Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 694: The Half-Giant and the Death Eaters

Even for a Giant, the neck was a vulnerable spot. With Golgomath unconscious, Kyle’s spell sliced through effortlessly.

Newt, observing the scene, let out a silent sigh.

A moment earlier, he had tried to stop Kyle. Giants were rare, and every death reduced their already dwindling numbers. He had wanted to convince Kyle to reconsider, especially since Golgomath had seemed ready to admit defeat before losing consciousness. Perhaps, left alive, he might have abandoned this mission entirely and retreated.

But it was too late for that now.

“This is the safest way,” Kyle said, as if reading Newt’s thoughts. He shrugged and added, “Hagrid mentioned that Golgomath is naturally violent and has strong ties to the Death Eaters. Letting him go this time would only risk more trouble later.”

“And after this incident, You-Know-Who will likely pay closer attention to the Giants’ situation. If we wait, it’ll only get harder to handle.”

“I know,” Newt said softly.

He understood Kyle was right—it was the safest option. But his instincts, honed over years of seeking peace and coexistence, had pushed him to try stopping Kyle. After living a quiet life for so long, age had made him more sentimental, less decisive than the younger generation.

“Do what you think is best,” Newt said, resting a hand on Kyle’s shoulder.

As they spoke, the thick fog dissipated further.

The nearby Giants soon spotted a rounded object lying on the ground. When they realized it was the head of their Gurg, they let out roars of terror and anguish.

The cries grew louder, their disarray spreading like wildfire. Without their Gurg to lead them, confusion took hold. Seeing the fiery path scorched into the ground only added to their panic; an instinctive fear of death swept through the group.

One by one, the Giants began retreating. The first to flee inspired others, and soon more were running back to the safety of the familiar.

“Come back, you fools!”

“As long as you work together, they can’t stop you. Hurry back!”

Two wizards in black hoods shouted furiously, but their commands fell on deaf ears. The Giants didn’t even pause.

“There are Death Eaters here,” Newt muttered, stepping protectively in front of Kyle.

“Ah, it’s been a long time, Mr. Scamander,” one of the Death Eaters said, turning toward him with a slimy sneer. “So, you’ve decided to oppose the great Dark Lord?”

“Always,” Newt replied, his voice steady and calm.

“You’ve ruined the Dark Lord’s plans…” the other Death Eater said, raising his wand threateningly. “Someone will have to pay. If we can’t bring back the Giants, we’ll take the boy instead.”

“Our views clearly differ,” Newt replied, his composure unwavering.

“Do you think you can stop both of us?” the first Death Eater taunted as he stepped closer. “The great Magizoologist, Newt Scamander… If we kill you, perhaps the Dark Lord will forgive us for this failure.”

“Kill Newt?” Kyle couldn’t help but poke his head out to get a better look.

He was curious about who these Death Eaters were, especially since they seemed so confident. They were likely among those who had escaped Azkaban—wizards whose minds had been fractured by years of exposure to Dementors.

Kyle shook his head, suppressing a grin. These two clearly had no idea what they were up against. While Newt’s reputation was primarily tied to magical creatures, anyone with sense would know that capturing and handling those creatures required immense skill and power.

Only fools would underestimate Newt Scamander.

Newt, however, paid no mind to their ignorance. With quiet resolve, he raised his wand and fixed his calm gaze on the two Death Eaters.

“Mr. Scamander...”

A larger figure suddenly stepped forward, blocking the Death Eaters’ path.

Madame Maxime stood imposingly before them, her calm yet commanding presence filling the space. She glanced at Newt and the others, then fixed her eyes on the Death Eaters.

“We may not have been of much help earlier,” she said firmly, “but this time, let us handle it.”

“Yes, Olympe is right,” Hagrid chimed in, stepping up beside her. “Leave it to us.”

Maxime had assisted earlier by using a Smokescreen Spell, but Hagrid had not contributed much. Since he couldn’t Apparate, he had been forced to run down the mountain. By the time he arrived, the battle was essentially over, and any chance to assist had already passed.

“Alright...” Newt said, putting his wand away as the two giants of the wizarding world arrived.

With just a glance between them, Maxime and Hagrid quickly assigned themselves an opponent and charged toward the Death Eaters—Maxime to the left, Hagrid to the right.

Newt, apparently confident in their abilities, didn’t intervene. Instead, he turned to Kyle with a smile.

“How was fighting the Giants?”

“It was pretty tough,” Kyle admitted. “The usual spells didn’t work at all, and even the Basilisk’s Gaze was useless.”

“That’s to be expected,” Newt replied thoughtfully. “Perhaps this experience will remind you that while the Basilisk’s Gaze can kill wizards instantly, it’s not infallible. You shouldn’t rely on it too much.”

“For example, in the case of the Giant...” Newt gestured toward Golgomath’s unconscious body on the ground.

“But isn’t the Basilisk’s Gaze aimed at the soul?” Kyle asked, frowning in confusion.

“No, that’s the Killing Curse,” Newt corrected. “The Basilisk’s Gaze is more like a curse—one deliberately weaponized by wizards. Do you remember how the Basilisk came into existence?”

”A seven-year-old rooster must lay a magical egg when the Sirius Star is in the sky, and it must then be hatched by a toad,” Kyle recited.

“Exactly,” Newt nodded. “The Basilisk is an artificial creation, developed by Herpo the Foul. He gave it indestructible scales, a long lifespan, venomous fangs, and a lethal gaze.”

“It doesn’t resemble a typical Magical Creature at all—it’s more like a collection of destructive weapons rolled into one, a living weapon. And like any weapon, it can be countered or restrained.”

“The Giant’s enormous size and vitality dulled the effects of the gaze’s Death Curse. Instead of killing him outright, it merely petrified part of his body.”

“It’s like pouring a bottle of ink into the Black Lake?” Kyle mused, tilting his head as he considered the analogy.

“You could say that,” Newt agreed. “Not only that, but some creatures are completely immune to the Curse.”

“Phoenixes...” Kyle said, smacking his lips with faint envy.

Every time he thought about it, he couldn’t help but marvel at how Dumbledore had managed to win the loyalty of such a creature.

“Precisely,” Newt said, his own expression softening with admiration. “The Phoenix is truly one of nature’s most perfect creations. It’s immune to curses and impervious to evil. Not even Fiendfyre can harm it.”

Over his decades of studying countless Magical Creatures, Newt had only seen Phoenixes a handful of times—and always from afar.

Dumbledore really is fortunate...

Both of them thought the same thing at the same time.

...

A few moments later, Newt stepped away from the task and approached Golgomath, carefully repositioning its head.

“If anyone here wants to compete for the Gurg,” he said, “they just need to take Golgomathʼs head to the tribe of giants. That alone would improve their chances by half.”

But it didn’t seem as though anyone present had such an intention.

Naturally, neither he nor Kyle would consider it—they weren’t giants and couldn’t partake in such matters. As for the half-giants, Hagrid and Maxime, they might technically have a chance. Giants revered strength above all else, and even as half-bloods, if they could demonstrate overwhelming power, they could potentially become Gurgs.

However, that was unlikely.

Maxime, as headmistress of Beauxbatons—one of Europe’s premier Wizarding Schools—held a position far more prestigious than that of a Gurg. She wouldn’t even entertain the idea. Hagrid, on the other hand, preferred the company of magical creatures, a passion unlikely to align with giant customs, where most creatures were regarded solely as food. It was clear he wouldn’t pursue it either.

Newt waved his wand, and Golgomathʼs enormous body vanished with a flicker of light.

“I’m going to store it somewhere safer,” he explained, noticing Kyle’s puzzled expression. “In case any Death Eaters try to find it.”

Kyle nodded in agreement. Even a dead giant could be of use to Voldemort, so relocating it was undoubtedly the wisest choice.

As the conversation turned to Death Eaters, Kyle’s attention was drawn to the open space nearby.

Maxime and Hagrid were engaged in combat with them, their contrasting fighting styles on full display. Maxime fought like a seasoned wizard. With precision and fluidity, her wand unleashed a steady stream of spells that left her opponent struggling to keep up. It was clear she would gain the upper hand shortly.

Hagrid’s approach, however, was much more direct—bordering on reckless.

“Come on, coward!” he bellowed, charging at a Death Eater with surprising speed. While hurling spells, he slapped the masked figure with such force that the mask crumpled, and the Death Eater was sent flying like a projectile. Hagrid’s own robes bore a few singed holes, but the spells cast at him seemed to ricochet harmlessly off his thick skin.

“Avada—” the fallen Death Eater gasped, struggling to raise his wand.

This time, Hagrid dodged swiftly to the side, unwilling to test the limits of his resilience against the Killing Curse. As soon as he evaded the spell, he charged again, his massive hand delivering another thunderous blow.

Bang!

The Death Eater was flung across the clearing like a ragdoll, landing with a sickening thud. Kyle thought he heard the faint crack of bones.

Upon closer inspection, Kyle recognized the man—it was Rodolphus Lestrange, the same Death Eater who had recently escaped Azkaban and whose face was plastered on wanted posters.

“Get up, you despicable, filthy coward!” Hagrid roared, bearing down on the crumpled figure.

Kyle turned away briefly, grimacing. It was sheer bad luck for Lestrange to have drawn Hagrid’s wrath.

The duel on the other side seemed less chaotic but no less intense. Maxime had shattered her opponent’s mask with a well-aimed spell, revealing the youthful face of Barty Crouch Jr.—an all-too-familiar adversary. Voldemort must have placed great importance on the giants, sending one of his most trusted followers to secure their allegiance.

Kyle decided to intervene. Though weary, he had other means at his disposal. Opening his suitcase, he released a shadowy figure—a Wampus Cat—that sped toward Crouch with predatory precision.

Barty Crouch Jr., sensing the danger, shifted just in time to avoid a fatal bite. Instead, the Wampus Cat sank its teeth into his wand arm, causing the Killing Curse he had been about to cast to fizzle out. At that moment, Maximeʼs spell struck him square in the chest.

Crouch let out a bloodcurdling scream as he collapsed to the ground, coughing up blood.

“Damn it,” growled Barty Crouch Jr., his eyes blazing with ferocity as he glared at the Wampus Cat, which was circling him with menacing intent. Without hesitation, he spun sharply to evade another attack.

Maxime’s second Blasting Curse struck his already-injured arm. The resulting explosion severed it completely, sending the dismembered limb tumbling to the ground. But the violent detonation also freed Barty Crouch Jr. from the Wampus Cat’s grip.

Wasting no time, he transformed into a billowing black mist and fled the valley in an instant.

This escape was facilitated by a spell often used by Death Eaters, likely invented by Voldemort himself. It allowed for incredibly swift movement, perfect for both retreat and pursuit.

Chasing him now would have been futile.

“He’s ruthless…” Kyle muttered, staring at the severed hand and wand left behind in the chaos.

Rodolphus Lestrange, the other Death Eater, had no such fortune. Seeing Crouch escape, he attempted to follow suit, morphing into black mist as well. But the group had anticipated this move. Before Lestrange could vanish, three spells from different directions intercepted him, blasting him out of his mist form and rendering him defenseless.

Hagrid arrived moments later, his massive arms swinging down in a barrage of crushing blows. Lestrange didn’t even have time to cry out before collapsing unconscious.

“He can’t be dead...right?” Kyle asked hesitantly, staring at the motionless body.

“I—I don’t think so…” Hagrid stammered, looking slightly uneasy. Then his expression hardened, and he added resolutely, “But he’s a Death Eater. He tried to drag the Giants into this war. If he dies, he deserves it.”

“Exactly,” Maxime said as she approached, her tone serious. “If the Giants are involved in the next battle, the number of dead wizards will only grow.”

“I wasn’t arguing,” Kyle shrugged. “But if he lives, he could be valuable. We might learn something about You-Know-Who from him.”

Newt crouched beside Lestrange, examining him carefully. Despite being a Magizoologist, Newt’s experience with healing magic was evident—after all, caring for magical creatures often required such knowledge.

After a few moments, Newt straightened and sighed. “Forget it. We’ll let Dumbledore handle extracting any information.”

The group immediately understood his meaning. Without further discussion, they began tidying the battlefield: removing traces of magic, extinguishing lingering flames, and ensuring there were no signs of their presence.

Hagrid, however, seemed unusually distracted, his gaze distant.

“Don’t overthink it,” Kyle said, walking over and patting Hagrid’s arm. “Like you said earlier, he’s a Death Eater. You don’t need to feel bad.”

“What?” Hagrid blinked, snapping out of his reverie. “No, Kyle, you’ve got it wrong. Don’t forget—I fought in the war over ten years ago. I’ve taken down plenty of Death Eaters. That doesn’t bother me.”

“Then what’s on your mind?” Kyle asked, confused.

Hagrid glanced in Maxime’s direction, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “I was just thinkin’...is it too late for me to learn more magic?”

Kyle blinked in surprise.

“You saw how graceful she was in battle, didn’t you?” Hagrid’s eyes seemed to soften as he spoke, practically glowing with admiration. But a trace of self-doubt crept into his voice. “And me...I can’t even do Apparition. That’ll only hold me back in the future.”

Kyle resisted the urge to sigh. It was true—Hagrid had been expelled in his third year at Hogwarts and had never developed a deep understanding of magic, preferring to rely on his natural strength as a half-giant. Reading and practicing spells had never been his priorities.

“Well…better late than never,” Kyle replied, forcing a smile. Hagrid’s love-struck expression made him want to leave the conversation, but he stayed put. “If you’re serious, I can lend you my notes. They might help you catch up on some basic magic.”

“That’d be fantastic!” Hagrid beamed, but a thought struck him, and his expression dimmed. “What about Apparition? Do you think I could learn that?”

Kyle hesitated, his lips twitching. Apparition was a challenging skill even for talented wizards, and for a half-giant like Hagrid, the odds weren’t great. Maxime’s mastery of it was hardly surprising—she was headmistress of Beauxbatons, a testament to her exceptional talent. But Hagrid…?

“Well,” Kyle said with a smile, “why not give it a try? Magic’s all about possibilities.”