The firefight didn't just resume; the two sides were trying to massacre everything else out of sheer self-preservation. Fighters on both sides were getting mowed down as a rainbow of spell-fire lit up the early dawn. Jinxes and curses ricocheted off of each other, causing many to divert from their original path and leaving nobody safe by cover. The centaurs who had tried to stay neutral in this war, stood at the edge of the Dark Forest and were decimated instantly. The remaining ninety percent ran into the woods, only to be overrun by the acromantula and the Dementors. Firenze held his head in shame over at Hagrid's hut, as if he had seen this moment coming for years. Was there something to that whole divination thing after all?