Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

As a man, though — but of course, he was never quite a man, never quite only a human man. So it was not entirely surprising that he heard the centaur approaching long before it became visible, breaking from the cover of the trees and cantering towards him. It was a male centaur, young-looking (although that meant nothing), with pale blond hair and a palomino coat. A satchel was slung over his back and his eyes as he approached Lupin were flinty and suspicious.

"You summoned me," he said. "But you are not Sirius Black."

"Sirius Black sent me," said Lupin quickly. "He said you owed him a favor. I am his friend. He sent me to collect the favor in his name."

The centaur's nostrils flared. "Your kind and my kind are old enemies, werewolf," he said. "You should count it as a favor that I do not trample you to death. If there were more of us here — "

"Yes," said Lupin, "Where are the rest of you? Sirius told me to ask for Ronin, and Bane — "

"Gone," said the centaur, with a hoarse laugh. "Fled in terror, all of them."

"In terror of what?"

"In terror of He who Rises," said the centaur simply. He looked narrowly at Lupin's blank expression. "Surely you know who he is.

Surely you know that he made your kind, as assuredly as he made the vampires and the veela, a thousand years ago."

Lupin felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Salazar Slytherin," he breathed. "So he has come back."

"He is weak now," said the centaur. "He has only just risen. He does not yet possess his old powers. But that will come. We have seen it in the movements of the planets, have read it in the ancient books."

"What ancient books?"

The centaur ignored him. "Now, he retains only enough power to summon his children to him. Already they have begun to travel."

"The Dementors," Lupin said. "So that's where they've gone."

The centaur cocked an eyebrow. "Soon, perhaps, you will feel the summons yourself, werewolf. What of the others of your kind?"

"I am not often with others of my kind," said Lupin. "But I have felt no summons."

"Not yet," said the centaur.

"But if he is weak — if he lacks his old powers — "

"He lacks a Source," said the centaur. "He can do nothing without a Source. But he will find a new one. It is foretold. And when he does-"

"A Source?" Lupin interrupted, bewildered.

The centaur sighed. "I do not have the time to instruct ignorant werewolves," he snapped. "I have the whole Forest to keep in order, and I am alone." He reached around and into the satchel slung over his shoulder, withdrawing a ragged and dilapidated-looking book.

He tossed it to Lupin, who caught it reflexively, and stared. "Read that," said the centaur. "Then you will know as much as I do."

"This book," said Lupin, staring down at it, "this will help us?"

The centaur laughed without mirth. "Nothing will help you," he said, turned and broke into a canter. Lupin watched him go, then looked down at the book. He knew he should leave the forest as quickly as possible, but he couldn't help it — he yanked the book open with frantic fingers, and stared down at the pages.

They were covered with incomprehensible squiggles. If it was a language, it wasn't one he had ever seen before.

"Bugger," said Lupin, with feeling.

"Ron?" said the stranger, sounding flabbergasted. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Ron dropped his wand. "Charlie?"

There was a long, shocked silence. Eventually, Harry had the presence of mind to raise his wand. "Lumos," he said in a shaken sort of voice.

White light blazed from the wand tip, illuminating the startled-looking figure of Charlie Weasley. To Harry, he looked much as he'd always looked — dressed in a heavy leather jacket and looking just a bit burnt, as if he'd narrowly escaped being toasted by dragon fire, although the expression of stupefaction on his face as he stared at his younger brother was new.

"Ron?" he said again.

Ron made a gurgling sort of noise, paused, and tried again. "I —

what are you doing here, Charlie?"

"I was — I came here because — there was a dragon here, wasn't there?" said Charlie, casting about wildly. "I heard there was a dragon on the loose here — so I Appararated — I saw it for a second but it vanished — Ron, what the hell are you playing at, hanging about in the woods, miles from home, chasing dragons? Are you deranged?"

Ron looked furious. Harry stepped in quickly, "There wasn't any dragon, Charlie," he said. "Well, there was, but it wasn't a real dragon. It was a Patronus."

"A what?" said Charlie, staring. "Scratch that," he added hastily. "I know what a Patronus is, by why would you need to conjure one?"

He looked at Harry. "Harry, did you-"

"No," said Harry firmly. "It wasn't my Patronus." He pointed the beam of wandlight towards the tree where Draco was lying, Ginny beside him. "It was his."

Charlie's jaw dropped, although he wasn't looking at Draco.

"Ginny?"

"Hallo, Charlie," said Ginny in a small voice.

Charlie pelted over to the tree, dropped down by his younger sister, and took her by the shoulders. "Ginny! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Charlie, I'm fine, that's just a scratch, really, I-"

"Ow," said Draco, in a small, pained voice. "Ow. Please don't sit on the broken leg."

Charlie jumped back, then stared at Draco as if seeing him for the first time. "Who're you?"

"Draco Malfoy," said Draco.

Charlie looked shocked. "Lucius Malfoy's son?"

Draco looked rebellious. "Yes."

"And that was your Patronus?"

"Yes," said Draco again.

Charlie's face broke into a grin. "That was a hell of a dragon."

"I didn't see it," said Draco, still looking rebellious, although slightly less so.

Ginny interrupted. "His leg's broken, Charlie," she said.

Charlie stopped grinning. "How did that happen?"

"It's kind of a long story," said Ron, looking nervous.

"Fell off my broomstick," said Draco shortly.

"Apparently not that long," said Charlie, and dropped down on his knees next to Draco. "Which leg?"

Draco pointed. While Ron, Harry and Ginny watched — Ron with surprise, Harry and Ginny with concern — Charlie took out his wand and touched the tip of it gently to Draco's leg, just below the knee.

"Compound fracture," he said briefly. "Looks like you put a right lot of work into messing up this leg, young Malfoy. Broken and twisted.

You'd better come back to the camp with me — it's not far from here.

All of you," he added, looking pointedly at Ron.

"How?" said Harry. "Malfoy can't fly with his leg like that."

Charlie reached into his breast pocket and removed a small silver box, about the size of a cigarette case, which he flipped open to reveal a hollowed-out square in which rested a small metal orb, about the size of a marble. "Portkey," he said. "We all carry them."

"And when we get to your camp, you can fix Malfoy's leg?" said Ginny anxiously.

"When you work with dragons, you get used to dealing with horrible injuries," said Charlie cheerfully. "One of our medic wizards can fix him right up. And in the meantime," he said, giving Ron a hard look, "you can tell me just exactly what you've been up to out here."

Hermione, who had been sitting with her back to the stone wall of the tower, looked up as the door opened. To her surprise, it was Wormtail, not Slytherin. He closed the door behind him and turned to face her, and she saw that in his hand he was carrying a carved silver goblet, which was smoking and steaming.

A cold fist of fear clenched inside her stomach.

"Hello, Hermione," he said calmly.

"What do you want?" she said coldly.

"I just don't understand," he said in an unpleasant voice, "how a clever girl like you never learned any manners."