Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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"By the way, Professor Dumbledore, what do you use now that you no longer have the Elder Wand?"

Although Harry found the wand's loss a bit too easy, he wasn't about to let it inflate his ego. The sneak attack had failed, after all. As a wizard, he was still far from perfect, and he had no desire to brag—besides, he always liked to stay humble, just like a Hufflepuff should.

"Of course, I use the first one I ever had."

A fool would never use something good just to keep it hidden. Dumbledore wasn't stupid; if he had the Elder Wand, he would certainly use it, but he also knew not to forget his roots. A wand was a wizard's most loyal companion (except for the treacherous Elder Wand). It was something that truly accompanied a wizard through their growth, a lifelong friend.

"My first wand was made for me by Ollivander's grandfather. It's crafted from gold willow wood, with a phoenix feather and a unicorn horn. It's twelve and a quarter inches long."

Dumbledore spoke softly as he retrieved a gold-red flintlock from his robes. Even in its original form, his first wand had an extraordinary appearance. As Dumbledore held it, the flintlock transformed into a type of revolver Harry had never seen before.

The barrel of the revolver had a sharp, bayonet-like edge, and flowing flame-like patterns caused the blade's tip to glow with a molten, fiery red. Two streams of gold and red light swirled around the body of the gun, which, while not as complex as the seven lights of the Elder Wand, was still surprisingly stunning.

"When I was younger, I hunted two demon lords on the Abyssal battlefield. Fortunately, I succeeded twice in using their magical cores to strengthen it, and so, it underwent a small but significant change."

As Dumbledore gripped the revolver's handle, his eyes gleamed in a way that was entirely different from his usual demeanor. The elegant old wizard seemed to have adopted the fiery passion of youth!

As the most accomplished graduate of Gryffindor, Dumbledore's gentle, kind appearance wasn't truly his real self.

When he held this weapon, Fawkes, who had been perched nearby, gently flapped his wings and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder. The gold-red flames flowing from Fawkes' body ignited Dumbledore's pure white robes.

The fiery robes, flamboyant enough to capture anyone's attention, wrapped around him, and as the flames rose, crimson alchemical armor appeared, emerging from beneath the burning fabric. Fawkes, now entirely consumed by fire, let out a joyous cry. Amidst the swirl of flames, a young man in his early twenties emerged.

As a second-stage Animagus, Dumbledore's form captured his physical state when he first completed the transformation, similar to how Professor McGonagall's Animagus form reflected her condition when she mastered it. Dumbledore's transformation had occurred in the years following his graduation, while he was on the Abyssal battlefield.

His golden-red hair, flowing like flames, concealed the ethereal image of a phoenix. His wings, woven from fire, spread wide, and his alchemical armor, gleaming with a brilliant gold tint, covered his body below the neck. He resembled a blazing sun, and in shedding the frail form of old age, Dumbledore emanated a light powerful enough to dispel all darkness.

"It's been so long since I've stretched my body," he said, raising his right hand, his golden gauntlet forming a fist. When he opened his hand, a ball of golden-red phoenix fire gently burned in his palm.

"You aren't the first to attempt mastering the magical creature form of an Animagus, and of course, I'm not the first either."

"But because phoenix blood flows through my veins, my Animagus form has undergone a slight change compared to other wizards."

"Consider it the second stage of progression for an Animagus. This is the third form," Dumbledore explained, his voice filled with pride. "It's the fusion of the wizard, alchemical armor, the Animagus form, and the blood bond with the phoenix—four elements united into one."

"Pretty cool, right?" Dumbledore suddenly smiled at Harry, "I have no attachment to the Elder Wand, Harry. Take it. I don't need this small, unnecessary boost."

"I also hope you don't get too attached to it. The Elder Wand doesn't belong to any wizard. It can never give you the unwavering loyalty you seek. It won't be with you for life."

"But these do," Dumbledore continued, pointing to the ebony and ivory wands at Harry's waist. "The best is not always the most suitable for you."

"I need to go see Gale. After all these years, this cowardly old man has finally learned to let go."

"You know, it feels good to be young again!"

Dumbledore let out a hearty laugh before transforming into a swirling inferno, vanishing from the headmaster's office in an instant.

"Godfather," Harry said, pulling at Snape's sleeve, slightly dazed. "Do you think if Voldemort hadn't been stopped by Dumbledore's hand all those years ago, he could've bragged about it for the rest of his life?"

"Who told you that Voldemort never mastered Animagus transformation?" Snape shot Harry a glance, though his eyes still carried a hint of astonishment. It was the first time he had seen Dumbledore use that fiery form, radiant like the sun.

"Then what about you, godfather? What's your Animagus?" Harry asked curiously, not taking his eyes off Snape.

"Do you want to see?" Snape asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Harry nodded eagerly, his curiosity piqued.

"Alright then."

Snape's robes billowed upward. Without the flashy flames or effects Dumbledore had, it seemed like he had merely turned around. The ceremonial flair disappeared, and instead, he was cloaked in a full suit of black battle armor.

Harry almost dropped his jaw. He stared, unable to contain his amusement at the sight of Snape's extremely accurate Batman cosplay.

"This isn't Gotham!" Harry exclaimed, barely holding back a laugh. "Did you get lost on the way here, Mr. Wayne?!!!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Snape looked puzzled. "Gotham? Wayne? What are those?"

"Godfather, are you trying to adopt a Dark Knight persona or something?"

"You should really take a potion," Snape said, now genuinely concerned about Harry's strange behavior. Without waiting for Harry's objection, he poured a revitalizing potion down Harry's throat.

"Ugh~~~"

Harry, now on all fours and retching, could no longer utter a word of sarcasm. The awful taste that had spread through his entire body made it impossible to continue his usual banter.

"Looks like that worked," Snape nodded with satisfaction, adjusting his robes and returning to his normal appearance. He then walked toward the door.

"Go back and get some rest. After a good sleep, everything will be fine."

Harry was too dazed to respond. He shakily pulled a bottle of Centaur Herb Concentrate from his bag and took a dose before he could drop dead from the poison.

"Heh heh heh..." Harry's lips twitched. "This magical world really is off its rocker."

(End of Chapter)