Take Hagrid Down

Ludo's so-called "generous offer" was met with nothing but Harry's cold silence and an icy, piercing stare. That was enough to make him realize that a mere 20% wasn't going to cut it.

Ludo grimaced in pain. "That's already a lot."

"I'm not interested," Harry replied. "I don't even know what the third task is yet. How could I possibly make any promises?"

He paused for a moment, then glanced meaningfully at Ludo. "You're so eager to drag me into this. If the bet goes south, are you planning to make me share the losses?"

Ludo let out an awkward laugh. "I would never!"

Harry didn't respond. Neither did George, Fred, or even Hermione, who merely sighed.

How could this man have such a completely warped self-image?

"Harry, you really won't reconsider?" Ludo asked again, unwilling to give up.

Harry simply shook his head, rejecting him outright.

Sure, it sounded like easy money, but he had no interest in getting entangled with a compulsive gambler—especially one as desperate as Ludo, who would do anything for money.

Ludo frowned.

This was exactly what he had feared the most.

"Well then, Harry, would you at least…" Ludo hesitated, struggling to find the words.

Harry cut him off. "Don't worry. I'm not that indecisive."

Ludo nodded, deep in thought.

Once the Galleons were counted, Ludo clinked his coin purse and hurried away.

George and Fred swung their bags of Galleons around like meteor hammers.

"Let's head to Hogsmeade!"

"I've been dying to taste Madam Rosmerta—"

George abruptly stopped, his expression turning complicated as he looked at his brother. "No, you can't. She's way too old for you. Even Dad wouldn't approve, let alone Mum."

The "Madam Rosmerta" they were referring to was the owner of The Three Broomsticks, the best pub in Hogsmeade. She was a woman of undeniable charm.

Her looks weren't extraordinary—certainly not as striking as Hermione's.

Even among ordinary people, she wouldn't stand out as exceptionally beautiful.

But she had presence, both in personality and figure.

A mature and successful woman, she was the dream of many Hogwarts students in their fifth, sixth, and seventh years.

Whenever the older students had a bit too much to drink, they would gather around and discuss their grand schemes to win over Madam Rosmerta and make themselves the lord of The Three Broomsticks.

Fred frantically shook his head, realizing the absurdity of what he had just said. He opened his mouth to explain, "No, that's not what I meant! Madam Rosmerta is very charming, of course, but I would never—"

George looked even more horrified. "No! That makes it worse! Madam Rosmerta is a respectable woman."

"I was talking about Dragon's Blood Whiskey!" Fred's ears burned red as he shouted. "A single bottle of Dragon's Blood Whiskey costs a whole Galleon!"

George squinted. "Really?"

"What else could I have possibly meant?!" Fred snapped, launching a handful of Galleons at George as a distraction.

George, unwilling to back down, countered with his own attack. The two wrestled playfully, dragging Hermione along with them to meet up with Ron outside The Three Broomsticks.

As soon as they stepped inside, the Weasley twins dramatically slammed two golden Galleons on the counter.

"Madam Rosmerta, two bottles of Dragon's Blood Whiskey!"

Dragon's Blood had twelve documented magical uses, but being turned into an alcoholic drink wasn't one of them.

This so-called "Dragon's Blood Whiskey" was just a creation of drunkards for their own amusement.

It was one of the most infamous whiskeys in the wizarding world—dangerous, especially when undiluted.

Madam Rosmerta retrieved two bottles from her cellar.

She took out five tiny shot glasses, then, after glancing at Harry, hesitated before swapping one for a full-sized mug.

After another glance at Hermione and Ron, she sighed and put two of the glasses away entirely.

The whiskey poured out thick and viscous, almost like mucus. Its sharp alcohol scent mixed with a strong, metallic tang of blood, making Hermione's eyes water instantly.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

George and Fred also looked a little uneasy.

This might have been a mistake.

Harry, however, remained unfazed. He swirled his glass lightly and took a sip.

A scorching heat burned down his throat, carving through his esophagus like a blade, threatening to set his insides ablaze.

A flicker of interest flashed through his eyes.

Okay, maybe I should stop saying wizarding alcohol is weak.

In terms of raw intensity and sheer burn, this could rival even White Seagull.

Harry's face turned red.

George and Fred turned green.

They knew Harry could hold his liquor. He could chug an entire bottle of vodka or whiskey without breaking a sweat. It usually took an entire house of Gryffindors working together just to get him tipsy.

Yet here he was, flushed after one sip.

"You're not drinking?" Madam Rosmerta teased, seeing their hesitation. "No shame in that—after all, this is Dragon's Blood Whiskey."

"Even the most hardened men rarely order it, let alone a pair of young wizards."

George and Fred had been ready to surrender, about to push their drinks over to Harry.

But then Madam Rosmerta sighed dramatically and turned to Harry.

"A shame, really. You're still too young. And besides…"

She didn't finish her sentence. She simply smiled at Hermione.

"If only I could meet a man who can handle Dragon's Blood Whiskey," she mused wistfully, resting her chin in her hands.

Hermione's eyes went wide.

George and Fred exchanged glances.

They took a deep breath.

Then, seeing the determination in each other's eyes, they lifted their glasses and downed the whiskey in one go.

The room spun.

The world in their vision suddenly put on clothes.

Within moments, the two of them started rambling nonsense—something about how, once they made their joke shop successful, they would marry Madam Rosmerta and make Lee Jordan her husband instead.

The relationships in their drunken fantasies became so convoluted that even Hermione and Madam Rosmerta, despite trying to count on their fingers, couldn't make sense of it.

Harry reached into George's pocket for money, planning to get them out of there before they embarrassed themselves beyond Gryffindor's walls.

Just then, the door swung open.

Hagrid walked in.

His face was full of gloom, his shoulders slumped. Without even glancing around the pub, he trudged straight to a familiar corner and waved lifelessly toward the counter.

Madam Rosmerta flicked her wand, sending over a crate of pre-prepared liquor.

Harry stole a quick glance—it was all high-proof alcohol.

"What's going on with Professor Hagrid?" Harry asked, momentarily abandoning George and Fred. They were now giggling stupidly, inching forward like oversized caterpillars.

"I'm not sure," Madam Rosmerta said, shaking her head. "He's been like this ever since Christmas—coming in two or three times a week. During the holiday break, he was here every day."

"Not that I'm complaining. He's my best customer now."

"In just two months, he's spent over a hundred Galleons here."

The Three Broomsticks wasn't that expensive, especially since it catered to Hogwarts students.

Even if someone came in every single day, they'd be hard-pressed to spend a hundred Galleons in a year, let alone in two months.

"I'm really worried about him," Rosmerta admitted. "He's strong, sure, but at this rate, something bad's bound to happen."

Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve.

"I heard it's because of… romance?" Madam Rosmerta whispered. "Do you know anything about it?"

"Apparently, he was trying to court Madam Maxime—"

Ron cut in, "We all know. Actually, at this point, everyone in Hogwarts knows."

Rosmerta sighed again. "What was he thinking, going after Madam Maxime? She's the headmistress of Beauxbatons—"

Harry interrupted, "She's just an ordinary headmistress."

Rosmerta blinked in surprise.

A headmistress of one of Europe's top three magical schools—ordinary?

But after thinking about it…

Considering who Harry Potter was, maybe it wasn't such an exaggeration.

"Hagrid is more than worthy of her," Harry said firmly.

Then, standing up, he tossed two Galleons onto the counter and walked over to join him.

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Powerstones?

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