Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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*****

The blood-soaked carpet left by the Frost Tyrant was strikingly noticeable. Even from hundreds of meters away, the wizards on their rockets, emblazoned with the hammer and sickle, could clearly see the vivid crimson.

"Steel bullet!" (Engage!)

"Turbo suka!" (I've got a Beta over here!)

"What the hell is that thing?"

The moment the first wizard spotted the trail from afar, he shouted to his teammates. This squad had been sent to clear the area, ensuring a vacuum zone for the upcoming battle. They knew the Muggles had organized a hunting contest nearby, and it was crucial to prevent any collateral damage or unnecessary witnesses.

But what they encountered seemed beyond their expectations.

"Everyone, stay alert! Notify the rear for reinforcements! What the hell am I seeing?!"

After pulling out his binoculars for a closer look, the squad leader cursed, his face twisting in shock. "Suka blyat!"

"The Frost Tyrant has been killed! Other than the ice dragon, what else around the Eternal Glacier could take down this beast?"

"Maybe a person? The figure on the Frost Tyrant's chest looks like a human," a bearded squad member speculated after grabbing the binoculars for a glance.

"We're 5,000 kilometers from the cyclops' lair! Even if one wandered here by accident, could a baby giant take down the Frost Tyrant?"

Annoyed, the squad leader snatched back the binoculars and slapped the bearded man. "Have you been drinking bleach? Are your eyes fried?!"

"But that clearly looks like—"

Before the bearded man could finish, he quickly shut his mouth as the squad leader raised his fist.

Within seconds, several figures sped toward them from behind. A three-man team, having received their distress signal, had arrived swiftly.

"What’s going on?"

"See for yourself."

After handing over the binoculars, the newcomers’ expressions also tightened with disbelief.

"Stay alert. Let’s get closer and see what’s really going on."

The newly-formed six-man squad adjusted their formation. Their rockets, though looking clunky and unsophisticated, were surprisingly stable and accelerated well.

As they closed to within 100 meters of the Frost Tyrant's corpse, the figure slumped on its chest finally came into view.

"What kind of magical creature looks human and can wrestle a Frost Tyrant, ripping its arm off and beating it to death?"

"I failed Magical Creatures. Hey, rookie! I remember you graduated with eleven certificates. Any idea what this thing is?"

The young man in question blinked, then shook his head blankly. "Captain, could it actually be... ahhh!!!"

As they drew nearer, a blood-soaked head suddenly jerked up, locking eyes with the young wizard, nearly causing his heart to stop. Reflexively, he pulled the trigger, firing a bolt of red light straight at the figure.

"That’s not fair!"

Rolling lazily to dodge the spell, Harry finally snapped out of his frenzied feast. The energy from the Frost Tyrant's entire heart had not only replenished his earlier deficit, but the surge of violent magic within left him slightly uncomfortable. Thankfully, it didn't affect his mobility too much.

"Wait! Wizards? No, Aurors!"

"Hold fire! I’m not a threat!"

Raising his hands quickly, Harry had no intention of fighting these six well-armed Aurors. However, seeing their confused expressions, he silently cursed.

"If only Arya were here. I need a translator..."

But when he saw them lift their arms, aiming their blackened gun barrels at his head, Harry’s mind raced, quickly calculating the best move he could make.

"Davaj! No, no, no! Don’t shoot!"

"Hogwarts!" Harry gestured to himself with his thumb as he held his hands up. "I’m a wizard from Hogwarts!"

"Davaj, English! Do any of you speak English?"

Trying his best to look harmless, Harry forced a smile. Unfortunately, the blood covering his face and body twisted his expression into something far from friendly.

Perhaps his use of "Davaj" convinced them he was human—after all, not many magical creatures could speak—but when they heard "Hogwarts," they hesitated. Hogwarts, as Europe’s most famous magic school, still carried some weight.

Most Soviet wizards graduated from Koldovstoretz Magic School. While it wasn’t the fourth school in the Triwizard Tournament, it did have partnerships with Hogwarts in other fields. One such collaboration was the Potions Championship, co-hosted by Hogwarts, Koldovstoretz, Uagadou, and the School of Magic. This competition was renowned in the magical world, and many potion masters were discovered and nurtured through it.

"Hogwarts?" The squad leader frowned, patting the young man beside him. "Nikita, go talk to him."

"Me?" The young wizard, still pale, swallowed nervously. But with so many colleagues watching, he had no choice but to step forward.

"Davaj?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes! Yes! Davaj!"

Harry nodded eagerly, flicking frozen blood crystals off himself, which scattered across the ground. The young Auror’s eye began twitching involuntarily.

"Sigh... no drinking for you when we get back," the squad leader muttered in exasperation. He was now fairly certain that Harry was, in fact, human.

"Clear it up," he said in Russian.

A small beam of light shot from his wand. Unable to understand the spell, Harry instinctively shifted his body, dodging the magic as it missed him.

"Hmm?" The squad leader’s thick eyebrows shot up in surprise. Since when did he become so bad that he couldn’t hit a target within 30 meters?

Unconvinced, he fired again.

BIU

Harry dodged.

BIU

Missed again.

BIU BIU BIU

"Aaaahhh! Suka blyat!" The squad leader’s wand morphed into a PPSh submachine gun in his frustration, but before he could escalate further, his teammates grabbed him from all sides, pulling him back.

"Calm down, Captain!"

"Even though you can’t hit him..."

"And it’s splitting in two..."

"And you’ve been drinking bootleg liquor..."

"At least he’s a foreign guest."

"Get lost! He’s not a guest! He’s a suspect! A suspect who killed the Frost Tyrant! Let me go! And when we get back, none of you are touching a drop of alcohol! Not one drop!" The squad leader shook off the arms holding him, grumbling. "Nikita, you explain it to him."

"Oh, no problem."

Having recovered his composure, Nikita was no longer nervous. Speaking in slightly accented English, he told Harry, "That was a cleaning spell. You’re covered in blood."

"Thank goodness," Harry sighed with relief, feeling a bit more at ease. As long as there was a way to communicate, things should go smoothly. After all, being in a foreign country, the worst thing was not being able to speak the language.

"Alright, go ahead," Harry said, puffing out his chest. The dried, blood-soaked rags on his chest cracked and fell off as he prepared for the spell.

(End of chapter)