Morning light slanted through the Hufflepuff dormitory windows, painting golden strips across Chris's bed as he sat cross-legged atop the covers, already dressed and alert while his Hufflepuff housemates still snored softly in their beds. Before him lay a sheet of expensive parchment, the kind reserved for formal correspondence, its edges trimmed with precision, its surface smooth and flawless. He rolled his quill between his fingers, considering each word he would write with careful deliberation.
The letter to Chief Ragnok would need to strike precisely the right tone, formal enough to honour goblin customs, yet familiar enough to remind the Chief of their established relationship. Too deferential, and he'd appear weak, too commanding, and he'd seem arrogant. Goblins respected strength tempered with respect, wealth managed with wisdom, and most importantly, directness in business matters.
From his trunk, Chris retrieved a small wooden case containing his personal seal, the Ambrosia crest with its ancient symbols of magic and power. He placed it beside the inkwell, a reminder of his authority and lineage. The sealing wax, deep blue with flecks of silver, waited nearby.
He dipped his quill and began to write, his script flowing in elegant lines across the parchment:
*To Chief Ragnok of the Goblin Nation, Keeper of Gringotts, Guardian of Gold, and Honored Ally of House Ambrosia,*
*I extend my greetings and hope this correspondence finds you prosperous and your vaults overflowing. The alliance between our houses continues to yield mutual benefit, a fact for which I remain grateful.*
Chris paused, considering his next words carefully. The request he was about to make was unusual, but not unprecedented in the long history between goblins and the Ambrosia family. His ancestors had often called upon goblin warriors for specialized tasks, particularly those requiring their unique blend of magic, strategy, and combat prowess.
*I write to propose a joint venture that would serve our mutual interests and honor the ancient accords between the Goblin Nation and House Ambrosia. It has come to my attention that a significant colony of Acromantulas has established itself within the Forbidden Forest bordering Hogwarts School. This infestation poses a clear danger to the students and staff, and, by extension, to the stability of wizarding Britain's educational foundation.*
*My proposal is thus: a coordinated operation to eliminate this threat, to be executed during the upcoming summer holiday when the castle grounds stand empty of students. House Ambrosia is prepared to finance this venture generously, with all spoils, including the valuable Acromantula venom, silk, and other harvestable materials, to be divided according to terms we might negotiate to mutual satisfaction.*
The quill hovered above the parchment as Chris considered how to frame the next part. The centaurs would be essential allies in this venture, but goblins were notoriously territorial about their operations. He needed to present the centaurs' involvement as complementary rather than competitive.
*In accordance with another ancient alliance, I will be approaching the Centaur Herd of the Forbidden Forest to request their participation. Their knowledge of the forest's terrain and their skill with bow and spear would complement the Goblin Nation's unparalleled expertise in organized tactical operations. Together, our three parties could achieve what none could accomplish alone.*
*I propose that we discuss specific terms, compensation, and tactical planning once the current school term concludes. Until then, I request only your preliminary agreement to consider this venture.*
*May your gold flow and your enemies tremble,*
Chris hesitated before signing. The letter was nearly perfect, but something was missing, a personal touch to remind Ragnok of their face-to-face meeting, of the respect that had passed between them.
*P.S. I recall with gratitude your guidance during my first visit to Gringotts. The wisdom you shared that day continues to serve me well as I navigate the responsibilities of my heritage. The Goblin Nation's role in preserving House Ambrosia's legacy through the centuries has not been forgotten, nor will it be while I draw breath.*
With that final touch, he signed with his full title:
*Christopher Emrys Ambrosia*
*Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Ambrosia*
*Heir of Merlin*
He reviewed the letter twice, checking for any errors or phrases that might cause offense. Satisfied, he folded the parchment precisely, then melted the blue-silver wax and pressed his seal into it. The Ambrosia crest shimmered momentarily as the magic within the seal activated, ensuring that only the intended recipient could break the wax without triggering an alarm.
Now came the matter of delivery. Standard school owls wouldn't do for correspondence of this nature, Dumbledore was rumoured to monitor outgoing mail, and in any case, a letter to the Goblin Chief deserved more secure transport. Fortunately, he had prepared for this eventuality.
From beneath his bed, Chris retrieved a small silver whistle engraved with goblin runes. At his first meeting with Ragnok, the Chief had presented it to him with the explanation that House Ambrosia had always maintained direct communication channels with Gringotts. One blow on this whistle would summon a Gringotts messenger owl, enchanted to find its way to and from the bank regardless of wards or distance.
Chris moved to the window, opened it wide despite the morning chill, and blew softly into the whistle. It made no sound that human ears could detect, but somewhere, its magic was already at work. Within minutes, a large owl with sleek black feathers and unusually intelligent yellow eyes appeared at the windowsill. Around its leg was a small silver band bearing the Gringotts crest.
"For Chief Ragnok," Chris said, offering the sealed letter. "Directly to his hands only."
The owl blinked once in acknowledgment, accepted the letter in its beak rather than having it tied to its leg, a mark of special handling, and departed with powerful wing strokes that quickly carried it beyond the castle's boundaries.
Chris watched until the bird was nothing more than a speck against the morning sky, then closed the window with a satisfied smile. The first move had been made. Now he would wait for Ragnok's response while preparing for his next challenge: the centaurs.
He touched the spot on his chest where two Grimoires hung, miniaturized and hidden. Soon, perhaps, a third would join them. The thought warmed him more effectively than any fire as he gathered his writing materials and prepared for the day ahead.
The weekend arrived with clear skies and a biting breeze that carried the first hints of approaching spring. Chris stood at the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, his gaze fixed on the dense line of trees that marked the beginning of the Forbidden Forest. He had chosen his moment carefully—late morning, when most students would be in Hogsmeade or lounging in their common rooms, when the likelihood of being observed was minimal. In his pocket, his fingers closed around his wand, not out of fear but as a habit of readiness. The forest waited, ancient and watchful, as he took a deep breath and stepped deliberately across the invisible boundary that separated safety from the wild.
The atmosphere changed immediately. Outside the forest, the Hogwarts grounds felt tamed, centuries of magic smoothing its edges into something domesticated and predictable. But here, just a few steps beyond the treeline, the air thrummed with a different kind of power, older, rawer, untouched by wizard hands. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in dappled patterns, creating pockets of golden warmth amid cool shadow. The scent of damp earth and pine resin filled his nostrils.
Chris advanced no further. Hagrid's detailed descriptions of centaur territory had given him enough information to know that this transitional zone, this border between the wizard's domain and the deeper forest, was where the centaur patrols were most likely to pass. To go deeper uninvited would be seen as an intrusion, perhaps even a challenge. Instead, he positioned himself beside a broad oak tree, clearly visible from multiple angles, and waited.
Patience had never come naturally to him in his first life, but death and rebirth had taught him its value. He stood motionless, his breathing calm and regular, his posture relaxed but dignified. The minutes stretched, marked only by the occasional rustle of leaves overhead or the distant call of a bird. He did not fidget. He did not pace. He simply existed in the space, making his presence known while demonstrating respect through his stillness.
Nearly twenty minutes passed before a subtle change in the forest's rhythm alerted him. The birdsong had ceased. The breeze seemed to hold its breath. Chris kept his hands visible at his sides, his expression neutral but attentive as he turned his head toward the source of the disturbance.
The centaur emerged from between two ancient pines with the silent grace of a predator, bow already in hand though not yet drawn. His human torso was powerfully muscled, skin the color of burnished oak, his features stern and weathered beneath a mane of dark hair streaked with silver. The equine portion of his body was dappled gray, hooves barely making a sound on the forest floor despite his size. Sharp eyes, the color of amber held to sunlight, assessed Chris with immediate suspicion.
"Youngling," the centaur's voice rumbled like distant thunder, "you're not supposed to be here. Return to the castle grounds."
His tone made it clear this was not a suggestion but a command, one he expected to be obeyed without question. The bow in his hands, though not aimed directly at Chris, served as a pointed reminder of what might follow disobedience.
Chris met the centaur's gaze directly but respectfully, neither challenging nor submissive. He remained perfectly still, understanding that sudden movements might be misinterpreted. When he spoke, his voice carried the formal cadence he had practiced for this moment.
"Under the Ancient Ambrosia Alliance, I request to meet with your leader."
The effect was immediate and profound. The centaur's stern expression vanished, replaced by naked shock. His front hoof scraped against the forest floor in what appeared to be an involuntary movement. The bow lowered slightly as he stared at Chris with new intensity, as if seeing him for the first time.
"The Ambrosia Alliance," he repeated, the words emerging as if dragged from deep memory. "That name has not been spoken in our groves for many centuries."
He took a step closer, nostrils flaring slightly as if trying to catch Chris's scent. "How does a human foal come to speak of ancient pacts? Who are you to invoke such words?"
"I am who I claim to be," Chris replied simply, neither offering more information nor backing down from his request. "And I come in peace, seeking only the audience that is my right by the old agreements."
The centaur's jaw worked as if chewing on thoughts too complex to swallow. After a long, tense moment, he stepped back, his posture straightening.
"Wait here," he said, his voice now clipped and formal. "Do not move from this spot. If you value your life, do not take a single step deeper into our territory until I return."
With that warning delivered, he turned and galloped away, disappearing into the trees with surprising speed for such a large being. The sound of his hooves faded quickly, leaving Chris once again in silence.
The wait that followed was longer and considerably more tense than the first. Chris maintained his position as instructed, though his mind raced through possibilities. Would the centaur leader honor the ancient alliance? Would he even remember its terms? The Ambrosia family had been absent from wizarding affairs for so long that even their once-powerful alliances might have faded into myth.
The forest grew darker as clouds passed overhead, casting the clearing into momentary shadow. Chris became aware of eyes watching him, not centaur eyes, but the many smaller observers of the forest, creatures curious about this human who stood so still at the boundary of their world. He ignored them, focusing instead on maintaining the dignified bearing that would be expected of a lord requesting formal audience.
When the centaurs finally returned, they came in force. The sound of multiple hooves announced their approach moments before they emerged from the trees. The patrol leader had returned, but now he was accompanied by two others who were clearly guards, larger, more heavily muscled, with leather armour across their torsos and longbows of polished yew strapped to their backs. Between them walked a centaur whose presence commanded immediate attention.
Chiron, for this could only be the leader, stood taller than the others by nearly a hand. His human torso was lean but powerful, his skin a deep bronze that seemed to hold the memory of sunlight. Unlike his guards, whose expressions remained deliberately intimidating, Chiron's face conveyed a regal intelligence, his eyes dark and penetrating beneath a noble brow. A simple circlet of silver rested on his head, its only ornament a single star-shaped gem at the center. His equine body was pure black, the coat gleaming like water under moonlight, his tail and mane the color of iron.
The centaurs halted a respectful distance away, forming a loose semicircle with Chiron at the center. For a long moment, no one spoke. The leader's gaze raked over Chris, assessing, judging, measuring.
Before Chiron could break the silence, Chris acted. With a subtle movement of his fingers, he dissolved the glamour charm that had been part of his daily appearance since arriving at Hogwarts. His hair brightened to its true shade of striking white with electric blue streaks, his features sharpening slightly, his eyes intensifying to a deeper, more vibrant sapphire. Then he bowed, not deeply enough to signal submission, but with the precise degree of respect due between equals of high station.
"I am Christopher Emrys Ambrosia," he announced, his voice carrying clearly in the hushed clearing, "Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Ambrosia and Leader of the Ambrosius alliance." As he spoke, he raised his right hand, allowing the Ambrosia lord ring to catch the light, its ancient enchantments pulsing visibly in response to his declaration. "It is an honour to meet you, Chief of the Centaurs. Before we commence, I request my identity remain a secret between us."
The reaction was immediate. Chiron's eyes widened, and for a moment, the carefully maintained authority in his bearing slipped, revealing genuine astonishment. Then, to the visible surprise of his guards, the centaur leader returned the bow with equal formality.
"I am Chiron, Leader of the Forest Herd," he replied, his voice deep and measured. "And in a millennium of watching the stars, we have not seen the return of an Ambrosia Lord."
Chiron's dark eyes studied Chris with an intensity that seemed to peer beyond flesh and bone, as if attempting to read the truth of his claim directly from his soul. The forest around them had grown unnaturally still, even the wind pausing as if to witness this historic meeting. After what felt like an eternity but was likely only moments, the centaur leader inclined his head slightly. "Your request for secrecy," he said, his voice deep and measured. "Before we proceed further, know that I will grant it. You have my word, Lord Ambrosia."
The formal acknowledgment settled between them like an invisible bond. The guards exchanged glances but maintained their stoic expressions, though one's tail flicked in what might have been surprise at their leader's quick acceptance.
"My gratitude," Chris replied with equal formality. He allowed a moment of silence to acknowledge the weight of the promise before continuing, understanding that in centaur culture, such pauses were not awkward but respectful.
Chiron shifted his weight, his hooves pressing into the soft forest floor as he folded his arms across his chest. His posture remained regal but had lost some of its initial defensiveness. "Now," he said, his gaze never leaving Chris's face, "tell me. For what purpose have you invoked this ancient alliance and sought an audience with the herd?"
The directness of the question was expected. Centaurs valued truth spoken plainly, disdaining the circuitous word games that wizards often played. Chris met the leader's gaze steadily as he responded.
"I come with a proposal that I believe will benefit both our peoples," he began, his voice clear in the hushed clearing. "For over fifty years, your herd has been at war with the acromantula colony that invaded these woods. I propose a joint operation to eliminate this threat entirely."
A ripple of reaction passed through the gathered centaurs. The guards' postures tensed, and one's hand moved unconsciously toward his bow. Chiron himself remained outwardly calm, though his tail swished once in what might have been surprise or interest.
"I have already opened communications with the Goblin Nation," Chris continued. "Chief Ragnok of Gringotts will be considering my request for their warriors to join this venture. With the combined might of centaur archers, goblin battle magic, and the resources I can provide, I believe we can purge the forest of this infestation once and for all."
"And when would this... purge take place?" Chiron asked, his voice carefully neutral though his eyes had sharpened with unmistakable interest.
"During the summer holidays," Chris replied. "When the school stands empty of students, when there would be no young ones at risk should any of the creatures attempt to flee toward the castle."
The practical wisdom of this timing seemed to register with Chiron, who nodded slightly. "You speak of eliminating an entire colony, hundreds of acromantulas, including Aragog, their ancient leader. The spiders have dug deep, established tunnels and breeding grounds throughout the heart of the forest. Such an undertaking would not be simple, even with goblin assistance."
"No great endeavor ever is," Chris acknowledged. "But consider the aftermath, a forest reclaimed, hunting grounds restored, your foals able to roam without fear of eight-legged predators. The war that has claimed so many of your herd could finally end."
The words hung in the air between them, potent with promise. Chiron paced a few steps to the side, his hooves silent on the forest floor despite his size, then turned back to face Chris directly.
"Your words paint an appealing future," he admitted. "But you have not yet said why you wish this to happen. What does Lord Ambrosia gain from destroying spiders in a forest far from his ancestral lands?"
It was the question Chris had been anticipating, the one that would require the most delicate handling. Too altruistic an answer would ring false; too self-serving a response might offend. Balance was required.
"I have two reasons," Chris said after a measured pause. "One noble, one personal. I believe both will satisfy your understanding of my intentions."
Chiron gestured for him to continue, his expression suggesting that he appreciated the forthright approach.
"First, I am a student of Hogwarts School," Chris explained. "I walk these grounds daily alongside hundreds of children whose safety is threatened by the acromantula colony. While the creatures have not yet attacked the school directly, their numbers grow each season. It is only a matter of time before hunger drives them beyond their current hunting grounds." He paused, letting the implications settle. "I would not see children harmed by a threat that could have been eliminated."
The centaur guards nodded almost imperceptibly. Protection of the young was a value deeply embedded in centaur culture, one that transcended the usual boundaries between their kind and humans.
"And your personal reason?" Chiron prompted, his tone suggesting that this was the explanation he truly awaited.
Chris straightened, meeting the centaur's gaze directly. "Deep within the acromantula territory lies something that belongs to my family, an heirloom of great significance, hidden there long before the spiders claimed that part of the forest as their own. I wish to recover it, but I cannot do so while the nest remains."
It wasn't a lie, not exactly. The Chamber of Hufflepuff was indeed something of an heirloom, one connected to Hogwarts which was, in many ways, part of his magical heritage as an heir of Merlin. The omission of specific details was a necessary caution, even in this alliance.
Chiron considered this for a long moment, his eyes never leaving Chris's face. Then, to Chris's mild surprise, the centaur's lips curved in the faintest suggestion of a smile.
"Your ancestors were always forthright in their dealings with us," he said. "It seems that quality has persisted through the centuries." He turned to exchange glances with his guards, a silent communication passing between them. When he faced Chris again, his decision was clear in his bearing. "The herd accepts your proposal, Lord Ambrosia. When the time comes, our bows will join the effort to cleanse the forest of the spider scourge."
The formal agreement settled around them with almost physical weight, as if the forest itself were witnessing and recording the pact.
"We will await word from you and the Goblin Nation regarding the precise timing," Chiron continued. "The stars have long foretold a shifting of powers within the forest, though their meaning was obscured until now." He inclined his head slightly. "Perhaps it was your return they spoke of, after all these centuries."
As the meeting concluded and the formal tones relaxed slightly, Chris noticed something in Chiron's expression he hadn't seen before, a fierce, eager light in the centaur's eyes, quickly masked but unmistakable. It was the look of a warrior who had fought a long, costly war and finally glimpsed the possibility of victory. The acromantulas had been more than a nuisance to the herd; they had been a deadly enemy, one that had claimed centaur lives over the decades.
"Thank you for your audience and your agreement," Chris said, bowing once more with the precise degree of respect appropriate to their new alliance. "I will send word when all is prepared."
"Until then, Lord Ambrosia," Chiron replied, returning the bow. "May the stars guide your path."
As Chris turned to depart, he felt the weight of the centaurs' gaze following him. He had come seeking an alliance and found not just agreement but a shared purpose. The pieces of his plan were falling into place with a precision that felt almost like destiny.
When he crossed back over the invisible boundary that separated the Forbidden Forest from Hogwarts grounds, the spring sunlight seemed brighter somehow, as if reflecting his success. Two ancient powers now stood ready to help him clear the path to Helga's Chamber. The forest and its deadly guardians would soon face a reckoning they could not possibly survive.
Chris allowed himself a small smile as he walked back toward the castle. The waiting would be difficult, but summer was not so far away. And when it came, the final pieces of his plan would fall into place.