[Prof. Umbridge] Chpater 51

"What an eventful night," Snape remarked with a hint of irony as he observed the scene. "Look at them—they're armed to the teeth and clearly very determined."

"Funny joke," Conner replied dryly. "Not that one could ever get bored in this school… What's that commotion at the gates?"

"The local watchman is asking for sanctuary," one of his subordinates replied. "Says they'll beat him to death otherwise."

"That's Firenze," Marina Nikolaevna explained, noticing the blond mane. "He really is the night watchman here… and, apparently, will now be substituting for Hagrid. Let him through, Mr. Conner. He's harmless. And he's an exile—his kin really might kill him."

"Bring him here!" Conner shouted, and within moments, the centaur approached.

Firenze's appearance had changed somewhat in recent months: his hair was now shorter and tied into a ponytail at the crown of his head (after nearly losing his mane to one of the few surviving Blast-Ended Skrewts). He had also donned a shirt and fur-lined vest over his human torso, much like Hagrid’s. It was clear that, while the centaurs in the herd kept warm by huddling together and sitting around fires, Firenze found it much colder on his own. Though he barely fit inside Hagrid's hut, especially when Hagrid was present, he had stubbornly refused to build his own proper shelter, settling instead for a flimsy lean-to that barely kept out rain and snow. It seemed, however, that he might soon give in.

"So, your name is Firenze?" Conner asked, and the centaur nodded.

"Good. Then tell me, Firenze, what do you think your kin want?"

"I imagine they are extremely angry," Firenze replied. His voice, once deep and melodious, was now hoarse—likely a result of his preference to deal with colds on his own, without seeking help from Madam Pomfrey.

"That much is obvious. But about what, exactly? My people haven’t wronged them."

Firenze hesitated, then said, "It all started with me. I agreed to Dumbledore’s offer to teach Divination at the school, and…"

O’Leary, who had stepped closer, let out an impressed whistle, evidently unaware of this story.

"But nothing came of it," Firenze glanced briefly at Marina Nikolaevna, "and I could no longer return to the herd. When they learned of my agreement to help a human, my kin accused me of betraying and dishonoring them, of revealing our knowledge and secrets. Hagrid barely managed to save me from their fury, and they’ve resented him for it ever since. Previously, when he needed to speak with someone from our herd, they would respond. But after my exile, they stopped."

"Can you keep it brief?" Conner asked. "They're getting closer."

"Oh, the barriers will stop their arrows," O’Leary said.

"Sure, but watch out for any overhead shots—one of those arrows could knock you out cold," Conner retorted. "So, Firenze, you were exiled, they’re mad at Hagrid, and then what?"

"Hagrid brought a giant into the forest," Firenze said. "That kind of neighbor didn’t sit well with anyone."

"That, I can certainly understand," Conner nodded. "But we’ve rid them of little Grawp!"

"Centaurs don’t like humans entering the Forbidden Forest," Firenze explained. "Hagrid was tolerated, but it seems our leader’s patience has run out."

"Impatient, isn’t he…" Conner smirked. "Madam? Shall I handle the negotiations, or would you prefer to take the lead?"

"I think I’ll observe," she said. The real Dolores, as far as she recalled, had little love for magical creatures, and the centaurs almost certainly knew that. "As the school’s headmistress, I can’t stand aside. But you likely know better how to deal with aggressive, armed opponents."

"Excellent. Then let’s proceed." He offered her his arm gallantly and ordered his team, "Light up the castle grounds. Make it bright enough to find needles in the grass!"

The area was suddenly illuminated as if by powerful floodlights, the kind used at stadiums and concert venues. White light flooded the surroundings, rendering the centaurs’ torches useless and invisible. Startled by the sudden brightness, the centaurs hesitated and stepped back—the illumination was overwhelming after the dimness of the night.

It became clear that their numbers were far smaller than the dark had made it seem. Even if they had brought only men—logical enough, as they were all warriors in their prime (and likely left others behind to guard the elderly, women, and foals)—it was evident that the centaur population in the Forbidden Forest wasn’t large. This couldn’t be a mere vanguard; otherwise, they’d struggle to sustain themselves on hunting and foraging alone. Centaurs certainly weren’t inclined toward farming—perhaps animal husbandry, at best…

"What do you want?" Conner asked as he stepped forward. He amplified his voice with a spell so that it could probably be heard even at the top of the towers. "State your names!"

A tall bay centaur with a haughty, high-cheekboned face and long black hair stepped forward. He carried a large bow in his hands, with a quiver of arrows slung over his back.

"My name is Magorian. And who are you, human?"

"David Conner, Deputy Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," he introduced himself politely.

The centaur snorted, rearing slightly, and the others stomped and muttered, particularly a black-maned centaur with a wild beard.

"What do you want?" Conner repeated.

"Centaurs will not tolerate humans invading our forest!" Magorian declared. "We tolerated Hagrid, even when Firenze betrayed and disgraced us, and Hagrid stopped us from punishing the traitor. But now you’ve come again! We have our own lives and laws, different from yours, and you have no right—"

"Stop, stop, stop," Conner raised a hand. "Less drama. First of all, have my people done anything to offend your kind? No?"

The centaur shook his mane.

"Excellent. Did you enjoy the company of the Acromantulas? No? Or the giant? Didn’t like him either? Then why are you upset? We rid you of these unpleasant neighbors, and yet you’re complaining!"

"Humans invaded our forest, and we will not stand for it!" the black-maned centaur shouted, loosing an arrow that struck Conner’s shield squarely between the eyes.

Conner didn’t flinch. After a pause, he said, "Clause Fifteen, Article B clearly states that any attack by a magical creature classified as having intelligence comparable to humans and therefore capable of taking responsibility for its actions—"

"Comparable to humans?" Magorian repeated, and the others erupted into furious neighs, stamping their hooves and brandishing their bows. "That is a grave insult, human! Our intelligence far surpasses yours!"

"Yes, I’ve noticed," Conner replied completely seriously. "It takes truly great intelligence to lead an unprotected handful of kin to confront well-armed wizards. Even without our wands—"

"Then you wouldn’t dare approach our forest!"

"Yours?" Conner asked with genuine surprise. "Magorian, let me remind you: you live here only because the Ministry of Magic designated this land for you. Or would you prefer we reconsider and deport you to your historical homeland? Let the Greeks deal with you…"

"Now that would cause an international scandal," O’Leary interjected. "As I recall, the Greeks were glad to be rid of them. The local centaur tribes won’t be thrilled either, they live peacefully on Mount Pelion, raising goats, making cheese, and farming grapes and olives. They even trade."

“Well, the wine they got isn’t bad,” Murphy chimed in.

“Yeah, if you don’t drink it by the barrel and have some snacks with it, it’s just right. Though I preferred the anise vodka,” Conner nodded, turning back to Magorian.

“We will not deal with humans like those traitors who have forgotten their nature!” roared the gray centaur. “We are not some talking horses; we are an ancient people, and we will not tolerate invasions and insults from wizards! We do not acknowledge your laws, nor do we intend to yield to your dominance. We live in isolation and take pride in it!”

“Then keep living in isolation. What brought you here?” O’Leary asked in surprise.

“Your people entered the forest uninvited, breaking the agreement!” Magorian retorted. “We demand to see Dumbledore!”

“That’s impossible,” Conner replied. “Professor Dumbledore is gravely injured and cannot receive visitors—especially such unruly ones. However, if you mean the head of Hogwarts, there’s no problem... Madam?”

“Dolores Umbridge,” Marina Nikolaevna introduced herself, stepping forward so she could be seen behind the towering Aurors. “Deputy Minister of Magic, Headmistress, and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. What do you want?”

“A Ministry official as Headmistress?!” the black centaur bellowed, stamping his hooves. “I told you, Magorian! It started with that traitor Firenze, and now, after stealing our secrets, humans will ravage the forest and drive us into pens!”

“Funny, why would they bother, when you’re as useful as a milkless goat?” Snape muttered, observing the discussion from the back row with interest. “Prophecies, maybe, but even those are vague... Ahem, pardon me, Madam Ingebjorg.”

“For what?” she asked, puzzled.

“I had the pleasure of conversing with Firenze, and... you’re right, Severus. Their prophecies, based on the movements of celestial bodies, are so broad they’re almost impossible to connect to any specific event or individual. Mars being bright means war? Even humans have known that for ages. Perhaps,” she added, “the centaurs remaining on Pelion still retain Chiron’s wisdom, but the ones here have grown rather wild.”

“Well, it’s hard to focus on detailed prophecies when snow’s falling, and you’re starving,” he muttered. “It’s not like basking under the Greek sun, among streams and grapevines...”

“No wonder southern peoples are more inclined toward philosophy than northerners,” Ingebjorg replied. “It’s much easier to ponder the transience of existence in warmth and on a full stomach, not after braving the icy ocean for fish or hunting boars. If you return alive with some food, that’s already a success—no time for deep thoughts!”

The centaurs, meanwhile, ceased shouting curses and brandishing their bows, calming down slightly. Marina Nikolaevna repeated her question:
“What do you want? No one has infringed on your hunting grounds, so why have you come?”

“We demand that humans never cross the Forbidden Forest’s borders! The edge of the forest is enough for them!” Magorian declared.

“But how are we to teach Care of Magical Creatures?” Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had joined Ingebjorg, asked curiously. “Will you bring us unicorns and hippogriffs for demonstration?”

“Let your foals learn from pictures,” the black centaur snorted, “The creatures of the Forbidden Forest don’t exist for humans to prod and dissect!”

“I repeat, we demand a total ban on humans entering the forest!” Magorian stamped his hoof.

“Well, there goes my mushroom picking,” Snape whispered softly, seemingly addressing Ingebjorg, who responded:
“Yours here aren’t potent enough, Severus, like russulas. They barely have any kick... If only you tried that tincture Raven’s kin makes, then you’d notice the difference.”

“Oh no, thank you, I’ll pass...”

“We’re waiting,” Magorian interrupted, drawing his bow.

“Say something to him, Madam,” Conner whispered to Marina Nikolaevna. “We can’t stand here all night—my lads are tired, to be honest...”

She nodded and stepped forward, stopping in front of the towering centaur. She had to look up to see him properly, but alas, there was no Flitwick with his little stool nearby—and it wouldn’t have helped anyway.

“So,” Marina Nikolaevna said, waiting for the centaurs to quiet down, “you, Magorian, demand that humans no longer cross the Forbidden Forest’s borders and not interfere with your lives... though they haven’t interfered so far. Did I understand you correctly?”

“Yes,” he nodded, frowning heavily.

“Good... And what will you do if an overly curious student ignores the ban and enters the forest anyway? Worse yet, gets lost in it?”

“We don’t harm foals; that’s the law!” the centaur proudly declared.

“There’s someone to send for mushrooms, then,” Snape muttered again.

“The rule-breakers?” Grubbly-Plank guessed correctly.

“So, you won’t harm them?” Marina Nikolaevna clarified, ignoring her colleagues.

“Of course not!”

“And will you help them out of the forest?”

“We do not help humans!” the black centaur roared again.

“So a child could wander near your settlement for days, and you wouldn’t guide them to the edge of the forest? There are no acromantulas left in the forest,” Marina Nikolaevna glanced at Conner, “but what if a few are hiding deep within? And even without them, the forest is full of dangers...”

“We might guide a child,” Magorian admitted reluctantly, “if we find them before the predators do.”

“And if an adult ventures in to search for them, I assume you’d riddle the brave soul with arrows?”

“The law must be the same for everyone!” he responded. “I repeat, we demand that humans never...”

“And I’ll tell you, Magorian, that you have no right to demand anything,” Marina Nikolaevna replied calmly. “For a very simple reason: it was your ancestors, driven by pride, who demanded in 1811 to be classified as ‘beasts’ rather than ‘beings.’ Have you forgotten?”

Magorian even stepped back in surprise.

“As far as I know, not a single representative of your kind has ever approached the Centaur Liaison Office, though it still exists to this day,” she added. Dolores was well-versed in anything regarding magical creatures!

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that,” Conner smirked. “Yes, the Headmistress is absolutely correct. The Centaur Liaison Office still operates under the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures’ Beast Division... and I think it even has one employee. Address your concerns there.”

“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled,” O’Leary said seriously.

“Yes, but within the Beast Division, centaur demands will likely be heard with the same seriousness as garden gnomes’...”

“Those can’t even speak properly, but by classification, they’re magical beasts too, so no discrimination—none at all!”

“You get what you fought for,” Murphy remarked, clearly enjoying Magorian’s expression.

“Pride is to blame,” Ingebjorg added, stepping closer. “It has destroyed countless lives! Take Dumbledore, or your Voldemort... Pride blinds.”

“We could’ve lived in peace, like that herd from Pelion,” added Grubbly-Plank, puffing on her pipe. “But no, they demand independence for a single forest!”

“You could grant them independence, sure, but what would they do with it?” Connor asked. “They’d die out. If not now, then in a few generations due to inbreeding.”

“Exactly, you can already see signs of degeneration on that bearded one,” nodded the seer. “Well… many great peoples have met such a fate. Earthly glory fades, and you can’t argue with the destroyer of assemblies...”

“Enough talk!” A black centaur reared up, raising his bow. The arrow trembled on the string, and although Magorian reached out to stop his comrade, the centaur darted forward, clearly forgetting that the despised humans were well-protected by magical shields. “The forest is our home, and anyone who steps onto our land will be punished!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Marina Nikolaevna saw O’Leary lift his hand and make an indecipherable gesture.

There was a soft click, and the centaur sank to his hind legs, staring in shock at the arrow—its tip had somehow been sliced off. Another click, and the bowstring snapped with a twang, nearly whipping the centaur in the face as the bow suddenly unraveled.

“Gentlemen, your memory is worse than a goldfish’s,” Connor said seriously. “Did you forget what we did to the Acromantula nest? Have you forgotten that they, too, are classified as ‘beasts’? Intelligent, some even capable of coherent speech, but—oh, the misfortune—far too aggressive… No parallels come to mind?”

“You may remain in the forest; it’s your home,” Marina Nikolaevna interjected at the right moment, “but you have no right to dictate who else can enter or leave it. People will try not to disturb you or wander into your hunting grounds, but if a centaur attacks an innocent person—be it wizard or a lost Muggle...”

“What, they’ll burn us like the spiders?” a gray centaur rasped.

“Why bother?” O’Leary replied calmly, lifting his head. “Your friend’s bow wasn’t broken by magic. That came from back there. Muggle weaponry—you’re lit up like a stage play in this light. Wiping out the whole squad would take a minute.”

“Humans are taking too many liberties!” the black centaur growled, taking a few steps forward.

Ratatat-tat! The centaur retreated as bullets tore up the ground just inches from his hooves. Ratatat-tat!

This time, the burst took down a scraggly tree growing far from the edge of the forest; splinters flew everywhere.

“I assume we’ll settle this peacefully?” Marina Nikolaevna asked Magorian. “You return to the forest and live as you always have. Humans, as I said, won’t intrude on your lands unnecessarily, but you should stop treating the entire Forbidden Forest as your private property.”

Magorian flared his nostrils silently, as did the other centaurs.

“Unless,” she added on a whim, “you agree to become guardians of the forest.”

“What are you saying, woman?” he asked grimly.

“Who knows the Forbidden Forest better than you? Who could track and stop an intruder intending harm to its inhabitants? I heard about someone who was killing unicorns a few years ago,” Marina Nikolaevna recalled. “Why didn’t you intervene? Couldn’t you stop him?”

“We swore not to interfere with what must happen by the will of the heavens. The planets’ movements showed us what would come...”

Another, younger, chestnut-colored centaur spoke up:
“Firenze decided it was better to intervene, and he was right.”

“Better?!” The black centaur stomped his hoof in outrage. “None of this concerns us! Centaurs should not meddle in what is foretold by the stars! And it’s not our place to run around the forest chasing lost humans!”

“A classic generational conflict,” Ingebjorg said seriously, and Grubbly-Plank nodded in agreement.

“This concerns you directly,” Marina Nikolaevna said dryly. “When You-Know-Who comes, you’ll be grateful for the Acromantulas. Now then, gentlemen, it’s getting late. Decide quickly what you intend to do. Either you claim the forest as your own, protect it, guard it, and refrain from attacking people who mean no harm to you or its inhabitants, or...”

She paused meaningfully.

“Yes, those,” Connor gestured at the picturesque group of centaurs, “whose moods change unpredictably, are worse than Acromantulas. Spiders just try to eat everything they see—it’s simpler with them: see one, kill it!”

“If we agree...” Magorian managed to say, “will you promise not to meddle in our tribe’s affairs?”

“Not like we’re eager,” someone from the Aurors muttered.

“Yes. Just as we haven’t interfered in your internal matters before, we won’t in the future—unless you ask us to,” Marina Nikolaevna stated.

“If we promise to guard the forest and its inhabitants from malicious outsiders, will you promise not to enter its shade without significant need?”

“As the forest was called Forbidden, so it shall remain,” she nodded. “But lessons will still take place. And the gamekeeper—I hope Hagrid returns to us, but if not, we’ll find another—must have free access to the forest. Even if it’s Firenze.”

The black centaur snorted furiously, but Magorian raised a hand to silence him.

“So be it,” he said with poorly concealed anger. “If we’re all to sully ourselves with a pact with humans, why is that traitor any worse? But none of us will shake his hand or speak a word to him unless absolutely necessary or unless someone’s life depends on it!”

“I think he’ll survive that, so long as you don’t try to kill him,” Marina Nikolaevna sighed. “And one more thing: as I’ve mentioned, our students are far too curious about things that don’t concern them and might try to venture into the depths of the forest. So having sentries wouldn’t hurt; it’s easier to catch those brats at the edge than deeper inside!”

“Agreed,” Magorian nodded. “What else?”

“Report anything suspicious you notice. For example, if the unicorns suddenly leave their usual spot… you know the local creatures’ habits better than anyone. And since you won’t talk to Firenze, hang a bright cloth at the edge of the forest. One of the professors will come and listen to your message.”

“Are you literate, by the way?” O’Leary suddenly asked. “Plenty of owls in the forest, and you could leave a note in a hollow tree...”

“I think the method of communication is less important,” Connor said. “I hope we’ve reached a fundamental agreement? Magorian?”

“Yes,” the centaur replied darkly, shifting his weight, and extended a broad, hoof-like hand to Marina Nikolaevna. Then he looked to the sky and added, “So this is what Sagittarius foretold...”

After a short pause, he reared up into a majestic pose and declared:
“We leave. From this night on, the Forbidden Forest is under our protection, and do not enter it without need!”

“As agreed,” Marina Nikolaevna said with a shrug, watching the retreating centaurs.

Judging by the loud cursing, it was too dark in the forest after the bright light—they’d lost their torches—and someone tripped.

"I hope that's all for today," sighed Conner. "Alright, guys, let's head back to the castle. We'll rest here tonight—just in case. Madam?"

"Of course, there's plenty of space here," she replied and then asked, "Mr. O'Leari, was that you who broke the black one's bow? I saw you raise your hand..."

"No, why would I," he replied with a dazzling smile, "that was another marksman. I don’t know who exactly, but my guess is Basilisk. He volunteered for watch duty today for some reason."

Marina Nikolaevna tilted her head back, but it was impossible to spot anyone atop the towers or near the narrow windows. She simply raised her hand and waved, knowing that if Orford was up there, he'd see her

All that was left was to herd the students off to bed and grab some rest herself—these past 24 hours had been exceptionally eventful!

"You were exceptionally convincing," Snape complimented as he caught up with her along the way.

"And your little jokes almost ruined my entire momentum."

"You could hear that?" he asked, feigning surprise.

"Every word," Marina Nikolaevna replied, stifling a yawn.

"Go get some sleep, Dolores," said Ingebjorg. "I'll keep an eye on things, seeing as how I’m now your deputy... hmm... for disciplinary matters."

The seer hefted her staff, and Marina Nikolaevna couldn't help but smile. With such a deputy, discipline was the least of her worries!

"And you," she said quietly to Snape as they ascended the stairs, "if you pinch me on the backside in public again..."

"You'll break my nose?" he asked, quick to respond. "I heard O'Leary retelling that legendary scene at the Ministry... But don’t worry, Dolores, no one saw it—everyone was watching the centaurs. Still, you immediately perked up..."

"Turned feral, you mean?"

"Call it what you will. The point is, you remembered the ancient law and found the right words. I'd say it turned out rather well."

"You know, Severus," Marina Nikolaevna said thoughtfully, turning to look him straight in the eye, "I’m curious about only one thing..."

"And what might that be?" he asked with genuine interest.

"With that sense of humor of yours... how are you still alive?"