Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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The Forbidden Forest was no longer an unfamiliar place to Harry. While he hadn’t ventured in alone yet, he had followed Hagrid often enough to learn his way around and even acquainted himself with the centaurs, earning some recognition among them.

Of course, he had also met Aragog, the old enemy of the centaurs. After Hagrid punched one of Aragog's eight-eyed offspring, sending it flying into pieces of meat scattered through the air, Aragog’s children remembered Harry’s scent and repeatedly promised that even if they all died, Harry wouldn’t suffer so much as a scratch in their territory.

Most of the eight-eyed spiders, due to their age, were little different from wild beasts, but their animal instincts dictated respect for the strong. Hagrid’s brutal demonstration had left an impression on even the younger, less intelligent spiders. They understood that this boy was under the protection of the forest’s boss, and harming him would mean certain death.

With the protection of the spiders and the centaurs looking after him, Harry’s safety in the forest was reasonably assured, as long as he didn’t cross any dangerous lines.

Any magical creature Hagrid allowed inside these boundaries either deserved to be eaten or was a harmless pet under Hagrid’s care.

“How about I have Fang go in with you, Harry?” Hagrid offered after learning that Harry planned to enter the forest alone. He nudged Fang, who was nearby, drooling over a bone.

“Woof?”

Fang’s head snapped up, a look of confusion spreading across his face. Then, as his pupils shrank and his body trembled, the poor dog abandoned his bone and began shaking his head with his tail between his legs.

“Woof! Woof woof!”

Fang was just short of begging. Though he was a large, thick-skinned hunting dog, nearly everything in the Forbidden Forest was beyond his league. His size was only useful for bullying rabbits or chasing weasels and sheep.

Ordinary creatures were little more than snacks in the Forbidden Forest, and since he had witnessed the bizarre things that roamed the forest, Fang—much smarter than the average dog—had decided that the forest was off-limits. Sure, dogs might eat poop, but Fang had no desire to become a pile of poop himself.

“Awoo~ Awooo~”

Seeing that his pleading with Hagrid was getting him nowhere, Fang crawled over to Harry, pawing at his pants with a pitiful look.

“I think it’s better if Fang stays behind, Hagrid. I’ve got Hedwig with me. If Fang comes, I’d have to protect him. I’m a wizard, after all; I can defend myself. Fang would have no choice but to run if we ran into trouble. It’s not his fault he’s scared—the Forbidden Forest just isn’t the place for him.”

Relieved by Harry’s words, Fang’s eyes lit up, and his tail started wagging like a propeller. He bolted toward Hagrid’s hut, only to return moments later, dragging a peculiar-looking “war hammer” in his mouth.

The hammer was odd, with two human-sized spheres at the head. The three-foot-long handle was rough and bark-like, and the patterns on the hammerhead and handle were identical, making it look like a natural formation rather than something man-made.

“Woof! Woof woof!” Fang barked happily, as if offering a treasure, placing the hammer at Harry’s feet.

“Are you suggesting I take this with me for protection?” Harry asked, picking up the strange hammer. It weighed around twenty pounds, heavy enough that Harry could barely wield it.

“Why does it smell weird? Fang, don’t tell me you... marked it?”

As Harry and Fang stared at each other, Hagrid, seeming to recognize what it was, slapped his forehead with a resounding smack.

With a bewildered expression, Hagrid remained silent, his lips twitching but unable to utter a word.

“Is there something wrong with this hammer, Hagrid?” Harry asked, sensing something amiss.

“You’d better not take that thing into the forest,” Hagrid replied, wearing a pained expression. He grabbed the hammer and tossed it into the roaring fireplace. In no time, the flames licked at the strange object, and a smell like burning meat began to fill the air.

Harry’s face darkened. He didn’t need Hagrid to explain—he had already guessed what the hammer was.

“That’s part of a Chimera, isn’t it? Who knows when Fang dug it up and stashed it away.”

“And you, Fang—you never do anything useful. Not even dog things!” Hagrid exclaimed, pulling Fang over and giving him a spanking so hard the poor dog almost lost control of his bowels.

“You think I’m not feeding you enough? And here you are, hiding stuff in the house! What if it starts to stink? I don’t want the whole place swarming with green flies!”

Fang’s rear visibly swelled from the spanking, and he howled in pain with his tongue hanging out, pretending to be dead.

“Go! Right now, fetch all the things you’ve hidden! Then dig a hole and bury them!”

Fang, baring his teeth and limping away awkwardly, shuffled back into the house. In less than ten minutes, he dragged out a sizable pile of hidden treasures, though none as large as the one he’d given Harry. If an alcohol brewer saw this, their eyes would turn red with envy.

“You’ve hoarded all this junk, yet I’ve never seen you cozy up to a female dog! I even placed Fluffy at your bedside, and you two slept together, but you didn’t do anything to make me proud!”

For some reason, Hagrid’s beard bristled with anger. He had always cared deeply about Fang’s love life, going as far as to introduce him to several female dogs, including but not limited to three-headed dogs, hellhounds, dog-headed demons, and even the shadow jackal Armando, rumored to be linked with Anubis himself. Yet, despite all that effort, Fang had never fathered a single pup. Whenever it was time to "get down to business," he’d tuck his tail and play dead.

“I’ll teach you for not doing your part! You’re an English dog, but you can’t be like those others who prefer males! And even if you did, at least stash a few butts instead of this rubbish!”

Hagrid held Fang by the scruff and continued the spanking, leaving the dog howling pitifully. Watching this unfold, Harry silently offered Fang three seconds of sympathy. Hagrid had always dreamed of breeding new magical creatures, and Fang’s disinterest in producing pups must have struck a nerve. With no dragon egg to distract him, Hagrid wasn’t about to let this slide.

Sigh

Hagrid let out a deep sigh and released Fang, who limped back to his dog bed, his swollen backside now twice its usual size. He whined softly, but this minor injury would heal after a good sleep. Fang’s diet, rich in meat and fish, made him one of the best-fed dogs around, and though he wasn’t a magical creature, his robust constitution was far from ordinary.

“If he won’t do his part, there’s nothing I can say to help,” Hagrid muttered, casting Fang one last disapproving glance before turning to Harry.

“Should I look for a potion to help Fang with his... stamina? Something that won’t mess with his brain but will get the job done?” Harry asked uncertainly, wondering if Hagrid would approve of using magical means to help Fang. Hagrid treated Fang like his own son, after all.

“Such a thing exists?” Hagrid raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not out of the question. Fang is nearly six now; he’s not young anymore. It’s time he settled down. He can’t spend his life being a coward.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for something, Hagrid. Leave it to me.”

“By the way, Harry, any updates on the dragon egg? That little one should be hatching soon. I’m getting a bit anxious.”

“It should be ready in two more days. I’m hoping everything goes smoothly. Having a dragon at Hogwarts would be incredible! Since Professor Grindelwald agreed to help, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Let’s hope so.” Hagrid still seemed a bit uneasy. “Do you think Professor Dumbledore would let me keep a dragon at Hogwarts if he were to return?”

“Well, Professor Sprout and Professor Snape would probably support it. Sprout would love a dragon; after all, something like that could fertilize her plants like nothing else. As for Snape, fresh dragon’s blood and scales are some of his favorite potion ingredients. With their backing, Dumbledore might soften up and agree. He does listen to the heads of the other houses.”

“I’ll be sure to send them some gifts right away!”

Hagrid, sharp as ever, wasn’t slow to grasp the opportunity. Housing a dragon wouldn’t be a strain on Hogwarts; even without school funding, Hagrid could handle its care and feeding on his own. The Forbidden Forest was rich with resources, after all.

“Well, I’ll be off then. See you later, Hagrid. I’ll come back before dinner.”

“Be careful on the way!”

(End of chapter)