Chapter 193: Magic Resistance
The water in the copper pot over the fire pit was boiling. As it bubbled and gurgled, a brief silence fell over the cabin.
Hagrid looked himself over, turning left and right. Seeing no change, he sniffed the remaining biscuit with a puzzled expression.
Outside, a low, thunderous bark sounded. A black boarhound was stomping through the edge of the pumpkin patch.
"Fang!" Hagrid exclaimed, rushing out of the hut. "I think Fang's back. He's very gentle, you'll like him."
Sean was left alone in the cabin.
He gazed out at the pumpkin patch, contemplating the giant's incredibly high natural resistance to magic.
Giants' thick skin acts like natural armour, deflecting or weakening the power of spells. For instance, in Order of the Phoenix, when Umbridge led a group of Aurors to forcibly arrest Hagrid, Professor McGonagall was hit by multiple curses while defending him and was severely injured, yet Hagrid took several spells and remained completely unharmed, fighting his way through the confrontation.
There were many other examples, such as Hagrid facing a group of Death Eaters during the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. Their curses were useless against him; they had to resort to setting his hut on fire to distract him.
These incidents confirmed that standard-strength charms or Transfiguration would not affect a giant.
Therefore, he needed to increase the dosage.
Sean pulled out his remaining stock, which amounted to five of the same Kneazle Transfiguration Biscuits. (They had originally been called Mrs. Norris Biscuits before the name was changed for marketing purposes.)
The door creaked open. A broad figure appeared from behind the stack of feed sacks and pet supply boxes, leading a black, fierce-looking boarhound.
"Fang seems to like you," Hagrid said, releasing the dog. Fang immediately bounded toward Sean, eager to lick his ear. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly much gentler than his intimidating appearance suggested.
Sean transfigured a bone and tossed it out. Hagrid popped another biscuit into his mouth. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened.
"Guess these biscuits just don't work on me. It's alright, lad, I'm used to it." Although Hagrid said this, he looked pitiful.
He held the remaining biscuits, seemingly debating whether to eat the three different kinds at once... would he sprout a deer's head, a cat's paws, and an owl's wings?
"You can't eat them at the same time," Sean quietly warned.
Each Transfiguration Biscuit carried his unique magical imprint. If consumed simultaneously, even the creator couldn't predict the outcome. Most likely, the conflicting magic would clash violently within the user, resulting in something akin to a magical outburst.
"Oh! Of course, of course you can't eat them at once. Ha! Why would anyone think to eat them at once... even a dummy wouldn't..." Hagrid stammered nervously, guilt written all over his face. He eventually crumbled under Sean's steady gaze.
"Lucky I didn't cause trouble," he mumbled, quickly picking up the biscuit box. He had been close to throwing caution to the wind.
"I have more," Sean offered.
Hagrid's hand froze in mid-air. He couldn't decide whether to eat the biscuit he was holding or put it down. His face turned a deep red from the internal struggle.
"My appetite isn't great right now," he mumbled.
The stone fire pit in the centre of the hut was over a metre wide. Hagrid took down the giant copper pot. Although it wasn't mealtime, he suddenly felt compelled to busy himself.
Sean handed Hagrid his last five biscuits. The giant, whose face was etched with desire, suddenly grew reserved.
"These look really expensive. It must've been hard to get so many ahead of those other wizards. If you give them all to me, what will you use for fun?" He rubbed his hands together, looking at Sean with earnest eyes.
It was quite difficult. If Gurt, the shop manager, knew he had this much stock, she would surely be after him. He hadn't even received her debt-collecting owl today... and that owl was almost as aggressive as Mr. Owler.
Sean shook his head. "Just try them. It's fine."
Hagrid decided this must be his lucky day. He devoured the five biscuits in a few gulps, rubbed his belly, and winked at Sean.
"Oh, I never thought I'd get to turn into an animal in me life, by Merlin's beard—thank you so much, Sean. And that master Alchemist who invented these biscuits. If I ever meet him, I'll have to send him some rock cakes..."
As Hagrid rambled, Sean, who had been thanked twice, said nothing, simply waiting with him for the change.
Different wizards might undergo different forms even with the same animal. Some might be a black cat, others a white cat.
Could this Transfiguration be guided?
The question suddenly popped into Sean's mind.
There were many types of cats: the Norwegian Forest Cat and Maine Coon which resist the cold; the Sand Cat which lives in the desert...
Magic was such that the more you knew, the more you controlled, the more powerful you became. Sean filed this conjecture away for future thought.
As Sean was thinking, Hagrid's excited face slowly cooled. Cat fur sprouted on his face, and then... nothing else happened.
The air hung in a strange silence. Hagrid touched the fur on his face.
"See? At least there's some change, right?"
A cold gust of wind swept through the edge of the Forbidden Forest, rustling the pumpkin patch outside the hut.
Sean felt a wave of resignation. Extremely high magic resistance wasn't always a blessing.
Just as Hagrid was losing hope, a fierce-looking owl streaked across the grey-blue sky. It slammed into Hagrid's hut window, knocking it open, dropped a package and a letter, and immediately flew off.
"What a brave owl," Hagrid loudly admired, instantly recognizing the letter's red envelope as a Howler.
The Howler's envelope began to smoke.
"MY DEAREST BOSS! IF YOU WISH TO SEE YOUR JOKE SHOP INTACT AFTER THE HOLIDAYS, YOU WILL SEND ME SOME TRANSFIGURATION BISCUITS—IT HAS BEEN FIVE! FULL! DAYS! I HAVE RECEIVED NOTHING BUT NEWS OF YOUR CONTINUED BUSYNESS! PRAY THAT A FAMOUS ALCHEMIST LIKE YOURSELF, ONE WHO CAN RIVAL MASTER NICOLAS FLAMEL, CAN RECALL THAT YOU HAVE A SMALL BUSINESS IN DIAGON ALLEY! AND THAT SMALL BUSINESS HAS A POOR WITCH AS A MANAGER... SHE IS BEING DRIVEN MAD BY THE FRANTIC CUSTOMERS!"
The Howler's voice was deafening. After reciting its contents, the letter burst into flames and turned to ash.
(End of Chapter)
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