From an impossible distance, an unholy existence is summoned from Prince Manor. The wards around Prince Manor flare for a moment causing Georgine to pause mid-story. The sleepy mumble from Rodrigo returns her attention to the tale of "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot" that she had been reading to her son from The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Words spill from her mouth, but her mind is distant from that which she reads out loud.
It was rare for Sir Knight Prince to ever depart from Prince Manor. It had only occurred once in Georgine's living memory and it was a memory that she dared not recall. A shiver runs down her spine and she unconsciously pressed closer to her child.
In the absence of the Head of the Prince Household, Dawn, who is tied to Prince Manor alertly holds the wards of Prince Manor with her magic. Her child stirs uneasily in sleep, but her hubby watches over them. Sensing that nothing was amiss beyond the departure of the keeper, she turns back in bed and curls up next to her husband. Content and reassured, she falls swiftly sound asleep.
The inhuman existence rapidly crosses over the land. The animals and beasts stir in its wake as if a terrible unspeakable nightmare roamed the land. Those asleep in bed for a moment are grappled with terrible nightmares, before once more falling asleep. While the those still awake shivered abruptly for the briefest of moments, before attributing the shivers to the cold of winter.
Something terrible and inhuman traversed the stone path up to Hogwarts. The Hogwarts wards flared while the centaurs within the Forbidden Forest intently gazed in the direction of the great castle. Among them are the figure of Ronan and a tousle-haired witch, Sybill Trelawney, who had been residing for the night within the tent of the handsome red-haired centaur.
Frightened whispers fill the tribe as young children sniffle and wail at being woken. Despite the fear, a proud, high-cheekboned centaur with long black hair loudly shouts, "Silence!" Magorian, the Centaur Chief of the tribe glowers at the tribe that hastily falls silent. The centaur turns and reverently bows to the approaching tribe shaman.
The crowd parts to permit the tribe shaman to pass freely between them. The shaman's lower half is that of a flea-bitten gray horse with red blood marks sprinkled across it. The human portion is that of an elderly thin man with old scars across his ribs and hindquarters. The shaman had long silver hair with bright feathers intertwined in a long French braid. And a thick necklace hanging on his chest full of fangs and claws of the most dangerous beasts hunted.
A spray of freckles is across the bridge of his nose and arms and torso. Aldonius's face is long and angular with full lips and a pointed nose. His eyes are the color of oak trees that are still just as bright. The shaman holds up his hand revealing that the tips of his long fingers are dyed from decades of crafting.
"All is well. There is nothing to fear," Aldonius smoothed the frightened tribe. "Return to your tents to rest. The children are tired," he firmly reminded the adults of the tribe.
"You heard the shaman back to the tents," Magorian snapped folding his muscular arms over his chest in emphasis.
The tribe obediently begins to disperse under the watchful eye of the Centaur Chief, Magorian. As the tribe passes their shaman, they nod to the shaman in training, Firenze. A slender youth with white-blond hair and a palomino body. His glittering eyes that gleam like the brightest and palest of sapphires set the tribe at ease.
Firenze trots to the side of his mentor and glances into the crowd. He is not the only one as many of the tribe centaurs cast side glances at the witch that Ronan had brought into their midst. A seer by all accounts and a very prized skill among the centaurs. But she was a human. And the centaurs had long memories, they still remembered what had been done to them by the humans both magical and non-magical alike.
"Will Ronan become the life-bond mate with the witch?" Firenze curiously asked his mentor.
Aldonius snorts and one hoof irritably paws at the ground. "Ronan is besotted with the witch, but the witch is equally besotted," much to his vexation.
"Indeed," Firenze observed. "She is a seer in her own right, but wholly untrained."
"Humans," Aldonius sneered pawing at the ground in emphasis.
"Indeed, but her ancestor was a powerful seer even surpassing those with the strongest gift among us," Firenze pointedly noted.
Aldonius presses his lips into a thin line of displeasure. "Even if that is the case, the witch cannot bear our kind. She will only bear-human young and humans have no place among our tribe."
"That was not always the case," Firenze quietly reminded his mentor.
"Humans are not to be trusted, Firenze," Aldonius harshly said, before softening at seeing his apprentice's face. "Magical or non-magical, their memory as a people is terribly short. Humans time and time again have failed to recall the promises of their forefathers and are even faster to forget their sworn oaths."
"Perchance," Firenze acknowledged. "Yet the tribe has resided in safety for countless centuries all thanks to the pact between us and the First Headmaster of Hogwarts. Not all humans are ungrateful or forgetful, Shaman."
Aldonius chokes for a second, before narrowing his oak-colored eyes at his apprentice. "You are much too soft, Firenze. Your friendship with the half-giant, Hagrid, and the Child of the Founders, Rowan Prince blinds you to reason."
"I am certain that the guardian of these lands will say otherwise, Shaman," Firenze confidently retorted. Nadira would never permit any harm to come to Rowan or any of the inhabitants of Hogwarts. Just as she would never permit harm to come to the centaurs or the merfolk.
"You!" Aldonius choked in anger pointing with one finger at the younger centaur, before gashing his teeth in annoyance.
"Nor can you deny what is already written in the stars," Firenze fearlessly answered.
Aldonius ground his teeth together while his tail whipped about angrily. Nothing good ever came from taking an apprentice. They only served to make one feel old!
The centaur Shaman was not the only creature that stirred in the land. Hagrid peacefully snored sound asleep to his younger brother in the cave, while the Wilfruda and her mate gazed alertly into the darkness. They sensed the dead just as did the Acromantuala's and Aragog, whose countless blind spider eyes peered in the direction of the approaching outlandish existence that carried the scent of the dead.
Down in the depths of the lake, the denizens of the frozen dark inky lake stirred. The giant squid unhappily swam in the waters, before vanishing in a cloud of ink. By the time ink dispersed, the giant squid had vanished into a hidden cave.
In the mervillage, there floats a grayish-skinned mermaid with long, wild dark green hair, Merchieftainess Murcurs. The powerful mermaid peers towards the surface of the frozen lake. Merchieftainess Murcurs yellow eyes stare for a long time without even blinking, before turning away to appease her frightened people. Under her words, the mervillagers with their small children return to their stone homes to rest.
At the edge of the village, the sentry's powerful mermen with necklaces of broken teeth, and fangs stand guard with spears in their hands ready to lay down their lives to protect the village from harm. Yet back in the village there stands a large and imposing the statue of Mother Lusca, the first merchieftainess.
Curled around the neck of the statue is a beautiful glittering pale serpent with sapphire jeweled eyes and a gem embedded between its forehead. The serpent was an entire foot longer than previously before, a fact of which Nadira was rather proud of.
Still, Nadira did not move nor rise to the surface of the lake. Despite the inhuman presence traversing the land overhead, she still could scent the taste magic of the protector upon the presence. It tasted of kin. And she would not be disobedient this time. She would patiently wait and bide her time.