"Behind me?"
Hagrid paused, shifting his massive bulk to the side to reveal Maurise. He offered a gruff explanation. "Just a little wizard. Or as you lot might put it, a wizarding foal."
A flicker of confusion scratched at the back of Hagrid's mind.
Typically, while the centaurs were not exactly thrilled about wizards traipsing through "their" forest, they usually maintained a polite, if chilly, distance. For Bane to charge in with a drawn spear was highly irregular. Centaurs were proud, certainly, but they rarely displayed such naked aggression in front of him.
"A wizarding foal?"
Bane's gaze sharpened into a physical weight, piercing straight toward Maurise. The boy, however, did not shrink back. He returned the stare with calm indifference.
'Not exactly the welcoming committee', Maurise thought dryly. 'But I really cannot be bothered with drama right now.'
He cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Is there a problem, sir?"
Bane's nostrils flared, his expression twisting into undisguised revulsion. "Can you not smell the rot upon yourself? You occupy the space of a living boy, yet you are a foul thing."
Maurise frowned slightly. "Right. Well, if that's all, I'll be off."
He turned to leave.
'The manners on this horse-man', he mused. 'Truly atrocious. First "rot," then "foul thing." Not exactly how you make friends. I suppose dental hygiene is not a priority in the wild, but there is no need to project bad breath onto me.'
He had no interest in debating philosophy with a creature spewing cryptic insults.
"Hold."
The command thundered out just as Bane's massive equine body cut off Maurise's path.
With a casual display of strength, the centaur gripped the spear embedded in the earth and ripped it free, sending a spray of damp soil into the air. He twirled the weapon with practiced ease. While the iron tip was not pressed against anyone's throat, the barrier it created was undeniable.
'Marvelous', Maurise thought. 'I do not recall offending any equestrian statues recently.'
"You cannot leave, foal," Bane said, his voice cold and hard like flint. "You carry something dark. Something that threatens the sanctity of this forest. You do not leave until we have determined what you are."
Hagrid stepped forward, his patience finally snapping. "Bane! What d'yeh think yer doin'?"
The half-giant knew he had to be firm. Most centaurs could be reasoned with, but Bane was part of the faction that viewed wizardkind with deep suspicion and hostility.
Unfortunately, Hagrid's size did not intimidate the centaur.
"Hagrid, I have no wish to fight you," Bane stated, his hooves shifting restlessly. "Let the foal behind you come with me. If he is clean, he will return unharmed. We do not hurt the innocent. This is for the greater good. Even yours."
Hagrid's beetle-black eyes crinkled in worry. He looked down at the small boy. "Maurise... what d'yeh reckon? Centaurs ain't bad folk, usually. Just... overly cautious. Bane's got a temper, but he don't tell lies."
Maurise could hear the conflict in the gamekeeper's voice. Hagrid respected the forest's laws to a fault.
However...
"I refuse," Maurise said, his face a mask of polite boredom.
He was not about to walk off into the woods with a xenophobic stranger from a different species. That sounded like the start of a very short, very tragic fairy tale. Besides, the malice radiating off Bane was palpable.
"I am afraid you do not have a choice, foal." Bane's voice dropped an octave as he advanced two heavy steps toward the boy.
Hagrid instinctively moved to block the space between them.
"It is alright, Hagrid," Bane said smoothly, skirting around the half-giant. "I will not harm him. Merely take him to... a place of judgment."
Hagrid wavered. That hesitation was all Bane needed.
Before the gamekeeper could protest further, Bane lunged. His hand, large and rough as tree bark, clamped onto Maurise's arm.
Maurise looked at the muscular limb pinning him. Physically, he was outmatched. A first-year student wrestling a centaur was a physics equation with only one outcome.
He tilted his chin up, meeting Bane's wild eyes.
"Let go." His voice was eerily calm.
Bane's grip did not loosen. "You have no power here."
Maurise sighed internally.
'If you insist on choosing violence', he thought, 'I suppose I am obligated to oblige.'
It was fortunate he had mastered those two specific curses.
"Xul... Noth... Vras!"
"Qwa... Zinth... Oor!"
Maurise whipped his wand out from his sleeve as a visual prop, though the incantations spilled from his lips with practiced speed.
There were no flashy jets of green or red light. Instead, two ribbons of translucent, dark energy, faint as smoke, slithered out like vipers. They coiled instantly around Bane's arm and sank into his skin.
"What?"
Bane jerked violently.
A wave of exhaustion, heavy and suffocating, crashed over him. It was as if his blood had turned to lead. The arm gripping Maurise began to tremble uncontrollably, his legendary centaur strength evaporating like mist in the sun.
Simultaneously, a sound ripped through his mind. It was a high-pitched, spectral shriek, a drill boring directly into his skull. It was not a sound heard with ears, but a psychic assault that brought instant vertigo.
Magic!
"You..."
Bane was paralyzed by shock and rage. He had not expected this small, fragile creature to command such insidious power. He had not even seen the boy move properly.
He tried to crush the boy's arm, but his muscles had turned to jelly, and the screaming in his head made coordination impossible.
Seizing the opening, Maurise yanked his arm free and skipped backward, putting distance between them. His eyes were cold, calculating chips of ice.
Hagrid stood frozen, his mouth agape, utterly baffled by the sudden turn of events.
"Mr. Centaur," Maurise said, his tone flat. "Bullying an eleven-year-old is hardly something to put on your résumé."
He did not wait for a retort. Since the quality of the first spell was good, quantity would ensure the result.
He cast again.
"Xul... Noth... Vras!"
"Qwa... Zinth... Oor!"
"Xul... Noth... Vras!"
"Qwa... Zinth... Oor!"
Four more streaks of dark energy hissed through the air, striking Bane squarely in the chest.
The effect was cumulative and devastating.
Bane let out a strangled groan. His front legs buckled, and he crashed to his knees. The physical drain combined with the cacophony of mental screaming left him unable to support his own weight.
"What... what dark sorcery is this?" Bane rasped, his voice a broken whisper.
He tried to lift his spear, to strike down the threat, but his arm hung uselessly at his side.
"Just a specialized Stunning Spell, modified for larger magical creatures," Maurise lied smoothly. "I am merely ensuring my safety, sir. Please do not blame me. You started this."
"Qwa... Zinth... Oor!"
He fired one last shot for good measure.
This was the straw that broke the centaur's back.
Assaulted on both physical and mental fronts, Bane reached his limit. His pupils constricted, rolling back into his head. The massive, majestic body slumped sideways and hit the forest floor with a heavy, earth-shaking thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Bane's final conscious thought was of Maurise's face, terrifyingly calm, before darkness swallowed him whole.
"Gallopin' Gorgons!" Hagrid shouted, snapping out of his trance. He rushed forward, dropping to his knees to check on the fallen centaur.
After confirming Bane was breathing, just deeply unconscious, Hagrid let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for a minute. He looked back at Maurise, his expression a mix of awe and bewilderment.
"You hit him a bit hard there, Maurise."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Hagrid realized how absurd they sounded.
A first-year student, hitting a centaur too hard?
It was laughable.
And yet, there was the centaur, flat on his back, and there was the student, adjusting his cuffs.
Maurise slid his wand back into his sleeve with the grace of a seasoned duelist.
"He attacked me, Hagrid. It was self-defense."
"I know, I know." Hagrid sighed, scratching into his wild, bushy beard. He looked down at Bane, then back at the boy, completely at a loss for what to do with the unconscious half-horse at his feet.