Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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*****

"No, no one... Hagrid."

"What?"

"No one attacked me."

"You're alive! That's wonderful!"

The change in Hagrid was instant—transforming from the raging king of the Forbidden Forest to a teary-eyed giant. Overjoyed to see Harry moving, Hagrid immediately scooped him up in a bear hug.

"I'm taking you to the hospital wing. Right now."

"No, no, it's fine. I just hurt myself a little. A potion will do the trick."

Held in Hagrid's massive hands like a baby chick, Harry shakily wiped the sweat from his brow. The pain from earlier had been so intense it almost killed him. If he hadn't had a strong will and decent physical strength, he would have definitely passed out after what just happened.

"But what happened to you? Where are you hurt? Let me see."

After confirming Harry could still move, Hagrid carefully set him down on the grass, making sure not to harm him any further.

"I... I just tried a little experiment. I didn't expect... well, yeah."

With a sigh, Harry gingerly lifted his left hand. His pinky was swollen like a carrot, painfully obvious with its damaged muscles. The flesh had torn apart, and even the bone had fractured under the pressure.

"I'll drink a potion."

Harry reached into a small pouch hanging across his chest. This dragonhide bag, charmed with an Undetectable Extension Charm, was a magical item filled with various potions Snape had prepared for him.

From healing potions to antidotes, strength enhancers to defense boosters—the pouch was small, but its contents were comprehensive. As a belated birthday gift, Snape had poured his years of concern for Harry into it.

'No matter what, I'm your godfather, Harry.'

Snape had looked Harry in the eye and said this softly as he carefully fastened the pouch around his neck.

And today, the pouch was proving its worth.

Harry retrieved a small glass vial the size of his thumb. Inside was a bright red potion. After popping the cap, he cautiously licked the residue off the lid. Even the tiny amount clinging there was enough to heal the torn muscles in his left pinky.

Snape's improved ultimate life potion had an effect so powerful it was almost terrifying. A potion capable of healing grave injuries or even bringing people back from the brink of death didn't need more than three or five seconds to heal a minor wound. Harry's swollen, bleeding finger rapidly returned to normal, the muscle tears mended, and the hairline fractures on the bone vanished. A refreshing coolness, mixed with a slight warmth, spread through his hand, leaving no trace of the injury inside or out.

"Ugh... ugh... ugh..."

Harry barely managed to replace the cap before he turned and began to vomit violently. His stomach had been mostly empty, so he was dry heaving, trying to bring up the last remnants of bile. He'd only lightly licked the potion, but its indescribable, overwhelmingly foul taste had filled his entire mouth.

If he had to describe it, the closest comparison would be... sewage extract?

And not just any sewage, but a concentrated essence of it.

In that moment, Harry finally understood the true essence of Snape's mastery of wartime potions. To push the potency to its absolute limits, Snape had sacrificed every aspect of the potion except for its effectiveness.

That horrifying taste was a nightmare capable of haunting anyone—human or creature—forever.

"Obliviate!"

Harry cast a Memory Charm on himself, freezing in place for half a second. Then, groggily pushing himself up, he asked Hagrid in a slightly dazed voice, "What happened?"

"Hagrid, did I just trip and... eat a mouthful of crap?" Harry asked in a daze, pointing at the pile of vomit in front of him.

"Uh, what? Oh!"

Hagrid's expression shifted rapidly, like a revolving door of emotions. His somewhat rusty mind seemed to have gotten a sudden polish and oiling, and his newly enhanced intelligence finally clicked.

"This potion... was it from Snape?" Hagrid asked, pointing to the small bottle still in Harry's hand.

"Uh, yeah."

Harry nodded absently, and as his eyes fell on the bottle, he suddenly had an urge to toss it as far away as possible.

'How can I even think that? This thing cost almost 100,000 Galleons, and it can literally save my life. Wait, save my life?!'

He shook his head hard, trying to clear the lingering bitterness that was making him dizzy. "Damn it! Why can't I forget it with Obliviate?"

The awful memory he had tried to erase came flooding back, but with nothing left in his stomach, all Harry could do was dry heave a few more times. Weakly, he looked up at Hagrid.

"Do you... have anything to eat, Hagrid? If I don't get something to change this taste soon, I won't make it."

"Centaur herbs will help!" Hagrid sprang into action, scooping up a handful of meat chunks that had fallen onto the ground and threading them onto a nearby stick. The fire he'd knocked over still had enough glowing embers, and with a few small branches and some strong puffs of breath, the flames were revived and began licking at the skewered meat.

Before long, Hagrid disappeared into his hut, reemerging with a burlap sack full of fist-sized bundles wrapped in leaves.

"These are herbal seasoning packs I got from the centaurs. Snape's potions... they're too horrifying. I only drank one once, and it was..." Hagrid shuddered violently, "worse than being locked up in Azkaban."

Hagrid crushed one of the leaf-wrapped bundles into a fine powder with his hands, carefully sprinkling it over the roasting meat. In no time, a wonderfully peculiar fragrance filled the air, and Harry, who had been gnawing on grass to get rid of the strange taste in his mouth, took a deep breath.

The bitter, nauseating flavor was still there, but it seemed that the odd smell lingering in his nose was starting to fade.

Hagrid's cooking skills were rough at best—the meat was still raw in some places and would have normally tasted gamey and metallic. But thanks to the centaur's herbal seasoning, the wild flavor was completely masked. A refreshing, grassy aroma balanced the meaty richness perfectly.

Harry accepted the slightly charred skewer with reverence, feeling as though he was thanking the Mother Gaia herself. She had created Snape, but she had also given him this miraculous centaur seasoning to counteract the horrors of his potions.

With tears nearly welling up in his eyes, Harry devoured the meat. Though the strange taste still lingered faintly, it had faded to a level he could barely tolerate.

"If the day ever comes when I have to drink that potion... would I choose death, death, or death?" Harry pondered, realizing the full weight of the backstab his godfather had unknowingly delivered straight to his heart.

War potions, it turned out, were definitely not meant for human consumption.

(End of Chapter)