Ten years after I began at Hogwarts, Sebastian Sallow is back. And he's Professor Sallow now. He disappeared after the fall of Ranrok and Rookwood, after I lost Professor Fig, and after Ominis and I couldn't keep him from losing himself. But I never...
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Sirona's voice is warm, as always, but highly incredulous as she speaks. I can hear her lean across the bar and a deep, long-forgotten annex of her lungs exhales quietly as she relaxes into her elbows. "Thiago..." she begins, "you'd really have me believe that the centaurs can tell if anyone harbors any ill will towards anyone else? Just by...looking at them?" she asks.
Thiago's response of laughter is deep and guttural. As usual, the sound of it binds my willing spirit into a momentary paralysis and carries me out to a calm sea of joyfulness as effervescent as champagne, and infinitely more luxurious. The bubbles that flood from my toes to my ears triple when his hand slips furtively to my knee beneath the bar.
Good heavens I love how naturally he does it.
"It is not quite so simple, my lovely Sirona. Of that I am certain," Thiago begins to explain. I can practically hear Sirona blush every time he compliments her or speaks about her with affection. I don't blame her – I react similarly, myself. He has a way of making people feel as if they're the most important individual in the room. Whereas I've been told that even the look of my neutral face at rest can have quite the opposite effect if I'm not careful.
"There are secrets—no...mysteries!" Thiago corrects himself with a gust of excitement and melodrama, as if he's about to begin another of his enthralling tales. I've noticed when Thiago is inebriated, his personality does not change so much, like how I have a tendency to come out of my shell. Rather, Thiago's personality simply becomes adorably amplified as is my delight to enjoy this evening.
"There are greatmysteries to the centaur magic that I cannot understand, no matter how many times I have asked Kai or any of the others for clarifications!" He declares with a playful pound of his fist to the bar top. "You see, as straightforward and candid as they can be...ehh..." He trails off with a sing-songy, vowel-heavy melody of abstraction. Finally, he lands on "...they can also be very obtuse. Frustratingly so! But in this they also claim they are being direct! A conundrum! It is, well, mysterious!" He laughs.
But his voice lowers suddenly as he explains, "in my opinion...the centaurs utilize earth magic that they, themselves, do not understand. And so they cannot explain it to me! This is why they use metaphors, you see?" He presents his theory as if he has just discovered the world's next greatest scientific advancement.
"Perhaps you're onto something, dear," I say, "but regardless of the origins of their magic, it doesn't change the objectionable reality of my being emotionally scrutinized merely to participate in their big moon party."
With a grumbling sound in the back of his throat that tells me he's staving off a giggle, Thiago speaks, "but this, too, is what I have told you, meu very most sweetest of meu bems!" His pet name, made ridiculous by his tipsy demeanor, makes me smile to myself and I can feel the heat of his breath against my cheek growing hotter the closer he leans into me.
"It is less that they will scrutinize you, but ask you to look inward, to yourself. You will know what it is that must come out with anyone present..." He pauses as if to give unspoken emphasis to what he and I both know to be my current situation. "They can often sense when you know if there is something that does not sit well with your soul, yes?" He leans closer and taps on the center of my chest a couple times with his fingertips as he finishes speaking.
