𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄

Chapter 11

While Professor Dumbledore contacted the authorities, checked student lists, and contacted Order members – he maintained that this was a matter of the Order's concern, considering Draco's position in Veelan society and Voldemort's ultimate goal – Harry and Snape cast the tracking spell to try picking up Nott and Draco's trail.

Harry wasn't sure what to think when he saw that the trail led into the Forbidden Forest. On the one hand, they might still be close by; on the other hand, it was dangerous in there and Draco was more vulnerable than ever before. Besides which, an April storm seemed due that night, and it would be all too easy to wander aimlessly in the dark and damp, never gaining on their prey.

"Be silent and do exactly as I tell you, Potter. If you will not obey, you will only be a hindrance."

"Yes, Sir," Harry readily agreed.

"Hurry."

Snape set a path through the woods that seemed arbitrary to Harry's untrained eyes – turning there – weaving around one tree but not another similarly placed – occasionally pausing to gather his bearings before continuing on. By the time the Point Me spell died out, they were well into the forest. Still Snape plowed ahead, intent to close the distance between pursued and pursuer.

Pulling up short, so suddenly that Harry smacked right into him, Snape spun around, casting his lighted wand about.

"Did you lose the trail?"

"The rain will come before I do that." Snape scowled. Harry had nearly forgotten how proud and vain he could be. Still, he did not sneer back. Snape cared for Draco a great deal – Harry would not hazard a guess at how much – and would be a remarkable asset in helping Harry to get Draco back. "Pay attention to your surroundings."

Harry tried. Wind whipped around them, rustling the thickening canopy. Overhead it sounded like more than just the windy howl, however; there was a periodic swooshing buzz to it – the aerial search had begun. What's more, on the ground, Harry heard the usual forestry sounds – animals skittering through the underbrush, insects chirping, owls flapping by. In this there also lingered something more – the low creak of a taut string, the stamp of hooves.

"Centaurs," Harry breathed. Snape nodded.

Upon realizing they'd been found out, a representative came forward – Bane, the Centaur disdainful of mankind, who'd carried off Umbridge in fifth year, and who had an uneasy trade agreement with Professor Snape.

"You've lost your Veela," Bane said, addressing Snape.

"I have."

"You shouldn't have let him out of your sight, Man. He is powerful – I felt it in his hair – and the stars speak highly of him. Mars is especially bright." Saying this, Bane gazed dreamily up through the canopy to peek at the few stars still visible through the dark clouds.

"Help me. I will reward you tremendously."

Bane turned back to Snape and curled his lip back in disgust. "You forget yourself, Man. You cannot tempt me with… rewards."

"But Draco's in trouble, and—"

"Silence, Potter!" Snape hissed. "Do not speak out of turn again." Reluctantly, Harry nodded, biting his lip to keep from blurting something else. He would be of greater service by keeping his peace. "However, Bane, I can offer you the sort of reward of a Centaur's reckoning, not of man's."

"We may not interfere."

"I am certain that Nott has unwittingly trespassed on your territory while carting his captive. Go and make war – that will help us beyond measure."