Newt?
Newt is just a—(crossed out)
How Hagrid managed to breed these adorable, nauseating little creatures that seem to have crawled from the depths of Hell, we don't know. Likewise, we also don't know how this Half-Blood Giant thought of putting a Manticore and a Fire Crab in the same room and adding an Enchantment Potion—
But why these little guys have grown so fast, even reaching the size and height of this "God" Hagrid, the reason is quite simple—
"Hum hum hum, hum hum hum hum↓, hum hum hum hum, hum hum hum~~"
Due to the tall hedges blocking the way, the dappled sunlight, like Golden Galleons roasted to melting in a Goblin Fire Stove, densely covered the surroundings of the little house at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The wooden door—giant for ordinary people, was pushed open, and Hogwarts' Gamekeeper squeezed out while humming a tuneless melody.
He was still wearing that signature coat made from mole skin, with heavy patches in many places. In his giant hands, he was carrying a large wooden barrel that seemed to have seen better days. This barrel, which could fit a Little Wizard inside, felt like a toy in Hagrid's hands.
"Ha! What a fine day!"
Hagrid loosened his shoulders and took a deep breath, brushing off the grass seed that had stuck to his beard. Supporting the bottom of the barrel, he lifted it, and the liquid flowed into a freshly installed stone trough in the clearing in front of the little house.
The pale golden single malt whiskey released a rich aroma of liquor, and soon after, the sound of clip-clopping came from behind Hagrid's small house. A group of light-colored Winged Horses, whose heads barely reached Hagrid's waist, joyfully galloped out. Compared to the Abraxans used by Beauxbatons to pull their carriages, these young foals were like sons meeting their father—
Actually, these little Winged Horses were indeed descendants of those Abraxans.
The previous sentence was a piece of nonsense, and evidently, this sentence is too.
Watching the group of little "drunkards" guzzling down the whiskey, Hagrid smiled and began walking "thump thump thump" towards the back of the house in his large-sized Dragon Skin Boots.
Opening the heavy oak trapdoor almost embedded in the ground behind the small house, the smile on Hagrid's face slightly faded. Looking around stealthily, as if he were a thief, the air here was much thicker than in the front yard, mingled with a faint stench of mud and decaying roots.
The trapdoor lifted, revealing a nearly vertical wooden staircase wide enough for Hagrid to pass through. A stronger stench rose from below.
Hagrid took out his Magic Wand and lit a massive lantern hanging on the wall, then took it in hand — he now liked using magic in everyday life, though not a habit, such moments reminded him he was a Wizard.
The dim light barely dispelled the darkness edging in at the door.
"William?"
Hagrid sniffed and instinctively asked.
"Here—"
A lazy voice came from the darkness, making Hagrid somewhat relieved as he continued stepping onto the creaking wooden boards leading inward.
As the lantern swayed, the light started spreading into the darkness, "creak creak—" a furry, many-legged figure scuttled past Hagrid. With the help of the faint light, he straightened his face and used his Magic Wand to flick away a spider lunging at him—
"Hey, Aragog! Can you keep your sons, or grandsons, in check?—"
"Creak creak."
The sharp, screeching sound of claws scraping against surfaces reached him, and Hagrid nodded happily.
He hung the lantern on a hook on the wall, the rough wood not pleasant to the touch, but he still carefully put away his Magic Wand and picked up the long pole leaning against the wall. Holding it, he cautiously advanced into the darkness until he finally breathed a sigh of relief when he faced a door that hadn't been attacked—
Then he pushed open the door before him.
"You're here."
He heard that familiar voice, but obviously, he wasn't going to indulge this old trope.
"Alright then, William, how's it going?"
"Looks pretty good, their foundation is solid—"
William took off the Goggles perched on his nose, nodded, and looked to the side where, behind a massive pane of glass, lay two… or rather two and a half Explosive Snails; for the smallest one was now only half-eaten, the other half already swallowed by the other two.
These fellas, even the smaller one reached Hagrid's waist. Its once milky-white chitin exoskeleton in its youth had turned into a black, hardened shell, akin to newly molded, cooling metal armor, full of sharp knobby growths and spikes. Every movement of its massive pincers elicited a chilling gleam.
The other Explosive Snail, facing it, wore "armor" that had turned dark red, glowing with an evil sheen under the dim light. Its eight short, thick legs barely supported its massive body. Unlike the sharp menace emanating from the other, this one was more like… a Flame Type Pokémon.
Every breath it took expelled hot gas with sparks and a noxious, burnt odor. It repeatedly slammed what could barely be called pincers, more like battering rams, against a huge basalt rock beneath it.
Each impact was accompanied by a great clatter, each sound causing Russell's heart to skip a beat—