HP: Ravenclaw's Obscurus Prodigy

Ancient Magic: Shield Charm

The memory of facing the Runespoor flashed vividly before Wyzett's eyes.

A swirl of silver-blue light enveloped him, conjuring a shimmering sphere that sheltered both him and Hagrid.

"Clearly, that reporter wasn't actually there," Wyzett remarked quietly, separating his thumb and forefinger with a deliberate motion.

The barrier expanded outward, stopping just short of the black-robed wizard's nose.

With a cold smile, Wyzett raised his voice, "I drove a Runespoor to its last breath and crushed it slowly with this very magic. Care to see for yourselves?"

He swept his gaze across the group. "Of course, you're welcome to try fighting back. Right now, I can still control my power. But if I unleash my Obscurus… well, who knows what might happen?"

He glanced around pointedly. "And this spot is perfect—just a straight line. If the Obscurus erupts here, it'll be quite the spectacle."

It wasn't just the black-robed wizard sweating now—his three cronies were pale and clammy, too.

"Boss… is that spell really so dangerous?"

"We should just rush him! There's four of us, two of them!"

"He's just bluffing, right? Obscurials aren't real, are they? Never even heard of one!"

…

The chorus of doubts only made the black-robed wizard more irritable.

He snapped, "Shut it! Even if the Obscurial thing's a lie, you ever seen a kid do wandless magic? Didn't think so!"

He flung the newspaper at his companions. "Read for yourselves! Don't just charge in blind!"

In that moment, regret gnawed at him—he should've sent this so-called Obscurial packing. Now look where they were.

The silver-blue shield shimmered on, and the black-robed wizard could only grit his teeth and ask, voice tight with frustration, "What do you want?"

Wyzett let out a soft chuckle and stepped forward. "All I want is to go home. That's it—a simple wish."

The four thugs immediately scrambled back, pressing themselves against the still-snoring Cerberus.

Judging by their reactions, they knew exactly what an Obscurial was—and what Wyzett had supposedly done.

Thank you, Rita Skeeter. With official reports this exaggerated, Wyzett didn't have to explain a thing to get the results he wanted.

"Oh, and about the Cerberus—how much were you planning to sell it to Hagrid for?"

"You still want to buy?" The black-robed wizard gawked. "Four hundred Galleons! This Cerberus is just a pup—hasn't even opened its eyes!"

Wyzett turned to Hagrid. "Is a Cerberus pup really worth that much?"

His knowledge came mostly from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them—which listed plenty of warnings, but not prices. For that, he had to trust Hogwarts' gamekeeper.

Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. "Course it's worth it! More than worth it! Even in Greece, I never saw a deal like this!"

"See?" The black-robed wizard sighed in relief. "That's the price. We won't raise it, promise!"

Wyzett shot Hagrid a look. They clearly held the upper hand—shouldn't they be the ones negotiating hard?

Maybe wizards were just a bit too honest. Or maybe it was just Hagrid.

Four hundred Galleons was no small sum. Wyzett's instincts for thrift kicked in. "That price is hardly reasonable. This isn't Greece."

The black-robed wizard eyed him warily. "What are you getting at?"

Wyzett replied, cool as ever, "As far as I know, Cerberus is a rare and dangerous creature. Buying one is a massive hassle."

"Besides the purchase price, there are all sorts of permits to handle. If you went through official channels, it'd cost you time and effort… You get what I'm saying?"

That was straight from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them—adoption was no simple matter.

"Uh…" The black-robed wizard tried playing dumb, shaking his head. "No idea! This price is already a steal!"

He shot Hagrid a pleading look. "Big guy, say something! It's a pup! Don't you want to be its owner?"

"Oh…" Hagrid rumbled, but didn't answer—just looked to Wyzett for guidance.

Wyzett held up two fingers. "Two hundred Galleons. That's our best offer."

"Two hundred!" the black-robed wizard squawked. "You might as well kill us! That's robbery!"

"Not a bad idea," Wyzett mused, stroking his chin as if seriously considering it. "This alley is dark enough for that sort of thing."

"Wyzett!" Hagrid gasped. "Stay calm! You're a good lad!"

The black-robed wizard paled. "He's right! Listen to him! Let's talk this out!"

Wyzett just waved his two fingers. "Two hundred."

"Three hundred ninety! That's as low as we'll go!"

"One hundred ninety," Wyzett countered. "If you had a bottom line, you wouldn't have taken me hostage in the first place."

"You—" The black-robed wizard wilted, voice weak. "Three hundred eighty. That's it. No lower."

Wyzett smiled serenely. "One hundred seventy. Judging by your clothes, you've been living rough for a while, haven't you?"

"Got in trouble in Greece, did you? Smuggled the Cerberus here to lay low? This money should last you a while."

"And let's be honest—Hagrid is Hogwarts' gamekeeper. Only the castle grounds are big enough for a Cerberus to live in peace. You know that, right?"

The black-robed wizard flinched, as if struck where it hurt. His voice rose to a shrill squeak. "But you can't just keep lowering the price! Who haggles like this?"

"One hundred fifty," Wyzett said mildly. "I told you, bottom lines can always go lower—especially with people like you."

…

By the time the moon was high, Hagrid was beaming from ear to ear, carrying the Cerberus over his shoulder as he and Wyzett strolled back to Diagon Alley.

"Wyzett, thank you so much for today! If it weren't for you, I might never've made it out of Knockturn Alley!"

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a beautifully embroidered pouch. "Scared me half to death! They wanted to search me, but I couldn't let them take this!"

That was why Hagrid had refused to let them search him—Wyzett had entrusted his money pouch to him for safekeeping.

After all, the Runespoor had been Hagrid's find, and if he'd been selfish, Wyzett would never have gotten five hundred Galleons.

When it came to character, Hagrid was someone you could trust.

And with his moleskin overcoat's magical resistance, it was the safest place for the money—resistant to most petty theft charms, and a comfort to Wyzett.

As Wyzett reclaimed his pouch, Hagrid let out a sigh of relief, then grinned, "What d'you reckon we ought to call this little darling?"

Wyzett eyed the drowsy Cerberus and shrugged. "No idea… I'm rubbish at names. But with all that fluff, I suppose it is… cute?"

Hagrid's face lit up. "Exactly! Fluffy little darling—let's call him Fluffy, then!"

He stroked the Cerberus's back, voice brimming with affection. "Fluffy, what d'you think?"

Perhaps the name struck a chord. The Cerberus—Fluffy—gave a sleepy grunt and slowly opened its eyes. "Woof?"

But perched on Hagrid's shoulder, the first thing Fluffy saw wasn't Hagrid, but Wyzett, trailing behind with his little trolley.

"Hagrid… your Fluffy's awake."

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