We don't necessarily discriminate. We simply exclude certain types of people.
-Gerald Wellman
The first truly significant moment in the life of young Sirius Black occurred when he was five years old. That is not to say that he had been unhappy up until that point – in fact, to the contrary, he had been fairly happy. His parents rarely excluded them from their various social events, and although he was occasionally curious about the shut doors behind which his parents whispered things they wouldn't explain to him, he was, for the most part, content. He allowed his mother to dress him in stiff, collared shirts and heavy, itchy robes because he loved to be included in family dinners and wizarding events. And when his parents explained to him that his blood was purer than most, when his mother mentioned the other, lesser race of humans who didn't have magic and had to live their lives as uncivilized beasts, struggling to survive without even the knowledge of magic, when his father explained to him that house-elves, goblins, centaurs, and other nonhuman creatures were inferior and meant to be treated without respect, he believed them. Believed them because he had no reason not to – why would his parents (who loved him and fed him and clothed him and let him feel important by sitting at the dinner table until he couldn't keep his eyes open) lie to him about such a fundamental part of his life? If it didn't make sense to him why he wasn't allowed to chat with the goblin at the bank who winked at him, or why he couldn't talk to the children he saw on the street or in the few Muggle stores he was allowed to go inside, or why he was smacked the one time he dared laugh at a joke told by a house-elf in a restaurant, then he just didn't think too hard about it. He was, after all, five years old.
And then one day, when he was waiting in line at Gringotts with his father, a young centaur ambled into the lobby. The centaur was with a wizard, and the wizard headed directly for the line, but the centaur reached out a hand and brushed the wizard's shoulder, saying something softly to him. The wizard and the centaur both glanced directly at Sirius and his father, both looking rather disgusted. The wizard said something to the centaur and then strode across the lobby and got in line behind Sirius, who hid in his father's cloak for a moment, peering around the folds at the centaur, who was waiting by the door.
"Father?" Sirius asked quietly. His father didn't hear him, and so Sirius spoke a bit louder. "Father?"
"Yes, Sirius?" his father asked, sounding weary.
"May I go play in the lobby until it's your turn?" His father glanced at the lobby – empty except for the centaur – and then nodded sharply. Slipping around his father, Sirius glanced quickly up at the wizard and then hurried by him. The young boy ambled around the lobby a bit, tracing designs with his toes and pretending to walk on tight ropes made from the cracks in the tiles, but eventually ended up on the other side, by the centaur. After a quick glance toward his father to ensure that he wouldn't be seen, Sirius hopped over a star on the floor and looked up at the centaur, who stepped away slightly.
"Hi," Sirius said brightly. The centaur regarded him coolly.
"Hello," the centaur replied slowly.
"What's your name?" Sirius pressed, curious about this creature who seemed to either hate or fear him, even though Sirius had never talked to any centaur before. He looked nice, and his fur was shiny. Sirius thought he looked rather majestic.
"Why do you want to know, young Black?" the centaur replied. Sirius stumbled back half a step, tripping on his own feet. How did this creature know his name? He asked as much, to which the centaur replied, "You are of the House of Black. Any centaur with half a brain can recognize your father from a kilometer away."
"Why's that?" Sirius asked, even more curious now than before.
"Your father has pushed to enact more anti-centaur legislation than any other wizard in the history of magic," the centaur informed Sirius coldly.
"Is that why you don't like me?" Sirius asked. The centaur did not pause before answering.
"Yes."
"Oh." Sirius thought for a moment before replying. "I've never talked to a centaur before."
"I dare say your father won't approve of you doing so now," the centaur replied, looking over Sirius's head at his father. Sirius twisted around and looked across the lobby, but his father was still waiting in line, faced away from the rest of the lobby.
"I reckon he wouldn't, either," Sirius agreed. "Why doesn't he like you?"
"Hasn't he explained to you how inferior our species is to yours?" the centaur asked dryly.
"Well, he's told me I'm not supposed to talk to centaurs, or like them, or be nice to them. But since I've never talked to any of you before I've never really thought about it. And he never said why," Sirius explained. The centaur regarded Sirius for a long moment before speaking.
"There are some things that people believe for reasons that are beyond explanation," he said finally.
"What's that mean?" Sirius asked. "There must be a reason he doesn't like you, or else he would. You seem like nice enough to me." The centaur laughed ruefully.
"Don't let your father hear you say that," he told Sirius. Sirius frowned and waited for the centaur to continue. "He doesn't like us because we're not human," he told the young boy eventually. "That's the only reason there is. We're not like him, and so he finds us inherently evil."
"What's inherently?" Sirius asked.
"If something is inherent, there need not be an explanation for its existence save the fact that it is… characteristic, natural," the centaur explained.
"So my father hates you because he thinks you're evil, but he doesn't have a reason for thinking that, except for that you're… you?" Sirius asked slowly. The centaur nodded.
"Bright boy. How old are you?" the centaur asked.
"I'm five," Sirius told the centaur proudly. "How old are you?"
"Older than five," the centaur replied. "I was your age the first time I saw your father. He spat on me as he passed me in the street." The centaur said this very matter-of-factly, almost as if it were a simple recollection and not a bitter memory. But his expression, dark and enraged, gave him away. Sirius looked doubtfully up at the centaur, not sure how to respond.
"I…" Sirius began, but just then, his father reached the counter. Turning, he saw Sirius speaking to the centaur and yelled across the lobby in a frightfully commanding voice.
"SIRIUS ORION BLACK! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING TO? GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!" came the roar, echoing across the lobby and making Sirius jump and then cower. Backing up, he began skittering toward his father, tripping on his feet and the ends of his robes, glancing over his shoulder in terror. Before he turned back toward his father, though, he paused, just for a second.
"I'm sorry, sir," he muttered to the centaur, just loud enough for him to hear Sirius's mumbling. The centaur, who had maintained an aloof expression for the entire conversation, softened ever so slightly.
"Yes, young Black. So am I," he murmured. And then, a moment later, "You'd better hurry back to your father before he becomes even more angered by your interaction with me." Nodding, Sirius spun and practically sprinted across the lobby to his father, sliding to a stop and almost crashing into the older man's robes.
"What do you think you were doing?" Sirius's father hissed at him. "Were you talking to that thing?" Sirius pulled at his robes anxiously and tried to hide within their folds. Unfortunately, his robe was made of regular cloth and not the invisibility cloak kind, and he remained quite visible.
"I… no, Father," Sirius replied quickly. "I was just…"
"You will never speak to that thing, or any of its kind, ever again. You will not embarrass me in that manner, and you will not dirty yourself by associating in any way with such creatures. Ever."
"But Father…" Sirius began quietly, glancing quickly back at the centaur, who was regarding the scene with an unreadable expression.
"But nothing!" Sirius's father roared. "Centaurs are dirty, stupid, bloody creatures that aren't even worth the filthy grass they eat. I thought I had taught you that, but clearly you didn't understand well enough. You will never talk to one of them again. Do you understand me?" People were beginning to stare, and Sirius closed his eyes and wished that he would just melt away into the ground.
"Yes, Father," he whispered.
"What? Speak up, boy," Sirius's father growled.
"Yes, Father," he squeaked, slightly louder. He dared a quick glance up at his father's face, which was so red Sirius wondered if he was going to explode. With an angered noise, Sirius's father turned from him and swept into the hallway to the vaults, grabbing Sirius painfully by the arm and dragging him along. Sirius twisted around one final time before the door closed behind him, catching a final glimpse of the centaur, who looked almost regretful. Sirius raised a hand in a wave, and he thought he saw the centaur nod at him before the door closed –
