Wimzy beamed at the praise. Since moving to Diagon Alley, she had blossomed into a lively and confident companion. Her magical prowess made household tasks effortless, and Alex had grown accustomed to her impeccable care. “By the way,” Alex asked between bites, “where’s Fang? Is he still waging war on the sofa upstairs?”
The mischievous husky had been a source of endless chaos since their arrival. At first, he strutted around the house like a self-appointed king. Then, he began causing trouble around Diagon Alley—patrolling like a boss, knocking over wand racks in Ollivander’s, biting a Gringotts goblin, and drooling at the round-faced chickens in Eeylops Owl Emporium.
Though initially adored by the locals, Fang’s antics quickly turned him into a pariah. Even Tom at the Leaky Cauldron would exclaim, “Merlin’s beard!” upon spotting the dog. Eventually, Fang was banned from every shop in Diagon Alley, leaving Alex to issue countless apologies to his neighbors.
Under strict supervision now, Fang was confined to the house, where his energy found new outlets. His latest feud was with the second-floor sofa, which he seemed determined to shred. “He’s changed his focus today,” Wimzy replied thoughtfully. “Now he’s scratching at the desk lamp you brought back.”
Alex froze mid-chew. “That’s not a lamp—it’s experimental equipment! He’d better not break it!” He bolted upright, his lunch forgotten.
Alex had a habit of purchasing Muggle electronics—lamps, circuit boards—to study their internal structures and wiring. While Diagon Alley lacked electricity to power these devices, they served as valuable inspiration for his alchemical and rune projects.
After hastily finishing his meal, Alex Apparated to the second floor with Wimzy in tow. The moment they arrived, they were greeted by the sight of Fang in action. The husky had positioned himself several meters away from the tall lamp, his tactical vest-mounted floating cannon pointed squarely at the target. Fang adjusted his stance, wiggling his hindquarters as he aimed with what could only be described as misplaced determination.
As Alex’s arrival startled him, arcs of lightning were already crackling around the cannon. “Don’t—!” Alex shouted, his voice filled with alarm.
Fang’s ears twitched. Realizing he’d been caught, he panicked. In an attempt to avoid punishment, he hastily tried to retract the magic power charging the cannon. But it was too late. The built-up energy discharged in a sharp, concentrated beam of lightning that struck the lamp with pinpoint accuracy.
The desk lamp exploded with a deafening CRACK, shards of metal and glass scattering across the floor. A wisp of smoke curled into the air where the lamp had stood, leaving behind a charred circle on the rug. Fang turned to face Alex, his head lowered, tail tucked between his legs. His wide, guilty eyes said it all: ‘I know I messed up, but can we just pretend this didn’t happen?’
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose again, feeling an ache forming between his temples. “Fang,” he began slowly, his tone dripping with exasperation, “do you know how much that cost me?”
The husky whimpered, inching closer in an attempt to look as pitiful as possible. “You’re lucky I know Reparo,” Alex muttered, drawing his wand to clean up the mess. With a flick, the shattered lamp began piecing itself back together. As he worked, he shot Fang a pointed look. “If you even think about touching anything else in this house, you’re going to spend the next week locked in the bathroom.” Follow current novels on novel{f}ire.net
Fang’s tail wagged hesitantly, as if testing whether forgiveness might already be on the table. Alex sighed, shaking his head. “Master, should I prepare a new place for him to play?” Wimzy offered helpfully.
“Not a bad idea,” Alex admitted, turning to the rebuilt lamp. He carefully examined it, ensuring the runes and circuits were intact. Satisfied that the damage was superficial, he finally let out a breath of relief.
Turning back to Fang, Alex knelt down to meet the husky’s eyes. “Look, you’re part of the team now, but you’ve got to learn some boundaries. You can’t just zap everything that annoys you.”
Fang barked softly in response, his tail wagging a little more enthusiastically. After resetting the damaged equipment and scolding Fang thoroughly, Alex returned to his workbench in the basement. Despite the chaos, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Life with Wimzy and Fang was anything but dull, but their quirks kept him grounded—and often gave him ideas.
When Fang discharged his magic current at the desk lamp, something unexpected happened. The current flowed freely up and down the metal rod of the lamp, and for a brief moment, the bulb flickered to life. Though it sputtered and blinked erratically, it was undeniably lit by Fang’s plasma cannon. The light didn’t last long. After a few seconds of flickering, it extinguished, leaving a faint trail of smoke curling from the base.
Fang tilted his head, tongue lolling out, and gave Alex a wide-eyed, innocent look that screamed, ‘What? Did I do something wrong?’
Even Wimzy couldn’t help but cover her face with both hands in exasperation. The husky’s feigned naivety was as over-the-top as ever.
When the anticipated scolding didn’t come, Wimzy peeked through her fingers at Alex, expecting to see him fuming. Instead, Alex stood rooted in place, staring intently at the now-dim lamp, his chin resting on one hand as his mind raced. “Master?” Wimzy hesitated, her soft voice breaking the silence. She didn’t want to interrupt his train of thought, but the second floor was a mess. While it seemed Fang hadn’t irreparably damaged the lamp, the surrounding area bore the brunt of his enthusiasm.
Alex didn’t respond to Wimzy but turned to Fang, who was still trying to act clueless. “Fang,” Alex began, his voice calm but direct, “how much magic power did you use in that discharge?”
“Magic power?” Fang blinked, his tilted head and wagging tail perfectly capturing his confusion. “I dunno. I just let it out!”
“Stop pretending you don’t know,” Alex said, narrowing his eyes. “Think. That plasma cannon wasn’t at full output, was it? Roughly how much power did you channel into that shot?”
Fang hesitated, breaking into a sweat under Alex’s piercing gaze. “I think it was maybe... a quarter of the usual output?” he finally admitted. “It felt weaker than normal.”
Alex nodded thoughtfully. “Good. I’ll need to test that again later.” Then, his expression hardened as he pointed to the mess. “But first, clean this up. If I catch you messing around with magic indoors again, I’ll take your tactical vest away.”
Fang’s ears drooped, and he let out a small whine of protest, but he obediently set to work. Satisfied, Alex picked up the desk lamp and Apparated to the basement lab.
In the lab, Alex placed the lamp on a workbench and drew his wand. Concentrating carefully, he produced a weak electrical current from the tip of his wand and directed it toward the lamp. The bulb flickered faintly, emitting a dim glow before sputtering out. “It’s not as strong as Fang’s,” Alex muttered. Adjusting the magic flow, he tried again, gradually increasing the current until the bulb lit steadily, though not as brightly as before.