The centaurs never cared for human feelings. To them, this forest was theirs, and to them alone it belonged.
Tom sneered. "You don't care about what we feel. This arrogance of yours is laughable."
Firenze fell silent. This time, he could not defend his kin, for Tom had spoken the truth. The centaurs believed themselves wiser than humans, while humans, in turn, saw centaurs merely as magical creatures with a touch of intelligence and culture. That contradiction could never be reconciled.
"Well, if there's nothing else, I'll take my leave." Firenze clearly had no desire to tangle with Tom. The boy was far too domineering—nothing like Dumbledore, who could be reasoned with.
"Don't be in such a rush. You've come just in time." Tom's voice halted him. "Even if you hadn't shown up today, I was going to visit your tribe and speak to your leader."
Firenze involuntarily took two steps back. "Riddle, the centaurs have not provoked you."
"You've misunderstood." Tom curled his lip. "This isn't about revenge. It's about a… necessity."
"I've heard that every centaur is a master of Herbology, with knowledge far different from wizards. I wish to hire a centaur as my personal tutor in the subject."
"That is impossible, Riddle." Firenze instantly shook his head. "Centaurs never share their knowledge with humans, nor do they engage in such trades."
"Don't be so quick to refuse." The smile on Tom's face thinned, hardening into something sharp. "This isn't a trade. It's a debt to be collected."
"You've lived in the Forbidden Forest for so many years—has anyone ever asked you to pay rent for the land you occupy?"
"That is a matter between us and Dumbledore," Firenze retorted coldly. "It's not your concern."
Tom's expression darkened completely.
Sensing his master's shift in mood, Usagi burst forth, its mighty dragon eyes glowing with a sovereign fury. The crushing weight of its dragon's aura forced Firenze back again, fear flashing in his gaze.
"AAARRRGH!"
A dragon's roar ripped the sky open. The entire forest trembled, shaking to its roots. Countless magical creatures and wild beasts scattered in panic, fleeing desperately from the suffocating oppression of dragon might.
Tom spoke calmly, almost coldly. "Nature is ruled by the law of the strong. Firenze, as Dumbledore's student, I cannot openly defy him. But even he cannot stop the slaughter of magical beasts."
"Riddle—are you threatening me?" Firenze's veins stood out on his neck, fury blazing in his eyes. Even as one who leaned toward humanity, his anger now overflowed.
"That's right," Tom said icily. "I am threatening you. Not only you—all the centaurs in this forest can become Usagi's next meal."
"Little one," he addressed the dragon, "you've been feasting on meteorites for so long. A change of flavor wouldn't be bad, would it?"
Usagi roared again in eager response. Though centaurs didn't look particularly appetizing, since it's master had spoken, it would treat them as a sweet after-dinner snack.
A beam of destructive light began to form in its mouth, gathering its deadly brilliance. One word from Tom, and Firenze would collapse instantly.
Under that suffocating dragon's might, Firenze felt utterly powerless. No matter how centaurs denied their status as "mere magical beasts," their trembling under the aura made them no different.
"Not yet, little one." Tom lifted his hand, and the violet glow of destruction faded.
"I'll give the centaurs one day. Tomorrow, at this same time and place, I expect your answer."
"Usagi, you'll stay with him. If I don't call you back by then, attack."
"AAARRRGH!"
Tom's final ultimatum thundered into the air. He gave Firenze no chance to argue, but rose into the sky and disappeared from the Forbidden Forest.
Only Firenze remained, his expression shifting between rage and dread, while the dragon's predatory eyes lingered on him like a death sentence.
…
"Pure-blood."
The password opened the common room door.
The moment Tom stepped in, he was met with a wave of noise and excitement. Descending the stone steps, he saw that nearly half the House had gathered. At the center of the crowd stood Malfoy, flanked by several Quidditch players.
The students parted instinctively, creating a clear path for Tom to walk forward.
Each Quidditch player clutched a brand-new broom, caressing it with almost tender reverence, as if it were a lover.
Malfoy, face glowing with pride, was introducing them eagerly:
"The Nimbus 2001—its top speed is ten percent faster than the 2000 model! Acceleration is up by twenty percent! Compared to the Cleansweep or the Comet, they're simply leagues apart. Nothing else even comes close!"
"This year, the Quidditch Cup is ours for sure!"
"That's incredible, Draco!" Marcus Flint's massive hand came down on Malfoy's shoulder with a slap that nearly knocked him off balance. "Thanks to you, our team has never been stronger. A talent like you shouldn't be wasted off the pitch."
"Draco, I formally invite you to join the Quidditch team. Our Seeker graduated last year. Would you like the position?"
"Of course!" Malfoy's voice shook with excitement.
All summer long, he had pestered his father for this chance. Becoming the Seeker meant he could finally face Harry Potter directly!
Watching the scene, Tom felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
Wasn't this exactly how the Haixing Team recruited new players?
"Tom! You came at the perfect time!"
Malfoy spotted him at once, snatched up the extra Nimbus 2001 from the table, and hurried over with a fawning smile.
"Tom, this is a birthday gift from my father. Unfortunately, the shop didn't have them in stock during the summer, so it only just arrived today. I hope you don't mind the delay."
The crowd gasped audibly.
A Nimbus 2001—for a birthday present? Lucius Malfoy's wealth was staggering.
But wasn't he supposed to despise half-bloods and Muggle-borns? Why would he give Tom such a gift?
Then the students remembered—
Lucius Malfoy had survived two wizarding wars without facing consequences.
Of course. This was the talent of a consummate fence-sitter—his true magic was survival.