Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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The copper teapot let out a sharp whistle. A large hand, ignoring the heat, lifted the teapot from the fire. A steaming cup of tea was cradled in both hands, and after Harry drank the herbal concoction brewed with centaur spices, the strange taste lingering in his mouth was finally subdued.

"Ah, it feels good to be alive," Harry sighed, lying back on the grass and gazing at the starry sky. He turned onto his side, propped his head on his arm, and looked toward Hagrid.

"Although I brought this on myself, Hagrid, you definitely understated it when you said it would 'hurt a little'!"

"Uh..." Hagrid paused for a moment. "What hurt a little?"

"You know, when you said to channel magic into my body," Harry said, smacking his forehead, realizing that Hagrid had already forgotten.

"Oh!" Hagrid suddenly remembered. "You're talking about that! Well, yeah, it only hurts a little."

He shrugged innocently. "If it were really dangerous, I wouldn't have let you try it to get stronger. It's what I did back in the day."

"Just control the magic and force it into your muscles and bones. Once they're filled, your strength increases. As for the pain..."

Hagrid thought for a moment before giving his estimate.

"It’s probably about as painful as a bite from a chimera. This is your first time, so you're not used to it. But it's different for me. Back when I was fighting alongside the centaurs in the valley, I got bitten dozens of times. I must've gotten used to the feeling by then."

Listening to Hagrid’s nonchalant explanation, Harry couldn’t help but fall silent.

"I really overestimated myself."

Harry sat up and buried his face in his hands. The vast difference in their starting points left no room for comparison.

Even though Hagrid wasn’t as strong back then as he is now, Hagrid is a half-giant! He was already a three-meter-tall giant by the time he was sixteen, with arms thicker than Harry's waist!

Even an Astartes who had undergone nineteen enhancement surgeries wouldn't grow to be three meters tall. That kind of size, beyond the limits of human biology, was the result of the giant bloodline within Hagrid giving him incredible strength.

What is a giant, anyway? A species with reproduction comparable to humans, survival abilities far surpassing humans, immense strength, and the ability to cast spells—an intelligent, humanoid magical creature. If their minds weren’t constantly filled with thoughts of kill, smash, eat, charge, and their lack of the organizational skills needed for civilization, they might have been the true rulers of this planet instead of humans.

Even a half-blood giant's offspring are born with magic. Even if one of the parents is a Muggle, the child will still be a magical half-giant. Their magical aptitude might be poor, almost like a Squib, but having magic and not having magic are two entirely different things—especially when combined with the enormous physical advantage.

In contrast, the offspring of wizards and Muggles have only a 50/50 chance of inheriting magical ability. A wizard's bloodline isn’t nearly as stable or dominant as a giant’s.

But because the giants lacked the ability to establish a civilization, they lost the capability to compete with humans. Driven to the edges of the world, they now struggle to survive in the remote wilderness.

Seeing Harry deep in thought and looking dejected, Hagrid, unsure of what to say, awkwardly reached out but hesitated. A lack of words was certainly one of his weaknesses.

"You don't need to comfort me, Hagrid." Harry patted Hagrid's enormous hand, which was as large as a trash can lid. After a brief moment of disappointment, he lifted his head and looked at Hagrid.

"If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me for being too weak. If I could just endure the pain, maybe..."

Harry trailed off.

"Wait a second. Let me try something."

With a determined expression, Harry stood up, dusted himself off, and walked over to the post where Hagrid had tied up the Graphorn earlier. He jumped up and grabbed the top of the post with one hand.

As an experienced climber, Harry’s grip strength was excellent. He’d often had to cling to narrow cracks, some only a centimeter wide, and he knew how to hold firm with minimal surface to grab onto.

After hanging from the top of the post, Harry gradually loosened his fingers until all his weight, over a hundred pounds, rested solely on his pinky finger. Within seconds, his breathing grew heavy. The muscles in his right arm bulged, veins popping under the strain. Despite his training, the weight was too much for a single finger.

But after dropping to the ground, Harry barely took a moment to catch his breath before leaping up again, this time using his left hand.

Once again, he hung all his weight on a single finger, but his left hand held out longer than his right. He lasted about a third longer this time, and when he realized this, a smile of excitement spread across his face.

"Hagrid, your method works!"

Harry rushed forward and grabbed Hagrid's hand. "Even though it hurt and I got a bit injured, I really did get stronger!"

"Channel magic into the muscles!" Harry growled, gritting his teeth. The fierce determination in his expression made Hagrid feel a bit uneasy.

"But you can’t handle it! You were in so much pain just now. If you try again, you might seriously hurt yourself."

"Then I’ll cut off my pain receptors!" Harry said, teeth clenched. "Anyway, magic can reattach them. Even if I blow something apart, I’ll just drink a potion and heal right up!"

Harry suddenly shuddered, his earlier bravado vanishing in an instant. His hand instinctively reached for the pouch hanging around his neck, and with shaky legs, he silently sat down next to Hagrid.

“Potion… better not,” Harry muttered. “At least not that one.”

“That one could really kill me.”

“But no matter what!” Harry’s eyes lit up again, rekindling his determination.

“As long as I can endure it, I’ll become stronger than I am now!”

“But why, Harry?” Hagrid asked with a frown, not understanding why Harry was willing to take such risks for something that seemed unnecessary.

“You’re a wizard, Harry,” Hagrid said earnestly. “You’re different from me. I can’t use magic, but you can. Professor Flitwick told me you’re one of the most talented students he’s ever had. You have the potential to become a master duelist.”

“Why go through all this when you have better options?”

“Because I’m scared, Hagrid.”

Harry sighed softly, scooting a little closer to the half-giant. Hagrid’s broad frame exuded a sense of safety, a comfort that came from raw, undeniable strength—more tangible than any spell.

“Last week, during Professor Grindelwald’s first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, he said, ‘Our time is running out, children.’”

“After that, Professor Flitwick told me something important,” Harry paused, gauging whether the magical contract would react. When it didn’t, he continued. After all, Hagrid wasn’t a first- or second-year; he had attended Hogwarts for six years.

“The professor told me about the Demon Race, an enemy that wizards have always had to fight against.”

“But he also said the magical world has been at peace for too long.”

“I haven’t had much time to research it, but I asked an older student about it. They told me the Triwizard Tournament had been suspended for several centuries. And coincidentally, around that time, records of the wars against the Demon Race became scarce. I briefly skimmed through The History of Magical Wars, and the timeline matches up perfectly.”

“The Triwizard Tournament was reinstated twelve years ago, proposed by Professor Grindelwald, Professor Dumbledore, and many other powerful wizards.”

“Is that a coincidence? Or is it a sign?”

“What does the return of the Triwizard Tournament represent? What is it really for?”

“I don’t know the answer to the first question, but I do know the answer to the second. The tournament is designed to find the strongest young wizards. It’s also meant to assemble the strongest teams.”

“Professor Grindelwald has emphasized ‘teamwork,’ ‘discipline,’ and ‘cooperation’ over and over again. I don’t think he’s saying it for no reason. As a wizard of unparalleled strength and renown, he wouldn’t speak carelessly.”

“If time is running out, and someone as powerful as Grindelwald is worried…”

“Then what hope do I, who am a thousand times weaker, have when faced with the unstoppable tides of history?”

“All I can do is grow stronger. Strong enough to face the challenges or disasters ahead.”

“Before I came to Hogwarts, when you visited my house, Aunt Petunia told me that my mother once said, ‘There are things that must be done by someone.’ Back then, it was her. And now, it’s me.”

“I don’t believe in fate or destiny, but I do believe there are certain things in this world that only certain people can do.”

“And maybe I’m one of those people.”

Harry smiled, a carefree and confident smile.

“If my life is destined to be extraordinary, then I’ll make it even more dazzling.”

“When I get back, I’ll study carefully, Hagrid. Don’t worry. I was reckless this time, but next time, I’ll be much more cautious.”

“And maybe someday, after I’ve done what you once did, I’ll have a new name.”

“Harry Astartes Potter.”

“England’s true Superman.”

(End of Chapter)