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A Bend in Time

Before there ever was a boy that ever lived in a cupboard on Four Privet Drive, there was a similar boy in a far worse home that lived on Spinner’s End. We all know the tale of that abused boy who grew up to become a bitter spy. But not all tales end the same for in the many parallel worlds that exist in the universe there are far better endings, and equally as many worse ones. This is a tale of one such condemned universe that for better or for worse chooses to change its own fate at through the sacrifice of the bitter spy. (All rights to the Harry Potter world and characters belong solely to J. K. Rowling. However, I do claim creative fanfiction rights. Please do not post my fanfiction elsewhere without my express permission. This work will also be partially hosted at RoyalRoad, Wattpadd, and Archive.)

EsliEsma · Diễn sinh tác phẩm
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1225 Chs

Spring Equinox Ⅲ

Across the clearing at the opposite end is an old, battered tent dyed with ancient centaurs being enslaved including their escape to freedom to more recent history. The only wooden edifice is a carefully warded warehouse near the shaman's tent. Nearby is a large, crystal-clear pool deep enough for a centaur to freely bathe. The crystal waters glitter brightly reflecting the full moon hanging above. The scent of various plants and herbs drifts past the pool from the nearby garden that is firmly enclosed to keep curious critters including baby centaurs out.

Firenze gestures at the tent with one hand, "The Shaman awaits you, Child of the Founders," before trotting over to a nice grassy patch to view the heavens through the open green canopy. Sun in Pisces, the moon at Virgo, the 12th house (Neptune) governs, three paths will be chosen and forged. The will of the Heavens obscured the paths as Fate wove its tapestry of life and death, the balance that which existed been the living and the beyond.

Rowan entered the tent with a high opening for a centaur-sized figure. The scents of mint and soft smoothing herbs fill the air to relax the spirit and mind. A warm yellow light fills the tent from an intricately crafted stone lamp. It was a mer-crafted lamp by one of the merfolk of Merchieftainess Murcurs, while an exquisite human-woven ancient carpet covers the floor of the tent.

Sprawled on comfortable, thick cushions is the elderly centaur Shaman Aldonius, who purposefully ignores Rowan. The elderly shaman carefully studies a modern volume courtesy of Sybill Trelawney. His long, deft fingers are dyed and scarred from crafting herbal remedies, dyes, potions, and more. With the influx of new knowledge, the tribe shaman was also excited to learn more. The shaman held all the collective knowledge of the tribe including newly gained knowledge.

Aldonius's long, white hair is braided neatly into a French Ponytail that falls all the way down to his waist. Magical feathers are neatly interwoven and adorn his braided hair from beasts hunted in the past. A loose bone necklace made up of the claws and fangs of the most dangerous of beasts including a dragon hanging on the shaman's thin chest. There are even a couple of new feathers and fangs and claws that Rowan had not seen before.

The elderly shaman, Aldonius had an angular face with full lips and a pointed chin. A spray of freckles decorates the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His arms are thin and wiry, but still possessed muscles filled with strength. He is almost as thin as Firenze except for the small pouch of belly fat that comes with age. Old, faded scars from fierce battles are strewn across his rib cage, and more so on his lower extremities.

The elderly shaman's lower horse extremities are that of a Fleabitten Gray with a spray of blood marks to match the colored freckles on his upper human half. He is not a large centaur much like Firenze and is free of facial and body hair like a young boy. The elderly shaman possessed the same perpetual youthful genetic disposition that Firenze had as well. Rowan knew for a fact that Firenze would age very well if the shaman was anything to go by.

Finished with the current page, Aldonius carefully places an old, faded bookmark between the pages before closing the volume shut. Setting the book aside, the piercing oak-colored eyes of the elderly shaman narrow toward Rowan. "The Heavens abruptly cleared, and Firenze and I saw you seeking aid. Why have you come, Child of the Founders?" He asked and gestured for Rowan to finally take a seat.

Rowan gingerly sat down on the comfy cushion, which really was comfortable, unlike the last time. She had been far too sore to enjoy much of anything, really. Nope, that was the last time she would ever accept a ride on a centaur's back.

"Tonight is the full moon of the Eostar," Rowan plainly stated before bowing deeply. "I humbly come before the shaman of the great centaur tribe requesting guidance and aid in the preparation of a seed blessing."

Aldonius solemnly contemplates Rowan as he fingers the bone necklace hanging from his neck. "Prince for what reason have you come to make such a request? I am wary of thine intentions."

Rowan straightens up from her bow to answer. "As part of my mastery, I am specializing in Spargyrics, (plant alchemy) and continentally tonight, is the best night to seek the blessings of the earth to commence my project. The Estoar only comes once a year and there will be no other opportunity until next year."

"Human greed is boundless lacking any sort of refrain," Aldonius tsked, before holding out his hand. "Show me the seeds, Prince," he briskly ordered.

Rowan carefully pulled out a small woven cloth packet. Aldonius took the packet and carefully opened it. His brows furrowed slightly at counting six different seeds inside. "You wish for me to bless these seeds?"

"I desire to crossbreed them to produce an entirely different crop," Rowan replied which was entirely true. That is how strawberries and other hybrid fruits came about by taking a seed and sowing them until the breeder has sufficient rootstocks to graft plants to create a new stock.

"Why have you chosen these six seeds, Prince?" Aldonius pensively inquired with a gleam of genuine curiosity appearing in his oak-colored eyes.

"The sixth rune is represented by the salamander," Rowan steadily responded. "The fire salamander can only survive out of the fire, a maximum of 6 hours. The fire salamander only has six legs. The sixth rune is the most stable out of the ancient runes."

A bit of respect flashes through Aldonius's oak-colored eyes. Wizards and witches often made the mistake of selecting the 7th rune meaning the unknown. The 7th rune indeed held power, but it was not the rune that held the most power. Rather the most powerful rune depended on the intent of the caster and as such a new rune had to be selected each time to match the spellcaster's intent.

Aldonius lips against his own will begin to pull up in a pleased expression. He hurriedly gestures at the young witch to continue her explanation to hide his facial expression. It would only serve to give Prince a big head!

Well, still alive.....

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