“Hail, noble denizens of the Forest, your domain,” Merlin announced, straightening. “Is Magorian among you? Or to whom shall I address tribute?”
“Magorian is no more,” one of the near centaurs answered stiffly.
He was tall even by centaur standards, with grey dappled horse flanks and deep brown man’s skin from the waist up. His grey hair was loose and long, hanging about his shoulders in ragged ropes and ribbons. “I am Jakhar, his successor, and leader of this colony. Pay tribute to me, Pendragon Merlinus, and bid us welcome, for we come with a warning, and a promise.”
“Master Jakhar, venerable leader of a noble people,” Merlin acknowledged with a dip of his chin.
Jakhar’s face grew harder and his eyes narrowed. “Noble we may be, but people we are not, insofar as your own leaders are concerned.
Call us beasts, for that is the title we prefer, lest we fall under the same category as the other odious creatures upon whom you’ve bestowed the title of ‘beings’.”
McGonagall replied, “A history lesson we are all quite familiar with. Clearly you remind us of this distinction for a reason?”
“I do,” Jakhar concurred. “The news in your world surely confirms what we have divined from the Dance of the Elders. Your mistake in absorbing the lesser creatures into your society has come to its inevitable consequence. Hags, vampires, Goblins, and other such vermin have rotted your culture to its very foundation. And now they threaten to incur and topple unmagicked human civilization as well.”
“An overstatement, perhaps,” Merlin hedged mildly. “But a concern that we are striving to address. The Centauri objection notwithstanding, there are yet many individuals of those species who not only uphold our laws and society, but who repudiate the actions of their wayward brethren. The revered Magorian and myself debated this topic at length, and yet even he, late in his life, understood the error of condemning an entire population for its worst members.”
“An opinion that he recanted in his final day,” Jakhar bristled, stamping his forehoof. “The clarity of death brightened his inner eye, and he saw the truth: a spring that is only half poison will yet kill those who drink of it. An apple that is only half-rotten will still spoil the lot.
Humanity has failed to guard itself from the poison and rot of lesser creatures. And now human civilization is as a golden statue with clay feet, cracked and ready to collapse.”
“This is an ancient debate,” McGonagall declared smoothly, if a bit wearily, “and one that we shall not satisfy this day. What is your warning, Master Jakhar? And what is your promise?”
Jakhar regarded McGonagall carefully, and then switched his gaze to Merlin, and then James. “Our warning is simple and irrevocable, and it is this: the age of Man is over. Wizardkind may be blind to this truth, but we Centaurs have observed the spiral of mankind for decades.
Your unmagicked brothers wage war upon each other with ever more terrible weapons. They grow arrogant on power, drunken on technology, and lazy on diversion. The circle of their age closes more with every cycle, devouring itself with increasing speed. We have observed this and shown forbearance, knowing that such monumental portents require absolute surety before action. But the signs have culminated. The point of certainty is past and the time to act has come.
Man can no longer be granted the freedom of self-governance. Thus we, the Centaurs and our allies, will mount a revolution into the citadels of human rule. We will save them from themselves. We will eradicate the rot that has beset them in their ignorance, and grant them the security of wise rule, once and for all, under true and prudent dominion.”
“You’re going to take over human governments?” James blurted, unwilling to believe that he’d heard properly.
“It is the only way to balance the collision of destinies,” Jakhar nodded, peering down at James gravely. “The influence of humanity has grown too powerful not to drag the rest of us into its own destruction.”
McGonagall’s voice was shrill with restrained anger, “Unstable humanity may be, but on the verge of destruction they simply are not.
We witches and wizards learned long ago that power does not give one the right to make decisions on behalf of an independent culture and people.”
“In fact, Madame Professor,” another centaur spoke up, this one the female who stood to Jakhar’s left, “It is wizardkind’s failure to make decisions on behalf of lesser peoples that has led to this impending catastrophe. We Centaurs will not repeat that mistake.”
“How soon?” It was Merlin who asked, his voice as unfailingly calm and measured as always. “We know that the Centauri do not act without much planning, proper preparation, and fair warning. We recognize your warning and ask: how soon do you intend to move upon the Muggle world and their governments? Let us prepare them for your strength and manner, that fewer of both sides might be harmed.”
The female centaur blinked at Merlin, and then glanced aside at Jakhar, who shifted on his hooves, his tail flicking restlessly against his flanks.
“You misunderstand, Merlinus,” he said, dropping his voice to a confidential tone. “It is not the Muggle world that we intend to move upon. The warning is not for you to pass onto them, but for wizardkind itself.”
James felt a wave of coldness fall over him as he looked up at the solemn centaur, standing at the head of his ranks and rows of grim warriors.
After a long, breathless pause, Merlin’s voice was somber. “I see.
You intend to move upon the bastions of wizard rule. Because you believe that we have failed in our duties to humanity as a whole.”
The female centaur raised her chin. “Those whom you call Muggles are as your charges. It has always been your duty to shield them from themselves, and from the worst of your own kind. You have done neither. Your mission cannot be said to have failed, for you never took it up. And now, the Centauri have no choice but to accept the mantle of responsibility. We shall establish the rule that you have ignored, and we shall do so first with you and your people. Your Ministry will submit to us. Your leaders will be subject to us. And this school,” her eyes sharpened as she challenged Merlin’s gaze, “shall be our first stronghold.”
Merlin merely nodded, slowly and consideringly. “Your warning is received with respect,” he said. “And your promise?”
“That not one hair on a single head shall be harmed so long as we are met with the respect and obeisance that we require.”
Merlin nodded again, even more slowly.
“That is quite a stringent requirement,” McGonagall said, her voice hushed. “Submission to occupying forces is not something that comes naturally to most of us.”