The centaur leader, Magoris, did not stop his companions' furious words; he merely gazed silently at Severus Snape.
Snape looked at the centaurs' cold, raised arrowheads, each one aimed squarely at Nagini. Their mouths rang with the words "darkness," "filth," and "eliminate." Whatever apology he had offered before was gone, replaced now by a cold, simmering anger.
He understood that no explanation or apology could sway those bound by such deep-rooted belief. To them, Nagini was nothing more than a symbol that had to be erased.
He stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Nagini, his wand held steady and pointed toward the ground.
"Magoris," Snape said, looking directly at the centaur. "Where is Ronan? I have met him before."
Magoris hesitated for a moment. "Ronan has his own matters tonight."
"Good," Snape replied. "Magoris, I do not care what prophecies you believe you have read in the stars, I have never placed faith in that nonsense. But since you insist on your so-called duty, and insist on harming her," his sharp eyes swept across Bane and the rest, "then it is now your turn. You will pay a ransom for your reckless attack tonight, and for your current stupidity."
A ripple of angry whispers rose among the centaurs, the creak of taut bowstrings following like the hiss of serpents. One of the centaurs behind Magoris raised his bow once more, fury burning in his eyes.
Nagini coiled protectively at Snape's feet, raising her head and letting out a deep, rumbling hiss.
"It's all right, Nagini," Snape whispered in Parseltongue, soothingly. Nagini's muscles loosened slightly, though her gaze remained fixed on the half-human, half-equine creatures before them.
"I suggest you lower your bows," Snape said calmly, his voice laced with unmistakable menace. "Unless, of course, you wish to experience-"
With a flick of his wrist, a blinding green light shot from his wand and struck a great oak ten feet away. The bark carbonized instantly, leaving behind a perfect, blackened circle that smoked and hissed.
Except for Magoris, every centaur instinctively stepped back two paces.
"Magoris," another centaur stepped forward and murmured in the leader's ear, "this conflict will not end well tonight."
Magoris's nostrils flared, releasing twin plumes of steam. His mane stood on end like rising fire, and his bowstring vibrated with tension.
"This is our forest!" he roared.
"Then you'll just have to keep enduring it," Snape retorted coldly. "It is your forest, and ours as well."
Magoris suddenly reared up, hind legs striking the ground. His arrow traced a dangerous arc through the air, its tip aimed directly at Nagini.
A flash of red burst from Snape's wand, striking the arrow midair.
The shaft splintered. Magoris stumbled back three steps, his hooves gouging deep ruts into the soft earth.
In the flying dirt and tension, Firenze quickly thrust himself between both sides.
"Stop!" His bellow shook loose several leaves from the trees. "We cannot defy the will of the heavens!" He turned toward his agitated brethren. "Have you not read the omens written in the motion of the planets?"
"The stars are silent now," Magoris stomped heavily, "and we must set destiny back on its course!"
"Enough!" Firenze suddenly raised his voice. He shot Snape a cautious glance, then turned back to his companions. "Our duty is to interpret the heavens, not to enact them. Centaurs are not executioners of fate."
Then he faced Snape again, his tone returning to calm. "That is enough, wizard. Out of respect for destiny, we will not pursue what happened tonight, but you must leave the Forbidden Forest immediately."
Snape did not move. "Compensation, then? Didn't you say we couldn't just walk away? I assumed that applies to you as well."
The centaurs snorted in discontent, several of the younger ones lifting their bows in agitation. But Firenze turned, speaking in low, steady tones until the unrest subsided.
"Wizard," Firenze said quietly, his hooves pressing deeply into the earth as though restraining something within himself, "we do not wish to fight you. But do not force our hand."
"If you truly insist on compensation," he continued, raising his eyes toward the sky before meeting Snape's gaze again, "then what I can tell you is this, if you truly care for that serpent, the time left to you is short."
Snape narrowed his eyes. It seemed these centaurs truly could see something of Nagini's fate.
"I need you to tell me more about what you've read in the stars," he said, lowering his wand and stepping forward, "and how to lift the curse upon her."
"The stars offer no precise answers, wizard," Firenze said, shaking his silver mane gently. "Nothing in this world is infallible. Change has already begun. The snows of winter are melting."
Snape was silent for a moment, then asked, "Do your kind have any way to lift such a curse?"
"I am sorry. There is no cure," Firenze replied, his voice carrying a strange, quiet pity. "Once the power of the curse begins to sink into the soul, it is as inevitable as a river flowing into the sea, it cannot be stopped." He gave Snape a long, meaningful look. "A blood curse ultimately gathers within the soul. That is an irreversible process."
"You mean the curse will eventually focus entirely on the soul?" Snape pressed.
Firenze hesitated for a few seconds before stiffly nodding. "Wizard, that is all I can tell you. Do not ask for too much."
"In any case, that may still be useful," Snape said at last. "We'll leave it at that tonight."
Given the circumstances, between Parseltongue and the Unforgivable Curses, the centaurs' restraint was remarkable. Snape had no intention of prolonging this standoff; Nagini's condition was clearly worsening, and he had more urgent matters to attend to.
As the centaurs turned to leave, Bane had already regained consciousness. He looked as if he wanted to speak, but a companion whispered something into his ear. He fell silent, casting Snape a fearful glance before limping after the others into the forest's shadows.
The sound of hooves faded into the distance, and the clearing returned to stillness.
Snape looked down at Nagini and saw Dobby carefully edging closer to her.
The house-elf's large eyes were full of worry. He stretched out his thin fingers and gently touched the snake's scales. She seemed to recognize him again, showing no sign of aggression. Yet her eyes held little light now, only a wild, animal-like confusion.
"Master Snape, sir," Dobby said hesitantly, "may Dobby keep taking care of Miss Snake? She looks better now."
"No, Dobby," Snape shook his head. "It is too dangerous."
"Dobby is willing to face danger for you, sir," the elf said firmly. "Dobby knows you care about Miss Snake."
"It's just a job," Snape replied, bending down to pat the elf's shoulder. "Promise me, Dobby, don't risk your life for your work. Your life is far more valuable. I will assign you other tasks later. You're not unemployed."
After shrinking Nagini and tucking her carefully into his sleeve, Snape took Dobby's hand. "Take me to the Headmaster's office."
They appeared in the familiar circular office to find Albus Dumbledore in heated discussion with the portrait of Phineas Nigellus.
The sudden arrival startled the Headmaster. "Severus?" His blue eyes widened. "You don't even knock anymore? At this hour-" His gaze fell upon the snake slithering from Snape's sleeve. "What's happened? I thought she would remain in the Forbidden Forest."
"Professor," Snape said, placing Nagini gently on Dumbledore's desk, "the blood curse is consuming what remains of her humanity. Not long ago, she tried to attack Dobby."
Dumbledore stepped forward, observing as Nagini coiled weakly upon the desk.
"Firenze the centaur spoke of... a prophecy," Snape said quietly. "He said Nagini is falling eternally toward some dark fate."
"Centaurs' astrology does have its merits," Dumbledore murmured, stroking his long silver beard thoughtfully. "But, Severus, I am curious, what is your view?"
"She is deteriorating faster than I anticipated," Snape replied. "Soon, she may no longer recognize anyone."
"Even you?" Dumbledore asked softly.
"Not yet," Snape said. "But I don't want her reduced to nothing more than a body driven by a curse."
Dumbledore's eyes filled with concern as he watched Nagini flick her tongue at Fawkes's golden perch, her behavior now disturbingly close to that of a true serpent.
"Worse than I imagined, Severus," the Headmaster admitted gently. "And I see no solution. If she loses all sense of self, she cannot stay here. To anyone but a Parselmouth, she will be far too dangerous."
"Severus," Dumbledore continued, stepping closer, "sometimes the hardest choice... perhaps you should let her return to where she came from. She would survive more easily there."
"At least for now, I won't consider that option," Snape said firmly. "There may still be another way. Albania was never her home, it was merely where her suffering began."
"Professor," he lifted his gaze to meet Dumbledore's eyes, "when you look at her, do you still see the woman who once defied the Dark, who came to Hogwarts seeking your help?"
The office fell silent, save for the crackling fire. The portraits of past Headmasters watched in stillness.
After a long moment, Dumbledore sighed. "I am no god, Severus. I cannot solve every problem."
"I understand, Professor," Snape said. "Firenze mentioned that the curse would ultimately concentrate in her soul. I only wish to ask, do you know of any magic capable of purifying a soul alone?"
"The soul and the body can never truly be separated," Dumbledore replied. "As far as I know, no magic can accomplish such a thing."
The separation of soul and body... A thought began to take shape in Snape's mind.
"Suppose," he said slowly, "there existed something, a vessel for souls, capable of drawing out the power within Nagini's soul, consuming her deepest fears and secrets. Would it then be possible to extract the curse along with them?"
"What do you mean by that?" Dumbledore asked, puzzled. "There is no such object. No magical artifact truly contains a soul, you know that as well as I." Then he stopped abruptly, a sharp light in his eyes. "Unless... Severus, are you suggesting-"
"Professor, it's only a hypothesis," Snape said quickly. "Purely academic discussion."
Dumbledore let out a short, skeptical hum and turned to the house-elf standing by. "Dobby, please leave us for a while, would you?"
Dobby's eyes filled with admiration. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir." He vanished with a soft pop.
Once they were alone, Dumbledore's expression grew grave. "Severus, we have both seen Professor Slughorn's memory. By saying this, are you implying what I think you are?"
"I have no intention of pursuing anything dangerous or evil, Professor," Snape said calmly. "Though, interestingly, this matter is somewhat related to Dobby."
"Oh?" Dumbledore's brows rose.
"Dobby once told me," Snape continued, adopting a casual tone, "that in his former master's house, beneath the parlor, in a storage room, he once saw something peculiar, he called it 'the terrible thing that speaks.' He was so frightened that he ran away and later punished himself with an iron to atone for touching it."
"The Malfoys have such an object?" Dumbledore murmured, clearly intrigued. "That could be significant..."
"Indeed," Snape said with deliberate nonchalance. "Considering the Malfoys' intimacy with Tom, what do you think it might be?"
Dumbledore was silent for a long time. "It may be nothing, perhaps a keepsake containing a memory, like a portrait or an enchanted item."
"I doubt Dobby would mistake a portrait for a 'terrible thing,'" Snape interrupted. "Just suppose, it truly is something that can contain part of a soul. Could it be of use?"
"No one has ever attempted such a thing," Dumbledore said, his piercing blue eyes scrutinizing him through his half-moon glasses. "And how would you propose to retrieve it from within the heavily protected Malfoy Manor?"
"Dobby?" Snape suggested.
"Dobby cannot help you in this," Dumbledore shook his head. "Even though his magical bond to the Malfoys is broken, if you ask him to steal from his former masters, he would punish himself to death before completing the task."
"You have a point," Snape muttered, frowning. "That won't work." Dumbledore was right, even mentioning the Malfoys' misdeeds sent Dobby into fits of self-punishment; theft would kill him outright.
"I will think of something," Dumbledore said more gently. "Perhaps I can consult some old friends, see if there are other possibilities."
"Very well, Professor," Snape replied. "May I have authorization for the Restricted Section? I'd like to see if any texts mention something similar."
Dumbledore summoned a quill and wrote a few lines on a slip of parchment, signing his name with a flourish.
"Here," he said, handing it over. "Do your best, Severus. But temper your hopes, the books contain only what the past knew. Sometimes, we must accept that certain things cannot be undone."
Snape took the parchment, and before he could speak, Dumbledore pressed a steaming cup of tea into his hand.
"Rest for tonight," the Headmaster said warmly. "I'll let you know if I discover anything."
"Thank you, Professor," Snape said, taking a small sip.
Perhaps it was time, he thought, to reestablish contact with the ever-resourceful Lucius Malfoy, the "toppled vanguard."