"You lot are here to help my students," came a gruff voice from the shadows. Moriarty and the others turned their heads, spotting a towering figure emerging from the trees.
The man was massive, his face nearly hidden beneath a wild tangle of long, unruly hair and a thick, bushy beard. He wore a large brown coat that barely contained his enormous frame, and he carried two bales of hay under each arm.
"I'm Rubeus Hagrid," he introduced himself in a deep voice. "Mr. Filch told me about you lot… Slytherin House, yeah? Alright, alright, come with me. Fang, let's go!"
Hagrid's tone was indifferent, and his lack of warmth clearly didn't sit well with Ralbo and Keith, who followed Moriarty reluctantly.
On the way, Jericho spoke up, "Mr. Hagrid, what exactly do we need to do?"
"Good question, I almost forgot to say," Hagrid muttered. He stopped, dropped the bales of hay onto the ground, and pointed at them. "I've got sage on my left and scented mallow on my right. You lot need to collect as much of both as you can from the forest and bring 'em back to me. That's it. Simple enough."
"That's it?" Ralbo said skeptically. "If it's that simple, why can't you collect them yourself?"
Hagrid gave him a sideways glance before looking away, uninterested in arguing.
"Scented mallow grows underground, and sage isn't easy to pull out," Hagrid explained. "If I didn't need so much, I'd have just used my own stock. But the centaurs need a lot this time. They asked me for help… oh!"
Hagrid clamped a hand over his mouth, realizing he had let something slip.
The students exchanged knowing glances. Jericho chuckled. "Ah-ha! So this is for the centaurs, then."
Moriarty picked up a piece of sage, inhaling its faint herbal scent. Then, he turned to Hagrid. "Centaurs burn sage and mallow to aid their stargazing rituals. If they're asking for this much, they must have encountered something in the stars that's difficult to interpret, am I right?"
Hagrid shook his head. "Dunno," he admitted. "Firenze just asked me to gather these herbs. Now, get moving! Oh, and we'd best split into two groups."
Jericho, Percy, and the others immediately positioned themselves behind Moriarty. Hagrid scowled but said nothing as Fang padded to his side.
"Marcus, you go with Mr. Hagrid," Moriarty instructed his valet with a subtle nod. "Help him collect the mallow. The rest of us will handle the sage."
Marcus nodded in understanding, and with that, the two groups headed in opposite directions.
As they ventured deeper into the woods, Marcus struck up conversation. "Mr. Hagrid, I heard there's a herd of hippogriffs in the Forbidden Forest. I've always been fascinated by them! I mean, I love them. And I'm planning to take Care of Magical Creatures next year."
Jericho smirked and whistled. "When did Marcus start getting interested in magical creatures?"
"I suggested it," Moriarty said nonchalantly. "At least this way, he'll learn something useful."
Their group reached a clearing where clumps of sage grew in thick patches. Moriarty tapped his Slytherin staff against the ground, and the tough roots of the sage plants released their grip on the soil, floating up and landing in neat piles.
Keith grinned. "This is way too easy. Professor Dumbledore was right—walking with Mr. Moriarty feels like a school outing."
As more and more sage accumulated, forming a sizeable heap, Moriarty examined it and nodded. "This should be enough."
"No, child, it's not," came a smooth, gentle voice from the nearby shadows.
A rustling noise followed, and a centaur stepped into the moonlight.
Jericho and the others immediately drew their wands, though the centaur made no aggressive moves. Still, his bow and quiver of arrows were clearly visible.
Moriarty took a step forward. "We are Hogwarts students," he said calmly. "Hagrid is gathering sage for you to use in your readings."
The centaur's piercing blue eyes remained fixed on Moriarty. "I know," he said in a deep, almost melodic voice. "The stars foretold your arrival, so I have been waiting. I am Firenze. I mean you no harm, Slytherin."
Moriarty arched a brow. "The stars told you my name?"
Firenze hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, "Horoscopes reveal many things…"
Then, he shifted to a more serious tone. "For centuries, my kin have studied the movement of the stars. From the heavens above, we glimpse not mere fate, but the broader tapestry of events that shape our world.
"What I speak of is not trivial predictions—what one will eat for breakfast, how many points a student will earn in class, or what honors they will receive. Such details are of little consequence.
"No, we divine grander patterns—catastrophes, omens of war, shifts in power. Sometimes, it takes decades before our warnings prove true."
Moriarty listened intently, his mind racing. Firenze was known for his connection to Harry Potter, and the centaurs had foreseen Voldemort's return. But why was he bringing this to Moriarty?
Firenze seemed to sense his unspoken question and lifted his gaze. "Have you noticed? There is no moon tonight."
"So what?" Jericho tightened his grip on his wand. "No moon? What's that supposed to mean? Future, fate—it's all just superstition to me!"
Firenze ignored Jericho, his eyes never leaving Moriarty.
"On a certain night in December 1987," Firenze said, his voice carrying the weight of prophecy, "the moon vanished. Not just hidden behind clouds—it disappeared. And from that night onward, there have been occasional moonless nights."
Percy inhaled sharply, as if recalling something. "December 1987… Charlie told me about that! Ghosts were partying, Peeves was cackling, the portraits were dancing—it was chaos at Hogwarts. They called it the Hogwarts Riot."
Firenze nodded. "It was an unmistakable sign. Perhaps the event you call the Hogwarts Riot is connected to the moonless night."
Moriarty narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying that the Hogwarts Riot affected the celestial alignment?"
The Daily Prophet had covered the event extensively back in 1987. According to reports, the riot was merely a night of revelry—ghosts, enchanted armor, and animated statues all celebrating wildly, but not a single wizard had participated.
At the time, Moriarty had dismissed it as a spectacle.
Firenze did not answer directly, only meeting Moriarty's gaze with an enigmatic expression.
Moriarty tried another approach. "Mr. Firenze, do you believe that the Hogwarts Riot and the moonless night are connected to me?"
Firenze hesitated again but finally inclined his head. "Yes, Slytherin. Our readings, conducted years ago, predicted a great war within the British wizarding world. The war's course was set by two individuals."
Moriarty knew he meant Harry Potter and Voldemort.
"But," Firenze continued, "since that first moonless night, the stars have shifted. Their trajectories, their speed, their connections to one another—all altered. We are now reinterpreting our divinations."
"So you need large amounts of sage and mallow," Moriarty surmised.
"Exactly," Firenze confirmed. Then, his gaze sharpened as he stepped closer. "In September, you arrived. Slytherin.
"Our ancestors never once prophesied about the Hogwarts Founders or their descendants. And yet, the stars have shifted in response to your presence.
"This is no coincidence."
A sudden gust of wind rustled the trees. Moriarty's voice cut through the eerie stillness.
"I don't believe in coincidence either."
Firenze extended his hand. "Then you understand the gravity of this."
Moriarty took it. "So tell me—what did the new divination reveal?"
Firenze hesitated, unease flickering across his face.
"Chaos," he finally admitted. "Not just war, but change. Fear. And… something else. A choice. An opportunity.
"One that may alter the fate of magic itself."