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#Torvus
roxirinart · 1 month
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"A shark-like people, the Duellin ("dwell-in") inhabit Torr's coastal regions. Unlike the other races on Torr, they have a complete inability to use magic - fortunately, their multiple rows of teeth, high muscle mass, and phenomenal skill at weapon-smithing seems to be more than a fair trade-off."
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dirtyfox911911 · 1 year
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Dudes being bros, horsin’ around
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Firenze is fine, he’s probably just thinking about that “How Hungry?” meme a lot.
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the-al-chemist · 1 year
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Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles
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Chapter 8: The Capture
A/N: Artemis attempts to gain two separate victories, but instead manages to find something else entirely… Ellie Hopper belongs to @thatravenpuffwitch and David Willows and Amelia Booth to @that-scouse-wizard. Warnings: Ableism and poor sportsmanship.
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The Halloween Feast had been just as much fun as Artemis had expected, and she was grateful to Merula for persuading her to go. She was even more grateful the next morning, when Merula approached her at the Hufflepuff table over breakfast and promised to keep an eye on Victor Ketsueki’s mysterious extracurricular activities for her.
“Really?” said Penny, with a sigh. “Honestly, Artemis. I really don’t believe that Victor is the thief.”
“And I really believe that he is.”
“That’s only because you don’t like him. Why would he even steal all those things?”
“I dunno. Maybe it’s to pay for all his stupid new clothes,” Artemis suggested.
“But Jae said half of the things weren’t even that valuable. You know what they all were, though?”
“Shiny?”
“Reflective,” Penny corrected her. “Which means that it wouldn’t make any sense whatsoever for Victor to take them, because vampires don’t even have a reflection.”
Artemis sighed. There was no point in arguing. At least this month there would be a good distraction from the search for the thief and the endless N.E.W.T. preparation: along with the dark nights, cold winds, and morning frosts, November brought with it the first two matches of the Quidditch season. 
The first match saw Andre Egwu’s debut as Ravenclaw Captain, and his team’s defeat by Gryffindor. The following weekend marked the Hufflepuff’s first game, in which they were up against Slytherin.
“Last week’s match was a relatively close run thing, which means that although Gryffindor is in the lead, it is only by a small margin,” said Murphy, as the team gathered in the changing tents before the start of the match. “Now, I’ve been hearing the odd rumour about the Slytherin team’s strategy this year-”
“Penny told me that they’re planning on cheating!”
“There are only so many fouls they will be able to get away with,” Murphy said. “Keep level heads, work steadily on getting that points advantage, and the match should be ours.”
“Will be ours,” said Tonks, a confidence in her voice that didn’t quite match the white knuckles that gripped her Beater’s bat.
“Well, we can’t know that for sure. There are no certainties in Quidditch, after all. But you’re a strong team, and our strategies are sound. I’d say that the probability of our success is fair to good.”
“Thanks, Murph. Great pep talk.”
Murphy beamed at the compliment, and led the team out onto the pitch, where the whole school had gathered to watch the match. Up in the commentary box, a second year Gryffindor boy had taken over Murphy’s former role, and Artemis saw Murphy’s eyes flicker upwards as the boy began to speak.
“And here comes the Hufflepuff team, captained by Murphy McNully, who taught me everything I know. The Hufflepuffs actually have the greatest ratio of female to male players, with Beater David Willows being the only wizard on the team. A very lucky bloke, if you ask me. I’m sure that he’s been having the time of his life in those changing tents…”
“Jordan,” a second voice, which Artemis recognised as that of Professor McGonagall, growled into the microphone.
“Sorry, Professor. What I meant to say is that I’m sure David Willows has been behaving like a perfect gentleman, and that this respectful behaviour is bound to carry through onto the pitch,” the new commentator said quickly. “Whether the same thing can be said for the Slytherin players remains to be seen. New Captain Marcus Flint has put together a rather formidable side, but I have been reliably informed by one of the final year girls - I didn’t catch her name, but she was very pretty, blonde, great-”
“Jordan!”
“- personality, Professor McGonagall. I don’t know what you thought I was going to say there. So, my charming seventh year friend told me that someone else told… Anyway, rumour has it that Slytherin’s Bakari Nyoka has quit the team after a disagreement with Flint over some of his more unorthodox strategies for the game. Whether Flint has anything dodgy up his sleeve, and whether new Seeker Terence Higgs will go along with his shady schemes… Wait, what was that, Professor?” There was a dry whisper through the microphone, before Jordan sighed audibly and added, “Professor Snape has asked me to point out that these comments are merely - what was the word? - conjecture, and that there is no evidence to suggest that the Slytherin Captain intends to engage in any form of foul play. Okay, but I’m just saying what I’ve heard, Professor. What now?”
As Jordan continued to have a hushed argument with Professor Snape in the commentary box, both the Hufflepuff and Slytherin teams lined up in the centre of the pitch. Murphy wheeled over to shake hands with Flint, the Slytherin Captain, who made a point of bending down to reach him, a patronising smirk on his face. Behind him, a couple of the other players sniggered. Artemis glared at all of them, especially the Seeker, Higgs. 
“I’m going to catch the Snitch from right under his big, ugly nose,” she murmured to Tonks. 
“I’ll throw my bat at him,” Tonks concurred, already brandishing the Beater’s bat. 
“Isn’t that a foul?”
“Dont know, don’t care.”
The two of them, along with the rest of the players, rose into the air, high above Madam Hooch and Murphy, who remained in the centre of the below. Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth, and took hold of the Quaffle in her hands. With the blow of the whistle and an upwards throw of the Quaffle, the game began.
“Look at them go!” Jordan shouted. “Hufflepuff’s Ellie Hopper takes possession of the Quaffle, dodges a near-tackle, passes to Beatrice Haywood. Haywood takes the Quaffle towards the Slytherin goalposts - oh, that was close - and she passes to Cordelia Costa. Ooh, tough luck, Hufflepuff! Pass intercepted by Flint; Slytherin now in possession.”
The Slytherin Captain passed the Quaffle to one of his fellow Chasers, who carried the ball towards the Hufflepuff goalposts, flanked by Flint and the third Slytherin Chaser. She kept hold of the Quaffle, not passing to either of her teammates, and therefore not giving the Hufflepuff Chasers a chance to intercept. Ellie Hopper flew beneath the group as Bea Haywood attempted to fly into their formation, clearly looking to knock the Quaffle out of the Slytherin Chaser’s hands for Ellie to catch, but she was elbowed out of the way so hard that she was almost knocked off her broom. 
As the Slytherins approached the scoring zone, Flint suddenly accelerated towards the goalposts, where Amelia Booth was guarding the three hoops. Her eyes widened as he flew straight at her, and seconds later, he had collided with her, knocking her clear out of the way of the goal as the Chaser with the Quaffle took aim. With no Keeper to stop it, the Quaffle flew through one of the empty hoops, and a roar of applause rang out from the Slytherin stands.
But above the din of the spectators came a sharp whistle. On the ground, Madam Hooch was calling to the Slytherin Chasers and Amelia, beckoning them down to the ground to talk to her. Keeping one eye out for the Snitch, Artemis flew lower so that she could hear what was being said.
“I didn’t know it was a foul, Madam Hooch,” Flint was telling the umpire. “That’s how my family always used to play.”
Madam Hooch pursed her lips. “Stooging has been a foul for a long time-”
“Since 1888,” Murphy interjected.
“- a fact which you, as team Captain, should be well aware of,” continued Madam Hooch. Flint opened his mouth to argue and she held up a hand to stop him. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the excessive use of elbows on Miss Haywood, either. I know that you know cobbing is a foul, Flint, I’ve penalised you enough for it over the last two years.”
“It’s not my fault she got in the way of my elbows…”
Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, drowning out the Slytherins’ protests, and the players took to the sky once more.
“Slytherin score, but because the goal was the result of a foul, it is disallowed,” Jordan announced. “Hufflepuff is awarded two free penalties, one for the foul of Keeper Amelia Booth, and one for the foul of Beatrice Haywood.”
Bea and Cordelia lined up to take their penalties, and though the Slytherin Keeper saved the shot that Bea aimed at the goal, the Quaffle soared past his outstretched fingers after it left Cordelia’s hands and went straight through the hoop behind him.
“Costa scores!” shouted Jordan, over the applause from the Hufflepuff stands. “After all that, the score is ten points to Hufflepuff, nil to Slytherin!”
Artemis took both her hands off her broomstick to clap, but quickly replaced them as a Bludger soared past her, the turbulence it caused in the air buffeting her sideways. She frowned, looking in the direction from which the Bludger had come. The Quaffle was not back in play yet, which meant that the Beaters should not have been aiming Bludgers at other players. 
It seemed that once again, however, the Slytherins were not playing by the rules. Behind her, one of their Beaters still had his bat raised, a hard expression on his face. But it was not Artemis that his glare and his Bludger were aimed at: it was Cordelia. Artemis’ mouth dropped open.
“Cordelia, look out!”
It was too late; the Bludger that had just flown past Artemis continued its trajectory, soaring through the sky towards Cordelia Costa, who was facing the other way. The Bludger hit her over her hip, and the force with which it did so sent her lurching forward and to the side, and off her broomstick. She fell downwards, slowing magically as Madam Hooch put down the Quaffle to cast a spell. 
Artemis turned back again to look at the Beater who had aimed the Bludger at Cordelia, but he had already lowered his bat and was looking the other way.
“Ouch! A rogue Bludger makes contact with Costa, knocking her off her broom and out of the game! What a rollercoaster this game is turning out to be!”
“What’s a rollercoaster?” Tonks asked Artemis, flying to her side.
“No idea,” replied Artemis, “but that wasn’t a rogue Bludger, it was that Beater hitting it at her!”
Tonks’ yellow eyebrows furrowed. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“We need to tell Madam Hooch.”
But with Artemis as the only witness, and the Slytherin Beater swearing blind that he hadn’t done it, Madam Hooch was unable to do anything about the foul.
“It’s one person’s word against another, I’m afraid,” she said, eyeing the Beater sceptically. “As you were, everybody.”
The match recommenced, but now it was more like a battle than a game, with both teams fighting tooth and nail to get a lead over the other. Though the Hufflepuffs were down a Chaser, they were able to hold on to their point advantage. Thanks to the combined efforts of Tonks and David Willows, the Slytherin Beater who had knocked Cordelia off her broomstick suffered the same fate himself, and due to several incidents in which the Slytherin Chasers were caught cobbing Beatrice and Ellie, they were awarded even more penalties. 
“Hopper scores again, making the score seventy to thirty,” Jordan informed the crowd. “But what’s this? It looks like Hexley has eyes on the Snitch!”
Jordan wasn’t wrong; Artemis had indeed seen the Snitch, and was already in hot pursuit of the little golden ball, accelerating across the pitch in order to catch it before Higgs the Slytherin Seeker, who was already on her tail. But Artemis was faster, and she was gaining on the Snitch, almost there now, so close to reaching out and -
“HEY!” 
Artemis shouted as Marcus Flint the Slytherin Captain moved straight into her flight path, too quickly for her to brake in time before she hit him. Luckily, she had her body flattened against her broomstick into a diving position, so rather than being thrown off it, she was able to grip and roll with the broom as she veered off course. In doing so, however, she had lost sight of the Snitch.
Unfortunately, Higgs had not, and before Madam Hooch had the chance to blow her whistle to award Hufflepuff yet another penalty, the Slytherin Seeker had captured the ball. The game was over.
“Flint blocks Hexley, allowing Higgs to get the Snitch! Hufflepuff end the game with seventy points, but Slytherin win with one hundred and eighty!”
The Slytherin stands erupted with cheers, and the Slytherin players all soared over to Higgs to congratulate him. Meanwhile, the Hufflepuffs flew back down to the ground and trudged back to the changing tents dejected, disappointed, and angry.
“I don’t understand why there can’t be a rematch,” said Chiara, frowning over the top of her Butterbeer. “If the Slytherin Seeker only caught the Snitch because their Captain tried to knock Artemis off her broomstick, then why wouldn’t they say that it didn’t count?”
“Because that’s not how Quidditch works,” Penny informed her. “Besides, Snitches have flesh memories. They are issued for each game, so they know exactly who caught which Snitch when. They’d have to order a new Snitch to call a rematch, and it’s not like they’re cheap. And anyway, Marcus Flint has already been telling everyone that he didn’t mean to block Artemis, he was moving out of the way of a Bludger, and that’s why he ended up in her way instead.”
“But that’s a lie!”
“Well, yes, I know that. But it’s what he told Laila Farhat and Waveney Wiley, and they seemed to believe him when I spoke to them.”
Artemis rolled her eyes and finished her Butterbeer. One week after the Hufflepuff’s defeat, the match was still anyone could talk about in the Common Room. She had hoped that going out to the Three Broomsticks would give her and her friends something else to discuss, but clearly, she had been wrong. 
“Anyone want another?” she asked, seeing that Rosmerta was free at the bar. “It’s my round.” 
Madam Rosmerta greeted Artemis as if she hadn’t seen her in years rather than in weeks.
“I’ve been hoping you’d pop in,” the landlady told her, after she had released her from a tight hug. “I’m starting to really book up for Christmas, and I was wondering-”
“If you can rent out my room?”
“Whether you wanted to stay here over the holidays,” Madam Rosmerta said pointedly. “If you don’t, I’ll rent out the room, but I thought I’d offer it to you first.”
Artemis wrinkled her nose. “Why?”
“Because I like having you here, love.”
“Oh,” Artemis bit her lip. “The thing is, Ros, my friends are all staying at the castle, because it’s our last year to do it, so…”
“That’s what I thought,” Rosmerta smiled. “I just wanted to check.”
“I can still come and visit you, though. Because we’re seventeen we can leave the grounds as long as we sign in and out and are back before curfew.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” said Ros, summoning over a set of pint glasses. “Four pints?”
“Five,” Charlie Weasley walked out from behind the bar and placing another glass on the counter. “I’m just going on my break. I’m guessing you lot won’t mind me joining you?”  
“As long as you don’t mind everyone talking about last week’s Quidditch match,” Artemis rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we lost. I don’t know why we need to keep going on about it.”
Charlie’s lips twitched. “You know, you can’t catch the Snitch every single time you play Quidditch, Artemis.”
“I know, I just… Hang on. You’ve never played a game and not caught the Snitch.”
“No, that’s why said you can’t do it. I obviously can,” Charlie grinned. Artemis pulled a face at him.
“I liked you better before anyone fancied you,” she said, before sighing heavily. “Anyway, it’s not my fault that Flint got in my way.”
“No, he definitely blocked you on purpose. But luckily the point margin was fairly low, all things considered.”
“That’s what Murphy said. He’s gone through the numbers and if we manage to do well in the next couple of matches we can still win the Cup.”
“That reminds me,” Madam Rosmerta stopped pouring out Butterbeers and reached into her pocket. “Talking of winning… I saw this and thought of you.”
She handed Artemis a folded scrap of newspaper, and frowning, Artemis unfolded it and read aloud:
“‘This marks the Daily Prophet’s Forty-Ninth Annual Photography Award, and this year, the theme is ‘Beasts’. Entries due by the thirty-first of December 1990. First prize award of fifty Galleons.’”
“I thought you might like to enter,” Ros smiled. “Put that camera of yours to good use, maybe win yourself some money.”
“Yeah. I might be able to take a photo in Care of Magical Creatures class,” said Artemis, nodding slowly.
“Or you could try tracking something,” Charlie suggested. “Your Great-Uncle must be great at tracking.”
“Yeah, but he’s not back from South America until the new year, and the competition closes at the end of December. He took me with him tracking a couple of times when I was little but I never learnt that much. Not enough to find anything by myself, anyway.”
“Well, I could go with you.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” Artemis asked, and Charlie shrugged in response. 
“Course not. It would be good to get some real practice in,” he said. “We can take our broomsticks into the forest tomorrow evening, if you like?”
Artemis smiled and pocketed the newspaper.
“Hopefully, I’ll have more luck getting this photo than I did getting that Snitch,” she muttered darkly.
Unfortunately for Artemis, it quickly transpired that tracking was much harder than she remembered it being. 
“Any luck?” she asked Charlie, who was crouching next to the roots of an old and incredibly gnarled tree.
“None,” he grimaced. “Sorry, mate. I was expecting to find more than this. Maybe we should come back some other time.”
“Might be for the best. We’ve been here for three hours and all we have is one picture of an owl and a few of Borf.”
“I really like the ones of Borf.”
“They’re good, I just don’t know if a wolf is what the Prophet means by ‘beast’. They might be looking for something more magical,” Artemis frowned. “And anyway, I don’t think they’re good enough to win.”
“They might be,” Charlie shrugged. “Tell you what. How about we go to the next clearing and if we still haven’t found anything, we try again next weekend?”
It was worth a try, Artemis supposed, and so the two of them made their way deeper through the trees to the next clearing. It was lighter here, and the shadows of the trees cast abstract shadows on the ground, which was strewn with the remains of the autumn leaves, their fiery colours contrasting with the still green pines. If it had been the scenery alone she needed to photograph, she would have been happy, but sadly, there was not a beast to be found.
Or was there? From somewhere in the undergrowth came a rustling noise and the sound of of a twig snapping. Artemis looked across at Charlie, her mouth already open ready to ask him if he had heard the noise, but he placed his finger to his lips, frowning. Clearly, he had already heard it.
“What’s the matter?” whispered Artemis. “Why do you look-”
Artemis’ question was answered before she had finished asking it. From out of the trees stepped a centaur, his dun coloured fur blending into the tanned skin of his bare chest. Recognising the centaur’s face, Artemis breathed a sigh of relief, and she saw Charlie’s shoulders relax as he did the same.
“Torvus,” said Charlie, lowering his head slightly as he addressed the centaur. “It’s good to see you. How have you been?”
“Unsettled,” came the centaur’s answer. 
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“We live in unsettled times,” replied Torvus, and his dark eyes rested on Artemis momentarily. “It has been a long time since we last saw each other, Charles Weasley. You are grown. You must take more care in the forest, now.”
“I will do so. Thank you,” Charlie nodded.
“As must you, Artemis Hexley. You must take particular care.”
Artemis’ nose wrinkled. “Why?”
“We live in unsettled times,” Torvus repeated himself. “There are many who might blame you for this. Thankfully, many others will see that you could be the one to find the solution, and will protect you as such. Do you still have the amber I gave you when you were a foal?”
“Yeah, I do,” Artemis said, choosing not to mention that she had never been a foal.
“Do you have it with you now?”
“Um, no...”
“You should have it with you every time you venture into the forest,” said Torvus, and his dark tail swished. “Why haveyou come to the forest?”
“I’m taking photos,” Artemis told the centaur, holding up her camera to show him. Torvus shifted on his hooves, frowning at the camera. 
“Photos?”
“Yeah, I have to take a photo of a beast. It’s for a competition, you see.”
“I do not see,” said the centaur. “What are photos?”
“Oh, right. Well, a photo… It’s a sort of picture, but not painted or drawn or anything, it’s real,” Artemis’ eyebrows furrowed. “It’s like you can capture something you’ve seen, a memory, and hold it so you can keep seeing it, so you don’t lose it or forget it.” Torvus still looked confused, so Artemis held up her camera once more and told him, “Here, let me show you. Just stay still a moment.”
Artemis raised her camera to her eye and pointed it at Torvus, who tensed up, eyeing the item with a look of mistrust on his face and one hand instinctively resting on the bow at his hip. She pressed the button, and when the photo printed from beneath it, held it against her chest for almost a minute before looking at the result and handing it to the centaur. 
“Here,” she said. “This one is of you.”
“It is like a reflection,” Torvus murmured, looking at the photograph of himself. “The likeness is uncanny.”
It was a good likeness, and an excellent photo, far better than the one Artemis had taken of the owl, and even better than her favourites of Borf. The dappled light was shining on Torvus’ fur, his muscles tensed and his face hardened as he looked directly at the camera. He looked dangerous and wise and wild, human yet animalistic.
“Torvus, I was just wondering… As a centaur, would you say that you are a being or a beast?”
“A beast.”
“Why is that?“
“To menfolk, putting a name to something is a step to understanding it. For them, understanding something a step to controlling and exploiting it. We centaurs understand that there are many things that we will never understand, nor be able to control. We abide by the laws of nature, not those of men. If that makes us beasts in the eyes of wizards, I would prefer to be a beast.” He scraped one hoof on the ground, his tail whipping suddenly. “I understand now. You wish to use this likeness that you have captured for this competition of yours.”
“No. Well, not necessarily,” Artemis shook her head, although now that Torvus mentioned it, she realised that she could well do just that. “I was just asking because I meant to ask you the first time we met, and I never did. I should have done, because my friend wanted to know. She was interested in the answer, you see, and now… Well, she died, and now she won’t ever know, but I still wanted to find out for her, even though she’s gone.”
“This friend meant a lot to you,” Torvus said quietly, and Artemis nodded her head. “You have suffered a great loss.”
He held the photo out, offering it back to her. But even though Artemis knew that it could well be the photo to win her the competition, using it - using Torvus - felt wrong somehow. 
“You can keep it,” she said to him. “It’s a photo of you just as you are now. One day you can show it to your foals and they will know what you looked like when you were young.”
Torvus placed the photo into his saddlebag, a pensive look on his face.
“Perhaps I was wrong about you, Artemis Hexley,” he murmured. “Maybe we need not be so wary of you, after all. We shall meet again, I am sure of it. Take care of yourself, Charles Weasley.”
“You too, Torvus,“ said Charlie, but Torvus had already turned from him and returned to the trees from whence he had come. Charlie watched his leave with his head tilted to one side. “That’s strange.”
“I mean, he’s always been a bit strange,” Artemis replied.
“Not his behaviour,” Charlie shook his head. “I just thought I heard something on that side of the clearing, and he came out from this side.”
He fell silent and seemed to be listening for something. Artemis followed suit. Charlie was right. There was a noise coming from the other side of the clearing. The two of them exchanged dark looks, and both raised their wands as they walked across the clearing to investigate.
At the base of a tree, a patch of ferns was rustling, and a soft snuffling sound was coming from it. Charlie pointed at Artemis’ camera, and she held it in position to capture another shot. She nodded at Charlie, who waved his wand, and the foliage parted to reveal…
“A Niffler?” Artemis said out loud, lowering her camera. “What in the name of Merlin’s hairy back is a Niffler doing here?”
“I dunno,” Charlie said, and the Niffler ran up to him, snorting at his boots. He frowned deeply. “Artemis, I know one Niffler looks very similar to another, but… You don’t think that this one looks really familiar, do you?”
Artemis tilted her head as she looked at the Niffler, who looked at her and chirped excitedly.
“Sickleworth, is that you?” she asked it, and the Niffler jumped up and down, making a noise like coins jingling as it did so. “It is you, Sickleworth!” 
Sickleworth ran over to Artemis and leapt into her arms. He had not grown since she had last seen him, but he was heavier than she remembered him being. Far heavier. Frowning, she reached into his pouch, ignoring his indignant snorts, and took out the first item her fingers reached: a gold pin-badge shaped like a Snitch. She rolled her eyes and laughed quietly. Why had no one thought of this before?
“You know, Charlie, I think we’ve just captured our thief.”
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hphm-jeniferltheman · 2 years
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Task 3: Forest by @slytherincursebreaker
In contrast to the second task, Jeniferl was the last to finish in this one. She spends some time wandering the forest and assisting some of the champions along the way.
Later, she discovers a familiar clothing covered in numerous spider webs on the tree's corner. She was frightened by what she saw…
Rowan in the forest and unconscious....
for some reason gives Jeniferl a great sense of ժׁׅ݊éյׁׅà vυׁׅ.
"We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss" Jeniferl then finally understand this task about
Acromantulas are starting to attack. It didn't matter for her to use fire spells on them( which she's scared to use). She didn't care if her clothes were torn, she was too focused on saving Rowan. And as soon as they reach the starting point (thanks to Torvus), Rowan then wokes up. Jeniferl was so happy that she didn't notice that tears started to fall from her eyes.
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In this story,Task 3 happen on the same date as year 6 chapter 18 on the game. But instead of that tragedy, this happen... it's an alternate universe after all.
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ragtimelimes-art · 2 years
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Fun game of drawing D&D characters in my clothes
ft. Torvus and Wesper
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carewyncromwell · 6 months
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Torvus 🤝 Carewyn
The Wizarding World overall has always had a difficult relationship with all intelligent magical creatures that were not human. Goblins were denied wand use and could often only find stable employment in the Wizarding World through working in magical banks, since the Statute of Secrecy insisted they and other magical Beings stay out of Muggle view. Werewolves were treated as second-class citizens and chased out of most solid employment once their status came to light. Elves were often reduced down to mere slaves in the households of old Pureblood families despite having magic that easily outstripped wizards in regards to power. And the list went on.
Despite this, there were amazingly quite a few such non-human creatures that ultimately helped defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort, when he sought to take over the entirety of Wizarding Britain. At the Battle of Hogwarts in particular, the Order of the Phoenix's ranks included known werewolf Remus Lupin, and it was also backed up by reinforcements such as the school's house elves and (to everyone's surprise) the centaur herd that lived in the Forbidden Forest. One of the bravest members of the herd was one of its youngest warriors -- a stern dark-haired centaur with a tanned, young adult face and a dun-colored flank named Torvus -- and after the Battle, he was bestowed many honors by both the school's professors and his herd, all of which he accepted with very understated gratitude.
Imagine the herd's surprise, therefore, when their grim, stoic hero reacted with visible excitement, in response to a well-dressed, ginger-haired human with red lipstick coming to visit the Centaur Camp after the battle.
"Carewyn!"
Torvus's voice was very low and resonant, but echoed with great warmth as he galloped up to the human. He towered over her, to the point that she was encompassed in his shadow as he trotted quickly around her, looking her over. She was smiling just as broadly as he was, even with how wide her eyes were.
"Torvus!" said Carewyn, her wide eyes bright with delight. "Merlin -- Hagrid wasn't kidding, you have grown a lot!"
"Such is typical for us centaurs," Torvus said mildly, as he continued to look her over with something like muted amusement. "You, however, seem to have only become smaller, old friend."
Carewyn gave a light scoff. "I'm exactly the height I was before, thank you. If you were too, that'd be obvious -- "
"Torvus."
Torvus looked up at the herd's second-in-command, Bane, as he approached. The large black-flanked, bearded centaur glanced from Torvus to down at Carewyn with visible disgust and disapproval.
"What is the meaning of this?" he said, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. "Did my ears actually catch you calling this human your friend?"
Torvus shifted so as to stand right behind Carewyn, bending just enough so that he cast his shadow completely over her.
"Bane, this human is Carewyn Cromwell," Torvus said very lowly. His face had become much more stoic again. "She is an old friend of our herd. Hagrid has delivered gifts from her in the past, around the Winter Solstice -- "
"Hagrid has not been a friend of the herd in many a year," Bane said very sharply.
"A fact that only came about in large part because of his protection of me."
All of the centaurs turned, to make room for another kinder-voiced one as he approached. Despite the large hoof-shaped scar stamped into his chest and his immense height, this new arrival moved with both conviction and an almost deer-like grace.
Carewyn's eyes lit up.
"Firenze!" she said, delighted.
Firenze approached Carewyn at a much more leisurely trot, but was otherwise just as warm in his welcome as Torvus. He even opened his hands to take both of hers.
"Carewyn Cromwell," the part-time Divination professor greeted her with a fond smile. "I was very pleased to see your star's trajectory shifting back towards Hogwarts, if only temporarily."
"I'm so glad you're back home with your herd again," Carewyn said earnestly.
Firenze glanced back at Bane's counterpart -- the older, dark-haired leader of the herd called Magorian -- as he too clopped forward to get a better look at Carewyn. Magorian looked less condescending than Bane, but he still studied Carewyn very critically, his black eyes tiny sparkling pinpricks on his face with how narrowed they were.
"Remind me of these gifts Carewyn Cromwell has sent our herd, Torvus?" said Magorian.
Torvus moved that little bit closer to Carewyn so that his head was right over hers, as he stared down his herd's leader.
"Nine years prior," he said very stoically, "Carewyn secured the herd's blessing through gifting us a loaf of hand-baked banana bread, a batch of Hagrid's rock cakes, branches of fresh sage, and our most extensive star chart. She then brought me many other edible gifts throughout that year and the following year, and upon her graduation from the wizards' school, sent the herd other handmade goods through Hagrid. Most recently, three years ago, Hagrid passed along a box from her that contained what she called 'candied oranges.'"
"Magorian, if I may speak?" asked Firenze. Upon the leader giving a nod of consent, he pressed on, "I can testify to Carewyn's character. I was the one who first welcomed her into our herd -- "
Bane blustered through his nose and lips. "Hardly surprising -- you've always had a soft spot for humans, Firenze -- "
"I thought that you, like the rest of the herd, had come to see the rightness of us helping the humans in their fight against the Dark Lord," Firenze challenged him.
"That may be," Bane shot back, "but just because we had to ally ourselves with humans for our own self-preservation doesn't mean we have to befriend the creatures that have deemed the world we occupy theirs alone to control -- "
"Firenze, you said you wished to speak in regards to Carewyn Cromwell's character," Magorian cut off both of the younger centaurs, crossing his arms. "Was what you said truly all you wished to say?"
Firenze's eyes narrowed just a bit as he turned his focus back onto the leader.
"No. Prior to being welcomed to our camp, Carewyn helped with breaking the curse on the Vault placed in our Forest by the four Founders of Hogwarts school. In doing so, she brought peace to this forest."
"She also returned my lost arrowhead to me," Torvus interjected quickly.
"Torvus." Firenze shot the younger centaur a short, but still supportive look over his shoulder -- almost as if reminding him to let him do the talking. "...Carewyn's efforts likewise brought peace to our herd, as well, by helping Torvus reclaim his honor and bringing him back into the fold. Not to mention that her treats have always been quite tasty," Firenze added with a bit of a smile in his expression.
Magorian cocked his eyebrows at Firenze. He then glanced from Torvus to down at Carewyn still standing tall in his shadow.
"Do you agree with Firenze's assessment of your achievements, Carewyn Cromwell?" he asked.
Carewyn tried very hard not to look away or blink, however much she wanted to.
"Firenze is very kind," she said quietly. "But I can't take full credit for dealing with the Forest Vault -- I couldn't have done what I did without my friends. Hagrid and Torvus, included."
She shot a quick glance at Bane before returning her gaze to Magorian.
"...If I may, though," she said respectfully, though she didn't give any opening for Bane or otherwise to prevent her from speaking. "I understand if I'm no longer welcome in your home. However much I consider Torvus a friend, and I always will...I know how much he values his family. I would never want to come between him and you. And Bane's right -- witches and wizards have done you a lot of wrong. We still do, in a lot of ways. Even if you had to fight with humans to fight a greater evil, that hasn't changed. And even if I don't agree with how centaurs have been treated, that doesn't mean that it hasn't defined my world and the life I live in it. Nor does it mean I haven't found success in that world that overlooks or even demonizes Beasts and Beings that don't conform to Ministry standards...in part because I am able to conform to those standards."
Bane's face scrunched up completely, his eyes flashing with resentment. All of the other centaurs, though, seemed to react much less distrustfully -- most looked confused or curious, but Firenze and Torvus were both smiling, and even Magorian considered Carewyn with something almost intrigued.
"It's rare to hear a human be so critical of her own kind," the herd leader said levelly. "And rather eloquently so."
He straightened up slightly, his black eyes boring into her from above with a bit less suspicion.
"Very well. I shall uphold Firenze's initial judgment, Carewyn Cromwell. You are welcome, among our herd."
Both Carewyn and Torvus couldn't completely fight back large grins. Torvus quickly gave a respectful bow to the herd leader, before beckoning Carewyn further into the camp.
"Come, Carewyn," said Torvus, his stoic face once betraying that warmth from before that made him look considerably younger. "We can sit further in, and you can tell me of you and your brother's place in this War. Then I can tell you of the Battle waged at the castle."
Carewyn nodded and immediately followed Torvus away from the rest of the herd and deeper into the camp.
For the next few hours, Torvus and Carewyn sat by the roaring fire, catching up. Carewyn told Torvus of her and Jacob's covert assistance of the Order of the Phoenix, her having to stay undercover at the Ministry to sabotage the Death Eaters' efforts, and Jacob both hiding fugitives in his flat and at one point even dousing a dangerous strain of Fiendfyre set loose in Hogsmeade village by the Death Eaters at great risk to his own safety.
"I saw your brother, at the battle," said Torvus, "though we had no chance to speak during it. Your brother appeared to have suffered great losses, there."
Carewyn nodded sadly. The faces of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, and Snape all brushed over her mind.
"We all have," she murmured.
Torvus actually reached in to brush a loose hair off of Carewyn's shoulder, before bringing the rest of it behind her ear. Carewyn wasn't used to people being in her personal bubble like that, but she knew that centaurs in particular expressed affection through fixing and grooming each other's hair. She offered Torvus a weak smile, which Torvus returned with a stoic, but still gentle look.
"Our herd was lucky, to have no casualties," he said. "Though I believe that's because most of us did not join the battle until the second half. Only Firenze was brave enough to fight from the start...the rest of us were hesitant to oppose the will of the stars, even though Hagrid triggered our conscience. It was but when I pointed out the position of Sagittarius and the North Star in the heavens that any of the centaurs allowed themselves to hope that our efforts could turn the tide of battle."
"And you did," said Carewyn, beaming. "Hagrid said that you were particularly brave. He said you took down multiple Acromantula single-handed and saved several teachers' lives."
Torvus shook his head modestly. "Thank you. I am grateful for the praise I have received -- though I remain unsure how much of my efforts were built on my own talents, or if Fate and Potter's own magic had machinations to make my efforts so meaningful."
Carewyn frowned. "What do you mean?"
"When Potter went out to the Forest to give up his own life to the Dark Lord, his sacrifice -- although ultimately not resulting in his death -- still nonetheless sparked to life a powerful protective magic. All because the sacrifice was still so selfless and sincere."
Carewyn's eyes widened, lighting up with realization.
"Love," she breathed. "Potter was ready to sacrifice his life to try to protect Hogwarts."
Torvus nodded, his lips touched with the shadow of a smile. "Indeed. And that spell prevented the Dark Lord or his followers to land any permanent damage on the school or its occupants. So by fighting in the battle...my herd and I both ensured our own safety and were likely given additional strength, in helping to protect those others Potter meant to protect."
Carewyn smiled a bit more too. "Even so...you must not have known anything about that until the Battle was over. I'd say that still made what you did incredibly brave."
Torvus's black eyes softened. "Thank you, Carewyn. As were your words to Magorian -- I think he was impressed by your conviction, when you'd been received with little warmth or trust."
"Your herd had reason to not trust me," said Carewyn. "I am a human, and a witch as well -- and a lot of witches don't treat centaurs with respect. I had to work quite closely with one during the War, much to my displeasure," she added contemptuously.
Torvus cocked his eyebrows. "Ah yes -- the one called Dolores Umbridge, I believe you mean? Firenze has heard much of her exploits at your Ministry, through Minerva McGonagall. I was quite displeased to hear that she didn't learn her lesson, after the justice we bestowed upon her two years ago."
"What did you do to her?" Carewyn asked, cocking her eyebrows as well. "From what I heard, Umbridge was absolutely traumatized by that whole affair."
Torvus gave a light bluster through his lips. "Her trauma came about from her own flaws of character, more than anything we did. The pathetic creature was so disgusted of us merely touching her that we hardly needed to use our weapons -- merely dragging her through the forest, tossing her between us and taunting her the whole while, was enough to terrify her..."
"Well, admittedly, being carried up off the ground by complete strangers who are stronger than you with no chance at escape can be rather scary," Carewyn said coolly. "Especially for women of shorter stature."
"Believe me when I say we would never have treated you with such lack of care," said Torvus stiffly. "Least of all because you wouldn't have conjured ropes trying to strangle our leader or called us 'filthy half-breeds,' 'uncontrolled animals,' and 'creatures of near-human intelligence.'"
Carewyn looked disgusted, but not surprised.
"I never said I thought Umbridge didn't deserve what she got," she said primly. "I was very glad to put her under citizen's arrest the first moment I had."
Her red lips danced with a bit more mischief as she added, "And to forcibly clear out her office. I've always liked cats -- but Umbridge really has made it very difficult for me to like anything patterned with them."
When Carewyn finally left the Centaur Camp, Torvus, Firenze, and Magorian all sent her off with good wishes. Magorian reiterated the promise that she would be welcome to visit the Camp in the future, if she so desired, and that any gifts she were to send through Hagrid would be accepted with open arms. Firenze even gave Carewyn a parting gift of several branches of lavender, bound with twine.
"Lavender has protective properties," said the part-time Divination professor. "It can ward off negative energies that may surround the holder. And if I'm not mistaken, lavender is a scent you're attuned to," he added with a wryer smile, with a pointed twitch of his nose.
Carewyn covered her mouth to hold in a giggle. "I keep lavender sachets in my bureau. Thank you, Firenze."
Torvus himself walked Carewyn out of the Camp all the way to the perimeter of the Forest, and the two exchanged a hug before parting.
Carewyn sadly had much less chance to visit Hogwarts and Torvus by extension as much as she would've liked, around all the work she had to do for the Ministry...but through gifts and mutual friends, they stayed in touch, and whenever they did get the chance to collide again, the two stoic personalities would both light up when in each other's presence.
Friendship Drabble Prompt!
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swag-dragons · 7 months
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he is precious to me
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hyenamonster-art · 10 months
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I think about Luminoths a Normal amount.
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⚠️Vote for whomever YOU DO NOT KNOW⚠️‼️
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oktaviaslabyrinth · 1 year
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Torvus Catacombs // Metroid Prime 2: Echoes (2004)
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torvus-bong · 1 year
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fuck it. torvus bong real.
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feat dirty ass water sourced from the irl torvus bog
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roxirinart · 1 year
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Doodles of Fenriel and Ruhan, drawn while watching a movie with my housemates :) they're Sindryl! My species - strange tall deer-snake-fox-bird-things :)
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nocontext-hphm · 9 months
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the-al-chemist · 1 year
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Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles
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Chapter 18: Prophecy Girl
A/N: Apologies for the cliffhanger of chapter 17. Let’s crack on, shall we? Warnings: threat and intrigue.
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The Acromantula’s cold laugh echoed through the clearing, and Artemis felt her blood turn to ice in her veins. As the undergrowth rustled and the shadow of the spider emerged from the trees, she pushed against the overturned tree behind her, trying to force herself out of the web that bound her and pinned her to it. Beside her, Charlie and Barnaby were trying to do the same, while Talbott appeared to have frozen on the spot, and Chiara was helplessly trying to whisper words of reassurance to a crying Liz.
“I told you I would find you,” said the spider, clicking its pincers at them as it crawled into the clearing, advancing on them achingly slowly. “All of you. Now, which of you to eat first? I think maybe… ARGH!”
The spider screamed in pain as something flew threw the air and embedded itself in its back. Artemis frowned. What was it? A second item flew at the spider, and a third, and another, two more, and… Her eyes widened as she realised what they were.
Arrows.
A storm of arrows were raining down on the Acromantula thick and fast from all directions, and from all around the clearing there came an increasingly loud roll of thunder. Except it wasn’t thunder, it was the sound of hundreds of feet - no, hooves - pounding on the ground, which had started to shake beneath Artemis’ feet. 
From out of the trees, over two dozen centaurs cantered into the clearing, spears and knives and bows and arrows all raised and aiming for the Acromantula. They charged at the spider with weapons in their arms, bucking and rearing and kicking with their legs. 
The spider was attempting to fight back, but the centaurs were too numerous, too powerful, too vicious. Eventually, it fell to the ground, and was trampled beneath their hooves until it lay completely motionless, with three eyes and two legs missing. Victorious, the centaurs backed away, turning their mistrustful and still flaming eyes upon the group of curse-breakers. 
“Firenze, free these humans,” said one of the centaurs, one with dark hair and a chestnut coat, and a second, this one almost white-blond from his head to his palomino tail, used a blade to cut Artemis and her friends out of the spider’s web. 
“Thank you,” said Charlie, as his feet hit the ground. He bowed his head low, and did not raise it fully. His whole body bristled with nervous tension. “We can’t say that we deserve your intervention, but we are grateful for it.”
“We saw the red lights, and we decided to investigate,” said the first centaur. “This is fortunate for you. However, our intervention would not have been necessary had you not ventured into the forest.”
“Understood. We are sorry that it was necessary.”
The centaur narrowed his eyes at Charlie and swished his tail. Charlie lowered his gaze and stepped backwards, and the centaur did too. For a moment, it looked as if he meant to let them go, but behind him, a third centaur made a pained noise, and moved his hand away from his withers to reveal a large wound. Artemis heard Charlie swear under his breath, and first centaur stomped his hind foot.
“One of my herd is injured,” he said, his glare becoming fiercer and harder again. “You come here, you trespass, you lure the Acromantula from the cave, and now one of us is injured. This is your folly. This is your fault.” His hands gripped his spear, and his front hoof scraped the ground. “We should have left you to your fate. It would have been better to have left you to your fate.”
“I am sure they meant no harm, Magorian,” said the second centaur, the one who had freed them from the web. “After all, they are foals.”
“They look grown to me.”
“Barely grown, and not all of them. We do not harm foals.”
“One of us has been harmed by their actions, why should they not be harmed by ours?” the first centaur, Magorian, snapped. “If they are still foals, they will not be for long.”
“Wait!” Artemis reached into her pocket and brought out the piece of amber she had used to open the Forest Vault. She walked up to the centaur and held it in the dim light for him to see. “Please, don’t hurt us. I have this, it was given to me by a centaur. He said that it shows that I - my friends and I - should be allowed to pass through this forest unharmed.”
“What centaur gave you this?”
“I did,” a voice called out from the bulk of the herd, and the familiar dark haired head and dun-coloured hindquarters of Torvus emerged from the group.
Magorian stamped one of his hooved feet on the ground. “Why have you given this talisman to this human filly?”
Torvus fixed Artemis with a peculiar look as he answered the other centaur’s question with a question of his own: 
“Do you not know who this girl is?”
The first centaur looked from Artemis to the piece of amber in her hand, to the direction in which the Cursed Vault lay. His eyes widened, and a look of realisation paused across his face, softening his features.
“The Fay Child…”
The centaurs led the group of curse-breakers deeper into the forest, to another large clearing, and then onward through the trees to what looked like a settlement or campsite. Several large pieces of fabric and thin rafts made from woven strips of willow hung between trees, with the floor beneath them strewn with furs, leathers, and dried grass. Several small stone fire pits were dotted around the ground between the erected shelters, and there were more centaurs present than Artemis had even dreamed might live in the forest - not just grown males like the ones that had rescued her and her friends from the Acromantula, but females and foals, too.
On arrival to the camp, the male centaurs soon settled, and the guests were welcomed with only mild hostility. Magorian directed to Firenze to care for the injured member of the group, and Chiara quickly offered her services and healing remedies. Magorian looked sceptical, but Firenze bowed his head, and the two set to work.
The others were instructed to sit by one of the fire pits, which was lit by one of the female centaurs, dressed only in jewellery made from carved wooden beads and tiny polished pieces of amber. Talbott, Barnaby, and Charlie all stared fixedly at the ground as she worked, whilst Liz looked as if she were struggling to pluck up the courage to tell three foals to stop playing with her hair. When the female centaur finished lighting the fire, she turned to the foals, and with a single look from her, they scattered.
From beneath one of the fabric canopies, a centaur with dappled grey hindquarters, white braided hair, and an incredibly weathered and lined face walked towards them. Unlike the other male centaurs, he did not hold a weapon, but a carved wooden staff, which he pressed into the ground and leaned on as he slowly lowered his body to the ground with a loud exhalation.
“My name is Eldred,” he told them, in a voice that seemed to whisper like the wind through the leaves. He fixed his emerald green eyes on Artemis, the look in them entirely unreadable. “What is your given name, Fay Child?”
“It’s Artemis.”
“A good name, a huntress’ name.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Artemis frowned. “Why do you call me that? Fay Child. What does it mean?”
“If it is meaning you seek, you need only look to the world around you. There is great wisdom in everything, if only you know how to find it,” said Eldred. Seeming to realise that Artemis had no clue what he was talking about, he raised his gaze and pointed a finger skywards. “Look at the skies. The sky has been here since before any of our earliest ancestors had been dreamed into existence, and shall be here until the last of our descendants is long gone. It sees all, knows all, tells all. The forest tells us things, too. There are words in the wind, letters in the leaves, rhymes in the rivers, stories in the soil. The menfolk have forgotten this, but we remember. We remember.”
Artemis was no less confused than she had been before Eldred had spoken. She turned to look at her friends, and saw that they were just as mystified as she was.
“So, if I want to know what it means, I should look at the stars and stuff?” she asked, and Eldred inclined his head. “Okay, but I don’t know how get the answers from those.”
“That is because you are human.”
“Yeah, but you’re not. Maybe you could show me?”
Eldred’s eyes sparkled, and his lips twitched. 
“No,” he said. Artemis opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “You are very nearly grown. Too much a woman to unlearn the ways of your kind quickly, and yet you still have the impatience of the young. I cannot show you.” Artemis sighed, disappointed, but the centaur was not finished speaking. He fixed his eyes on her once more and told her, “But I can tell you.”
“Tell me what, exactly?”
“What I know, what I have been told. About you, Fay Child, about your destiny.”
“My destiny?”
“Indeed. As each creature in the forest takes a different path through the trees, so each of us must take a different path through the world. Yours, in particular, is of interest to the centaurs.”
“Why, though?” Artemis asked. When Eldred did not reply, she pushed further. “Because of the Cursed Vaults? I know I’m going to be the one to open them.”
“For one so inept at reading the natural world, you seem very certain of the future.”
“Well, there was a prophecy, you see…”
“Human prophecies are meaningless. The future is not set in stone, it is as changeable and as open to interpretation as the skies themselves,” Eldred shook his white-haired head. “No. You cannot know your path until you take it.”
“But-”
“The natural world exists in a series of patterns and cycles. What has come before is likely to come to pass again. Therefore, if you wish to know more about what is likely to come in the future, you must first look to the past.” Eldred fixed Artemis with another strange look before asking her, “What do you know about Morgan Le Fay?”
“Um,” Artemis frowned, trying to remember anything she could. “You mean Morgana, right? She was a witch, and she lived around the same time as Merlin, I think. She was a dark witch.”
“What do you mean by this?”
“She was evil, she practised dark magic.”
“Magic is neither dark nor light, it is simply magic,” said Eldred. “As for Morgana, she was neither good nor evil, she was simply human, with all the faults and frailties that humanity brings. I am not saying that we centaurs are without our faults, of course, but we do see things as they are, not through men’s narrow view of morality.”
“Right,” Artemis nodded, though she was still confused. “Why are you telling me this?”
“So that you may understand. Morgan Le Fay wished to understand. That is why she came here, to learn from the centaurs, many years ago, when she was still but a foal herself. We centaurs were perhaps less suspicious of the menfolk today in those days, and so we endeavoured to teach her. And, unlike many of your kind, she was able to learn.
“At some point in her teaching, she learned of a great darkness that would one day envelope the world of men. We centaurs have always known of these currents by which wizardkind are so strongly pulled, and we do not interfere in such matters. What will come, will come. What will be, will be.” The centaur paused and shuffled on his front legs before settling and continuing, “Morgan Le Fay did not wish to let such a thing pass. Eventually, she left the herd to seek a way of protecting her kind from the threat this darkness posed, and she did not return for many years, now a woman herself. By then, she said she had found it.”
“Found what?”
“What she had sought to find. Something that may prove to be a salvation, of sorts. Exactly what it was, I do not know. I suspect that the details of what it was have long faded from memory. However, I do know that she asked for the centaurs’ blessing, as she required the protection of the forest to help her in her quest. For whatever reason - old loyalty, or mutual respect, perhaps - the centaurs gave her that blessing, and in thanks, she gave us a jewelled arrow, which she imbued with enchantments that would protect the herd from-”
“From the Cursed Vault,” Artemis said, and Eldred inclined his head. “So, where do I fit into all of this?”
“Morgan Le Fay is long gone, and we centaurs have watched the skies and listened to the secrets of the forest for centuries since,” Eldred told her. “Her discovery has yet to be unearthed, but one day it will be. Nature tells us of a child who will walk the path Morgan Le Fay began to tread, and find the salvation your kind so greatly needs. That is why I call you Fay Child. As for what it means, you will find out in time. All things have their time.” The old centaur looked to the skies once more and smiled serenely. “For now, Fay Child, it is time for you to return to the world of men. You do not belong in the Forest.” 
He picked up his staff and pressed it into the ground again, leaning on it fully and pushing down as he rose up onto his four legs with considerable effort. 
“Thank you,” said Artemis, also rising to her feet. Eldred bowed his head and looked at her again with his forest-coloured eyes.
“Go well.”
The castle grounds were pitch black when the Curse-Breakers returned from the Forbidden Forest, having been escorted most of the way back through the trees by Torvus and Firenze. They made their way back to the castle itself in near silence, broken only to bid each other good night and to promise that they would never tell Bill how close they got to being eaten by an Acromantula in his absence. 
As Chiara and Artemis reached the Hufflepuff common, they began to speak once more, keeping their voices low so as not to wake the rest of their House.
“They have such a fascinating way of life, don’t they?” Chiara whispered. “I’ve never seen anyone using healing herbs the way they did, and their philosophy... They’re remarkable beings.”
“Beasts,” Artemis corrected her. Chiara gave a little shiver, as if she were cold. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… It’s just that they prefer to be called beasts.” 
“They do? Why would anyone want to be called a beast?”
“Because ‘being’ means like a human.”
“I suppose that makes sense. Humans can be just as beastly as animals. More, sometimes,” said Chiara, with a small and sad smile. “And if someone says that they are something, they’re probably right. People tend to know themselves better than anyone else knows them, after all. Why would centaurs be any different?” Artemis shrugged in response, and Chiara gave her a curious look. “What were you talking about with the herd elder?”
“He was saying how our destiny is written in the world around us,” Artemis replied, and Chiara nodded as if she agreed.
“So, did he know about the prophecy?”
“Sort of, I dunno. He said that human prophecies are nonsense, but then he said that I had a destiny to do with opening the Cursed Vaults, because of patterns in stars and leaves, and because Morgan Le Fay already started to walk my path.”
Chiara’s eyebrows shot up. “Morgan Le Fay, as in the Morgan Le Fay?”
“Sounded like it, yeah. Why?”
“Well, she was centuries old.”
“So are the Vaults. Apparently she spent time learning the ways of the centaurs and foresaw the darkness the Vaults would bring.”
“Wait,” Chiara’s pale blue eyes widened, “Morgan le Fay foresaw the Vaults?”
“Yeah,” Artemis frowned at the look on Chiara’s face. “What? What’s the matter?”
“Artemis, I don’t think that’s all Morgan le Fay foresaw. That prophecy, the one you took from the Department of Mysteries… Do you remember what it said on the label?”
“It said ‘Hexley’ and ‘Cursed Vaults’.”
“It said ‘date unknown’ and ‘M.L.F.’,” Chiara told her. “Morgan Le Fay. She might have made that prophecy.”
“She might have. Would a prophecy even keep that long in one of those crystal balls?”
“Oh, yes. Memories can keep for years if stored correctly, centuries even.”
“Eldred the centaur said that she foresaw a way to be saved from the darkness,” said Artemis. “The way to actually break the curses for good, maybe?”
“Maybe. It’s definitely something to look into,” Chiara nodded. “The Oracler you know from the Department of Mysteries might know if there are any other prophecies made by Morgan Le Fay.”
“Olivia Green?”
“Why don’t you write to her and ask?”
“Because I stole a prophecy from her place of work and risked her losing her job.”
“Ah.”
“Besides,” said Artemis, “it’s not an Oracler we need to look into Morgan Le Fay. It’s a historian.”
Artemis found Corey in the library the following morning. She sat down on the desk beside him and dropped a Chocolate Frog onto the book he was reading.
“What’s that for?” he asked, picking up the sweet and hiding it in his bag. 
“I thought you might like Chocolate Frogs,” Artemis shrugged. “Because pretty much everyone likes chocolate, and you strike me as the sort of person who might like collecting the historical witch and wizard cards.”
Corey’s face split into a grin. “I do like both of those things, actually. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. How’s the research going?”
“Pretty well, actually. Thankfully, Rowan managed to translate most of your brother’s notes, because the codes he uses are way beyond my ability. I’ve given the rest to Bill Weasley to decode.”
“Good idea.”
“Meanwhile, I’ve been looking into the origins of this Cabal.”
“The origins?”
“They say that if you want to know the future, you should examine the past, so that’s what I’m doing.”
Just the day before, Artemis would have thought that this was a ridiculous idea, but after her encounter with the centaur the night before, she almost understood Corey’s logic.
“Okay,” she said, frowning. “So, where do they originate from?”
“Right here, actually,” said Corey. “At Hogwarts. They were founded in the first half of the nineteenth century by a witch named Claudine Fortinbras.”
“Fortinbras.” The name sounded familiar to Artemis. “Why do I know that name?”
“She wrote some books. Rowan read them as part of her research. She was interested in maps.”
“Maps! Yes, of course,” Artemis nodded emphatically as she remembered Rowan’s thirteen-year-old face looking up at her from a large, dusty tome. She lowered her voice as Madam Pince threw her a dirty look. “She was a Professor at the school, wasn’t she, this Fortinbras?”
“Charmsmistress, yes. A remarkable witch, really,” Corey told her, his eyes lighting up. “She published papers in multiple fields of magic, including Arithmancy and Alchemy, and in two different languages, as well.”
“What languages?”
“English and French. She was French, she went back to France after an incident involving her search for the Cursed Vaults. The Potionsmaster died, and two students were injured.”
“She had students helping her look for the Cursed Vaults?” Artemis said, her eyes widening. Corey nodded again.
“Yeah. She and the Potionsmaster were the only adults, the rest of the group were talented students. They called themselves the Ronde, which in French means…”
“Circle, I know. So, they were the original Cabal?”
“Yes, actually. The Fortinbras family is an old Pureblood French family, and she believed that if you traced their lineage back far enough, you’d get back to the person who first created the Vaults,” Corey flicked through a pile of notes, as if looking for the exact details. “I haven’t been able to go back that far yet, parts of the family tree are missing from the book I found, but anyway… Apparently there was some French prophecy about the person to open the Vaults. It mentioned this Ronde, as well as a sacrifice and an inheritance. She thought it was about her, that she was the one who would ‘inherit’ the power inside the Vaults.”
“She was wrong,” said Artemis. “That prophecy is about me. I stole it from the Department of Mysteries, but it smashed before we could fully translate it. But, we’ve been looking into it, and it looks like the prophecy was made by Morgan Le Fay.”
“As in the Dark Witch Morgana?”
“Yeah, her. What do you know about her?”
“About as much as anyone. She was the sister of King Arthur, who was a Muggle, but she was a witch, and a dark witch at that.” 
“Well, according to the centaurs - and the prophecy, too, I guess - she found out about the Vaults somehow and she found way to destroy them for good,” Artemis told Corey. He tilted his head to one side. 
“So, would you like me to look into her some more for you?”
“I’d love it if you could.”
“I definitely could. I have a whole book about her, after all. Rowan left it for me before she…” Corey’s voice tailed off and he cleared his throat. “I hadn’t read it yet, because… Well, you know.”
Artemis swallowed. “Yeah, I know.”
“Well, now it looks like I’ve got no excuse not to,” he laughed hard, almost too hard. “All this talk of prophecies, and Rowan managed to pick out the one book we’d need over a whole year later. Funny, isn’t it?”
But though Artemis smiled in response, she didn’t think it was funny at all. After all, Rowan always had been the one to know exactly what she needed.
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akaisenhatake · 2 years
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'little accident'
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@hphm-jeniferltheman here u gooo, i hope u dont mind that i made a whole ass comic for it 😭
rendered vers of the first page:
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another bonus
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stonerzelda · 2 months
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thought I should tell you ur art appeared in my dream, lol. those cute pencil sketches u post sometimes. it was so random & labeled as someone else's within the dream's context but when I woke up I was like damn???? I really dreamed about stonerlelda sketches lmao d0pe!
I lov3d this ask so much i wanted to keep it forever and ever and ever and also i wanted to remember the blog ur talking abt bc i knew exactlyyy which one 🩵🩷💚 this is such a precious wonderful thing to be dreamed of thank you i am so touched and honored ;_;💜💜💜 sorry for taking so long to reoly but god. What a beautiful thing thank u 4 inviting me into ur dreamscapes💚🩷💚 (@tomohirosibuyahappyanimals love ur work sm..honored 2 be associated in colouring beautiful dreams with ur art <3 )
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