The Forbidden Forest was pitch-black, the trees swaying gently like silent ghosts in the wind.
Hagrid was leading a herd of skeletal horses—literally skin and bones, their black hides stretched tight over every visible rib. Thestrals. Hogwarts' own invisible carriage-pullers.
"Ah—Sean! Perfect timing, mate."
Hagrid grinned, the thestrals staring at Sean with their blank, milky eyes. Right on cue, Buckbeak swooped down from the deeper forest. Sean gave the hippogriff an affectionate scratch behind the ears and followed Hagrid in.
"Every year around this time we gotta stuff these fellas silly," Hagrid said, stomping through beech leaves and faintly glowing mushrooms. "Big job comin' up."
"Pulling the carriages?" Sean asked.
Hagrid's huge face scrunched in surprise, then cleared when he met Sean's eyes. Of course the kid already knew. Smart as Dumbledore, this one.
"Yup. Second-years and up'll see 'em at Hogsmeade Station. Always the thestrals that bring the kids up to the castle."
They reached a small clearing thick with leaves. And there, taking up every inch of space beneath an ancient trunk, lay a monster of a dog.
Three heads. Six glowing, murderous eyes. Three twitching noses sniffing the air. Three slobbery mouths dripping ropes of drool from yellowed fangs.
Luwei. Fluffy, to his friends.
He was tied to a tree with what looked like ordinary rope. Sean wasn't sure if that was meant to be a joke or just wishful thinking.
"Luwei, buddy!"
Hagrid buried his face in the coarse fur. All three heads nuzzled him back—definitely affection, Sean decided.
Sean calmly started feeding the beast chunks of raw meat. A familiar chime rang in his head, over and over:
[You have skillfully gained the favor of the magical creature Three-Headed Dog (Luwei). Proficiency +10]
Feed it → it likes you. Simple, almost comically so.
Luwei's affection was now halfway to "Familiar" level, and Sean's ritual was nearly ready. His bag was stuffed with ancient Greek alchemical texts—full treatises on Cerberus, complete with Egyptian-Greek transliterated spells that read like pure gibberish (because they were spells). Greek wizards had kept those records pristine, unlike the fragmented Germanic runes.
That glorious tradition of deliberate obscurity had saved Sean months of work.
"Thanks fer comin', mate," Hagrid said, suddenly beaming. "Been meanin' to give yeh this…"
He rummaged in his giant moleskin coat and pulled out a fluffy, furious book. It slipped from his fingers, hit the ground, and immediately tried to savage his ankles.
Fang barked like mad and bolted. The Monster Book of Monsters sprinted after him.
"Fang!"
Hagrid lumbered off in pursuit, completely forgetting he was a wizard.
A quick Stupefy and Accio later, Sean handed the now-docile book back. Hagrid scratched his head.
"Dunno what I'd do without yeh… Anyway, don't be scared of it. Just stroke the spine gentle-like and it behaves. Lots o' things are like that, y'know."
Sean ran a finger down the emerald-green cover—The Monster Book of Monsters—and the book shivered, then flopped open obediently to the chapter on three-headed dogs.
They walked back through the dark trees until Hagrid's stone hut appeared, hams and pheasants dangling from the rafters. Hagrid disappeared into the kitchen to clatter around with kettles while Sean flipped through the book.
It was actually more detailed than Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them when it came to gaining a monster's trust—and it even included antidotes for three-headed-dog venom.
Sean estimated he'd unlock the Three-Headed Dog biscuit within a week.
Lately he'd been wrestling with one big question: how to neutralize the basilisk's gaze.
Closing your eyes? Last resort.
But in the original story, Mrs. Norris survived because she saw the basilisk's reflection.
So reflections weakened the death stare.
If he crafted an alchemical mirror array that bounced the gaze multiple times… could he reduce it to harmless?
Or—and this was the fun option—if he made Three-Headed Dog biscuits, would Fluffy get three separate chances to look the basilisk in the eye without dying?
Alchemists always had more solutions than problems.
Worst case, he still had the nuclear option: summon a dragon, a three-headed dog, a herd of thestrals, and just dogpile the snake until it stopped moving.
By the time they stepped out of the hut, night had fallen hard.
Hagrid raised a lantern high and led the way up the slope toward the castle, chatting happily.
"Diagon Alley's gone mental lately. Some new shop opened—run by a 'little Dumbledore,' they say. I thought, who could possibly be better than Dumbledore?"
He chuckled.
"But then I heard they sell biscuits that turn yeh into magical creatures… and I thought, blimey, this bloke might be greater than Merlin."
"I don't think so," Sean said mildly.
"That's what I thought at first too!" Hagrid roared, petting Fang and pulling out several boxes of Kneazle biscuits. "They say he's a Hogwarts student. You must know him, Sean. Brilliant wizards always flock together. Bet you helped him tons—you're the first alchemist to ever let wizards turn into animals."
He lowered his voice to a reverent whisper.
"If yeh ever meet this 'Hermes' fella, could yeh put in a word for me? Just one invitation. One! Never thought I'd get to be a dragon…"
"One would be enough?" Sean asked, remembering Hagrid's last… partial transformation.
"You know him?!"
Hagrid's beard quivered with excitement.
Sean nodded.
"Merlin's soggy socks—you could—"
"Shop's out of stock right now," Sean added.
"I know, I know—once a month. I can wait…"
The sunset painted the treetops gold; the moon was already peeking out. Hagrid looked ready to cry from happiness.
"I've got a few on me," Sean said quietly.
"Invitations? No, lad, those are soul-bound—"
Hagrid blinked in confusion, then watched Sean flick his wand. A small black dot shot from one of the castle windows, streaking across the orange sky.
When the box landed in Hagrid's enormous hands, his face turned the same color as the sunset.
Just a plain box. A few unnumbered biscuits inside, breathing tiny flames and snoring softly.
In the shop, each one was already worth over a thousand Galleons.
"Some of these, yeh mean…" Hagrid whispered, voice still loud enough to startle owls three counties away.
…
Back in the hut, Hagrid had dragged Sean inside again and was now belting out Christmas carols in July, downing mug after mug of eggnog.
"I'm gonna do it!"
He suddenly bellowed, making Sean flinch.
"Sorry, sorry—got carried away."
Sean was holding an ancient magical camera Hagrid had dug out of a trunk. He was on photography duty—and scientific observation. Hagrid's transformations were always… unique. Last time the "cat" had been the size of a Labrador.
Too many biscuits? Giant blood? Sean wasn't going to miss the chance to study it.
"Thanks to you," Hagrid said, eyes shining. "Can't believe it… always dreamed o' this… exactly what I always wanted…"
Then he shoved seven dragon biscuits into his mouth at once and sat obediently—until Sean yanked him outside before the hut became kindling.
Under the starlit sky, Sean nearly walked straight into someone he hadn't expected to see tonight.