morning. Hermione was not the only person eagerly awaiting her Daily Prophet: nearly everyone was eager for more news about the escaped Death Eaters, who, despite many reported sightings, had still not been caught. She gave the delivery owl a Knut and unfolded the newspaper eagerly while I helped myself to orange juice. An owl landed in front of me too, and then as I made to take the letter from the owl, three, four, five more owls had fluttered down beside it and were jockeying for position, treading in the butter and knocking over the salt as each one attempted to give me their letter first.

"It's like when Softpaw got fanmail for the third task of the Triwizard." Terry said in amazement, as the whole of the Gryffindor table leaned forwards to watch and another seven owls landed amongst the first ones, screeching, hooting, and flapping their wings.

"Daisy!" Hermione said breathlessly, plunging her hands into the feathery mass and pulling out a screech owl bearing a long, cylindrical package. "I think I know what this means - open this one first!" 

I ripped off the brown packaging. Out rolled a tightly furled copy of the newest edition of The Quibbler. I unrolled it to see my own face grinning confidently at me from the front cover. In large red letters across this picture were the words:

'DAISY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:

THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED

AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN' 

"It's good, isn't it?" Luna said, who had drifted over to the Gryffindor table and now squeezed herself on to the bench between Fred and Ron. "It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these," She waved a hand at the assembled owls still scrabbling around on the table in front of me, "are letters from readers." 

"That's what I thought." Hermione said eagerly. 

Kylie grinned. "Babe, d'you mind if we -?" 

"Help yourself." I said, completely used to getting so much mail. 

Harry, Kylie, Terry, Ron, and Hermione all started ripping open envelopes.

"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker." Ron said, glancing down his letter. "Ah well..." 

"This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's." Hermione said, looking disappointed and crumpling up a second.

"This one looks OK, though." Harry said slowly, scanning a long letter from a witch in Paisley. "Hey, she says she believes you!" 

"This one's in two minds." Fred said, who had joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm. "Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Poo's back so he doesn't know what to think now. Blimey, what a waste of parchment." 

"Here's another one you've convinced, Daze!" Hermione said excitedly, taking Kylie's letter. "'Having read your side of the story, I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you very unfairly... little though I want to think that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth...' Oh, this is wonderful!" 

"Another one who thinks you're barking," Terry said, throwing a crumpled letter over his shoulder, "... but this one says you've got her converted and she now thinks you're a real hero - she's put in a photograph, too - alright, lads!" 

"What is going on here?" A falsely sweet, girlish voice said.

I looked up with my hands full of envelopes. Umbridge was standing behind Fred and Luna, her bulging toad's eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table in front of me. Behind her I saw many of the students watching us avidly.

"Why have you got all these letters, Miss Potter?" She asked slowly.

"Is that a crime now?" Fred said loudly. "Getting mail?" 

"Be careful, Mr Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention again." Umbridge said. "Well, Miss Potter?" 

"I'm just famous and popular as fuck, Professor." I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder. "I get fanmail all the time." 

"Not as much as this morning, Miss Potter." 

I smirked. 

"People have written to me because I gave an interview. About what happened to me when I was kidnapped at the Quidditch World Cup, and last June." 

For some reason I glanced up at the staff table as I said this. I had the strangest feeling that Dumbledore had been watching me a second before, but when I looked towards the Headmaster he seemed to be absorbed in conversation with Professor Flitwick.

"An interview?" Umbridge repeated, her voice thinner and higher than ever. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered them, hun." I said. "Here -" 

And I threw the copy of The Quibbler to her. She caught it and stared down at the cover. Her pale, doughy face turned an ugly, patchy violet.

"When did you do this?" She asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Last Hogsmeade weekend." I said.

She looked up at me, incandescent with rage, the magazine shaking in her stubby fingers.

"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Miss Potter." She whispered. "How you dare... how you could..." She took a deep breath. "I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions." 

She stalked away, clutching The Quibbler to her chest, the eyes of many students following her.

"Nah, that's mine, mate." I said, and Accio'ed The Quibbler back to me. Umbridge flapped her hands for it, but it was too late; it was back in my hands a second later. 

By mid-morning enormous signs had been put up all over the school, not just on house noticeboards, but in the corridors and classrooms too.

'BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

Any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor' 

For some reason, every time Terry caught sight of one of these signs he beamed with pleasure.

"What exactly are you so happy about, king?" I asked him.

"If that weird toad could have done one thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read your interview, it was banning it!" Terry said triumphantly. 

And it seemed that Terry was quite right. By the end of the day, though I had not seen so much as a corner of The Quibbler anywhere in the school, the whole place seemed to be quoting the interview to each other. I heard them whispering about it as they queued up outside classes, discussing it over lunch and in the back of lessons, while every occupant of the cubicles in the girls' toilets had been talking about it when I nipped in there before Transfiguration. 

Meanwhile, Umbridge was stalking the school, stopping students at random and demanding that they turn out their books and pockets: I knew she was looking for copies of The Quibbler, but the students were several steps ahead of her. The pages carrying my interview had been bewitched to resemble extracts from textbooks if anyone but themselves read it, or else wiped magically blank until they wanted to peruse it again. Soon it seemed that every single person in the school had read it.

The teachers were of course forbidden from mentioning the interview by Educational Decree Number Twenty-six, but they found ways to express their feelings about it all the same. Professor Sprout awarded Gryffindor twenty points when I passed her a watering can; a beaming Professor Flitwick pressed a box of squeaking sugar mice on me at the end of Charms, said, "Shh!" and hurried away; and Professor Trelawney broke into hysterical sobs during Divination and announced to the startled class, and a very disapproving Umbridge, that I was not going to suffer an early death after all, but would live to a ripe old age, become Minister for Magic, and have twelve children.

If anything more was needed to complete my happiness, it was the reaction I got from Floppy, Ash, Spieler, Rudd, Crabbe, and Goyle. I saw them with their heads together later that afternoon in the library. They looked round at me as I browsed the shelves for the book I needed on Partial Vanishment. Floppy cracked his knuckles threateningly and Ash whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Spieler. I knew perfectly well why they were acting like this: I had named all of their fathers as Death Eaters.

"They can't contradict you, the fucking wee assholes, because they can't admit they've read the article! It's hilarious!" Terry said gleefully as we left the library. 

To cap it all, Luna told me over dinner that no issue of The Quibbler had ever sold out faster.

"Dad's reprinting!" She told me, her eyes popping excitedly. "He can't believe it, he says people seem even more interested in this than the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks!" 

I was a hero in the Gryffindor common room that night. Daringly, Fred and George had put an Enlargement Charm on the front cover of The Quibbler and hung it on the wall, so that my giant head gazed down upon the proceedings, occasionally saying things like "THE MINISTRY ARE MORONS" and "EAT DUNG, UMBRIDGE" in a booming voice. Hermione did not find this very amusing; she said it interfered with her concentration, and she ended up going to bed early out of irritation. The poster only got funnier after an hour or two, especially when the talking spell had started to wear off, so that it merely shouted disconnected words like "DUNG" and "UMBRIDGE" at more and more frequent intervals in a progressively higher voice.

The dormitory was empty when I reached it a while later, my head starting to ache. I rested my forehead for a moment against the cool glass of the window beside my bed; it felt soothing against my scar. Then I undressed and got into bed, wishing my headache would go away. I also felt slightly sick. I rolled over on to my side, closed my eyes, and fell asleep almost at once...

I was standing in a dark, curtained room lit by a single branch of candles. My hands were clenched on the back of a chair in front of me. They were long-fingered and white as though they had not seen sunlight for years and looked like large, pale spiders agairst the dark velvet of the chair.

Beyond the chair, in a pool of light cast upon the floor by the candles, knelt a boy in black robes.

"My goal has been compromised, it seems." I said, in a high, cold voice that pulsed with anger.

"Master, I crave your pardon." The boy croaked, kneeling on the floor. He was very familiar. I'd know that floppy chestnut hair anywhere. 

"I do not blame you, Malfoy." I said in that cold, cruel voice.

I relinquished my grip on the chair and walked around it, closer to the boy cowering on the floor, until I stood directly over him in the darkness, looking down from a far greater height than usual.

"You are sure of your facts, Malfoy?" I asked.

"Yes, My Lord, yes... I was tracking her and came across him trying to remove her clothes in an empty classroom. She was completely unconscious." 

"And he was not acting under instruction from you?" 

"Not at all, My Lord, in fact, I expressly forbid any of the boys from touching her in that way... I told them in no uncertain terms that it had to either be me or you. He went against me, behind my back. I had to alter her memory and place her in the library; she simply thinks she feel asleep there. It's not hard when her mind is so vulnerable the past weeks." 

"Stand up, Malfoy." I whispered.

The kneeling boy almost fell over in his haste to obey. His facial features were dramatised by the candlelight. He remained a little stooped when standing, as though halfway through a bow, and he darted terrified looks up at my face.

"Very well..." I said. "I have wasted months on fruitless schemes, it seems. We are getting nowhere, and others are getting the opportunity while we are unable. Is she still whoring around the school?" 

"My Lord... yes, My Lord." Floppy said. "Though she is in a relationship with a female now." 

"I shall need your help. You need to get her to me. No longer can I trust that she will not become tainted by any other but me." 

"Of course, My Lord, of course... anything..." 

"Very well... you may go. Send Ash to me." 

Floppy scurried backwards, bowing, and disappeared through a door.

Left alone in the dark room, I turned towards the wall. A cracked, age-spotted mirror hung on the wall in the shadows. I moved towards it. My reflection grew larger and clearer in the darkness... an incredibly handsome face... glowing red eyes...

"NOOOOOOOOO!" 

"What?" A voice yelled nearby.

I flailed around madly, became entangled in the hangings, and fell out of my bed. For a few seconds I did not know where I was; I was convinced I was about to see the white, devilishly handsome face looming at me out of the dark again, then very near to me Fred's voice spoke.

"Will you stop acting like a maniac so I can get you out of here!" 

Fred wrenched the hangings apart and I stared up at him in the moonlight, flat on my back, my scar searing with pain. Fred looked as though he had just been getting ready for bed; one arm was out of his robes.

"Has someone been attacked again?" Fred asked, pulling me roughly to my feet. "Is it Dad? Is it that snake?" 

"No - everyone's fine -" I gasped, my forehead feeling as though it were on fire. "Well... Will Ash from your year isn't... he's in trouble... he apparently tried to rape me... Voldemort's really angry about that, apparently..." 

I groaned and sank, shaking, onto my bed, rubbing my scar.

"But Floppy's going to help him now... he's on the right track again..." 

"What are you talking about?" Fred said, sounding scared. "D'you mean... did you just see You-Know-Poo?" 

"I WAS You-Know-Poo." I said, and I stretched out my hands in the darkness and held them up to my face, to check that they were no longer deathly white and long-fingered. "He was with Floppy, somehow. There must be a way of leaving Hogwarts... Floppy's just told him that he stopped Ash from trying to rape me while unconscious." 

"Ash tried to fucking rape you?" 

"And Floppy had to alter my memory and leave me in the library to wake up and think that I had just fallen asleep. I've fallen asleep in there so many times, how am I supposed to know when this was...?" 

"Ash being a piece of fucking shit aside, why's You-Know-Poo concerned about -?" 

"The weapon." I said. "It's me. It must be. From the way they were talking... it was as if Riddle wanted me to be with him or something." 

The dormitory door opened; George and Terry came in. 

"I thought I'd come up to say goodnight to my queen before I went back to Ravenclaw To- oh Merlin, Softpaw, are you okay?" 

Fred filled them in on what had happened while I sat on my bed, rubbing my forehead. Both George and Terry's mouths fell open as they listened, then they looked around at me. 

"Did you say," Terry said, as he helped himself to water from the jug on my bedside table, his hands trembling, "that you WERE You-Know-Poo?'

"Yeah." I said.

Terry took an unnecessarily large gulp of water; I saw it spill over his chin onto his chest.

"And Will Ash tried to rape you?" George said angrily. 

I nodded. 

"And Floppy altered your memories so you would forget your assault and never know it happened?" Terry asked, his eyes glinting. 

I shrugged. 

"I'm going to fucking kill them." Terry strode towards the door, but I leapt up from my bed, grabbing him by his robes. 

"Don't, Terry." I said. "They'll know I saw it. I don't want them to know." 

Terry relaxed, turning back to me. He exchanged glances with the twins, sighing. 

"He told Floppy that he had to 'get' me for him." I said. "I assume he's back to attempting to kidnap me again. Plus... he also said something about not wanting me to be 'tainted by others but him.'" 

The three boys exchanged a very frightened glance. 

"What the actual fuck..." Terry breathed, as George sank slowly onto the bed behind him, his eyes wide. 

Fred was gazing at me with a mixed expression of intense fear and anger. "Daisy, he's wanting to kidnap you to be his personal... personal..." 

"Personal sex slave?" George offered, gritting his teeth. "Because that's what it sounds like. 'Tainted by others except me...' Plus being pissed that others are touching you without his permission..." 

"Fucking pervert creeper rapist." Terry spat, glaring out the window. 

"Daisy," Fred said, "you've got to tell -" 

"I haven't got to tell anyone." I said shortly. "I wouldn't have seen it at all if I could do Occlumency. I'm supposed to have learned to shut this shit out. That's what they want." 

By 'they' I meant Dumbledore. I got back into bed and rolled over on to my side, and Fred crawled into the bed beside me. I felt the mattress sink down as George lay down beside him, and Terry cuddled up close to me on my other side, stroking my hair and speaking to me soothingly. My scar began to burn; I bit hard on my pillow to stop myself making a noise. Somewhere, I knew, Ash was being punished.

I spent the following morning with Fred and George, who were both headless and selling our magical hats from under their cloaks in the yard. I managed to snag Harry and Kylie, and told them in quiet tones what had happened the night before. Both were horrified, and stuck by my side the whole day. 

The week did not improve as it progressed. The Slytherins were singing 'Weasley is our King' so loudly and frequently that Filch had banned it from the corridors out of sheer irritation; I was on tenterhooks that Hagrid might get the sack; and I couldn't stop myself dwelling on the dream in which I had been Riddle. Every time I saw Floppy or Ash in the corridors I shuddered, an ice-cold feeling running through me. Looking at Ash's smug face, knowing what he did to me... looking at Floppy's smirking one, knowing that he was going to try to kidnap me again, to take me to Riddle where unspeakable things would happen to me... 

I talked to Sirius about it through the Christmas gift he had given me as he had shuffled me out the door; a mirror, like FaceTime but with an actual physical thing to look through. Sirius had its twin, and it was through mine that I spoke to him about the dream, while my godfather listened and tried to conceal the fear and anxiety flickering across his face at certain points. 

"I'll have to let Dumbledore know there's a way in and out of Hogwarts that these boys are using." Sirius said. "If anything, they'll use it to take you to him. Please stick with your friends at all times, sweetheart." 

"I've been doing that since fifth year started." I said. "Ever since third and fourth year... no way am I letting Floppy have the chances he did back then." 

"Good." Sirius regarded me. "I'm serious, Daisy. Stay safe, please." 

And with Sirius reassuring me that I would be okay, I tried to put the dream to the back of my mind. Unfortunately, the back of my mind was no longer the secure place it had once been.

"Get up, Potter." 

A couple of weeks after my dream of Floppy, I was to be found, yet again, kneeling on the floor of Snape's office, trying to clear my head. I had just been forced, yet again, to relive a stream of very early memories I had not even realised I still had, most of them concerning pranks in primary school.

"That last memory." Snape said. "What was it?" 

"I don't know." I said, getting wearily to my feet. I was finding it increasingly difficult to disentangle separate memories from the rush of images and sound that Snape kept calling forth. "You mean the one where I printed out memes and stuck them on teachers' doors?" 

"No." Snape said softly. "I mean the one with a boy kneeling in the middle of a darkened room..." 

"It's none of your business." I said.

Snape's dark eyes bored into mine. Remembering what he had said about eye contact being crucial to Legilimency, I blinked and looked away, towards Harry, who was on his phone against the back wall, waiting for his half of the lesson.

Snape raised his wand again: "One - two - three - Legilimens!" 

A hundred Dementors were swooping towards me across the lake in the grounds... I screwed up my face in concentration... they were coming closer... I could see the dark holes beneath their hoods... yet I could also see Snape standing in front of me, his eyes fixed on my face, muttering under his breath... and somehow, Snape was growing clearer, and the Dementors were growing fainter...

I raised my own wand.

"Protego!" 

Snape staggered - his wand flew upwards, away from me - and suddenly my mind was teeming with memories that were not mine: a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner... a greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies... a girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick - 

"ENOUGH!" 

I felt as though I had been pushed hard in the chest; I staggered several steps backwards and hit some of the shelves covering Snape's walls. He was shaking slightly, and was very white in the face.

"Well, Potter... that was certainly an improvement..." Panting slightly, Snape straightened the bowl in which he had again stored some of his thoughts before starting the lesson, almost as though he was checking they were still there. "I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm... but there is no doubt that it was effective..." 

I didn't speak; I felt that to say anything might be dangerous. I was sure I had just broken into Snape's memories, that I had just seen scenes from Snape's childhood. It was unnerving to think that the little boy who had been crying as he watched his parents shouting was actually standing in front of me with such loathing in his eyes.

"Let's try again, shall we?" Snape said.

I felt a thrill of dread; I was about to pay for what had just happened, I was sure of it. We moved back into position with the desk between us. I was definitely going to find it much harder to empty my mind this time.

"On the count of three, then." Snape said, raising his wand once more. "One - two -"

I did not have time to gather myself together and attempt to clear my mind before Snape cried, "Legilimens!" 

I was hurtling along the corridor towards the Department of Mysteries, past the blank stone walls, past the torches - the plain black door was growing ever larger; I was moving so fast I was going to collide with it, I was feet from it and again I could see that chink of faint blue light - 

The door had flown open! I was through it at last, inside a black-walled, black-floored circular room lit with blue-flamed candles, and there were more doors all around me - I needed to go on - but which door ought I to take -? 

"POTTER!" 

I opened my eyes. I was flat on my back again with no memory of having got there; I was also panting as though I had really had run the length of the Department of Mysteries corridor, really had sprinted through the black door and found the circular room.

"Explain yourself!" Snape said, who was standing over me, looking furious.

"I... dunno what happened." I said truthfully, standing up. There was a lump on the back of my head from where I had hit the ground and I felt feverish. "I've never seen that before. I mean, I told you, I've dreamed about the door... but it's never opened before..." 

"You are not working hard enough!" 

For some reason, Snape seemed even angrier than he had done two minutes before, when I had seen into my teacher's memories.

"You are lazy and sloppy, Potter, it is small wonder that the Dark Lord -"

"Can you tell me something, sir?" I said, firing up again. "Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord? Funnily enough, I've only ever heard Death Eaters call him that." 

Snape opened his mouth in a snarl - and a woman screamed from somewhere outside the room.

Snape's head jerked upwards; he was gazing at the ceiling.

"What the -?" He muttered.

I could hear a muffled commotion coming from what I thought might be the Entrance Hall. Snape looked round at me, frowning.

"Did you two see anything unusual on your way down here, Potters?" 

I shook my head as Harry said, "No." Somewhere above us, the woman screamed again. Snape strode to his office door, his wand still held at the ready, and swept out of sight. Harry and I looked at each other, hesitated for a moment, then followed.

~~~ 

It turned out that Trelawney had been sacked; she was who had been screaming. McGonagall and Dumbledore, however, escorted her back up to her living quarters, as they reminded Umbridge that while she had the power to sack the teachers, she didn't have the power to remove them from the grounds. Dumbledore also announced that he had already hired a replacement for Trelawney, so that Umbridge couldn't appoint anyone herself - Firenze, a centaur from the Forbidden Forest that I had gotten to know over the years due to my frequent trips into the forest that was forbidden to all students. 

On the morning of our next Divination lesson, we set off for our new classroom. Classroom eleven was on the ground floor along the corridor leading off the Entrance Hall from the opposite side to the Great Hall. I knew it was one of those classrooms that were never used regularly, and therefore had the slightly neglected feeling of a cupboard or storeroom. When I entered it right behind Harry, and found myself in the middle of a forest clearing, I was therefore momentarily stunned.

"What the fuck?" 

The classroom floor had become springily mossy and trees were growing out of it; their leafy branches fanned across the ceiling and windows, so that the room was full of slanting shafts of soft, dappled, green light. The students who had already arrived were sitting on the earthy floor with their backs resting against tree trunks or boulders, arms wrapped around their knees or folded tightly across their chests, and all looking rather nervous. In the middle of the clearing, where there were no trees, stood Firenze.

"Daisy Potter." He said, holding out a hand when I entered.

"Hey, Firenze." I said, shaking hands with the centaur, who surveyed me unblinkingly through those astonishingly blue eyes but did not smile. "Good to see you." 

"And you." The centaur said, inclining his white-blond head. "It was foretold that we would meet again." 

I noticed there was the shadow of a hoof-shaped bruise on Firenze's chest. As I turned to join the rest of the class on the ground, I saw they were all looking at me in awe, apparently deeply impressed that I was on speaking terms with Firenze. whom they seemed to find intimidating. I smirked. 

When the door was closed and the last student had sat down on a tree stump beside the wastepaper basket, Firenze gestured around the room.

"Professor Dumbledore has kindly arranged this classroom for us," said Firenze, when everyone had settled down, "in imitation of my natural habitat. I would have preferred to teach you in the Forbidden Forest, which was - until Monday - my home... but that is no longer possible." 

"Please - er - sir -" Parvati said breathlessly, raising her hand, "why not? We've been in there with Hagrid, we're not frightened!" 

"It is not a question of your bravery," said Firenze, "but of my position. I cannot return to the Forest. My herd has banished me." 

"Herd?" Lavender said in a confused voice, and I knew she was thinking of cows. "What - oh!" Comprehension dawned on her face. "There are more of you?" She said, stunned.

"Sir... why have the other centaurs banished you?" Terry raised his hand. 

"Because I have agreed to work for Professor Dumbledore." Firenze said. "They see this as a betrayal of our kind. Let us begin." He swished his long palomino tail, raised his hand towards the leafy canopy overhead, then lowered it slowly, and as he did so, the light in the room dimmed, so that we now seemed to be sitting in a forest clearing by twilight, and stars appeared on the ceiling. There were oohs and gasps and Ron said audibly, "Blimey!" I grinned excitedly at Terry, Draco, Harry, and Kylie. Kylie reached across and took my hand, and I  blushed. 

"Lie back on the floor," said Firenze in his calm voice, "and observe the heavens. Here is written, for those who can see, the fortune of our races." 

I stretched out on my back and gazed upwards at the ceiling. A twinkling red star winked at me from overhead.

Firenze pointed to this red star directly above me.

"In the past decade, the indications have been that wizardkind is living through nothing more than a brief calm between two wars. Mars, bringer of battle, shines brightly above us, suggesting that the fight must soon break out again. How soon, centaurs may attempt to divine by the burning of certain herbs and leaves, by the observation of fume and flame..." 

It was the most unusual lesson I had ever attended. We did indeed burn sage and mallowsweet there on the classroom floor, and Firenze told us to look for certain shapes and symbols in the pungent fumes, but he seemed perfectly unconcerned that not one of us could see any of the signs he described, telling us that humans were hardly ever good at this, that it took centaurs years and years to become competent, and finished by telling us that it was foolish to put too much faith in such things, anyway, because even centaurs sometimes read them wrongly. He was nothing like any human teacher I had ever had. His priority did not seem to be to teach us what he knew, but rather to impress upon us that nothing, not even centaurs' knowledge, was foolproof.

"He's not very definite on anything, is he?" Kylie said in a low voice, as we put out our mallowsweet fire. "I mean, I could do with a few more details about this war we're about to have, couldn't you?" 

The bell rang right outside the classroom door and everyone jumped; I had completely forgotten we were still inside the castle, and quite convinced that I was really in the Forest. The class filed out, looking slightly perplexed.

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