Chapter 125: The Kneeling Centaur
This was the first time Elian had seen a centaur up close.
Looking at the figures moving constantly in the shadows around them, Elian understood immediately: this wasn't just a patrol—it was an entire herd. A community.
That made the situation far more dangerous.
After all, the centaur who'd spoken had made it quite clear: they were no longer welcome here.
Magorian kept pacing back and forth, his hooves crunching on fallen leaves. The disgust and hostility in his eyes when he looked at Hagrid was unmistakable.
With a rustling of undergrowth, two more centaurs emerged from the shadows behind him.
Harry recognized one immediately—the black-bodied, bearded centaur was Bane, whom he'd seen four years ago during that terrifying night when he'd encountered Voldemort in the forest. But Bane's eyes passed over Harry without a flicker of recognition, as if they'd never met.
"I believe we all agreed," Bane said, his voice dripping with contempt, "on what should happen if this one showed his face in the Forbidden Forest again."
"This one?" Hagrid's face flushed red with anger. "Are you talking about me?"
"Firenze has become a servant to humans," said the third centaur, a gray-bodied stallion with a scarred flank. His tone made it sound like the worst insult imaginable.
"He sold our knowledge and secrets to mankind," Magorian said coldly. "He is a traitor. You should not have stopped us from punishing him when we had the chance. Because of that, the Forbidden Forest no longer welcomes you, Hagrid."
"Your Forbidden Forest?" Hagrid bellowed, his huge hands clenching into fists. "It doesn't belong to you! You centaurs just live here, same as everyone else!"
"Perhaps," Magorian said, his voice maddeningly calm. "But it certainly doesn't belong to you, Hagrid."
Bane interrupted, his eyes fixing on Harry, Ron, and Hermione with predatory interest. "Magorian, these are his students. They may have benefited from the teaching of that traitor Firenze. I think we should reclaim what belongs to us."
Without warning, Bane unslung his bow from his shoulder, pulled an arrow from his quiver, and nocked it to the string.
The message was clear: a threat.
Immediately, a rustling sound erupted from the shadows behind him—the sound of dozens of bowstrings being drawn simultaneously.
Harry and Ron went rigid with fear, wands raised but trembling.
Hermione's hand in Elian's grip had gone ice-cold.
Elian was already calculating. His fingers moved subtly beneath his robes, preparing to summon the Sling Ring if things went bad. Nine visible centaurs. Probably a dozen more in the trees. Heavily armed. Excellent archers. If they all fire at once—
"Don't worry," Elian murmured to Hermione, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I won't let anyone hurt you."
"Killing children would be a shameful crime," Magorian said, though his tone suggested he was considering it anyway. "So we will be merciful. Today, Hagrid, we let you go. But from this moment forward, you will stay away from the deeper forest. When you helped that traitor Firenze, you forfeited our friendship forever."
Magorian was clearly the leader. When he finished speaking, the rustling in the shadows quieted slightly. Orders given, orders acknowledged.
"I won't be driven out of the forest by the likes of you!" Hagrid shouted, apparently not realizing—or not caring—that they were seconds away from becoming pincushions.
"HAGRID!" Magorian's roar shook the clearing, genuine anger finally breaking through his cold composure. "Do you want to walk out of this forest alive? Thank me for my mercy and leave before I change my mind!"
His patience had clearly run out. If it weren't for old bonds and complicated politics, Magorian would have already ordered the attack. But Hagrid's stubbornness was pushing him past his limits.
The air was thick with tension. Bane's bowstring creaked as he drew it tighter.
And then—
"Hahahaha! I'm sorry, please, continue. Don't mind me."
An unusually harsh laugh broke the silence.
Everyone froze.
Magorian's anger flared even hotter, his face darkening like a thundercloud. He whirled to glare at whoever had dared to mock this standoff—
His eyes found Elian, who was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
And then, something extraordinary happened.
Magorian's eyes suddenly went gray and unfocused. His entire body went rigid, as still as a statue. His bow slipped from nerveless fingers.
Bane turned to snap at Magorian, clearly annoyed that their leader was letting some human child distract him—but then he saw Magorian's face and fell silent, confused and concerned.
"Elian, what are you doing?" Hermione hissed, trying to pull him back. "This isn't the time for jokes! You're going to get us all killed!"
Ron's voice shook. "Harry, are we going to die today? He's gone mad! Should I—should I try stunning them? Or maybe the Full Body-Bind? Would that even work on centaurs?"
Harry and Hagrid both stared at Elian, baffled. The boy was laughing himself breathless in the middle of what had been a life-or-death confrontation.
What could possibly be funny right now?
"I'm sorry," Elian gasped, wiping his eyes. "I just—what kind of ridiculous logic is this? Punishing one of your own just because he chose to teach at Hogwarts?"
He stopped laughing, his expression going cold and hard.
Ignoring Hermione's desperate attempt to pull him back, Elian walked directly toward the centaurs.
"You centaurs are absurdly stubborn," he said, his voice cutting through the clearing like a blade. "You think your knowledge is sacred, that it's above everything else. You reject magic, you reject progress, you reject anything that doesn't fit your narrow little worldview."
He stopped a few feet from Magorian, looking up at the frozen centaur with something close to contempt.
"It's pathetic. Your stubbornness will destroy you. One of your own had the courage to be a pioneer, to share knowledge and build bridges between species—and you punish him for it? You exile him?"
Elian's voice dropped to something dangerous.
"If you're all going to be this arrogant in front of me, I don't mind teaching you some humility."
"What did you say, you little—" Bane started forward, fury written across his face.
A look of cold cruelty flashed in Elian's eyes.
But before Bane could finish his sentence, Magorian suddenly moved. He stretched out one arm, physically blocking Bane's path.
"Magorian—what are you doing?" Bane demanded, shocked.
Magorian didn't answer.
Instead, he bent down, slowly and deliberately, and picked up his bow, quiver, and arrows. Then, in a gesture that made every centaur in the clearing gasp, he threw them all to the ground at Elian's feet.
Disarming himself.
"Magorian!" Bane cried out in horror. "What—"
But Magorian ignored him completely.
The centaur began walking toward Elian, each step slow and measured, as if performing some sacred ritual. His expression was solemn, almost reverent.
"ELIAN!" Hermione screamed, trying to run forward, but Hagrid grabbed her around the waist.
"Don't!" Hagrid said, though his own face was pale with shock. "Just—just wait!"
"I promise Elian will be fine," Hagrid added, though his voice was far from certain.
Hermione's face was twisted with fear and concern, her eyes locked on Elian as the massive centaur approached him.
Magorian took each step seriously, his eyes never leaving Elian's face.
And then, when he stood directly before the young wizard—
Thud.
Magorian's front legs folded beneath him, and he dropped to his knees.
The clearing went absolutely silent.
Every centaur stood frozen in shock. Even the forest itself seemed to hold its breath.
Magorian bent his torso forward in a deep bow, placing his right hand over his heart in a gesture of profound respect and submission.
He was kneeling before a human child.
"Impossible," Bane whispered, his face white with disbelief.
Harry's mouth hung open.
Ron looked like he might faint.
Hagrid's eyes were the size of dinner plates.
And Hermione—Hermione just stared, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing.
Centaurs didn't kneel. Ever. Not to humans, not to wizards, not to anyone. They were too proud, too ancient, too certain of their superiority.
But Magorian was kneeling.
"My lord," Magorian said, his voice carrying across the silent clearing. "Forgive my blindness. The stars spoke of your coming, but I did not understand. I see you now for what you truly are."
Elian looked down at the kneeling centaur, his expression unreadable.
"Rise," he said quietly.
Magorian lifted his head, and his eyes—those eyes that had been gray and unfocused moments ago—were now clear and filled with something that looked almost like awe.
"You carry the old magic," Magorian said. "Magic that predates wands, that flows from the very fabric of the world itself. Magic that we centaurs have read in the stars for millennia but never thought to see embodied in flesh."
He straightened but remained on his knees.
"I was wrong to threaten you. We were all wrong. The stars have shown me your path—the fire and blood that awaits, the choice you will make that will reshape everything. And they have shown me that we must not stand in your way."
Bane looked like he'd been struck by lightning. "Magorian, you can't be serious—"
"Silence," Magorian said, and the command in his voice was absolute.
He turned back to Elian.
"What would you have of us, bearer of the old ways?"
Elian studied the centaur for a long moment. Part of him was calculating—this was an unexpected opportunity, a chance to secure another ally in the coming war. But another part of him was simply tired of the posturing, the politics, the endless games.
"I want nothing from you," Elian said finally. "Except your promise to leave Hagrid alone. He's done nothing wrong. Firenze chose his own path—that was his right, not his crime."
Magorian bowed his head. "It will be as you say."
"And one more thing," Elian added, his voice hardening. "When the war comes—and it is coming—don't make the mistake of thinking you can stay neutral. Voldemort won't care about your pride or your stars. He'll burn this forest and everyone in it if it serves his purposes."
"We are aware," Magorian said quietly. "The stars have shown us that much."
He rose to his feet, picked up his discarded weapons, and turned to face his herd. They were all staring at him with expressions ranging from confusion to outright betrayal.
"We return to the herd," Magorian announced. "And we will speak of what has transpired here tonight. The old magic walks among us once more. We will watch. We will wait. And when the time comes..."
He looked back at Elian.
"...we will remember."
With that, the centaurs melted back into the forest, their hoofbeats fading into silence.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then Hermione broke free from Hagrid's grip and ran to Elian, grabbing his robes with shaking hands.
"What—" she started, her voice breaking. "What just happened? Why did he—how did you—"
"I don't know," Elian lied.
But he did know. He'd felt it the moment Magorian's eyes had gone gray—the connection, the brief flash of insight that had passed between them when their minds had touched.
He'd used a subtle form of Legilimency, nothing forceful, just enough to let Magorian see a glimpse of the truth. A glimpse of the power Elian carried, the ancient magic that flowed through him.
And Magorian, who had spent his entire life reading portents in the stars, had understood immediately what that meant.
"Let's just go," Elian said, gently extracting himself from Hermione's grip. "We've had enough excitement for one night."
Hagrid led them back to the castle in stunned silence.
Behind them, deep in the forest, the centaurs gathered in their clearing and began a heated debate that would last until dawn.
But Magorian stood apart from them all, his eyes turned to the stars, reading the patterns that only he could see.
And what he saw there made him shiver.
(End of Chapter)
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