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HRA# CHAPTER 171
🕑 Added 2025-06-27 21:15:24 +0000 UTCThe spiders surged forward like a tidal wave, only to recede just as swiftly.
The blazing trees and fallen leaves illuminated the surroundings, the ground littered with the corpses of dead spiders, their yellow and green bodily fluids mingling in a nauseating blend of charred stench and acidic reek.
The massive spider with seven twitching limbs stood out, especially as Baine’s spear was yanked from its enormous abdomen, unleashing a flood of... well, indescribable horrors. The hellish scene was too much for Padma Patil and Terry Boot, who promptly vomited.
Their retching triggered a chain reaction. The smell of their vomit hit the others, who had been merely queasy, and soon they were heaving too.
The scene grew even more grotesque.
Baine didn’t pursue the retreating spiders. Instead, he shook his spear, flinging off the slimy fluids, and spat on the giant spider’s corpse. As if that wasn’t enough, he kicked it with his hoof, sending it skidding further away.
His wild actions made the apprentices on the other side shudder in fear.
“No need to worry, little foals. You’re safe now,” said a centaur named Ronan, approaching them. “The elements and our chieftain have told us of your purpose. For tonight, at least, the centaur tribe welcomes you.”
“Only some centaurs, Ronan!” Baine’s anger flared as he interjected. “Don’t let me hear you say that again!”
“Calm down, Baine. They’re just foals,” Ron—Ronan, rather—replied, sounding reluctant but trying to soothe his companion. “You saw it yourself. They’ve been acknowledged by the earth elementals—they’re shamans, elemental shamans.”
“I’m no shaman,” Baine growled, but his temper seemed to cool slightly, allowing the terrified apprentices to breathe a sigh of relief.
For the centaur tribe, shaman priests now held a unique significance, distinct from tradition. Even a centaur like Baine respected those who wielded new powers, capable of protecting the tribe or hunting greater prey—a respect that extended to the shamanic profession itself.
“You can return to the tribe with us,” Ronan said, turning his gaze from the apprentices, who were practically clinging to each other. “But first, we must wait. I can’t let these flames burn unchecked, or too many lives will be lost to this fire.”
The battle had ignited the surrounding dry branches and trees. If a forest fire took hold in the Forbidden Forest, it would be nearly impossible to extinguish. This wasn’t just any forest—it was home to rare magical creatures and plants.
Letting it all burn to ash would be a tragic waste.
After giving his instructions, Ronan moved again. He waved his hands as if in prayer, muttering incantations under his breath. The raging flames dimmed as if doused with water, shrinking until not a single spark remained, and darkness reclaimed the forest.
By the light of the torches, the apprentices could still see wisps of smoke rising from the blackened trees.
“Let’s go, Ronan,” Baine said, his fiery cloak now gone. He gripped his spear and headed toward the centaur tribe’s territory. As he passed Messali, he bent his forelegs slightly in a respectful bow to the earth elemental.
The apprentices hurriedly gathered the still-usable torches and jogged to keep up with the two centaurs, terrified of being left behind.
“Um, sorry to interrupt,” Hermione said from the front of the group, her voice tinged with nervousness. “Could you help answer a few questions?”
Baine kept walking as if he hadn’t heard, but Ronan sighed and turned his head.
“Ask away.”
He sounded thoroughly unenthusiastic.
“Thank you,” Hermione said quickly before continuing. “Er, I was wondering—do centaurs have shamans now?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Ronan stopped abruptly, turning to her with a scowl. “Don’t misunderstand, little foal. We’re only taking you to our tribe because the elements have decided it.”
“And the chieftain,” Baine snorted.
“Fine, and the chieftain’s will,” Ronan sighed. “The chieftain made a promise to that man, and the elements told us to... maintain good relations with you.”
Even the dullest among them could sense Ronan’s reluctance as he forced out the last words. Clearly, without the elements’ and chieftain’s orders, he’d have no interest in dealing with wizards—even young ones.
“That man?” Cedric asked. “Who’s that?”
“Your mentor, the emissary of the elements, the Boy Who Lived,” Ronan said, giving him a deep look. “Harry Potter.”
“Oh, I didn’t know Harry suddenly had so many brothers,” Ron muttered, attempting a quip to ease his nerves. Ronan ignored him.
The centaurs’ less-than-friendly demeanor left the apprentices tense, and after the eight-eyed giant spider attack, no one dared ask more questions. They especially didn’t want to lose the protection of these battle-hardened centaurs.
As they pressed forward, the sights along the path silenced any urge to chat.
They were passing through spider territory.
The area bore the scars of battle—charred marks from fire, broken trees, and ruined webs.
“These damned mongrel spiders are everywhere,” Baine said, seething.
“Since we left, they’ve had no rivals,” Ronan said, shaking his head. “The elements won’t let this forest become their domain.”
“Let’s hope so,” Baine grunted. “Do you think those mongrel spiders could produce a shaman?”
“Probably... not?” Ronan hesitated, uncertain. “They can speak, but they lack emotion. Even their dead kin or parents are just food to them. The elements wouldn’t choose such helpers.”
Baine’s concern echoed debates among the centaur shamans. They couldn’t imagine those massive, aggressive, venomous spiders wielding spells. It would be a nightmare.
“They won’t,” a cool, clear voice interrupted. It was soft but resolute. “The elements don’t like those spiders. They lack true intelligence.”
Baine and Ronan turned to the source—a seemingly unremarkable foal who stood calmly, unfazed by their presence.
“How do you know?” Ronan asked.
“The elements told me,” Luna said, tilting her head. “Can’t you hear them?”
Baine and Ronan exchanged glances.
Hearing the elements directly?
This foal claimed the elements spoke to her as if it were commonplace? For the centaur tribe, such a thing was almost unthinkable. Only during sacred rituals, led by shamans like Triton, could they faintly discern the elements’ will.
But this foal spoke as if she could consult the elements anytime and receive answers.
“Wait, hold on,” Katie Bell said, staring wide-eyed at a cocoon hanging by the roadside, woven from spider silk. “What’s that?”
The cocoon was partially torn, revealing glimpses of its contents. Katie could make out what looked like a hand—perhaps a hand, with a ring on one finger. The cocoon bulged ominously.
“A corpse,” Baine said after a glance, resuming his march. “If those mongrel spiders catch you, they’ll wrap you in one of those and drain you dry.”
He glanced at the apprentices, their faces paler than the dead, and softened his tone, perhaps out of pity for the foals.
“It won’t hurt much. Their venom’s strong—you’d be dead before they start eating.”
Soft words, perhaps.
With the centaurs leading, the rest of the journey felt almost like a leisurely outing, filled with a sense of safety. The apprentices only needed to muster the energy to keep moving forward.
Even so, it wasn’t easy. The terrain wasn’t smooth—potholes, slopes, and constant climbing drained their strength. The centaurs, with their four legs and years of hunting in the Forbidden Forest, were perfectly suited to this environment.
By the time the apprentices, supporting each other, stumbled past the final tree at the forest’s edge, they let out a collective sigh of relief—a feeling of having survived.
Exhaustion hit them hard. It was around four in the morning, and though they’d followed Harry’s advice to nap during the day, the night’s ordeal had sapped their spirits. The long trek left many with blistered feet, and the threat of the eight-eyed spiders lingered in their minds. Yet, not a single apprentice regretted their choice.
As they emerged from the forest, their eyes were drawn to the slope ahead, where a sea of firelight stretched across the landscape.
Centaurs—more than they’d ever seen, at least dozens—filled the area, from a massive cliff crevice to the slopes beyond. The firelight came from enormous torches, stretching from the crevice’s mouth to the cliff’s highest point.
They couldn’t see what lay further up from their position.
Messali muttered something, and before Luna could respond, he crumbled into ordinary rocks, scattering across the ground—gone.
“He said, ‘No fight, no fun,’” Luna translated softly, while the others exchanged glances.
No fun? They thought the night had been thrilling enough—nearly deadly, even.
“Come on, they’re waiting,” Ronan urged.
The centaurs outside had noticed the group emerging from the forest. There were no shouts, only silent stares at the dusty, dirt-streaked foals.
From near to far, countless blazing braziers lit the darkest hour before dawn brighter than day. The centaurs approached one by one, heading toward the cliff’s peak. The apprentices watched, wide-eyed, trying to memorize every detail of the strange scene. The centaurs formed a path, and as the apprentices climbed, more followed, encircling them.
Normally, being surrounded by centaurs would’ve unnerved them, but this felt different.
Even without deep knowledge of centaur culture, the apprentices sensed something profound—solemn, sacred, as if they were part of a holy ritual.
They were summoned.
At the cliff’s summit, they saw Harry, dressed in shamanic beast hides, standing beside an elderly centaur. His expression was grave as he looked at them.
“...Mentor, we’re here,” Luna said softly, leading the group.
“Congratulations,” Harry said with a nod. “Though the trial was quite simple, you’ve completed it.”
Harry... well, he was a bit annoyed. His own trial years ago had been grueling, yet these apprentices had practically strolled through theirs.
Hermione and the others fought the urge to roll their eyes. Simple? With eight-eyed giant spiders attacking? But they lacked the energy to argue with Harry.
“You did well, little foals,” Triton said warmly, his tone generous. “Full of courage and wise enough to fight back—for foals, that’s more than enough.”
“Huh?” Ron blinked. “How do you know?”
“Farsight,” Harry said irritably. “I taught you that spell.”
Ron fell silent, as did the others, who quickly replayed their actions from the night, wondering if they’d embarrassed themselves.
Ron, Zacharias Smith, and Roger Davies paled. When the spiders attacked, their screams had been the loudest. Smith had even dropped his torch—like a warrior losing their sword. They now recalled Harry’s explicit warning to hold their torches and keep the flames alive.
Harry ignored their thoughts, exchanging a glance with Triton before stepping aside.
Behind them, a massive bonfire roared, its flames dancing with visible fire elementals.
“Go,” Harry said calmly. “Cast your torches into the fire to complete the ritual.”
“Yes.”
Suppressing their excitement, the apprentices stepped forward one by one, tossing their torches into the blaze. Miraculously, though their torches were mere twigs compared to the massive pyre, the flames surged higher, their heat forcing some to step back. More fire elementals leaped into the blaze, merging with it.
“I believe you’ve all gained your own insights,” Harry said, his gaze sweeping over them. “About fire, about the fire elementals.”
“Yes, Mentor!” Hermione said eagerly. “The fire elementals are so vital, they’re—”
“Shh!” Harry raised a hand, chuckling. “No need to tell me. You can’t deceive the elements, and most importantly, you can’t deceive yourselves.”
“I think you’ve all grasped the meaning of fire—its heat, its pain, its death...”
The apprentices’ minds flashed to the young eight-eyed spiders writhing in agony under the flames, the charred corpses reeking of burnt flesh, or the ashes left behind.
“But fire isn’t just chaos and destruction,” Harry continued. “You must always remember this: fire is also a force of life and creation—light, warmth, safety. These are fire’s powers.”
No further explanation was needed. They recalled the moment the spiders emerged from the darkness, when only their torches’ light kept the terrors at bay. The relief and trust in that light lingered vividly.
“Yes, Mentor, we’ll never forget,” Cedric Diggory said, voice trembling with emotion. “We’re ready.”
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
