Harry Potter: The art of divination

*Narrator pov* 

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of enchanted lanterns casting golden pools of light across a chaotic expanse of maps, drawings, and scrawled notes. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and ink, mingled with the faint aroma of burned sage. Morpheus stood near a table piled high with documents, his clear eyes tracing the contours of a map pinned to the wall. It was a detailed sketch of the New Orleans Forest in Europe. 

To his side, Nicolas Flamel, the ancient alchemist, leaned over a battered notebook, his gnarled fingers delicately flipping a page. His movements were precise despite his age, as though every motion was a spell in itself.

"The Wolf God," Morpheus murmured, his voice smooth yet tinged with intrigue. He gestured to a set of notes pinned haphazardly around the map. Each was adorned with crude sketches of a towering lupine figure, its eyes glowing like twin moons.

"Ah, Lupus Dominus," Flamel replied, his voice soft and steady. "The apex spirit of the forest. Tales say he chooses champions—hunters, wanderers, even lost souls—and binds them to his will. Some call it a curse; others, a gift."

Morpheus stepped closer to the notes, one hand clasped behind his back, the other reaching out to steady a swaying parchment. Written in hurried script were fragmented descriptions:

*emerges during the full moon 

*speaks in riddles 

*devours all who annoy him whole 

Morpheus chuckled, "I took terrible notes during the last war. I remember writing these, people specifically werewolves were going into forest and emerging stronger than ever. I've never actually met this so-called god." he scoffed 

Nicolas shook his laugh was raspy, "I must ask do you prepare so for every 'god' it seems this is a losing battle if you must be this prepared and there are still so many left." 

Morpheus shook his head while grabbing another map, "No, I have been studying the major players for decades, Nicolas. This one is a creature I have never interacted with but will surely be a blow to their overall force. I must know everything before attacking in its home turf." 

Nicolas nodded, "I see, well at least you have until the next full moon." 

Morpheus smirked, "Aye, my notes said he was consistent every full moon. Its most likely his condition for leaving the veil." 

Nicolas shook his head and got back to work. 

***

Morpheus's blood clone walked through the corridors of Hogwarts his paler than normal skin glinted in the moonlight that drifted through the windows.

The sound of spells being flung whistled in his ears as he approached double doors, opening them he was met with the thundering of a crowd, Gryffindors stood huddled as two dueled in the center. Abara and Yowie along with Minerva stood off to the side watching the bout. 

Morpheus glided over to the group, "What have I missed?" he asked wincing as one of the students tripped over his own feet 

Embarrassing. 

"Tryouts," Yowie muttered 

Abara looked over at Morpheus, "We decided to hold try outs house by house this time since they will be competing against each other. It's rather informal as you can see." 

Minerva looked over briefly before locking back into the duels, "Im glad to see your okay we haven't had to opportunity to talk after your trial." 

Morpheus smiled, "Thank you, all is well that whole situation was ridiculous I must say." 

Abara laughed drawing some of the student's attention, "It was! How could they think it was going to work?" 

""it would have."" both Minerva and Yowie said in unison chuckling briefly as they noticed each other's words 

"Indeed it would have if their target wasn't me." Morpheus paused before shaking his head, "Mary Macdonald seems to be a hidden gem was she like this last year?" he asked the two dueling instructors 

Abara shook his head negatively, "She didn't seem to try at all last year, I'm glad to finally see her true abilities." 

Minerva hummed in agreement, "She is doing better than most but her movement is still too rigid." 

"Perhaps, I say put her on the team or at least the backups. To change from lazy to trying her hardest to win shows something far more important than her current skills." Morpheus muttered loud enough for them all to hear 

Morpheus lingered a moment longer in the room watching the students duel fiercely for their place amongst the main team. He walked off near the end.

The Forbidden Forest loomed ahead, its ancient trees casting long shadows under the silvery light of the moon. The cries of mourning centaurs echoed faintly through the glades. Morpheus moved through the undergrowth with a practiced ease, his dark cloak blending seamlessly with the forest's gloom.

As he approached a clearing, he found the centaurs gathered in solemn ceremony. Magorian stood at the center, his towering frame illuminated by a ring of enchanted firelight. Around him, the centaur herd bowed their heads, their grief palpable. They stood over intricately woven pyres, adorned with flowers, herbs, and arrows, paying homage to their fallen warriors.

Morpheus stepped forward, his presence acknowledged by a few nods of respect from the centaurs. Magorian's deep voice broke the solemn quiet.

"Morpheus Everglade," he greeted. "You come to the forest on a night of mourning. Have you come to pay respects, or is your errand more pressing?"

Morpheus inclined his head, his dark eyes meeting Magorian's. "Both. I grieve with you, Magorian. And I offer my aid."

Magorian studied him, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. "Then you honor our kin. The wolves and dark wizards will not be forgotten tonight, nor will the strength of our allies."

Without a word, Morpheus moved to assist the centaurs. He gathered wood and herbs for the pyres, weaving each with care and precision. His movements were reverent, his silence speaking volumes. The herd watched him with a mix of respect and curiosity.

As the final rites were prepared, Magorian approached him, standing shoulder to shoulder with the wizard. The leader's deep voice rumbled softly. "The attack would have claimed more lives had we not been prepared."

"Indeed, I just wish I saw the attack sooner," Morpheus replied, his tone low and contemplative. He turned to Magorian, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "For that, I am sorry."

Magorian shook his head. "The fault lies not with you but with those who struck. Their cowardice will not be forgotten."

Morpheus nodded solemnly, his gaze turning to the flames that had begun to consume the pyres. The air was heavy with the scent of burning herbs, a bittersweet aroma that seemed to carry the spirits of the fallen skyward.

As the flames reached their peak, Morpheus bowed his head, joining the centaurs in their silent vigil. For tonight, he would put aside his hunt and honor those who had fought and fallen.

A/N: I apologize for the smaller past chapters holidays are crazy right now and I'm trying to get to a point where I can move rapidly in the story without seeming I'm cutting to events way to early