Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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By April, the cold, biting winds had left Hogwarts, and as spring bloomed, the school became increasingly lively.

Not long ago, Professor Flitwick took Harry to participate in the first round of the dueling tournament. However, the competition in the lower age groups was rather dull for Harry. The young wizards, many of whom hadn’t even mastered basic spells, were simply flailing at each other. They were more there to experience the thrill of the tournament than to engage in any serious dueling.

First-year students at Hogwarts were also allowed to duel. Once they donned their respective house crests, they could start a live-action dueling match anywhere within the magical boundaries of Hogwarts during non-class hours. The loser would be teleported by their badge to an unknown location to face various punishments, including but not limited to mixing manure for Professor Sprout, scrubbing toilets and bedpans in the infirmary, or preparing potion ingredients for Professor Snape. These tasks were strange and definitely far from enjoyable.

Curious first-year students, after receiving this "toy," began to recklessly throw themselves into duels. They’d heard of an upperclassman who had been teleported into a massive dissection room with a skinned dragon inside. Cleaning off the dragon’s scales was particularly challenging because cleaning spells didn’t work—it had to be done by hand. But for some bold young wizards, this peculiar punishment only added to the excitement.

The dueling competition Harry was in for eleven-year-olds wasn’t much better than the beginner-level squabbles at school. After breezing through a few matches, Harry wandered over to the senior group’s arena to watch.

“The most exciting matches start in the third round,” Professor Flitwick said with a smile when he noticed Harry’s lack of interest. He waved for Harry to sit beside him. “That’s when you’ll encounter wizards from different magical schools around the world.”

“But I don’t feel like I belong with them,” Harry replied lazily, yawning as he watched the match. “This is the fifteen-year-olds’ group, right?”

He was unimpressed by the spells being exchanged before him. At this level, the wizards had mastered four or five spell combos, which made the rapid-fire exchanges a lot more exciting than the turn-based duels in the lower levels. But, given their age, most of these wizards had only just passed their Ordinary Wizarding Levels, barely entering the ranks of true wizards. Without any standout prodigies to grab his attention, Harry felt he could dodge these thin barrages of spells with ease.

Thanks to his extraordinary reflexes and superhuman physical abilities, the spells felt like they were moving at a turtle’s pace—nowhere near fast enough to pose any real threat.

“I feel like if I went up there, I could end the fight in three to five seconds. No need for ebony wands or powerful shield-breakers. Even a simple ivory wand could fire off more spells in one second than they can.”

“Can I apply to join the seventeen-year-old group’s duels? If they’re pulling off ten-spell combos, that might offer some challenge. Fighting kids my own age just feels like bullying. I accidentally made a little girl cry earlier, and I do feel a bit guilty about it.”

Harry shrugged helplessly. In his first match, he’d faced a little girl from Beauxbatons. Afraid his spell might hurt her, he’d dodged around aimlessly until he was right in front of her and simply knocked her wand out of her hand.

The girl immediately burst into tears, inconsolable. The look of resentment on the Beauxbatons professor’s face was something Harry wouldn’t soon forget.

“Is that so?” Professor Flitwick said, a little troubled. He had hoped Harry would dominate each year all the way to graduation, completing a sweep of every age group. After all, Flitwick himself, due to his short stature, had missed two years of competition, which was a small regret in his life.

But Harry wasn’t a tool for fulfilling Flitwick’s dreams. The professor understood that Harry had no interest in playing along with the younger kids. Crushing weaker opponents could be satisfying at first, but if the gap was too wide, any enjoyment would quickly fade, leaving Harry utterly bored, as he was now.

“This year, it’s too late. I didn’t expect you to improve so quickly. Since we didn’t submit your request earlier, the schedule is already set and can’t be changed. But next year, we can make it happen.”

Professor Flitwick finally gave in to Harry’s request. “Still, my recommendation alone won’t be enough. You’ll need to prove yourself a little.”

“So, you’re saying I can relax and bully people for now?”

Harry flashed a mischievous grin. The day’s duels were far from over. If he hadn’t held back, it wouldn’t have been just that one little girl who was crying. Every unlucky opponent he faced was bound to have a meltdown.

“May Merlin have mercy on them,” he muttered.

Professor Flitwick shook his head slightly. “But don’t get too overconfident. Wizards from other regions can be quite different from what we’re used to. Every region has its own distinct magical systems.”

“In Europe, spellcasting is the dominant form of magic, and this extends to parts of North America as well. However, in Africa, students from Uagadou School of Magic are trained in wandless magic. Their magical system is unique, particularly in Transfiguration—especially human transfiguration. It’s not uncommon for thirteen- or fourteen-year-olds there to have mastered Animagus transformations. In fact, they’ve developed a second stage of Animagus transformations, which is unlike anything we have. These abilities can be used in dueling, so keep an eye out.”

“Turning into magical creatures?” Harry ventured a guess. After all, when he thought of Africa, he pictured shamans with animal tooth necklaces, covered in war paint.

“You’ve guessed right. Their second stage includes transformations into magical creatures. While they lose the ability to cast most spells, they truly become those creatures, even gaining some of their powerful traits.”

“In one of the past tournaments, there was a wizard who transformed into a Manticore. He inherited the Manticore’s magical immunity, and no matter how hard his opponents tried, most of them couldn’t even scratch him.”

“But someone did beat him, didn’t they?” Harry caught the implication in Flitwick’s words.

“Oh, indeed. In the end, he lost to a student from Kodosdoritz School of Magic. Although he was immune to most spells, he wasn’t without weaknesses—he had a low tolerance for pain,” Flitwick said with a wry smile. “He was pinned to the ground by a Soviet wizard whose self-enhancement spells gave him fists as big as sandbags. The Manticore transformation perfectly copied the creature’s magical resistance, but not its tough physical form. There was still room for improvement in his transformation, so the Soviet wizard, boosted by a series of self-reinforcing spells, pummeled him until he had no choice but to surrender. It was quite the battle.”

“Oh, and by the way, Kodosdoritz doesn’t compete in the European preliminary rounds. They chose to participate in the Asian tournament. Since their country spans both Europe and Asia, they could technically go either way. But given the less-than-friendly relationship they have with Europe, they prefer to compete in Asia.”

“They probably feel more at home with their comrades there,” Harry chuckled. The unyielding, battle-hardened tradition of the Soviets meant they sought out the toughest fights. The "East Asia Monster Room" wasn’t just a myth in this world—it was a real concept.

The final few duels piqued Harry’s interest. The seventh-year matches were far more intense and exciting. The contestants, who had passed their Advanced Wizarding Exams, were on their way to becoming elite wizards in the magical world, and their skills were indeed impressive.

Feeling thoroughly inspired, Harry returned to Hogwarts after the tournament. The Forbidden Forest, now thawed and more lively than when it was blanketed in snow, became one of his new targets. With enough magic to strengthen his body, Harry had mastered the magical enhancement of both hands. Although his magic capacity was temporarily capped at 101, that limitation would gradually fade as he replenished his magical reserves over time.

Even though digesting the magical core would take a while, the "pay-to-win" method was, without a doubt, a steady and reliable process.

With a decent level of self-defense now in place, exploring the Forbidden Forest became one of Harry’s short-term goals. It was only in the forest that he could truly unleash his full power and sharpen his combat skills. The magical creatures within weren’t just dumb, instinct-driven beasts.

(End of Chapter)