Amid the pained cries, the centaurs collapsed one after another.
Wayne hadn't actually gone for the kill. It looked like there was blood everywhere, but given a centaur's constitution, these were nothing more than moderate injuries.
After all, the snakes were merely ordinary pythons he had transfigured—they didn't carry any potent venom.
"Hii~"
"Hii~"
The mother unicorn suddenly neighed. Wayne had a rough idea what she meant.
"You want me to let them go?"
The unicorn nodded, her clear, innocent eyes untainted by a single speck of malice.
She called out a few more times. Thanks to his gift, Wayne couldn't fully understand her words, but he grasped the gist: once upon a time, she and the centaur tribe had been on good terms. They would share the fruits and vegetables they cultivated with her.
They were friends—there was no need to keep fighting, especially since no one here would die from their wounds.
"I can let them go…" Wayne stroked her long, graceful neck. "But from now on, you'll have to let me come visit you."
The unicorn blinked, confused.
Even without saying it, she would never turn Wayne away in the future.
Reading her expression, Wayne suddenly felt as though he was overcomplicating things. The world of animals was simple: if you were kind to them, they would repay you a hundredfold.
Even Aragog was like that—Hagrid held a special place in his heart. For Hagrid's sake, Aragog had gone fifty years without eating a single human.
As for his earlier command to have the other Acromantulas hunt Wayne… that was just instinct. It didn't change the fact that Wayne could still see his good side.
"I'll give you face this time."
As Wayne spoke, the pythons still wrestling with the centaurs shimmered and transformed into ropes, binding them tightly instead.
"Go talk to them—otherwise I'll untie them and we'll just have to fight again."
At Wayne's instruction, the unicorn nudged her sleeping foal toward him. He cradled the little one in his arms as she trotted over to the centaurs.
After a few soft whinnies, the centaurs ceased struggling.
Only then did Wayne undo the ropes.
Clutching the wound at his neck, the lead centaur staggered toward Wayne. The human half of his body inclined slightly in a bow.
"My apologies for the misunderstanding, young foal."
"My name is Razi. Please forgive our recklessness—seeing Hestia by your side, we thought you had captured her."
"Wayne Lawrence," Wayne replied evenly. "Hestia? Is that your name?"
The last question was directed at the unicorn.
"Uu~"
"Alright, then I'll call you Hestia from now on."
Then Wayne's brow furrowed. "Who told you to stop, Aragog? You don't want those venom sacs anymore?"
Aragog gave an involuntary shudder and quickly ordered the remaining Acromantulas to resume producing venom.
Satisfied to see the Acromantulas back at work, Wayne turned to Razi.
"So, Razi—are you the leader of the centaurs?"
"No," Razi shook his head. "Centaurs are equals; there is no leader. I am merely the captain of this patrol squad. While on patrol, my orders take precedence."
"I don't care how you divide your roles." Wayne waved dismissively. "As long as your word carries weight, that's enough."
"I'm letting you go today, but not without a price."
"See what happened to the Acromantulas?" Wayne gestured toward the "dairy cows."
"The venom they're producing—that's the price they pay for angering me. So… what exactly are you going to offer to calm my temper?"
Wayne watched Razi leisurely, his expression expectant.
True to his "pluck a feather from every passing goose" philosophy, even a passing fox-spirit would have to leave something behind—never mind these intelligent centaurs, who surely had valuable possessions.
"Don't agree to it, Razi!"
A black-maned, bearded centaur bellowed in fury. "Centaurs will never be slaves! Evil little wizard, you will never make us bow!"
BOOM!
The centaur hadn't even finished his sentence before Wayne flicked his wand. A streak of red light shot forth, blasting the centaur clear off his hooves and hurling him so far he vanished into the shadows, as though swallowed by the night.
"Bane!"
Razi didn't even have time to stop it—he could only watch, horrified, as his companion disappeared from sight.
"Boy, you've gone too far!" Razi growled, his voice edged with fury. "Aren't you afraid I'll tell Dumbledore about this?"
"Dumbledore?" Wayne's dark eyes gleamed with a cold light. "Even if you take this to the Ministry of Magic itself, I'd still have the stronger case. At most, I've broken a school rule. But you? You pointed bows and arrows at an underage wizard. Which side do you think Dumbledore would take?"
"As for that loud-mouthed one, I'm just teaching him some manners. Prisoners ought to behave like prisoners—their mouths are for begging mercy, not for shouting defiance."
"And another thing—use my name. Stop calling me 'Boy.'"
Razi was left speechless. In truth, they had been the rash ones, attacking without understanding the situation and assuming Wayne was some sort of poacher.
"What do you want?" Razi finally lowered his head, his tone subdued.
"Gold and jewels mean nothing to centaurs. We've never collected such things."
"I don't want that useless junk." Wayne waved him off impatiently. Money was the last thing he needed—if his Galleons ever ran low, he could just sell more gold bars.
"I've heard centaurs are not only skilled in divination and archery, but also quite accomplished in herbology. Bring me some herbs, and we'll call it even. The exact amount is up to you—but if you short me…"
Wayne let out a low, dangerous chuckle. "Don't blame me for paying your settlement a little… visit."
Seeing that all Wayne wanted was herbs, Razi relaxed. The Forbidden Forest was the centaurs' domain; gathering herbs was hardly a challenge.
"No problem. Please wait here—I'll fetch them at once."
"How much can one of you carry? Take a few with you." Wayne wasn't worried about them fleeing. Centaurs were stubborn to a fault—once they gave their word, they would follow through.
Sure enough, noticing Wayne's trust, Razi's gaze held a trace of respect. With a deep bow, he ordered several others to follow him. From the direction they took, Wayne guessed they were going to find Bane first.
Wayne stifled a yawn. After all this, it was nearly two in the morning. Good thing tomorrow was Saturday—he could finally sleep in.
The Acromantulas were lined up in a nervous queue, carefully milking their venom. By the time it was almost done, every spider was utterly drained, yet the wooden bucket still lacked about a fifth of its volume.
Wayne arched a brow at Aragog. "Well?"
"No! I can… fill it! Count my venom too!" The great spider, still dangling from the vines, had legs so numb he could barely move.
With a sharp flick, Wayne released the vines. Aragog tumbled to the ground in an undignified heap, taking a long moment to right himself. Then, gritting through the effort, he squeezed every last drop from his own venom sac, finally filling the bucket to the brim.
"Nothing left," Aragog wheezed, collapsing to the ground. "Not… a single drop."
"Alright, off you go." Wayne flicked his hand dismissively, as though shooing away a fly.
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