The centaurs who had tried to stay neutral in this war, stood at the edge of the Dark Forest, were halved by a cutting hex and an explosion curse hitting the densest part of their group. The remaining half ran into the woods, only to be overrun by the acromantula spiders, easily outnumbering them as pincers made quick work of them. Firenze, having been rejected by the herd, held his head in shame over at Hagrid's hut, as if he had been cursed with having known this moment had been coming for years. Was there something to that whole divination thing after all?