...

"Dyroth?"

Hagrid looked puzzled. "This is his first time in the Forbidden Forest. Why are you looking for him?"

"The guidance of the stars," Firenze replied, his eyes never leaving Dyroth.

Dyroth looked confused.

"The stars tell me that a distinguished guest will come to the Forbidden Forest tonight. I've been waiting here for a long time."

Astrology?

Dyroth became intrigued. His left eye, inherited from Grindelwald, granted him the prophetic ability to glimpse the future. However, unlike his ancestor, he couldn't foresee events decades ahead. His power was limited to a few seconds, at great physical cost. Comparing this to astrology, he realized that the centaur's method of prophecy, while less precise, might hold wisdom worth exploring.

"Did the stars only see me coming?" Dyroth asked.

"Of course not," Firenze said, stepping closer, his long platinum hair flowing. If not for his lower half being a horse, he could have easily passed as a strikingly handsome man.

"Through the stars, I saw that the fate of the centaurs is about to change. If Mr. Grindelwald is willing, please allow me to take you to the place where centaurs and unicorns live. There, I will tell you the full prophecy."

"A place where centaurs and unicorns live?" Hagrid gasped, rubbing his palms with excitement. "Unicorn gathering place! Oh my! Can you take me too, Firenze? You know how much I love unicorns."

"I'm sorry, Hagrid," Firenze shook his head. "Centaurs do not welcome other intelligent races, including giants. But if the opportunity arises, I will introduce you to some unicorns."

"Mr. Grindelwald, please follow me," Firenze gestured, but before he could finish, an arrow shot through the air, landing between Firenze and Dyroth.

"Firenze, you traitor!" a red-haired centaur appeared, bow in hand, his eyes blazing with fury. "Centaurs do not welcome wizards! Not only do you share prophecies with him, but you also lead him to our sacred grounds? I will report this to the tribe, and you will be exiled from the Forbidden Forest!"

"Mr. Centaur, I suggest you lower your bow," Dyroth said, his voice calm but laced with warning.

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"Get out, little wizard!" the red-bearded centaur snarled, stomping the ground and raising a cloud of dust.

Without hesitation, Dyroth raised his wand. "Expelliarmus!"

The force of the spell was immense, far beyond the standard level. The red-bearded centaur flew back as if struck by a missile, slamming into a tree and dropping his bow. Blood trickled from his mouth, a visible dent forming on his chest.

"Mr. Grindelwald, wait!" Firenze exclaimed. "Ronan didn't mean to attack you!"

Dyroth's face remained expressionless. "I didn't intend to kill him, just teaching

him a lesson," he explained to Hagrid, who had been watching in stunned silence.

Hagrid quickly grabbed Dyroth by the shoulders. "Calm down, Dyroth! He just wanted to scare you."

Dyroth sighed. "I suppose our visit to the centaur settlement will have to wait, Firenze. Once your tribe has settled its differences, you may invite me again."

With that, Dyroth turned to leave, Hagrid hesitating before following him. "I'll take Dyroth back to the dormitory. Let me know if anything happens."

As the pair disappeared into the trees, Ronan groaned in Firenze's arms. "Don't touch me, traitor."

Firenze applied some medicine to Ronan's wounds. "He is the one from the prophecy, Ronan."

"But he's a wizard! How can we trust him?" Ronan coughed, nearly spitting more blood.

"This is destiny's path, regardless of race."

"I'll never follow a wizard," Ronan muttered defiantly.

Back at Hogwarts, Dyroth found himself regretting not staying for a late-night snack with Hagrid. He was hungry but considering the trouble he got into the previous night, he decided to let it go.

As he walked through the castle, a notification rang in his mind.

[Congratulations! You've completed your first Forbidden Forest patrol. Achievement unlocked: Forbidden Forest Guard. Reward: 50 points.]

"Better than nothing," Dyroth muttered, making his way back to the Slytherin common room.

Inside, Draco stood on a platform, boasting to a crowd of Slytherins about his "heroic" confrontation with Ron Weasley during flying lessons. Seeing Dyroth enter, Draco flashed a smug grin, continuing to embellish his tale.

Dyroth shook his head with a small smile. "Alright, Draco, you can stop. Falling into the grass toughens the skin, ha" he teased lightly before heading to his dormitory.

The last two days had been exhausting, and without bothering to change, Dyroth fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Dyroth dragged himself to breakfast, still feeling the weight of the previous night.

"Dyroth, didn't sleep well?" Draco asked, flanked by Goyle and Crabbe.

"I had a rough night," Dyroth mumbled, not in the mood for small talk.

"Well, good news! First class today is Defense Against the Dark Arts," Draco said, grinning. "Professor Quirrell's lessons are so boring, you can practically sleep through them."

"What did you say?" Dyroth suddenly sat up straight. "The first class is... Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Quirrell? The same Quirrell who had Voldemort on the back of his head?

Panic set in as Dyroth remembered his recent encounter with Voldemort. "Draco, if I told professor Snape I caught a cold last night in the Forbidden Forest, do you think he would let me skip class?"

Before Draco could answer, a dark, cold voice interrupted.

"Or maybe... I should twist your head off for even thinking of such an idea."

Dyroth turned slowly to find Snape standing right behind him.

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