Ch 17: A Gift

The Undercroft had been set to its usual configuration—dueling dummies, padded floors, and a few scattered benches for breaks. Tonks paced in front of me, her wand twirling lazily in her hand as she delivered her final bits of advice.

"Well, kid, this is it. Today's our last session. Reflect on what you've learned, and don't slack off when I'm not here to whip you into shape, yeah?"

I smirked. "Don't worry, Professor Tonks, I'll keep up the hard work."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "I told you not to call me that. Makes me sound old."

The lesson wrapped up with a few final duels—her wiping the floor with me as usual. Once it was over, I walked over to grab my bag and pulled out a carefully wrapped wooden box. It wasn't large, but it carried the weight of something much more significant.

"Here," I said, handing it to her. "A gift from a student to his teacher."

Tonks raised an eyebrow, taking the box cautiously. "What's this? Some sort of prank?"

"Just open it," I said, grinning.

She peeled away the wrapping and lifted the lid of the wooden box. Her reaction was immediate.

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed, staring at the polished Desert Eagle inside. "This is a gun. A real gun. Where the hell did you get a fucking gun from?"

I chuckled, raising my hands in mock surrender. "Hey, handle it carefully, will you? And for the record, it's licensed. Got it all sorted out for you. Don't overthink it."

"Don't overthink it?!" Tonks practically yelled. "You just gave me a gun—a fucking Desert Eagle! My first question needs answers, where the hell did you buy this from?"

Leaning casually against a bench, I gave her a sly grin. "From a Mafia weapons dealer. Aka, me."

She froze, staring at me like I'd grown a second head. "You're joking."

"Nope," I replied, crossing my arms. "Had some business dealings, made some connections, and voilà—top-quality hardware."

Tonks looked at the gun, then back at me, her face a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "Arthur, do you even hear yourself? How do you even know a Mafia dealer, let alone become one?"

"Let's just say I've got my ways," I replied cryptically. "And before you freak out, I figured you might find it useful in your future line of work. You're going to be an Auror, right? This could come in handy."

She didn't believe me at all.

She looked at the gun again, her expression softening slightly. "...You're insane, you know that?"

"Maybe," I said with a shrug. "But you're smiling, so I'll take that as a win."

---

Tonks carefully lifted the gun out of the box, inspecting it with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "I'll admit, this is... unexpected. But damn, it's impressive. You sure it's legal?"

I nodded. "Completely above board. The ammo, too."

I handed her a smaller box containing 100 rounds of ammunition, neatly packed. "Figured you'd need these. Don't go wasting them, though. Deagle rounds aren't cheap."

Tonks snorted. "Yeah, because my first instinct was to go around Hogwarts shooting things." She paused, then smirked. "Although, this could be useful against certain Slytherins."

"Let's not start a war," I said, laughing. "But seriously, it's a backup. You're already skilled with a wand, but sometimes magic isn't enough."

Tonks fell silent for a moment, her fingers tracing the gun's sleek design. "...Thanks, Arthur. This is... a lot. But I appreciate it."

"Anytime," I said, giving her a genuine smile.

---

After Tonks left, the echoes of our training sessions lingering in the air. I sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, and stared at the ceiling.

The year was nearing its end, and the events of the Final Battle were inching closer. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were probably already neck-deep in figuring out the Philosopher's Stone mystery. Meanwhile, I stayed on the sidelines, focusing on my own survival.

Tonks's gift had been a spur-of-the-moment idea, but it felt right. She'd been my mentor, my friend, and somewhat of a rival. She deserved something more than just a "thank you." And knowing her, she'd find a way to make good use of it—legal or otherwise.

Garuda swooped into the room, landing gracefully on my shoulder. "You seem thoughtful," he said.

"Just reflecting," I replied, reaching up to scratch his feathers. "The year's gone by so fast. Feels like yesterday I was stepping off the train."

"And yet, you've grown," Garuda observed. "Your strength, your knowledge, even your connections. You're not the same boy who arrived at Hogwarts."

"Maybe," I said softly. "But there's still a lot to do."

Garuda let out a soft trill. "One step at a time, Arthur. You're on the right path."

---

With the Final Battle looming, I knew I needed to stay sharp. My training wasn't over—not by a long shot. If anything, it was just beginning. The Gacha System might have been inconsistent, but I'd learned to rely on my own skills and resources.

As I stood up and stretched, I made a mental note to keep an eye on Quirrellmort. Not to intervene, but to stay informed. Knowledge was power, after all.

For now, though, I'd done enough for the day. Smiling to myself, I left the Undercroft, ready to face whatever came next.

---Note

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