The ownership of the Forbidden Forest?
The centaur tribe?
Hogwarts?
Such foolish, narrow-minded, and ridiculous arguments—Firenze had never participated in them.
Regarding Bane's obsessive racism, he was even more speechless, because words were most pale and powerless before fools.
But the elder's helplessness and the wise one's disregard had also enabled Bane's reckless behavior within the centaur tribe—young foals even took pride in him.
However, what use were such thoughts besides intensifying hatred toward wizards?
Facing authority, facing Dumbledore, Bane's rhetoric was nothing more than impotent rage...
Firenze was a sage of the centaur tribe.
He saw more clearly than anyone...
The scales of justice never tilted for authority, because they were already in authority's hands.
Even whether centaurs were people or beasts was decided by those in power.
The centaur tribe had lived in the Forbidden Forest for generations—they called it home, protecting their homeland's peace.
But facing this complex world, facing wizards whose good and evil were hard to distinguish, they were the ones being protected.
Like rare domestic fowl and wild beasts, surviving on the wizarding community's stingy mercy.
The Acromantula colony alone was enough to corner the ancient centaur tribe.
Shadows of bloodshed and disappearance shrouded the tribe—young foals were forced to huddle within their homeland, unable to gallop freely through the vast forest.
Their home had become a hunting ground.
And the root of all this came from the gamekeeper beside them—that pure, unworldly compassion from his youth.
What could they say?
Facing Dumbledore, this White Wizard King, they didn't even dare retaliate.
They could only endure silently, hoping the White Wizard King's mercy might once again fall upon the centaurs.
And now, because of Bane's rash stupidity, they were about to lose even this last trace of mercy—the consequence would be falling into a bottomless abyss...
"Great Mars."
"I'm willing to offer my soul and flesh..."
Facing Firenze's desperate pleading for survival, Tiger's heart remained unmoved.
He wouldn't strike at weaklings showing their bellies—he only cared whether Venom had eaten enough.
In his eyes, centaurs were no different from Acromantulas—just delicacies from mountain and wild.
Red light from Mars suddenly obscured the sky. Sensing all this, Firenze painfully closed his eyes.
The centaur tribe had never had choices.
"Tiger, wait..."
Just then, Gemma Farley walked beside Firenze, taking the stone spearhead from his hands, then waving her wand as light mist flowed from its tip.
"Expecto Patronum..."
Under Tiger's curious gaze, a lithe feline creature bounded from her wand.
The hazy silver mist brought inexplicable comfort. At Gemma Farley's gestured indication, Tiger allowed the feline to prostrate itself on his shoulder.
"Hiss!"
In Hermione's arms, Gunpowder stood up abruptly, hissing threateningly at the Patronus.
However, not only did it not leave, but it demonstratively rubbed against Tiger's cheek.
Feeling the fluffy sensation, Tiger contentedly narrowed his eyes. Gemma Farley's breathing inexplicably quickened, a blush rising on her cool features.
Then, sounds only Tiger could hear reached his ears from the Patronus's mouth:
[Trust me—centaurs will be the Shelby family's most handy tools. Their runic forging magic rivals the goblin mithril forging system.]
After a moment's hesitation, Gemma Farley continued transmitting: [The gang's bank needs true guardians, not spies. Centaurs are more suitable than goblins.]
This hit Tiger's exact itch—ever since seeing goblins at Gringotts, he'd already sentenced them to death.
No one could look down on the Shelbys, no one dared extort the Shelbys, especially not a bunch of dwarf freaks.
"Oh?" Tiger's gaze shifted slightly, revealing barely perceptible surprise.
He slowly turned to look at the female prefect with flushed cheeks, curiosity and inquiry rising in his eyes. He'd never told anyone else his thoughts.
Gemma Farley crossed her arms.
Her rosy lips curved slightly upward, sketching a proud yet composed smile.
She calmly met those eyes full of aggression and oppression.
Like a rose blooming in the dark night—elegant yet carrying a dizzying enchantment.
"Give the thing to Theodore."
Under the female prefect's stiffening gaze, Tiger somewhat unnaturally turned back around, fierce and violent aura suddenly shrouding Firenze's head.
"And you, centaur—someone will come find you. I hope you can give me a satisfactory answer."
"Great Mars!"
"Centaurs will forever submit to you!"
Firenze trembled with excitement, his head pressed tightly against the dirt as tears flowed backward.
"Alright, Bested, time to go. Looks like your appetites aren't as good as Venom's."
With that, he patted the nightmare and headed toward the forest's edge. Heavy hoofbeats left a trail of hellfire-burning prints on the ground.
Watching Tiger and the nightmare's retreating figures, the little snakes' rustling discussions were filled with incredulity and excitement.
"That joke wasn't funny at all!"
Lisa waved her small fists, nearly retching, her puffed cheeks full of indignation.
"Nightmare Knight—that's so cool..."
Ron murmured to himself, his face overflowing with envy and daze, as if he were the one riding the nightmare.
Looking at the centaur limbs scattered across the ground, Harry's eyes showed a trace of compassion as he sighed somewhat heavily.
"Ron, that's not cool at all..."
"Take it, Shelby's little treasure."
Accompanied by grinding teeth sounds, Gemma Farley expressionlessly handed over the centaur sacred object.
"Thank you for the compliment, Prefect Farley." Theodore steadily received the sacred object, stiffly pulling up the corners of his mouth.
These seemingly mocking words actually brought him sudden pleasure...
The Slytherin students completely left the clearing. In Venom's cheerful singing, the lively atmosphere spread once again.
Firenze still prostrated in place.
His platinum-blonde hair and satin-like mane were completely scorched by the hellfire remaining on the ground. Severe pain made the dried, cracked wounds twitch slightly.
Hagrid walked beside him, trying to help him up, but was driven back by those unprecedentedly cold eyes.
Bewilderment flashed across his honest features.
"Firenze..."
Hagrid's lips moved slightly, mumbling something. He'd always considered himself and Firenze good friends.
"Leave here, Hagrid."
"If you dare approach centaur territory again, the tribe's horn will sound for you..."
Firenze clenched his fists tightly.
Blood overflowed through his fingers...
The usually gentle centaur, for the first time in his life, harbored unreserved killing intent.
Moonlight was sparse. The hellfire-marked hoofprints guided the little snakes' path.
Reilly Shafiq forcibly pulled her close friend to the very back of the group, farthest from Tiger.
"Farley, don't get close to Shelby anymore."
"You're becoming his vassal."
"This isn't what you want!"
"Wake up!"
The usually composed Reilly Shafiq's face flushed red with agitation.
"No, Reilly."
"This is exactly the result I want."
Gemma Farley gently caressed her cheek—where the Patronus had rubbed against Tiger. She could feel it too.
Suppressed laughter faintly arose.
Vassal?
That was too vulgar.
She disliked that word.
This was souls' perfect compatibility, twisted extreme love, exploration without distinction of self and other.
This beast was too easy to understand.
She would make Tiger lose his reason because of her in the future, go mad because of her, sink into depravity because of her.
At this thought, all of Gemma Farley's body hair trembled with pleasure.
Resist the potion's effects, resist reason!
To hell with that!
That was the most foolish approach!
She would become part of Tiger, entangling with him, tearing, fusing, becoming a symbiote of his soul!
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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