Chapter 151: The Calm Before the Storm
The corridor outside Umbridge's office felt strangely quiet after the chaos of the past hour. Harry paced back and forth, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls, his mind a whirlwind of fear and frustration.
"Harry, you need to calm down." Hermione's voice was gentle but firm. "Pacing won't help Sirius."
"You don't understand." Harry's hands clenched at his sides. "Every minute we waste, he could be—he could be—"
"Dead?" Elian's voice cut through Harry's spiral. "Is that what you're afraid of?"
Harry stopped, staring at him. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
"Then listen to me carefully." Elian moved closer, his grey eyes intense. "I know you saw something. I know it felt real. But you have to ask yourself one question before you do anything stupid."
Harry waited, his jaw tight.
"If Voldemort wanted to kill Sirius, why would he show you? Why give you time to react? Why not just do it and let you find out afterward?"
The question hung in the air. Harry opened his mouth, then closed it.
"Because," Elian continued quietly, "he wants you there. He wants you to come running. He wants you desperate and scared and alone. That's when you're to catch. That's when you're to kill."
"Or use," Hermione added softly. "To get to the prophecy."
Harry's face went pale. "The prophecy?"
"The one in the Department of Mysteries." Elian's voice was calm, factual. "Voldemort's been trying to get it for months. He thinks it holds the key to defeating you. And you—" He pointed at Harry. "—are the only one who can retrieve it."
"How do you know all this?"
Elian hesitated. How could he explain without revealing too much? The System, the foreknowledge, the careful watching of events he knew were coming?
"I pay attention," he said finally. "And Dumbledore told me things before he left. Things he thought I might need to know."
Harry absorbed this, some of the frantic energy draining from his posture. "So what do we do? Just wait? Let Voldemort—"
"No." Elian shook his head. "We prepare. We plan. And then we go—but on our terms, not his."
Later, after Harry had reluctantly agreed to continue his Occlumency lessons with Snape, after Ron had wandered off to the Great Hall in search of food, Elian found himself alone with Hermione and Luna near the shore of the Black Lake.
The sun was setting, painting the water in shades of orange and gold. It was peaceful—deceptively so.
"You're planning to go alone, aren't you?" Hermione's voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it.
Elian didn't answer immediately. He stared at the lake, watching the giant squid's tentacles surface briefly before disappearing.
"I'm planning to go," he admitted. "Alone? Probably not. But I'm not dragging all of you into a trap if I can help it."
"We're not children, Elian." Hermione's voice rose slightly. "We can fight. We've proven that."
"The Death Eaters waiting in the Department of Mysteries aren't Malfoy and his Inquisitorial Squad." Elian turned to face her. "They're trained killers. They've tortured and murdered without hesitation. If you go in there unprepared—"
"Then prepare us." Hermione stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "That's what the D.A. was for, wasn't it? That's what you've been doing all year. Don't stop now because you're scared for us."
Elian studied her for a long moment. There was no fear in her eyes—only determination. Beside her, Luna watched with that dreamy expression, but he knew better than to mistake it for detachment. Luna saw more than most people realized.
"You'd really follow me into the Ministry?" he asked quietly.
"I'd follow you anywhere," Hermione said. Then, as if realizing how that sounded, she flushed and looked away.
Luna smiled her mysterious smile. "The Wrackspurts clear when you're around, Lin Xiao. That's rare. That's worth following."
Elian felt something shift in his chest—a warmth he couldn't quite name. These people, these strange, wonderful, brave people, trusted him. Believed in him. Would follow him into danger.
He couldn't let them down.
"Alright," he said. "We'll do this together. But we do it smart. We do it prepared. And first—" He glanced toward the Forbidden Forest. "—I need to make sure Umbridge stays out of our way."
The centaur clearing was bathed in moonlight when Elian arrived. Magorian stood at its centre, his powerful form silhouetted against the stars.
"She's secure," Magorian said without preamble. "Terrified, humiliated, but alive. As you requested."
Elian nodded. "I need you to keep her longer. A few days, maybe a week. Can you do that?"
Magorian's lip curled. "The filthy one is no trouble. Her screams are... entertaining." He paused. "But the other centaurs grow restless. They remember what happened to Firenze. They wonder why we protect this one when we exiled him."
"Firenze chose to teach wizards. Umbridge chose to hate magical creatures. There's a difference."
"Is there?" Magorian's eyes were dark. "To the herd, both represent alliance with humans. Both represent—"
"Both represent choices." Elian's voice was firm. "Firenze chose to share knowledge. Umbridge chose to spread fear. One builds bridges. The other burns them. You know which your people need."
Magorian was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he inclined his head.
"You speak like a leader," he said. "Like one who understands that power without wisdom is destruction."
"I've had good teachers."
"The stars show you at the centre of great change," Magorian continued. "War. Death. Rebirth. They show the old ways crumbling and new ones rising from the ashes." He met Elian's eyes. "They show you, Mage, standing above it all."
Elian said nothing. What could he say? The centaurs' prophecies aligned with his own knowledge, with the System's missions, with everything he'd been working toward.
"Keep her here," he repeated. "Until I return."
Magorian nodded. "It will be done."
Back at the castle, Elian found Luna waiting for him near the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
"Everything arranged?" she asked.
"Almost." He paused beside her. "You should get some rest. Tomorrow will be... complicated."
Luna tilted her head, studying him with those pale, knowing eyes. "You're worried."
"I'm always worried."
"No." She shook her head. "You're worried about them. About Harry and Hermione and Ron. About what might happen to them if things go wrong."
Elian didn't deny it.
"That's good," Luna said softly. "Worry means you care. Caring means you're still human, even with all your power." She smiled—that sweet, strange smile that always seemed to see right through him. "Don't lose that, Elian. It's the best part of you."
She turned and walked toward Ravenclaw Tower, leaving him standing alone in the corridor, her words echoing in his mind.
Don't lose that.
He thought of Hermione's fierce determination, of Harry's desperate love for his godfather, of Ron's loyal if occasionally bumbling friendship, of Luna's gentle wisdom. He thought of the centaurs who had knelt to him, of the giants who now served him, of the power he'd accumulated in so short a time.
And he thought of Dumbledore's request: Take care of them.
"I will," he whispered to the empty corridor. "I promise."
Above him, the stars wheeled silently toward dawn.
(End of Chapter)
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