'Integrating and contributing their part into this collective of the wizarding world?'
Flomid and the old centaur looked at each other across the wooden table, both seeing profound confusion reflected in the other's eyes. The concept seemed distant to them, almost incomprehensible.
For countless ages, spanning generations beyond counting, the Druids had been accustomed to their nomadic existence of migrating between various primeval forests or remote, isolated towns scattered across the vast European continent.
When one place became uninhabitable due to Church persecution, suspicious local authorities, or simply depleted resources, they simply packed up their belongings and moved to another refuge. It was the only life they'd known for centuries.
This time, coming to the Forbidden Forest, establishing this sanctuary, was to them merely another temporary stay in a long series of temporary stays. They hadn't realized at all, hadn't even considered the possibility, that occupying the wizarding world's territory—settling on land governed by wizarding law meant they should "pay rent" in some form. The very idea was strange to their way of thinking.
"Mr. Watson—"
After a long silence filled only by the whisper of wind through leaves, old Horn said stiffly.
"We centaurs belong to the wizarding world, have lived alongside wizards for a millennium. To wizards, we are just heretics. But no wizard has ever demanded that centaurs integrate further or contribute anything specific to the wizarding world. We exist as we are, and that has always been enough."
"This is different, Horn—"
Bryan rubbed the rim of his rough wooden cup thoughtfully, his fingers tracing the grain. He spoke calmly, as if explaining something obvious.
"You've been integrating with wizards naturally since a thousand years ago, whether you acknowledge it or not. You're already an established part of the wizarding world, an accepted part of 'magic' itself. Therefore, it's only natural, only logical for wizards to protect you as one of their own."
"With all due respect, Mr. Watson—" Horn's voice took on an edge, bitter experience tinging his words.
"The centaurs have seen precious little of such protection from wizards over the centuries. We've seen poachers, smugglers, dark wizards seeking our blood and hair for potions. Where was wizard protection then?"
"Wizards have enacted specific laws to combat smuggling and poaching of magical creatures, Horn. Isn't that a direct form of protection for the centaurs?"
Bryan's gentle smile and single sentence left Horn momentarily speechless, his mouth was opening and closing without sound.
"Without wizarding law as a deterrent, Horn, without the threat of Aurors and Ministry prosecution—"
Bryan continued.
"The poachers appearing in your tribe would come in organized droves, in armed hunting parties, rather than the occasional few desperate individuals that sneak in now and then hoping not to be caught. You'd face organized harvest, not isolated incidents."
After rendering Horn speechless once more, watching the centaur's jaw work in frustration at having no counter-argument, Bryan turned to look at the silent Flomid, who had been listening.
"The centaurs' example is an excellent lesson for you, Flomid. Something you should study carefully. For a thousand years, you've relied solely on your own strength to struggle against the Church's persecution, fighting an endless defensive war. And the price you've paid for this stubborn independence is that your people have been displaced repeatedly, have suffered heavy casualties in periodic purges, and—"
Bryan emphasized with a heavier tone, leaning forward slightly.
"You haven't done a very good job of spreading your philosophy either, have you? How many converts have you made in a millennium? How many people now practice druidic traditions compared to five hundred years ago or more?"
Flomid opened his mouth as if to defend their efforts, but ultimately said nothing. His lips were pressed together in silence. This issue involved too broad a scope, touched on too many painful failures. It wasn't something he could decide on his own, wasn't something he could defend with simple words.
"—And if you were to win the official recognition of wizards, if you were to become part of our community—"
Bryan's voice took on a more encouraging tone, showing the carrot after the stick.
"The first immediate benefit would be that the Church would be wary of acting rashly against you. If the Vatican dared to send their hunters into the Forbidden Forest to kill druids, they would have to seriously consider the consequences of going to war with the International Confederation of Wizards. That's not a fight they want."
Rustling sounds came from behind the small door leading into the main trunk of the massive oak tree. Children were clearly pressed against it, eavesdropping on their conversation. Bryan noticed but ignored the listening children, leisurely sipping his strange-tasting tea as he calmly spoke words earth-shattering words:
"Have you considered offering an elective course at Hogwarts to teach the children in the castle your philosophy and magic?"
Crash!
The suggestion hit like a thunderbolt. Flomid's hand trembled, immediately knocking over his cup. The liquid spilled across the table, soaking into the wood, but he paid absolutely no attention to the mess. He stared at Bryan in utter shock, his eyes wide, his mouth falling open as he cried out,
"You would allow us to preach in the school? To teach our ways openly? I—I must remind you, Mr. Watson, if the Vatican finds out about this, they will be absolutely furious!"
This proposal was truly earth-shattering, revolutionary in its consequences. Even old centaur Horn was shocked into stunned silence, his previous argumentative mood completely vanished. He stared at Bryan with something approaching awe. He had been completely unprepared for Bryan Watson to possess such tolerance, such vision!
Allowing druids to teach at Hogwarts?
It was unthinkable.
"Why not?"
Bryan said with an easy smile, as if he'd just suggested adding a new Quidditch practice schedule.
"Only through mutual exchange and collision between different magical systems can a more brilliant civilization be born. Stagnation breeds weakness. Innovation requires cross-pollination of ideas. Of course—"
His tone became more businesslike.
"If you accept this invitation, the philosophy you teach the young wizards must undergo strict review by myself and Headmaster Dumbledore. We'll need to see your curriculum, your teaching methods. I won't allow ideas that are too extreme or dangerous to enter Hogwarts. The content must be educational, not indoctrination."
He paused, his voice taking on toughness.
"As for the Vatican, if they take overly extreme actions, then I will personally visit the Vatican in my official capacity as Vice President of the International Confederation of Wizards. I'll make our position quite clear to them."
The howling wind at this altitude, whistling through the branches, couldn't carry away Flomid's heavy, rapid breathing. He was nearly hyperventilating. The enormous joy, the impossible hope of this opportunity made his cheeks flush slightly, made his hands shake.
For a millennium the root of all their persecution, all their pain, lay in their unwillingness to abandon spreading Druidic philosophy. They still desperately hoped to let more people hear the voice of nature, to understand the old ways. And this noble goal was something the Church with its doctrine of "divine right of kings" could absolutely not tolerate. It threatened their monopoly on spiritual guidance.
In fact, in the wider supernatural world, wizards were equally heretical to the Church. Witchcraft and magic were condemned in their texts. It was just that this particular heresy had grown over centuries to a strength the Church couldn't realistically resist anymore, so they had been forced to tolerate it, to coexist uneasily with wizarding society.
"You people belong to this world, Flomid. You and this world cannot be separated—"
Glancing at the little girl visible behind the small door, her small fists clenched in excitement, her eyes shining with desperate hope, Bryan said gently,
"If you're willing to teach at Hogwarts, to share your knowledge and traditions, then your descendants will likewise have the right to attend Hogwarts and receive orthodox magical education."
Clang!
The impact of this promise was instant. The small door embedded in the thick branch was suddenly pulled open from within with such force it banged against the trunk.
Several children who had been pressed against it listening stumbled out from within, their balance lost. They rolled together in an awkward heap on the wooden corridor like a human pyramid, arms and legs tangled, laughing and crying simultaneously.
"What are you doing!"
Flomid, who had been engaged in intense internal struggle, trying to process everything Bryan had offered, darkened his face with embarrassment. His voice rose sharply.
"Get out of here! Don't disturb our guest! This is important adult business!"
The children, who had been chattering excitedly as they untangled themselves and got up, immediately hunched their shoulders and hung their heads like scolded puppies. They retreated one by one back behind the door, though their faces showed no real remorse, but only suppressed excitement.
"I apologize for the embarrassment, Mr. Watson—"
Flomid said, bowing slightly with an apologetic expression.
"It's nothing at all—"
Bryan waved his hand dismissively and smiled with amusement.
"It seems the children here are very eager to attend Hogwarts? They've heard stories about it?"
This was something that needn't be concealed or hidden in shame. Flomid nodded, his expression turning somewhat bitter.
"Yes, they're incredibly curious about that magical school, about the castle and its wonders. Especially Roya—the little girl you met earlier. She dreams constantly of going there to learn magic, of entering Gryffindor House like some hero from a story. She's memorized everything she's heard about it. But—"
The simple, sincere middle-aged man pressed his lips together, emotion tightening his throat.
"You must know, this isn't something I can decide unilaterally. If Lady Cliodna doesn't return soon—"
"The fate of your people should be in your own hands, Flomid, not pinned desperately on hopes that someone will come to save you."
Bryan interrupted Flomid's words firmly, causing him to fall silent once more.
"Mr. Watson—"
Old Horn's aged, careful voice spoke up at exactly the right moment, breaking the heavy silence. He glanced at Flomid, who was obviously deeply tempted by everything Bryan had offered.
"This matter is of tremendous importance after all, potentially affecting generations to come. Could you give them some time to consider your proposal properly? To discuss among themselves, reach consensus? Also, Mr. Watson—"
Horn's eyes became sharper.
"If the Druids ultimately decide to enter Hogwarts to teach and wish to receive protection from the wizarding world, what exactly must they pay in return? If I recall correctly, you said earlier that the Druids must first make contributions before they can enjoy the benefits. What form will these contributions take?"
Flomid's expression changed noticeably, hope dimming slightly. He had been immersed completely in the beautiful promise Bryan had painted, lost in the vision of a better future. He'd completely forgotten that none of this was free, that nothing ever was. They too must pay "compensation" of some kind to the wizarding world to silence wagging tongues and satisfy political requirements.
"A small personal request—"
Bryan began. "Some of my friends may face danger in the coming war. If you don't mind, I hope to build a temporary residence for them here in this secret enchanted forest."
"That's no problem at all, Mr. Watson. Of course you may."
To Bryan's slight surprise as he'd expected at least some negotiation—Flomid agreed without the slightest hesitation, very readily, almost eagerly. This instant acceptance made his suggestion, which he hadn't held particularly high hopes for, suddenly have real possibility of becoming reality.
"As for wizards accepting Druids fully and ensuring the continuation of Druidic traditions for future generations, the price you need to pay for this integration—"
Under Flomid's and old Horn's suddenly tightened gazes, Bryan drained the last of the bitter tea in his cup with a final swallow. He slowly stood up from his seat, rising to his full height, looking down at Flomid from above.
The air around him seemed to stir, surrounded by faint, ghostly winds that made his robes shift. His purple eyes were intense and incomprehensible.
"Have you heard of the wizard prison called Azkaban?"
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