Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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The four dorm mates didn't have the luxury of the twins' invisible support to help them happily finish their tasks. After all, cleaning up manure is a pretty disgusting job.

The manure, fermented from magical creatures, couldn't be stirred with magic. A wizard's power would destroy the naturally occurring mystical effects. Once, a poor soul serving detention tried to sneak in a spell to make it easier. When caught, his punishment was extended to a full sixteen months of labor—marking the longest punishment in Hogwarts history.

The manure was quite valuable. While Hagrid could acquire some rare types, like those from unicorns, Professor Sprout needed large quantities, which meant they had to buy more. Sixteen hundred Galleons' worth of fertilizer could be offset with sixteen months of labor. In the end, the student still came out ahead—finding a job that paid one hundred Galleons a month outside Hogwarts was no easy feat.

For perspective, a mid-level Ministry employee, like Mr. Weasley, a small department head, only earned seventy Galleons a month. Unless someone graduated with top marks and became an Auror, most graduates' salaries hovered between thirty to fifty Galleons a month. Although the unfortunate student had endured long and painful labor, he secured a decent job as a technician at a magical fertilizer factory after graduation. It was a case of misfortune turning into a blessing.

At a quarter to midnight, the group, finally free, tiredly left Greenhouse 11. Meanwhile, the energized twins dashed towards the nearby Care of Magical Creatures classroom. Their Jobberknolls were kept there by Professor Kettleburn. After finishing their chores, they always rushed to see the fluffy blue balls, which served as the best comfort after a long day.

"I swear, no matter how broke I am, I'm never taking the job of stirring fertilizer again!" Justin grumbled, scrubbing his hands repeatedly despite already having washed them. He still couldn't fully shake off the feeling of disgust.

"It's just stirring fertilizer, Justin. It's not that big of a deal," said Rolf, who had been around magical creatures all his life. He wasn't bothered by it, though it was messy. Neville, with his passion for Herbology, didn't mind either. After all, it was something he'd deal with sooner or later, so there was no point in resisting.

As for Harry, he couldn't care less. He had personally handled at least eighty, if not a hundred, creatures by now. Their guts, while valuable, had to be meticulously cleaned—especially when preparing a dish like Nine-Turned Intestines, which required great attention to detail and hygiene.

"But I still feel…" Justin, on the verge of gagging, instinctively moved to cover his mouth, only to catch a lingering whiff of that peculiar smell, causing him to dry heave. His clothes were definitely ruined. Pale and stumbling, he barely managed to stay upright.

"How about fighting fire with fire?" Harry suddenly suggested with a mischievous grin.

"Burying Justin in the manure pit is too much, Harry," Rolf said with a wicked smile, draping an arm over Justin's shoulder. The devilish tone nearly caused the refined boy to collapse on the spot.

"Do you think I'm a demon?" Harry rolled his eyes. "What I mean is, since we've already done this, why not make a comparison?"

"People always find comfort when they see someone worse off than themselves."

"Worse than playing with poop?" Justin asked incredulously, his face still pale.

"The world is vast and full of wonders," Harry said, shaking his head slightly before tapping Justin on the shoulder. "The BBC did a documentary called Incredible India."

"India? Like the East India Company's India? I thought that place was known for spices," Justin replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that magical place. In Andhra Pradesh, during the Ugadi festival—India's New Year—on the second day, people come out into the streets. They mix the cow dung they've collected with water or cow urine and have a festival where they throw it at each other. On that day, cow dung and slippers fly side by side, while cow urine blends with the Ganges."

"Ugh!"

"Don't rush to throw up yet. There's more," Harry continued energetically. "In that incredible country, cow dung and cow urine are believed to be cure-alls. If you're sick, it'll cure you; if you're healthy, it'll make you stronger. One glass of sacred cow urine a day keeps an Indian strong! They even make cow dung biscuits, which sell like hotcakes."

"Stop, stop, please stop talking!"

Justin's face had turned a shade of green as he finally stopped dry heaving. After learning that such bizarre customs existed in the world, stirring manure no longer seemed so unbearable. At least he only had to touch it with his hands—some people actually ate it.

"Feeling better now?" Harry asked with a mischievous grin, his smile stretching to his ears. How could he miss the chance to comfort someone in such a unique way?

"I'm going to kill you!"

Justin, looking utterly defeated, turned away with a grim expression, refusing to speak to Harry anymore.

"Oh, what's for lunch? Mashed potatoes with brown sugar? Stewed chickpeas? Or—"

"I'm going to kill you, Harry Potter! Let go of me, Rolf! I'm going to kill him!"

Completely losing his composure, Justin charged at Harry with flailing arms. But the wily Harry dodged with a twist of his waist and dashed off, leaving Justin behind, too exhausted to keep up. Soon, Justin found himself slung over Harry's shoulder, panting heavily.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You really need to work out. With that scrawny body, what are you going to do if a girl takes a fancy to you? Think you'll stand a chance, little twig?"

"I—I...! (@#$%&*@)!"

As Harry laughed uproariously, Justin, thoroughly defeated, decided to play dead. Meeting this jerk was clearly the worst luck of his life.

Still, after being worn out, Justin no longer felt so down. Helping a professor wasn't the worst thing in the world—plenty of other students had done the same. And now, ravenously hungry, he didn't feel like skipping lunch anymore. Harry's jibes weren't entirely off; his scrawny frame lacked a certain ruggedness. Being bookish was one thing, but he couldn't be totally weak either.

As for Harry, he felt quite satisfied after playing the role of the cheeky friend. Until now, he had always kept a bit of distance from his peers. His mental age far exceeded theirs, and inhabiting such a young body while doing grown-up things often left him feeling disconnected. But allowing himself to let loose and soak up the energy of youth, even just for a little while, felt refreshing.

After washing up and changing into clean clothes, Harry filled his belly with a hearty lunch. The day had been full of surprises, and it was one to savor.

"If we're seeking thrills," Harry glanced at the Nimbus 2000 leaning against the bed, "we might as well go all out."

"Get ready for a new storm, Quidditch!"

"The Dark Lord is coming!"

(End of chapter)