Harry Potter : Reincarnated as The Greatest Wizard

Alex approached the fallen werewolf, pulling out a pair of enchanted handcuffs. "I need at least one of you alive," he muttered, binding the werewolf securely and commanding the Spirit-Binding Snake to coil around its mouth.

"Wimzy!" Alex called out.

With a pop, the house-elf appeared at his side, her wide eyes brimming with admiration. "Master, you were incredible! You defeated those terrifying monsters like it was nothing! And that last spell—it was so bright, I thought it was morning!"

"Enough flattery," Alex said, waving her off as he continued securing the werewolf. "Why didn't you tell me those werewolves had something as dangerous as the Dragon's Fury Elixir?"

Wimzy nervously wrung her hands, her ears drooping. "Master didn't ask, and Wimzy didn't recognize all the potions in the cargo box. Wimzy doesn't even know what Dragon's Fury Elixir is. Did Wimzy make a mistake?" She looked down, her small foot inching toward a nearby stone as if to kick it, but she stopped herself, remembering Alex's earlier orders not to harm herself. Her face twisted in a tangle of guilt and confusion.

Alex sighed. "You need to think ahead next time. Be proactive. Forget it for now—pack up. After I get the information I need from this werewolf, we'll leave." Turning his attention to the unconscious werewolf, Alex began planning his interrogation. He needed details about the werewolf wizard and his operations. A dangerous figure like that couldn't be allowed to roam free. "Ahem… young wizard," came a voice behind him.

Alex glanced over his shoulder to see the elder centaur standing with a small group of his kind. Most of the centaurs had regained consciousness, and their wounds had been tended to, though they still bore the signs of exhaustion. "If you're here to complain, save it," Alex said curtly, focusing on his task. "I need this space. If you don't want to see me, leave."

The elder centaur placed a hand over his chest in a respectful gesture. "No, young wizard. We mean no harm. You stepped forward and saved our lives. We wish only to thank you."

Alex paused, raising an eyebrow before turning back to his captive. "If it makes you feel better, fine. But I didn't do it for you. I was after these werewolves anyway. Saving you was just a bonus for Hagrid's sake."

"Hagrid?" A younger centaur stepped forward, his blue eyes shining with curiosity. His platinum-blond hair gleamed in the faint light, and his silver lower body reflected his noble lineage. "Do you mean Hagrid of Hogwarts?"

The elder centaur turned to the younger one. "Firenze, do you know this wizard Hagrid?"

Firenze nodded, stepping closer. "Hagrid is a friend of the forest. He respects our kind and has helped us many times. If this young wizard knows Hagrid, then we owe him a debt of gratitude as well."

Alex straightened and regarded Firenze with mild interest. "You're familiar with Hagrid?"

"That's right, but Hagrid doesn't seem to be a wizard. I've seen him several times while hunting near Hogwarts, and over time, we got familiar with each other. He's different from other wizards. I even shared some of my prey with him." Firenze's voice was clear and steady, carrying a sense of honesty.

"He's my friend," Alex nodded. "He's also the gamekeeper at Hogwarts and looks after the Forbidden Forest."

"What a curious twist of fate," said the elder centaur, his tone reverent. "It seems destiny hasn't turned its back on the centaur tribe after all. Venus herself must still be watching over us." He placed his hands over his chest and gazed up at the sky with a solemn expression.

The other centaurs followed suit, saluting the heavens with a devotion far surpassing the respect they'd shown Alex earlier. Alex frowned at the sight. Why were they acting like fate had just handed them a miracle? If he'd known they'd get so dramatic about it, he might've left them to handle the werewolves on their own. "The stars are always shifting," Alex interrupted, his voice dry. "But in the face of the vast universe, we're no more significant than ants. Maybe instead of staring at the sky, you'd be better off using your own eyes and brains. They tend to be more reliable. If I'm not here what you think will happen?"

"You—!" A young centaur near the elder bristled at Alex's words, clearly offended. He stepped forward angrily but was stopped by a firm hand from the elder.

"Ronan," Brand interrupted, raising a hand to stop him. "There is wisdom in the words of our benefactor. Show respect." Brand turned back to Alex. "You're right," he said thoughtfully. "Sometimes, we get lost in the myths of astrology and fail to see the danger right in front of us. This crisis proves that we were blind to what should have been obvious."

Stepping closer, the elder spoke in a quieter tone. "May I know your name? I am Brand Varden, leader of the centaurs in this part of the forest. You humans call it the Forbidden Forest. We claim the southern region near Hogwarts as our home. From today onward, you are welcome here as a guest and friend."

"Alex Wilson," Alex replied politely. "I'm a student at Hogwarts. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Welcome, Alex." Brand smiled warmly and reached into his satchel, pulling out a finely crafted horn. "Please accept this as a token of our gratitude. It's made from the horn of a Riem bull. If you blow it anywhere in our territory, every centaur who hears it will come to your aid."

Alex raised his eyebrows in surprise but accepted the gift. "Thank you," he said, genuinely pleased.

At that moment, Firenze stepped forward, removing the longbow slung across his back. "This is my weapon," he said, holding it out respectfully. "It's made of blackthorn wood and strung with my own tail hair. It is my most prized possession and a symbol of my respect for you. Please, take it." 

Alex accepted the bow with a serious expression. As he did, the other centaurs approached one by one, each offering a gift. Even Ronan, who had bristled at Alex earlier, presented a finely crafted steel dagger with an air of reluctant respect. By the time they were done, Alex had acquired a small treasure hoard: the Riem bull horn, Firenze's longbow, Ronan's dagger, a spear, two pouches of rare herbs, a necklace made of unicorn hair and animal teeth, and a bezoar the size of a centaur's fist.

As he looked over the gifts, Alex couldn't help but feel a newfound respect for the centaurs. For all their stubbornness and rigid traditions, they were honest and straightforward—qualities he found lacking in most humans. "Thank you," Alex said, his tone sincere.

Brand nodded. "If you ever need our help, do not hesitate to call on us."

A thought crossed Alex's mind. "Do you know anything about these werewolves or their leader? How did they suddenly come together like this?"

Brand's expression turned grim. "The werewolves usually stay in the northern part of the forest. According to our kin there, they've always been scattered and disorganized. There was no sign of them uniting."

"And the leader?" Alex asked.

"I haven't seen him, but I have a theory," Brand said cautiously.

"Oh? What is it?"

"Do you know of the Dark Lord?"

Alex tensed. "You mean Voldemort?"