Centaurs and Cores
Harry Potter was resting upon a mossed-over log deep within the Forbidden Forest. It was far past dusk, and twinkling stars and a moon at half-mast illuminated the packed earth floor.
Harry Potter, who was extremely out of place in the depths of the forest, had been instructed to count how many stars there were in each constellation by a centaur called BristleBane, or just ‘Bane’ for short.
This was a seemingly easy, albeit tedious, task- and it really would have been simple if it weren't for the simple fact that centaurs had entirely different names for every single constellation in the night sky.
For example, while Harry was accustomed to calling the goat-shaped constellation in the sky ‘Capricorn’, the centaurs were accustomed to calling it ‘BashBorne’.
So, Harry had a more-than-slight headache from the strain it took to concentrate as Bane barked out the foreign names of constellations. The burly-looking centaur urged each of his students to compete against one another to see who could count the stars the quickest.
Seeing as all of Bane’s other students were children under the age of ten, it was incredibly humbling to be bested by them for basically the entire class.
“DashDorne!” Bane bellowed from somewhere behind Harry, and he immediately heard the dozens of centaur children surrounding him begin to count the stars out loud. Harry thought that ‘DashDorne’ might have been Libra, but he wasn’t entirely sure. He counted Libra’s stars anyways.
“Good, Potter!” said Bane as Harry finished counting at star number 83. “Didn't think you were going to know that one, honestly,” added Bane, his tail swishing side to side in a methodical fashion.
The children who heard what Bane said snickered quietly, and Harry stuck out his tongue at them. A boy called Ashrhyne stuck his tongue out in retaliation, and Harry rolled his eyes and gave the boy a sloppy grin in response.
“Okay, children! It’s nearing twilight, so begin to pack up,” said Bane, and the centaur-children around Harry immediately began to stuff their strange school supplies into their baskets. One centaur packed up a mossy stone that might’ve been bigger than Harry’s head, and Harry saw another centaur lift a collection of caterpillars into her bag.
Harry was thoroughly confused the first time that he saw the items that centaurs claimed to aid in their practice of magic. He couldn’t ever imagine how things like a collection of caterpillars could in any way help with astrological divination, but he never voiced these opinions out loud.
Even more confusing, there was no pattern with which the centaur children chose their school supplies. It seemed as if every child used something completely different for their lessons. Where one child would pull out a large slab of obsidian at the beginning of every class, another would reveal a stony-faced toad that only seemed to speak in song.
Harry just had to assume that the centaur children knew what they were doing, and he honestly didn't question their methods again after that. Harry was okay with not understanding.
Harry never brought anything other than his wand into the woods, so he didn’t need to pack anything up. Harry began to search for a snake called- well, he can't spell it, because those sounds don't really exist in written language, but for simplicity's Harry calls her Bobbi. Bobbi always leads him to and from the centaur encampment.
Harry was bent over a fallen log in his search for Bobbi when Bane snuck up behind him.
“Harry Potter,” the centaur said, looking magnificent and terrifying in the moonlight. Bane had long, flowing red hair and an extremely muscled chest. The horse-half of his body was the same red color as the hair on his head. He stood at a menacing seven feet tall.
Harry thought that Bane looked to be straight off of the cover of a smutty muggle romance novel, but he decided to keep that opinion to himself.
“Bane,” said Harry, standing up straight. “Do you need something?”
Bane gave him a small smile. “Walk with me, Harry Potter- I’ll lead you back today,” he said, and Harry obliged with a shrug.
The two males started off into the forest with Bane shortening his stride so that Harry could keep up. There were no trails within the woods, so they stepped over roots and ducked underneath vines as they continued toward the castle.
Harry began to clear his throat to fill the silence in the air, but Bane spoke almost immediately.
“You are very powerful, yes?” inquired Bane, and Harry didn’t know how to respond- it was an odd, yet obvious question.
“Um,” said Harry eloquently.
Bane rolled his eyes. “Do not be modest, boy. You are probably the most powerful wizard on this continent, and perhaps the whole planet-” Harry began to protest, but Bane quieted him with a glare.
“I said most powerful, not most talented. You could be extraordinary if you were slightly more driven, or passionate,” said Bane in a tone that left no room for argument. Harry didn’t know whether he should be offended or not.
“Er, well. I don’t really want to be extraordinary,” Harry replied, scratching his head with his wand. Bane continued to glare down at him.
“You were never destined to be anything but extraordinary. Why fantasize about being normal, of being powerless, when you could instead fantasize about all you could do with that magic of yours?”
Trees seemed to inch closer to Harry and Bane, curious and inquisitive, as if they also agreed that Harry was something extraordinary. Harry tried to ignore it, and glared at a vine that was not-so-subtly attempting to curl itself around his arm.
“It’s hard not to. My magic seems to, like, hate me or something,” said Harry, stepping out of the way of a tree that seemed to pop up out of nowhere once he turned his head away.
Bane made a contemplative humming sound. “Elaborate,” he said.
“It wont let me sleep. It constantly wants to consume and consume and be consumed, and it's so tiring. It’s almost like a stimulant,” said Harry, “all it wants to do is learn and get stronger. That’s why I come to you at night- I can almost never sleep.”
“To me, it sounds like your magic is overzealous in its attempt to make you stronger. Really, your core is looking out for you. The more you know about the world, the wiser you will become- thus less likely to come to harm,” said Bane.
Understanding dawned upon Harry. The centaur’s words rang truer than perhaps he even realized. While Bane probably was talking about the killing curse, or just Voldemort in general, Harry knew what his magic was really afraid of.
His magic, in its fear of being clamped down and suppressed like it had been
whilst Harry literally harbored a piece of Voldemort’s soul within his body, had tried to build Harry into a wizard that was too powerful to be hurt like that again.
Despite his magic's good intentions, Harry still thought that not letting him sleep, like-ever- was going a little too far.
“Why do you talk about my magic like it has- well, like, a consciousness?” Harry inquired, even though he kind-of already knew the answer. He just needed confirmation.
“Because it does, in a way.”
“Then why doesn’t anybody else deal with this? I’ve never heard of anybody’s magic making them do the things that mine makes me do.”
“You have a higher concentration of pure magic in your core, so it makes your magic’s level of autonomy and influence over you more powerful. Don’t get the idea that you are the first wizard to ever face this problem, because you're not. You’re special in a lot of ways, but this is not one of them,” said Bane, and Harry’s headache from earlier increased tenfold. This was all too confusing for him.
“What do you mean, that ‘I’m not special’? How does magic influence other people?” Harry was aware that his questions probably sounded dumb to Bane, but he asked them anyway. He needed to understand.
“Open your eyes, Harry. Some people’s magic urges them to play quidditch just to feel the wind brush upon their face, or scan ancient tomes in a pursuit of something that even they do not know. It can urge its wielder to travel the world, learn new languages, or befriend a future lover. Magic can have small influences over every magical being, even myself. Most do not realize its influence because it displays itself in small, inconsequential ways,” said Bane, one his hooved feet crunching a stick on the forest floor.
“Does nobody else know about this? I mean, about magic like, basically controlling all of us?” asked Harry, and Bane rolled his eyes again.
“First of all, I wouldn’t say magic controls us- it simply gives most of us subtle subconscious suggestions. And second of all, no, we are not the only ones to harbor this knowledge- the pureblooded wizarding families, the ones who can trace their family names back to the founding of this country, are the most knowledgeable on the subject.”
“So they’ve prevented half-bloods and muggle-borns from learning about it?”
“Also no- it was not so big a secret to them. It is common-knowledge to many scholars that our magic has a subtle consciousness. What purebloods- and some half-blood families, it really depends- have done, however, is urge their children to become in tune with their magical cores from a young age, to understand the magic that lies within them. In doing this, they have gained an advantage on muggle-raised witches and wizards like yourself.”
“Advantages like what? I mean, I’m learning all this now- like, I didn’t know about any of this when I defeated a dark lord, so I don’t feel disadvantaged,” said Harry with a note of bitterness lining his tone.
“I don’t mean that muggle-raised wizards are any less powerful or talented, so cut the attitude, boy. I mean that in being raised with an understanding of the magical core, many witches and wizards are able to allow their magic to guide them.”
“How? How does it guide them?”
“They are able to recognize when their magic is urging them to do something, rather than being confused as to why they had the sudden inclination to, say, go flying, or read Hogwarts: a History.”
All of the sudden, Harry felt extremely put out. He’d finally begun to feel as if he was a part of wizarding society, but it turns out that there were aspects of wizarding culture that he was never privy to until now. Most of his classmates- even Ron- had likely grown up with this understanding of magical cores, and because of his muggle upbringing he’d just been…left in the dust.
“I…I never knew any of that existed. I thought most people's magic lied within them quietly, and that I was just the exception, per usual,” Harry said whilst biting one of his fingernails in between his two front teeth.
Bane looked at Harry pityingly. “I will admit, Hogwarts has done a poor job of educating muggle-raised wizards and witches like yourself. If you’d known that your core was a sentient thing- a consciousness that wanted only the best for you- this whole time, perhaps you wouldn’t have had so many bouts of, ah, accidental magic.”
“Additionally, if you’d done the exercises to understand your magical core, I think that your magic would be less volatile towards you,” Bane added on as an afterthought.
Harry wanted to scream and yell at every mentor he’d ever had throughout his years at Hogwarts. Why had none of them realized that he was missing a vital part of wizarding culture and understanding? Why had none of them looked close enough at him to realize how much he had missed out on?
A nagging thought bit at the back of Harry’s mind. Because you were bred for one thing- slaughter. Dumbledore taught you just what was needed to kill Voldemort, and stopped there.
Harry pushed the thought out of his mind. He still loved Dumbledore, and mourned his absence- but he couldn't ignore how badly he had failed Harry, how he had so obviously (and Merlin, it was so obvious, how had he never seen before) only nurtured Harry’s talents into a weapon.
Having no knowledge of wizarding cores may have been an excusable offense for other muggle-raised wizards, but not for Harry. His core was too wild, powerful, and intelligent to have had no knowledge on how to work with it.
“Muggle-borns should know about this. I mean, they should've been taught,” Harry said finally after a few minutes of silence.
“I agree with you, Potter, although it’s never been hidden from you lot. I’d wager that there are hundreds of books in the library up at Hogwarts that talk about understanding the magical core.”
Harry realized that even Hermione must have known, that there was no possible way that she did not know. He felt even more alone in that realization.
Harry saw the Hogwarts lights peeking out from in between the trees in front of him.
“I thought centaurs hated humans,” Harry blurted out, “I mean, why me? Why let me study under you?”
Bane raised his eyebrows. “Because I would be a fool not to- I know an opportunity when I see one. The most powerful wizard of his generation begging to study under me is hardly something that I could turn away,” Bane paused for a second, and then spoke, “I could read your magical signature the second I saw you, and I felt it explode in size when you died in this forest. Every creature, flora and fauna alike, in this forest felt it. They call to you, Harry Potter.”
“What do they want me to do with them? Why call me here?”
“Some are merely curious of your power, while some want to gain favor with you. Others, like me and my centaurs, can see the bigger picture. You will do even greater things if you learn to harness that core of yours,” said Bane, and the two males stepped out of the woods.
Harry stopped in front of the centaur. “Will you teach me?”
“I cannot. The methods of understanding a centaurs magical core and a wizarding magical core are different. I’d suggest asking one of your pureblooded classmates for assistance,” said Bane, and Harry thought that was easy enough. He’d just ask Ron.
“Sounds easy enough.”
Bane paced for a second, and then stared up at the brick castle in front of them for a moment. “Best of luck to you, boy,” Bane said, and then disappeared back into the forest.