The Forbidden Forest wasn't forbidden enough.

  Apparently, the faculty thought walking us directly into the territory of intelligent, territorial magical creatures was a fine educational decision.

  "Don’t stray from the path," Professor Hargrave warned, for the third time. "They’re tolerant—not friendly. Centaurs value respect, silence, and not being gawked at like exhibits."

  The Slytherins, of course, didn’t listen.

  Our group of Gryffindors and green-robed snakes had been paired for a joint session. I’d already marked this as a high-risk environment. Dense terrain, poor visibility, creatures with projectile weapons, and a cssroom of hormonal, untrained preteens.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Centaurs are proud creatures.

  They do not live in shacks, wear clothes, or use wands. They hunt with bows, read the stars for meaning, and consider humans loud, small-minded primates who mistakenly think themselves clever.

  There were four of them, standing near a clearing, their skin glinting with sweat under the filtered sunlight. One of them — taller than the others, chestnut hide and scars across his fnk — had a spear longer than I was tall. His eyes were dark and unblinking.

  We watched from the treeline.

  They were skinning a kill — some forest beast — their movements precise, reverent, efficient.

  Jake whispered, “Why does this feel like we’re watching a sacred ritual and also about to get murdered?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Then, as if fate were bored, Sirius Mulford — a fifth-generation pureblood with a face like a sneer made flesh — made the mistake.

  He muttered too loud, “Savages. Surprised they haven’t started gnawing the bones.”

  The spear nded two feet from his foot.

  Every head turned.

  The centaur who threw it was already moving — hooves pounding the forest floor like war drums.

  Professor Hargrave stepped in front of Sirius, wand drawn. “Hold! He is a child.”

  The centaur ignored the wand. His eyes locked on the boy. Rage controlled, but hot. Ancient.

  “He insults the Hunt,” the centaur said.

  Jake, ever helpful, nudged forward and said, “Don’t fight the weak one. Fight the strong one.”

  Then he pointed directly at me.

  I looked at him.

  Then I looked at the centaur.

  Then back at Jake.

  “You idiot.”

  The centaur’s eyes shifted.

  “Is this a challenge, human?”

  The spear raised. Not thrown. Pointed.

  At me.

  My first instinct was to vanish. Evasive pattern alpha. But the spear wasn’t thrown. It waited. Expecting.

  Hargrave’s voice was low and pained. “Caelum, don’t.”

  I stepped forward. “Only if we fight fair. One-on-one. As your kind honors.”

  The centaur snorted. “Agreed.”

  Hargrave exhaled like a man trying to exhale his soul. “Very well. I will witness this challenge as your professor. However—Caelum is a child. He is permitted one concession.”

  He looked at the centaur. “Do you object?”

  The centaur pnted his spear. “If the child is brave, he may die like a man.”

  Wonderful.

  Hargrave walked to me. Voice low. Urgent.

  “I will mark the ground. Step out if you're overmatched. Do not stand still. He’ll strike center-mass. Disarm, don’t wound. If he goes full charge—don’t try to stop him. Roll left. Your only chance.”

  I nodded.

  “Do you understand?”

  I turned to him. Calm. Cold.

  “I won’t die.”

  And then, for the first time in years, I let go.

  Not fully.

  Not like the battlefield.

  But enough.

  Enough that my vision sharpened. Colors shifted. Light flickered differently.

  My eyes burned.

  I didn’t need a mirror. I could feel it — the old power behind my retinas. The three-tomoe Sharingan, spinning slow, like they’d just awakened from a long, reluctant sleep.

  They weren’t chakra-fed. Not anymore.

  But they still saw.

  And that was all I needed.

  We stood in the circle Hargrave had marked.

  The centaur raised his spear.

  I raised my wand.

  Jake whispered from the trees, “This is the coolest day of my life.”

  He charged.

  Not like a man. Like a beast. Half a ton of muscle, metal, and fury.

  I didn’t move.

  I whispered, “Depulso.”

  The bst hit his left shoulder. It didn’t stop him — just angled him.

  Good.

  I sidestepped. His spear sliced air where I’d been. Dirt exploded behind me.

  He turned on a hoof, already adjusting.

  Quick. Smarter than I hoped.

  I shot a second spell. “Expelliarmus.”

  It hit the spear shaft, knocked it half a foot. Not enough.

  “Bombarda.”

  A controlled burst at his front hooves. He stumbled.

  I jumped back, braced, cast again.

  “Carpe Retractum!”

  The light-rope snagged a low branch behind me. I yanked hard — flinging myself backward just as the spear swept under me.

  He bellowed. Not in rage.

  In approval.

  He was testing me. Honoring the fight.

  I nded hard, rolled, wand up.

  “Stupefy!”

  He blocked with his spear’s shaft — using it like a shield. The spell burst against the wood.

  He was fast. Too fast.

  My Sharingan spun. I saw his posture shift—left fnk light, grip adjusting.

  Weakness.

  I sprinted. Dodged the feint. Slid under the second swing. Shouted, “Expulso!” at the ground by his front legs.

  The bst knocked dirt and leaves up like smoke.

  In the blur, I ducked inside his guard, jabbed my wand forward, and whispered directly into his chest—

  “Incarcerous.”

  Ropes shot forward, binding shoulder, spear arm, and front legs.

  He bucked. Once. Twice.

  Then stilled.

  Hargrave raised a hand.

  “Enough!”

  The centaur stood, nodding once. Not angry.

  Impressed.

  I stepped back, breathing hard.

  My eyes still burned. But inside—

  I felt still.

  I was eleven. Again.

  But the boy I’d been?

  He was never gone.

  The centaur looked at me. “You do not fight like a child.”

  “I’m not,” I said.

  Hargrave approached. “Is everyone alive? Good. Let’s go before we aren’t.”

  Jake ran up, starry-eyed. “Did you see yourself!? You were like—whoosh! Bam! Red eyes and everything! What was that?”

  “Genetics,” I said, walking past.

  “I want genetics like that.”

  “Start dying early,” I muttered.

  The forest returned to silence behind us.

  But in me, something stirred.

  Not the chakra.

  Not the Sharingan.

  The part that smiled in the middle of battle.

  [End of Chapter 10]