SOLSTICE

009

BOOM. The resounding thud of fists against the door jerked Dudley awake. "Where's the cannon?" he muttered groggily, still half-asleep.

some chuckles were heard.

A crashing sound echoed from behind them, and Uncle Vernon skidded into the room, clutching a long, thin package. It was now evident what had been concealed inside.
"Who's there?" Vernon bellowed, brandishing a rifle menacingly. "I warn you, I'm armed!"

Lily's expression shifted from shock to concern as she processed the revelation. "He had a rifle," she stated, her voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and worry.

The younger students, unfamiliar with Muggle weapons, looked at each other with puzzled expressions. One brave Hufflepuff first-year decided to seek clarification. "What's a rifle, if you don't mind me asking, Miss Evans?" he inquired timidly.

Lily, always willing to educate her fellow students, explained, "A rifle is a Muggle weapon designed for long-range shooting. It can cause serious injuries or even be lethal, much like the Killing Curse in the wizarding world."

Curiosity ignited among the students, and another voice joined the conversation. "Can anyone have one of these rifles?"

Lily contemplated the question before responding, "No, in the Muggle world, you need to obtain a license to legally possess a rifle. It's not something that's accessible to just anyone." She then turned her attention to Harry, her concern evident. "Harry, did your uncle have a license for it?"

Harry hesitated, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. "I don't know," he admitted with a slight shrug. He suspected that his uncle hadn't gone through the legal process of obtaining a license, but he couldn't be entirely certain. As a result, he chose to keep his uncertainty to himself.

A brief pause hung in the air, then came the earth-shattering crash. The door was struck with such force that it was ripped from its hinges and landed on the floor with a deafening thud.

Standing in the doorway was a giant of a man, his face almost entirely obscured by a tangle of wild, shaggy hair and an unruly beard. Only his eyes were visible, gleaming like black beetles amidst the chaotic mass of hair.
The giant squeezed himself into the small hut, stooping to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.

"HAGRID." Many cheered.

Regulus, wearing a mask of confusion, couldn't help but voice his ponderings. "So they sent Hagrid?" He had a lot of theories going on in his overthinking mind and the more he watched the future more questions arose.

Yet, Regulus's straightforward question raised some people's hackles.

"What's wrong with Hagrid?"
Sirius's voice held a note of challenge as he locked eyes with Regulus.

When was the last time they had exchanged words? He couldn't recall, nor did he care to know. As far as he was concerned, Sirius was a traitor to the family—nothing more, nothing less.

"Oh, quite a bit, Sirius," Regulus retorted with a savage edge, his voice a low, stinging whip. "Aren't the professors the ones tasked with the delicate job of acquainting Muggle-borns and their families with the wizarding world? We all understand the intricacies and volatile nature of this task, as situations can rapidly escalate in unforeseen directions. This has been their duty since forever. However, as far as I'm aware, Hagrid does not hold the esteemed title of 'professor.' Allow me to clarify, I'm not here to pass judgment on Hagrid's character, but to question the wisdom of entrusting him with such a responsibility." His unrelenting gaze pierced Sirius's very soul, daring any retort.