Written for Pro and The Chicken, mainly. (Don't be too disappointed. =/)

The Woman Who Nobody Could Love

"Let me go! I am a ministry official! You will be sorely punished! I – "

The voice cut off mid-sentence as Ronan reached the cave. His hooves made a clackity-clack as he picked up his pace, a little worried. They couldn't actually harm her. They would get into a world of trouble. Despite the fact that the centaurs had been around for hundreds of years before wizards, those wand-waving buffoons had set down numerous laws and rules. It had all begun with the Centaur Liaison Office and them granting permission for the centaurs to continue living where they had been living for eons. They were supposed to be grateful. Ronan stomped his hooves angrily. When he reached the main room of the cave, though –

"Enough."

"But Ronan – "

"I said enough," he growled.

"Just like Firenze," someone muttered from the large, gathered group.

Ronan ignored the voice and looked at the woman.

Her robes had been discarded, and her wrists were tied together by a rope that hung from an iron ring in the ceiling. Her toes just skimmed the floor. When he had walked in, the other centaurs had been prodding and poking her, occasionally stopping to leer at her, spit at her feet, or hiss out insults at her. She had stopped yelling now, and was looking at him with big, tear-filled eyes. If she got out of this alive, the Ministry would come crashing down on their backs. And she had to get out of this alive, because if she didn't, the Ministry would come crashing down on their backs. A right mess this was.

Someone coughed behind him, and he turned to see Magorian pawing at the ground uncomfortably.

Nobody had ever mentioned it explicitly, but by virtue of being the oldest, Ronan was considered somewhat of their leader.

"Yes?" he asked impatiently. He had to find a way out of this mess. One witch or wizard, the centaurs could handle easily, but if they sent more…

"What is it?" he asked sharply, for Magorian hadn't spoken yet.

Magorian cleared his throat and said, "I think I have a solution for our little problem." He looked questioningly at Ronan.

Ronan nodded to him and he continued.

"Well, we can't send her back like this, and we can't kill her, so the only thing we can do is do make sure she's too scared to ever mention this again. Even the Ministry wouldn't harm us if she doesn't say we did something wrong."

Ronan was mildly surprised, but nodded again. He had a good head on him, Magorian did. He would be the next likely candidate for the position of unofficial leader. In addition to that – guilty as it made him feel – Ronan felt a perverse pleasure from the mere thought of what they could do to her. What right did this insolent bitch have to call them filthy half-breeds? Anger rose up in him, but he quashed it ruthlessly, knowing that somebody would have to keep their head screwed on their shoulders.

"I'll give you two hours," he said to Magorian, and trotted out of the cave. He didn't trust himself to not do any permanent damage if he was allowed near the scheming maggot.

"We're done," a voice said behind him, and Ronan turned around. Bane was holding up the evil…thing as far away from his body as possible, as if it were something vile. It was something vile.

Rather than having calmed down in the two hours that had passed, Ronan has only grown angrier. His voice was steady when he spoke though. "Hand it over. I will deposit it at the edge of the Forest and it can make its way from there." This thing just whimpered now, where once it would have kicked and screamed.

Ronan took the package and held it rather like Bane had, with a look of utter disgust upon his face.

He was already walking towards the edge of the forest when Bane called out from behind him.

"Ronan."

He turned around.

"Try not to be too careful with it." Bane disappeared back into the cave with a smirk on his face.

Ronan shook his head and began to gallop now, eager to get this over with.

Professor Dumbledore strode into the Forbidden Forest. There was nobody around to see, but his eyes were not twinkling like they usually did. As much as he would have loved to leave Umbridge to the centaurs, he knew that it was the wrong thing to do – not just morally, but also because the ensuing scandal would be absolutely terrible. He really didn't need to give the Ministry another finger to point at him.

At the sound of hooves approaching, he stopped and cocked his head. A shadowy shape appeared on the path in front of him – a horses's body with a man's torso – carrying some sort of bundle.

At the sight of the Headmaster standing in the middle of the pathway, the centaur stopped and regarded him coldly.

"She is one of yours, I believe," the centaur said, his voice clipped.

Centaurs were one of the very few creatures who would dare to speak to the Headmaster in such a way.

"She is of the Ministry, Ronan" Dumbledore replied, his voice light and friendly, his eyes like shards of ice. He raised his wand, and levitated the toad-like woman out of the centaur's arms. "I trust you did not harm her too badly? The paperwork would be dreadful, and as I don't hold as much sway over the Ministry as I used to, I cannot even guarantee your safety."

Ronan pawed at the ground. "I let Magorian take care of it," he said finally.

Dumbledore looked at the centaur carefully at that, and for a moment – just a moment – he remembered his youth. Mentally shaking himself, he said, "Well, I certainly do hope he exercised the right amount of caution. Fare well." With a nod at Ronan, Dumbledore turned around, his cloak swishing, and marched out of the Forest. The woman floated after him, seemingly too afraid to make a sound.

As she bobbed along behind the Headmaster, Dolores Umbridge felt a sense of dread welling up in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't tell anyone at the Ministry what had happened. It was far too humiliating. The most humiliating thing of all, though, was the way nobody seemed to want to even touch her. They treated her like she was a disgusting wart on the bottom of the foot – annoying, repulsive, and utterly disgusting. She would never be accepted back at the Ministry – the place where she had worked so hard to reach. Her life was ruined.

For the few minutes that it took for them to reach the edge of the Forest, Dolores Umbridge seriously contemplated committing suicide. All thought of killing herself vanished, however, when Dumbledore pointed his want at her and muttered, "Obliviate."

As she was floating towards the Hogwarts infirmary, all that was left was the impression of a strange fear of horses and horse-like creatures.