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HRA# Chapter 53: Dumbledore’s Attempt and Malfoy’s Tears
🕑 Added 2025-02-27 05:32:39 +0000 UTC“So, even under the Magical Creatures Protection Act, wizards are still allowed to kill magical creatures if they are attacked or are at risk of being attacked.” Harry spoke seriously. “Just like if I killed a few trolls or a Horned Serpent in the Forbidden Forest today, no one would come after me for it.”
“Oh, Harry, don’t underestimate trolls or Horned Serpents—they’re dangerous creatures. Not so easy to take down.” Hagrid gave a professional assessment.
“Is this really the time to be discussing this, Hagrid?!” Professor McGonagall was on the verge of losing her mind. “We’re not talking about squashing a few flobberworms in Potions class or plucking the feathers off a bird—we’re talking about dozens of centaurs!”
“If you prefer, we can settle for expulsion instead, but we must ensure that the centaurs leave the Forbidden Forest—or at least keep their distance from Hogwarts.” Harry sounded somewhat regretful. “I don’t think you’d want to see their arrows lodged in the hearts of young wizards, would you?”
Professor McGonagall took a sharp breath—she could already picture the scene Harry described.
Harry wasn’t wrong. Professor McGonagall was already somewhat convinced, considering she was well aware of how centaurs operated.
Her gaze shifted to Dumbledore.
Truth be told, McGonagall never had much fondness for the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. Compared to the safety of the students, the centaurs were insignificant.
"Cough, cough! Cough, cough, cough!"
Suddenly, a fit of violent coughing drew their attention. When Harry and the others turned toward the source of the sound, they saw a centaur with platinum-blond hair struggling to get up from the ground, only to fail repeatedly due to the dizziness still wracking his body.
To be fair, this centaur’s coat was quite striking—a pale golden color, reminiscent of a silver-maned horse.
“Centaurs… centaurs do not harm foals,” the centaur panted.
He was in pretty bad shape, considering he had been knocked out—twice.
“F-Firenz?” Hagrid seemed to recognize him.
“It’s Firenze,” the centaur corrected with a shake of his head. He finally managed to stand, still gasping for breath. “Tonight… Mars is especially bright.”
“Oh, Merlin’s beard, not this again.” Hagrid covered his face. “Harry, just bear with it.”
“Mars signifies conflict, Hagrid,” Dumbledore said softly. “It symbolizes action, desire, impulsiveness… and violence. I suppose he means that the centaurs foresaw tonight’s events?”
Firenze nodded—then shook his head.
“Mars is growing brighter,” he said. “That is why everyone is so uneasy. Especially with someone in the castle…”
He trailed off, but the look on Dumbledore’s face made it clear he understood what Firenze meant.
“Centaurs have lived in the Forbidden Forest for generations, Harry,” Dumbledore turned to him. “This land has been their home for centuries. To drive them out would be cruel, don’t you think?”
“You’re the headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore,” Harry replied evenly. “It’s your responsibility to protect the students—not mine. You’re also accountable to their parents.”
“Harming foals is a disgrace to centaurs!” Firenze looked upset now, pawing anxiously at the ground with his front hoof.
“Well, it’s obvious you’re not capable of upholding that principle,” Harry stated bluntly. “Especially that one… Bain, was it? He was hostile from the start, and once the fighting began, the other centaurs joined in the attack. On the battlefield, we were all the same—there were no distinctions, only enemies.”
“I believe that when centaurs view wizards as foes, they will not care about the so-called ‘foal’ exception.”
“Bane… Bane is just short-tempered…” Firenze looked even more distressed. He wanted to defend Bane, but his conscience prevented him from telling a lie.
“Move your tribe deeper into the forest,” Dumbledore instructed Firenze. “When Tamsa wakes up, tell him this is my decision—centaurs must not pose a threat to any Hogwarts student. Bane crossed the line.”
“…I understand.” Firenze lowered his head, clearly dispirited.
Dumbledore had taken the wizards’ side in this matter, but he had still shown mercy to the centaurs.
He did not choose to wipe out the Forbidden Forest’s centaur population, nor did he exile them completely.
To avoid provoking the centaurs further as they regained consciousness, Dumbledore led Harry and the others away from their settlement.
Newt, however, left behind plenty of healing salves from his case for the centaurs to use.
“Could you escort Newt and Hagrid back first, Minerva?” Dumbledore said casually. “As headmaster, I grant you permission to Apparate within Hogwarts grounds tonight.”
“…Alright.” Though she clearly had much to say to Harry, McGonagall merely gave him a long, searching look before agreeing.
Hagrid shot Harry a worried glance, while Newt simply blinked at him. But neither of them objected to Dumbledore’s arrangement. Newt reached for McGonagall’s arm, and the next moment, the three of them Disapparated.
“You don’t mind taking a little stroll with a boring old man, do you, Harry?” Dumbledore asked as he turned to him.
“Of course not, Professor.” Harry shook his head, and the two began walking along a path in the Forbidden Forest. “I imagine you have quite a few questions.”
“Ah, indeed.” Dumbledore nodded. “For instance, that totem you’re carrying on your back—I noticed it bears an unfamiliar script.”
“That’s Taur-ahe, Professor,” Harry said without hesitation. “It records my past.”
“…I’ve imagined our conversations many times, Harry,” Dumbledore suddenly stopped and turned to face him, his eyes glimmering with curiosity. “But I never expected them to be… so frank.”
“I walk the righteous path. I do nothing dark or shameful, so I have no fear of speaking honestly.” Harry’s tone remained calm. “I know what’s worrying you, Professor—you’re concerned about my attitude toward the centaurs.”
“…A rather keen observation, Harry.” Dumbledore nodded, acknowledging it. “May I see it?”
Harry unfastened the totem from his back and planted it in the ground.
“Oh my, just from the bloodstains on it, I can already picture the battle you had tonight.” Dumbledore examined it closely, then chuckled. “Honestly, for a child, you speak of death with remarkable indifference.”
“Perhaps that’s because I am not just a child,” Harry replied simply.
Dumbledore fell silent for a moment.
“The design at the bottom… If I’m not mistaken, that’s Hogwarts?” he murmured.
“Yes, Professor.” Harry gazed at the totem. “As I said—it records my past.”
“So the hatred and resentment you unconsciously directed at the centaurs… that stems from your past as well?” Dumbledore’s fingers brushed over an engraving.
It depicted a blood-soaked battlefield, where a small figure stood among a group of horned beings, raising a curved blade as they beheaded a centaur. The figure seemed to be roaring at the sky.
“Ah, that was a moment of glory in my past,” Harry said, pride evident in his voice.
“Because of magic?” Dumbledore suddenly asked.
It was abrupt and vague—but Harry understood.
“Perhaps. I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I have experienced something no one else ever could.”
Dumbledore exhaled a long sigh.
“Magic… wondrous, unpredictable magic… I ask only one thing of you, Harry.”
“Go ahead, Professor.”
"I hope you can distinguish between the past and the present." Dumbledore gazed into Harry's eyes, gently patting a pattern on the totem as he spoke. "Much like the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest—they are not quite what you are familiar with. I don't even know what they are."
"They do share some similarities, Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry said softly. "Whether in appearance, temperament, or their actions—but most importantly, I cannot stand their attitude toward divination. That is something I must uphold as a professional shaman."
"But I promise you, Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry said sincerely.
"Ah-ha, in that case, I do hope you won’t be too upset when you hear Sybill’s prophecies—truth be told, I suspect Minerva has already stored up quite a bit of frustration with you." Dumbledore suddenly chuckled.
"Sybill… she’s the Divination professor at Hogwarts?" Harry asked. "Hagrid doesn’t seem to have a great impression of her. Could she be another fraud?"
"Oh, oh, oh, Harry, don't be so quick to judge, especially when you haven't even met Sybill," Dumbledore shook his head repeatedly. "I believe she has real talent. You mustn’t base your opinion on secondhand words—doing so often leads to many unfortunate misunderstandings. Now then, I believe it’s time for us to go. Minerva and the others must be getting impatient."
"That’s it?" Harry tilted his head. "I thought you’d have a lot of questions for me."
"Not at all. My only concern is ensuring you stay on the right path, Harry. I believe that is what my many years of life have taught me." Dumbledore patted Harry’s shoulder. "Now, take hold of my arm, and don’t let go."
It felt as if he were being squeezed through a rubber tube, his entire body compressed. When Harry’s feet finally touched solid ground again, he was back before the familiar sight of Hogwarts Castle—with the added discomfort of a queasy stomach.
Professor McGonagall, Newt, and Hagrid were already waiting for them.
"I’m really sorry, Hagrid." Harry stepped forward and gave Hagrid a brief hug. "For getting you hurt… and for your clothes getting ruined. Do you have a favorite style? I think you might need a new set."
"Oh no, Harry, I won’t be taking your things." Hagrid chuckled, patting the holes in his coat. "You see, I’ve been wanting to give those centaurs a good thrashing for a long time—especially every time they call it ‘our Forbidden Forest.’ Yeah, today was a fine day indeed."
"I thought you were friends with them." Harry grinned.
"If they really thought of me as a friend—" Hagrid shrugged. "But it’s more of a mutual help arrangement, you know? We just happen to run into each other in the forest now and then."
"Useful friends," Harry nodded. "But I think we’re real friends, don’t you?"
"Of course, Harry!" Hagrid boomed.
"And since we’re real friends, you shouldn’t refuse my gift—how about a suit? I think you’d look quite striking in one." Harry looked Hagrid up and down. "Time for a style change?"
"A suit?" Hagrid blinked and imagined himself in one. "You really think it’d suit me?"
"Trying never hurts," Harry said with a smile. "I’ll have Madam Malkin make a particularly sturdy one that fits your style."
"Alright… well, thank you," Hagrid said, scratching his head with a sheepish grin.
"No need for thanks." Harry patted Hagrid’s leg before turning to Newt. "And I’m sorry, Newt, for dragging you into danger… especially since you’re a guest of that centaur tribe."
"Ah, don’t worry about it, kid," Newt muttered, looking a little awkward. "It was just a fight. That’s quite normal among magical creatures. I checked on them—they’re all fine."
When it came to magical creatures, Newt could talk endlessly. But on other matters… he always seemed rather withdrawn.
"If you really feel bad about it, tell me more about the patterns on your totem," Newt suggested after a pause. "I noticed some depictions of unknown magical creatures on it."
"Of course," Harry smiled. "Though you might have a hard time finding anything like them in this world. Just treat it as a story."
"That sounds fine to me."
Though neither Hagrid nor Newt minded, Harry still felt guilty for getting them caught up in the danger.
"I never expected a simple detention to turn into such a big deal." As she approached Dumbledore, who was watching the scene with amusement, Professor McGonagall sighed. "This child really… knows how to stir up trouble."
"Isn’t that fascinating?" Dumbledore chuckled.
"Fascinating?" McGonagall huffed. "I just hope he can behave himself for a while."
"Ah, perhaps I’m simply too old now," Dumbledore mused as he turned toward the castle. "…I truly hope Harry can bring some new energy to Hogwarts."
"Too old?" McGonagall followed behind him, her voice growing fainter as they walked away. "If I’m not mistaken, the report I gave you is still sitting untouched on your desk… You don’t get to rest yet, Professor Dumbledore."
"Oh, spare me, Minerva…"
It was already late, so Harry didn’t stay long at Hagrid’s hut.
His punishment was over—well, if this even counted as a punishment.
According to Newt, Dumbledore had some business for him to take care of, so he’d be staying with Hagrid for the next few days. Before leaving, Newt also invited Harry to visit him tomorrow—keeping the mystery of his suitcase’s contents secret for another day.
Harry already suspected the suitcase had been enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm. Still, he disliked people keeping secrets from him.
As he left Hagrid’s hut, Harry stowed away his totem. After all, he intended to use it as a demonstration for the first meeting of the Shaman Club next week, so keeping it under wraps for now would add to the surprise.
By the time he returned to the castle, it was nearly midnight.
But he could say with certainty—Hogwarts was particularly… lively tonight.
On his way back, he ran into several groups of students who had just finished detention, making the normally curfew-bound castle feel unusually animated.
A tired kind of liveliness—one look at their exhausted expressions made it clear that detention had drained every last bit of their energy. Some students were even leaning against the walls for support, loudly cursing Filch, Snape… even Professor Sprout, who had assigned them to shovel dragon dung—without magic.
But by far, most of the complaints were about Snape.
No doubt, Snape had enjoyed himself tonight. Harry could hardly imagine the state Ron must be in right now.
Grumbling, groaning… even crying—wait, crying?
That couldn’t be right.
Harry, half-amused, half-curious, listened carefully—then grew serious.
Following the sound through the first-floor corridor and across the courtyard, he turned a corner and spotted a familiar head of platinum-blond hair.
Malfoy?
Was Malfoy the one crying?
"Enough already, Malfoy!" a boy snapped in disgust. "Because of you, Slytherin has been utterly humiliated!"
"Yeah! What a disgrace! Wetting yourself in front of everyone—how pathetic!"
"A disgrace to purebloods!"
Voices rang out, followed by Malfoy’s furious outburst.
"I did NOT!" His voice cracked, filled with sobs. "You bastards—I’ll tell my father about this!"
Laughter erupted.
Harry’s expression turned complicated. On one hand, he hadn’t expected Malfoy’s status within Slytherin to have fallen so far. On the other… he couldn’t believe Malfoy was still relying on his father’s name after weeks at Hogwarts.
