A troll—a humanoid magical creature of immense strength but simple wit. Unlike its powerful muscles, its brain was smaller than its own palm, with intelligence comparable to a particularly dim-witted puppy.
While it lacked magical abilities, its skin possessed high magic resistance, and the club in its hands was devastatingly powerful. If a wizard were struck by it, the result would be fatal.
The magic bullets from the submachine guns were like a mere tickle to the creature, completely unable to break through its defenses.
On the other side, Harry and Ron, who had come looking for Hermione, followed the noise and ran over. Just as they climbed the stairs, they saw the massive figure wreaking havoc in the corridor.
"Hermione!" Ron spotted the fleeing Hermione instantly, while Harry saw Makiya standing at the top of the stairs. "It's Makiya!"
His surprised voice was thick with excitement. "Great, Hermione is saved! Hermione, run over here!"
Harry drew his twin pistols and propped them against the corridor railing, intending to provide cover for Hermione.
Facing a troll, the thin corridor railing offered no protection at all, but the act of seeking cover and mounting his weapons was already deep in his bones, carved into the DNA of Harry and the others; it was a purely subconscious reflex.
With everyone in Hogwarts now carrying a gun, any conflict could easily escalate into a firefight. If one didn't learn how to find cover and mount their weapon, they would be the next one lying on the ground.
As they watched, Makiya pulled a rifle from out of nowhere and chambered a round with a crisp click.
"Hermione, get down!" Makiya shouted.
Hermione immediately dodged to the side upon hearing him, curling her body into a roll and hiding in the corner of the corridor.
Makiya decisively pulled the trigger. In the next instant, a massive burst of flame erupted in the dim corridor.
Boom!
Countless jets of flame spewed from the alchemical muzzle. The scorching fire resembled a savage dragon, roaring as it flew and igniting the very air in its path.
The flames raged and the roar shook the air, sounding like a dragon's breath.
Dragon's Breath Rounds!
The massive recoil forced Makiya back step by step. Conversely, the troll, struck directly in the face by the Dragon's Breath round, stopped in its tracks. Its entire head ignited into a raging inferno, and small holes riddled its skull and upper body as blood mixed with brain matter began to leak out.
The troll's arms twitched weakly as it staggered. Its massive body crashed down, the impact sending vibrations echoing through the castle.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared blankly at Makiya—or more accurately, at the rifle in Makiya's hands—and then looked down at their own alchemical firearms, speechless for a long time.
How was the power difference so vast?
"Oh my goodness, what happened here?" Professor McGonagall's voice came from below. She rushed over, wand in hand, and her eyes immediately landed on the dead troll.
After shielding the four young wizards and keeping them as far from the troll as possible, McGonagall carefully observed them.
"As you can see, Professor McGonagall," Makiya said, raising his rifle slightly. "I saw the troll attacking Hermione on my way back, so I took it out."
His tone was relaxed and calm, as if killing a troll was a very simple matter.
"I can testify that what Makiya said is true," Hermione added from the side.
McGonagall looked at the rifle in Makiya's hand and, recalling the loud explosion she had just heard, immediately guessed that Makiya had developed a new type of alchemical firearm.
"Mr. Makiya!" Professor McGonagall's expression was grave. "I must admire your talent in alchemy, but... your creations are too dangerous. If that shot had been aimed at a classmate, they would surely be..."
"Don't worry, Minerva," Dumbledore's voice appeared from behind Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Makiya and I have an agreement. Weapons of that caliber will never appear in the hands of other students at Hogwarts, right?"
"Yes, the Headmaster is correct!"
The white-bearded old man had seemingly appeared from nowhere. Makiya even suspected he had been lurking nearby the entire time, watching the situation unfold.
However, the Headmaster's aura was linked to the castle itself. Within Hogwarts, Dumbledore's unique fluctuations were everywhere, and Makiya could only catch his scent the moment he actually appeared.
Dumbledore stood with his back to Professor McGonagall and winked at the four students. With the Headmaster's cover, the group was quickly excused to return home.
"Makiya," Harry whispered, pulling Makiya aside at the fork in the road as they headed back to the Gryffindor common room. "Is that gun you just used for sale?"
"Not for sale," Makiya refused flatly. "You heard Headmaster Dumbledore. It's not for public consumption."
"Sigh, alright then," Potter said, looking disappointed as he bid Makiya goodbye.
The next day, news of the Dragon's Breath rounds spread like wildfire.
Every day, young wizards flocked to Makiya's armory, trying every possible way to ask about the price of the Dragon's Breath rounds. Even after Makiya made it clear they weren't for sale, some pure-blood wizards even brought rare magic books from their family collections, pleading for just one round.
Faced with the temptation, Makiya maintained that high-lethality alchemical items like Dragon's Breath rounds really couldn't be sold, but he did have other similar items.
Wind Pressure Rounds, Frost Rounds, Paralysis Rounds, Swamp Rounds... These were Makiya's latest alchemical achievements. He had finally succeeded in integrating his long-desired elemental powers into alchemical firearms.
By simply adding an attachment to the muzzle of the older model alchemical guns, one could fire elemental bullets.
A new round of the arms race began as time hurried by. In the blink of an eye, it was time for the annual Quidditch match.
Quidditch is a traditional sport in the wizarding world, with a history dating back to the 11th century. It evolved from a group of wizards riding broomsticks and playing ball in a swamp.
The wizarding world lacked entertainment facilities. These people, who possessed special powers and had nowhere to vent their energy, poured all their passion into Quidditch, ensuring the sport remained popular worldwide.
Makiya sat atop the Ravenclaw tower, watching the figures flying through the air with a look of utter boredom.
He didn't think Quidditch was interesting at all. Rather than watching the match, he would have preferred to sit by a fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa and read a book.
But since he was already here, he figured he might as well finish watching. He wouldn't come next time.
This match was Gryffindor against Slytherin. The two houses had a long-standing rivalry and frequent conflicts, so the players were playing quite aggressively.
Midway through the game, Harry's broom suddenly went out of control. Hermione noticed Snape was constantly chanting a spell and, just like in the original story, chose to secretly set Snape's robes on fire.
Snape was shocked to find himself on fire and reflexively threw an elbow back, knocking over Professor Quirrell. It was actually Professor Quirrell who had been casting the jinx, and that elbow strike happened to interrupt his casting.
Harry returned to normal and successfully caught the Golden Snitch, ending the match.
Gryffindor won. The stadium erupted in thunderous cheers, and the Gryffindor wizards raised their hands in celebration.
Lee Jordan, who was responsible for the live commentary, was biased and mocking throughout, causing the Slytherins to seethe with anger.
Finally, a Slytherin Beater, unable to contain his rage, exchanged looks with a few others after seeing the professors leave the field. They were all on the same page.
He swung his bat and violently struck a Bludger, sending it flying toward a celebrating Gryffindor player.
The player was caught off guard and hit by the ball, falling from the sky with their fate unknown.
This strike completely ignited the fuse. The players from both sides began a massive brawl amidst screams of shock.
In the chaos, some bright spark suddenly pulled a gun. With a bang, an enemy was knocked down, and things quickly spiraled out of control. the brawl rapidly escalated into a 7v7, 14-person battlefield.
The wizards from both houses couldn't stand to see their own people lose. They all reached into their robes for their wands... then thought better of it, swapped them for alchemical firearms, and charged into the field to join the fray.
"Good grief, a 32-vs-32 large-scale battlefield?" Makiya suddenly grew excited.
He looked around and, seeing no one was paying attention to him, tapped his wand lightly. A large number of obstacles appeared in the Quidditch arena: abandoned shacks, sandbag bunkers, dilapidated containers, and more.
Wizards without broomsticks ran on the ground, using the cover created by Makiya to fight. The 'helicopters' in the air used the spectator towers to dodge bullets and look for opportunities to counterattack.
Makiya pointed his wand again, and a series of massive numbers appeared in the sky.
For the wizards on both sides, every time one was hit, a point would be added to the opposing house's score. The scoreboard was simple and clear, and the young wizards understood Makiya's meaning almost instantly.
Roar!
The crowd erupted in even more enthusiastic cheers. When had these entertainment-starved young wizards ever seen such a spectacle? They all began cheering for their favorite teams.
Rat-tat-tat...
"Sizzle... Boom!"
Pew, pew, pew!
Magic bullets left trails of light across the sky, and various colors of smoke filled the air. Green healing smoke and white smoke grenades bloomed behind the lines of both sides.
When Dumbledore hurried back to the arena, this was the 'hellish' scene that greeted him.
The magic fluctuations in the air were very familiar. Upon closer inspection of the ground, he noticed the magically created cover was incredibly vivid. Creating something of this caliber in an instant required extremely high transfiguration skills.
In Dumbledore's knowledge, there was only one student in the school capable of such transfiguration, aside from a few professors.
Makiya!
As he expected, Dumbledore spotted Makiya in the stands. The latter had obviously seen him as well and was grinning sheepishly with his teeth showing.
Dumbledore was speechless.
Every wizard falling from the sky was wrapped in an invisible force, ensuring they wouldn't plummet to their deaths or be crippled.
Seeing that Makiya had been so thorough, Dumbledore abandoned the idea of intervening and decided to hand out punishments afterward.
"Hit him! Hurry up and hit him!"
"Ugh, what kind of aim is that? You missed even that? Aren't these guns supposed to have auto-aim?"
"Nice shot!"
"A hit! Beautiful!"
The cheering was continuous. The young wizards were worked into a frenzy, their shouts shaking the stands.
Ultimately, Slytherin won the match because the Gryffindor brutes were too reckless and gave away too many points.
As a prize, Makiya paid out of his own pocket to give away a magnificent alchemical firearm. This ignited the passion of the young wizards even further, and they agreed to hold another match soon.
Wasn't this much more interesting than Quidditch?
Facing the pleas of the young wizards, Makiya also thought it was quite fun, so he agreed, simply saying he would need to prepare properly.
After the match, Dumbledore still called the instigators to his office to hand out punishments. Makiya's punishment was to patrol the Forbidden Forest.
This was hardly a punishment at all. To Makiya, going to the Forbidden Forest was like going home; he loved it there.
The next day, it was a dark and windy night.
The Forbidden Forest was silent, with only the occasional strange noise echoing through the trees.
Makiya carried a lantern through the forest, mentally reviewing the methods for creating a Philosopher's Stone, intending to gather some raw materials while he was there.
Suddenly, Makiya stopped and looked up in a certain direction.
The other side also fell silent, and then a trembling voice came from the bushes: "Who... who's there?"