He is definitely stronger than me.
Even with supreme confidence in his own strength, Dudley knew he was no match for Hagrid in a contest of pure, brute force. So, he had to rely on an equalizer. He had to use a firearm.
The weapon in his hands was a .30 caliber semi-automatic rifle, using 7.62x63mm ammunition. It was a popular and powerful round, widely used for hunting medium-sized game like deer and wild boar. It boasted a high muzzle velocity and good penetration, capable of punching through obstacles like trees and bushes. It was a decent firearm, more than enough for any normal man.
Dudley was certain that ordinary firearms could kill an ordinary wizard, but he was unsure how much damage this rifle could inflict on a half-giant like Hagrid. If he had a more powerful weapon, it wouldn't even be a contest. Unfortunately, while his Ripple energy could enhance handheld weapons, he doubted it could enchant bullets as they left the barrel. The LV2 Firearms skill, which sharpened his aim and understanding of the weapon's mechanics, would have to be enough.
"Right then, yeh big oaf," Hagrid growled, his patience clearly worn thin. He raised his small, pink umbrella again, the tip now glowing with an ominous red light. "I'll just have to make yeh give up." Because Dudley was facing him, the half-giant hadn't seen the impossible feat of the knotted rifle being straightened by a flash of golden energy.
"Dudley, no!" Petunia and Vernon cried out in unison, a shared terror in their voices. But this time, Dudley didn't listen. He had never been one to be bullied and remain silent, not when his family had been threatened. Besides, the quest reward—a random magic skill—was far too tempting to pass up.
A beam of red light suddenly shot from the tip of Hagrid's umbrella. Dudley, his senses on high alert and his body coiled like a spring, instantly rolled to the side. The spell missed him by inches, striking a wooden cabinet and causing it to visibly swell and warp. Not all spells had a tracking function; if you could dodge it, you were safe. This was why, for a wizard, agility and reaction speed were just as important as raw power.
But aren't you supposed to shout out the spell? Dudley wondered, already pushing himself back to his feet. He hadn't heard Hagrid say a single word. He knew about silent casting, a high-level technique used by powerful wizards, but it seemed highly unlikely that Hagrid would know it. It had to be a spell that didn't require a verbal incantation, like basic Transfiguration.
Hagrid raised his umbrella and fired another silent spell. Again, Dudley dodged it with practiced ease. Spells are so much slower than bullets, he thought, a cold certainty settling in his gut. He had more than enough time to react.
After evading the second spell, Dudley raised the rifle. Thanks to his system-granted skill, he was as familiar with this weapon as a master wizard was with their wand. He didn't aim for the head; killing the half-giant was not his objective, and the consequences would be dire. Instead, he aimed for Hagrid's right shoulder.
BANG!
A faint, acrid smell of gunpowder filled the room. The impact of the bullet sent Hagrid stumbling back a step with a grunt of pain. It had broken through his defenses, but only just. Hagrid's moleskin coat, made of some unknown, magically durable material, had absorbed most of the force. Combined with his half-giant constitution, the bullet had only caused a minor flesh wound.
BANG!
Without a moment's hesitation, Dudley fired again, aiming for the exact same spot. The repeated, percussive impact sent Hagrid staggering again, his aim thrown off.
It was enough of a distraction.
The third shot. Still the right shoulder. Almost simultaneously, the fourth shot rang out, this time aimed with pinpoint precision at Hagrid's wrist—the hand holding the wand.
BANG!
The small pink umbrella clattered to the floor.
"This thing," Dudley said, patting the warm barrel of the rifle in his hand, "is much more useful than a wand." Though, he had to admit, he had never actually used a wand.
He remembered reading that Muggle technology malfunctioned at Hogwarts. He didn't know the principle behind it, but he was determined to study it if he ever got the chance. He had an unlit skill called 'Mechanical Modification.' Whether he learned magic or not, he needed to be prepared to face wizards on his own terms.
He strode over, propped the rifle casually on his shoulder, and rested one foot on the sofa. His gaze swept over the messy room, over the worried faces of his family, and finally settled on Hagrid, who was now sitting dejectedly on the floor, disarmed and defeated.
"Well, big oaf," Dudley said, his voice laced with cold sarcasm. "What do you think of this little iron rod now?" It was the perfect moment for a cigar.
"Cool!" Harry breathed from behind him, his eyes shining with pure, unadulterated admiration. He thought his cousin looked absolutely, unequivocally heroic.
In truth, the victory was only possible because Hagrid was so inexperienced. A wizard who was more familiar with Muggles, or one who knew any real defensive magic, would have been a much greater threat. Hagrid had been expelled after only a short time at Hogwarts; his wand had been snapped, and he knew only a few basic, clumsy spells.
The half-giant hung his head, his face completely hidden by his long, matted hair and beard. He seemed to have suffered a crushing blow, not just to his body, but to his spirit. He began to mutter, a low, humming sound filled with despair.
"I really am not suited to be a wizard," he mumbled, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Sorry... I'm so sorry..." It was unclear who he was apologizing to—Dumbledore, Harry's parents, or perhaps himself. "But I have to take Harry," he whispered, his voice choked with sobs. "He must go to Hogwarts! It's Professor Dumbledore's task... I can't fail him..."
Suddenly, with a speed that defied his massive size, he lunged for the pink umbrella on the floor. He snatched it up and raised it, pointing it squarely at Dudley's back. A furious red light burst from the tip.
"Dudley, look out!" Harry cried out in alarm.
The Dursleys' terrified screams echoed through the small, storm-battered shack.
***
(End of Chapter)
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