Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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The time it took for the young wizards to transition from the excitement of discovering magic to the misery of chewing on quills while struggling through homework was short. In the first and second years, the students had more free time than class time, but it didn't stop these newly-introduced-to-magic kids from playing like crazy.

At least half of them frantically scrambled to finish their homework over the weekend because Monday was Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class—a mind-boggling subject that was notoriously difficult to master. Most of the time, when something pushes you to the limit, you can grit your teeth and somehow manage. But Transfiguration was different. If you didn't understand it, you simply didn't, no matter how much pressure you were under.

However, this wasn't a concern for Harry. Having already completed all his assignments, he wandered around with a potted plant. Professor Sprout had given him a few seeds, one of which was for a magical plant called "Walking Grass." According to some dubious rumors, walking around with the plant in your arms helped it sprout. Harry had been pacing with it for two hours, just in case the rumors were true.

Back in the common room, a group of young wizards gathered around the notice board by the door, their excitement indicating there was some good news.

"What's going on? What's happening?"

Harry squeezed through a non-existent gap in the crowd to see a brand-new notice. Starting Tuesday, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw would have their flying class together.

"Harry! You saw it too, right?"

Neville, sitting in a soft chair near the fireplace, waved eagerly at Harry. His other two roommates were there as well, and they made space for him to join in their lively discussion.

"Go on, Rolf, tell us more! The magical world is just so fascinating. Wizards actually use rockets to travel! And rocket boosters! It sounds so powerful—our airplanes seem so lame by comparison. Sure, we've got jetpacks that can take people into the sky, but those high-energy batteries are restricted. Unless you're in the military, you'll probably never even see one."

Unlike Harry, who was raised in the wizarding world, Justin Finch-Fletchley, who came from a Muggle family, was always thrilled by the magical world's novelties. Flying clearly struck a chord with him. In the Muggle world, flight devices were common, but now with high-energy batteries—an almost absurd power source—Muggles had developed some pretty wild technologies.

"But the most amazing thing has to be Muggle airplanes, right? Tons of metal, and they just fly without magic. That's what's truly incredible."

Rolf Scamander didn't have any bias against Muggles. On the contrary, he was quite curious about the world that existed alongside theirs. His family, while studying magical creatures, inevitably encountered ordinary ones as well, and non-magical animals were just as fascinating.

"Let me tell you about the latest model, the Nimbus 2000. Nimbus Corporation really hit it big this time. Their newly-designed Nimbus 2000 Intercontinental Rocket has revolutionized the game of Quidditch. Agile, fast, and ultra-durable. The old model's rocket boosters were always stiff when turning, but the new missile avoids that problem completely."

Whenever Quidditch came up, Rolf became animated. As a wizard born and raised, his enthusiasm for Quidditch was as intense as any Muggle's passion for football.

"I can't wait to see this year's Quidditch World Cup. Although the tactical changes brought by the new rocket might not show up just yet, by the next tournament—hosted by England—it's sure to be the most spectacular one yet!"

"In four years, the Quidditch tactics built around this new missile are going to be absolutely thrilling!"

"You're so lucky, Rolf. You must be great at flying, right?" Neville, looking slightly envious, spoke up as Rolf took a sip of lemonade. "I've never ridden a broom before. I already get into all sorts of trouble just standing on the ground. I think Gran was right to keep me away from it."

Neville, though eager for Tuesday's flying class, wasn't exactly confident about his ability to stay on a broom.

"What's there to worry about, Neville? There's always a first time."

Harry smiled, wrapping an arm around Neville's shoulders and giving him an encouraging pat. "It's my first time too, but I have a feeling I'll be alright at it."

"Hm?" Rolf set down his cup and looked at Harry. "Wait, Harry, haven't you ridden before? Which model did you get?"

Rolf quickly caught on. Since Harry had grown up with Muggles, if he'd had any experience with rockets and boosters, it must have been after his trip to Diagon Alley over the summer holidays.

"Yeah, over the break I stayed at my granddad's place. There's a big empty mountain nearby, and since magic is allowed before going to Hogwarts, I figured flying around a bit wouldn't hurt—especially with no one watching."

"I bought a Nimbus 2000. I just don't know if the professors will let me use it at school," Harry said.

"First-years can join,"

"Nimbus 2000!"

Rolf's eyes widened in surprise, and soon others around them turned to look, intrigued. He quickly lowered his voice, excitement brimming in his tone as he asked, "You bought one, and you brought it with you?"

"Yeah, you know, I figured if I liked it, I might as well go for it."

"Two hundred and thirty Galleons, though," Rolf said with a grimace, shaking his head. "I've been saving my pocket money for years and still haven't saved up enough. What a shame."

"No worries. By next year, there'll be a new model. If you can't afford the latest one, the older version will definitely go on sale."

"That's true," Rolf grinned, showing off his teeth. "Alright, I'll get it next year for sure. I'll have enough saved up by then. Worst case, I'll go gather some Thunderbird feathers. Each one can sell for twenty or thirty Galleons. If I pick up two from a nest, that'll cover it. And if Grandpa yells at me, I'll just hide behind Grandma."

"Whoa," Neville gasped, his eyes wide in shock. "What kind of family do you have? You have Thunderbirds at home?!"

"Ahaha, it's all thanks to my grandpa," Rolf said, scratching his head sheepishly. He wasn't one to seek attention, but these were his close dormmates, so he didn't mind sharing. "I could even send you guys a feather for your birthdays. Grandpa won't mind that. He doesn't like it when I sell stuff from home, but if it's a gift for friends, he's fine with it."

Rolf patted his chest proudly. In his family, Thunderbird feathers weren't exactly rare. If anyone could rival the stockpile of rare magical creatures at Newt Scamander's house, it would probably be Hagrid, who had spent nearly fifty years scavenging (and collecting) in the Forbidden Forest.

Those unicorn hair rugs Hagrid had? Even Newt, the master of magical creatures, didn't have anything like that. His private zoo certainly didn't have enough unicorns to make a dozen rugs. Only the Forbidden Forest, with its abundance of powerful magical creatures, could afford to host such wonders.

(End of Chapter)