[Name: Firenze (Centaur)]
[Age: 31]
[Spell Library: Divination (Mastery), Healing Charm (Mastery), ...]
[Traits: Astrology Race (Purple), Fate Changer (Purple), Close to Nature (Blue)]
Trait Descriptions:
[Astrology Race (Gold):** For centuries, centaurs have studied the movements of celestial bodies, passing down their insights through generations. This trait embodies their reverence for fate, and you've inherited their complete legacy.]
[Fate Changer (Purple):** Although your race holds fate sacred, you have developed rebellious thoughts. You dare to defy destiny itself, setting you on a path that deviates from your people's traditions.]
[Close to Nature (Blue):** Born and raised in the heart of the forest, you possess rich experience and natural magic. This allows you to focus acutely on interpreting the natural world around you.]
While Harry and Malfoy clashed above the Quidditch pitch, darting through the air in a heated battle over Neville's Remembrall, cheers erupted from the watching students below.
Devereux, standing among them, remained indifferent to the sky-bound spectacle. Instead, he casually recalled his previous encounter in the Forbidden Forest.
When Firenze had appeared before him, Devereux had immediately guessed his identity. He recognized him as the centaur who would become the Divination professor in Harry's fifth year in the original storyline. The centaur was strikingly handsome, his appearance enough to make Devereux understand how he had managed to charm so many students when he began teaching.
But Devereux didn't attempt to load Firenze's traits.
While [Astrology Race] seemed valuable—especially since it could boost Devereux's abilities in divination—he had learned a painful lesson from trying to load traits from the [Wilderness of Knowledge]. That event had made him extremely cautious. What if he ended up with a horse's lower body? That would be an irreversible disaster!
So, Devereux held himself back. He wouldn't load the centaur's traits.
Then again… those traits seemed to represent knowledge, and knowledge could be learned.
He wasn't just any student. He was a [Magical Genius] and an [Exam-Taking Genius].
If Firenze was willing to teach, then there was no reason Devereux couldn't master centaur astrology through normal means. He had already made up his mind. Somehow, he would convince Trelawney—the walking disaster of a Divination professor—to make room for Firenze.
He didn't necessarily want her fired. Just… give Firenze half of her teaching hours.
Devereux had no interest in learning any more of her death-predicting nonsense.
As his thoughts shifted, the duel in the sky had escalated to a fever pitch.
"There's no Crabbe and Goyle to protect you now, Malfoy!" Harry shouted boldly, his movements smooth and instinctive—like he had been born to fly.
He expertly swooped and turned, brushing past Malfoy with a few close calls that made the latter's face twist with panic.
"You want it? Catch it!" Malfoy shouted and hurled the Remembrall high into the air. Then, he dove downward.
All eyes followed Harry as he shot after the falling ball, but Devereux's attention remained fixed on Malfoy. The corners of his mouth curved up slightly as he subtly moved his fingers beneath his robes.
Suddenly, Malfoy felt something pull at his body.
His broom jerked violently, and he screamed in alarm.
"Help!!"
Every student turned, their cheers stopping mid-sentence. There was Malfoy—sobbing, flailing, and barely clinging to his broom in mid-air.
It was quite the spectacle.
Devereux gave a flick of his finger. Instantly, Malfoy and his broom shot up—rising thirty feet above the ground!
At this height, Malfoy couldn't even scream anymore. His face drained of color, and he clung to the broom as if it were a lifeline.
Meanwhile, Harry had already caught the Remembrall.
But no one noticed.
All eyes were on Malfoy, who was now plummeting toward the ground at a terrifying speed!
From that height… he would definitely die!
Time slowed for Malfoy as the earth raced to meet him. A warmth spread from between his legs, soaking through his robes.
Just as the ground came dangerously close, an invisible force took hold—stopping him just half a meter above it.
He collapsed in a heap, trembling and pale.
He had survived.
Barely.
And then—he saw Devereux calmly strolling toward him.
"Oh my, you look terrified," Devereux said with a wicked grin. "Maybe the Malfoy family just isn't suited for broomsticks. Best to keep your feet on the ground."
Malfoy stared at him in shock.
That sinister smile… he knew it had been Devereux.
"You! You did this! You tried to kill me!!" Malfoy roared, pointing a shaking finger at him.
But most of the students were still focused on Malfoy's soaked pants.
Devereux's smile didn't waver. "I was only worried for your safety."
At that moment, Professor McGonagall's furious voice rang out across the field.
"Malfoy! Potter! I have been at Hogwarts for many years, and I have never—"
She stormed over, her glasses flashing dangerously.
"You two could've been seriously injured! Potter, you could have broken your neck—and Malfoy, you nearly died!"
"Professor! He hexed me! He cursed me mid-air!" Malfoy shouted, pointing once more at Devereux. "He's using silent spells!"
Devereux raised an eyebrow. Now that was impressive. Malfoy had actually picked up on the detail that he hadn't spoken a word.
Still, that didn't change anything.
"Professor, here's my wand. You may use Prior Incantato to see the last spell I cast," Devereux said confidently, pulling the wand from his waist and handing it over.
He even turned his pockets inside out, proving he had no second wand.
McGonagall accepted the wand, her face stern and unreadable.
The warmth between Malfoy's legs had long turned cold. A chill ran down his spine, and panic faded into creeping doubt.
What if Devereux hadn't used any magic?
What if he really had imagined it?
And if that was true… what punishment awaited him for falsely accusing a classmate?
The students remained silent. No one had heard Devereux speak a spell. No one had seen any overt casting.
Worse yet, Devereux's reputation had improved lately, while Malfoy's remained the same—arrogant and obnoxious.
No one would stand up for him.
Malfoy's expression faltered. His confidence withered.
And Devereux stood there, watching, calm and untouchable.
.
FOR MORE CHAPTER
patreon.com/Jackssparrow