Uchiha Through the Eyes of a Half-Giant

"Hagrid! Are you okay? Who were they?"

Harry hurriedly supported Hagrid's thick arm and could feel him trembling slightly.

Hagrid swallowed with difficulty, his deep voice shaking uncontrollably. "I... don't know, Harry... but they were definitely, definitely not good people!"

He looked fearfully in the direction Madara had vanished, his huge hands still twitching unconsciously.

"Those eyes... and that feeling... they were even... even scarier than the dark wizards I've seen before! Listen to me, if you ever run into them again, especially that black-haired boy, make sure you stay far, far away!"

Hagrid shook his head hard, his voice still heavy.

"That boy... the smell on him... it's scarier than the fiercest dragon... that's... that's the bloody killing aura only someone who's slaughtered countless lives could have! Stay away from him. You have to stay away from him!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, each seeing lingering fear and a trace of bewilderment in the other's eyes.

The bustle of Diagon Alley was shut out by the cool, sweet air of Flora Ice Cream Shop.

The display windows were filled with mountains of magical ice cream that changed color, while self-stirring swirls of cream gave off faint sizzling sounds in silver bowls.

The air was thick with the tempting scents of fresh fruit, frosting, and mint.

It should have been a relaxing, pleasant afternoon.

Yet the three children seated around the large round table by the window found the extravagant banana split and raspberry sundae before them strangely tasteless.

From time to time, they glanced at Hagrid across from them, who was silently working on a slice of chocolate lava cake.

The half-giant fidgeted restlessly. Beneath his thick beard, his brows were tightly furrowed, and his bell-sized eyes kept darting toward some point outside the ice cream shop window in Diagon Alley—the general direction of Ivan's Bespoke Shop.

He was tense as a startled bird, as if that black-haired asura would appear again at any moment.

Then he quickly withdrew his gaze and downed a huge gulp of iced sour plum juice in an attempt to hide it—the cup was as large as Ron's head, yet looked as tiny as a tasting cup in Hagrid's hand.

He absentmindedly used the specially made spoon, which looked like a small shovel, to scoop up a huge chunk of cake and stuff it into his mouth, but he chewed without paying much attention.

"Hagrid, your cake..." Hermione reminded him quietly, her eyes full of concern.

Hagrid suddenly came back to himself. Looking down at the cake he had accidentally mashed to pieces, he forced out a smile uglier than a grimace. "Ah... it's nothing. I just... suddenly don't have much of an appetite."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance.

Even Ron, who was usually rather thick-skinned, noticed Hagrid's unusual silence and irritability.

Finally, Harry set down his little silver spoon and cleared his throat.

After hesitating for a moment, he finally asked, "Hagrid," his green eyes carefully watching the half-giant's expression.

"Do you know that... red-eyed boy from earlier? You seemed... especially nervous?"

At the words "red-eyed," Hagrid jerked as if he had been burned. He then put down his spoon in frustration and wiped his face hard.

"Oh, Merlin's old socks! I don't know how to explain this to you..." Hagrid took a huge gulp of sour plum juice, and the icy liquid seemed to calm him a little.

"Know him? No, I don't know that red-eyed boy..." Hagrid's voice was dry. He deliberately avoided saying the surname "Uchiha," which made him feel pressured, then slapped his furry head hard, producing several dull thumps.

This drew curious looks from young wizards at the next table, who were eating ice cream snakes—a wiggling jelly dessert.

"But I know those eyes—or rather, I've heard of them. Those unnaturally red eyes... they say anyone who's been stared at by them has nightmares."

As he spoke, he rubbed the goosebumps on his arms fiercely, clearly recalling the terrifying feeling of having his soul seen through by those eyes.

To Hagrid, that feeling was more chilling than facing the most violent Whiptail Dragon alone.

His lingeringly frightened tone successfully piqued the three children's curiosity.

"Are his eyes some kind of magical trait? Like a Veela bloodline manifestation? Or some kind of... disease?"

Hermione could not help pressing further. Her logical mind began turning, and she remembered reading about rare magical genetic disorders that caused eye color changes in A Thousand Magical Diseases and Disorders.

"A disease? No, no, no, that wasn't a disease, Hermione."

Hagrid shook his head repeatedly, lowering his voice even further as he leaned slightly forward, casting a shadow over the table.

"It was a mark. The mark of the Uchiha Clan. Those scarlet eyes you saw weren't some fashionable magical contact lenses! They were probably a special kind of bloodline reversion! A mark branded into their blood like red-hot iron!" He described it with lingering fear.

"The Uchiha... Clan?" Harry repeated the awkward, unfamiliar words.

"Yes, a family name," Hagrid said briefly, seeming reluctant to elaborate. "They came from the Far East. Only in the past year have they... well, become active in Britain's magical world."

He chose the relatively neutral word "active," but his deeply furrowed brows betrayed how he truly felt.

"Are they powerful? More... troublesome than the Malfoy Family?"

Harry pressed on, trying to understand why Hagrid was far more tense than he ever was when dealing with the Malfoys.

"Troublesome? Harry... that's not even close to the same thing." Hagrid snorted heavily as if he had heard something laughable, his huge hand unconsciously tightening around his cup.

"The Malfoy Family... yes, they're arrogant, look down their noses at everyone, and spout pure-blood nonsense all day. They're awful. But at least they still play by the rules. You know their tricks."

He paused, his expression growing serious and confused. "But the Uchiha Clan... they're different. They don't play by common sense. No one really knows what they're capable of. All anyone knows is that they're powerful, and that... their methods are very 'direct.'"

"Direct?" Hermione sharply caught that word.

Hagrid looked around and lowered his voice, as though sharing some forbidden secret. "I heard some... talk in Hogsmeade, at Three Broomsticks and the Hog's Head."

He licked his dry lips and unconsciously tapped the table with his thick fingers, making dull knocking sounds.

"Do you know Nicholas Flamel?"

"Nicholas Flamel?" Hermione's eyes immediately lit up. It was a name she knew. "The alchemy master who created the Philosopher's Stone? He was also from the Flamel Family?"

"Yes, that Flamel. But I heard the British branch declined a long time ago. There were few of them left, and the last descendants got into trouble and were..."

Hagrid's words grew vague, as if what came next was difficult to say—or touched upon something even darker.

"They were targeted by a group of dark wizards. Those people spread false rumors everywhere, saying the Flamel bloodline could be used to make the Philosopher's Stone. Completely mad!" Hagrid's voice carried undisguised revulsion and disgust.

He shifted his enormous body uneasily and looked around. Only after making sure no one was paying particular attention to them did he continue in a near whisper.

"I don't know the exact details, but rumors said that until a year ago, the secret hunting and persecution over 'Flamel precious blood' had never stopped..."

"After that, the surviving Flamel descendants almost completely disappeared. Everyone thought that branch had died out for good."

He licked his dry lips and took another sip of his drink. "But then, half a year ago, a mysterious person claiming to be a Flamel descendant suddenly appeared. At first, he kept a low profile. He only killed a few dark wizards with terrible reputations but considerable strength, and then..."

"Right after that, several major things happened in the magical world."

He leaned closer, his shadow completely covering the table. "Including several dark wizard groups with terrible reputations, groups that were said to have been involved in the Flamel Family's 'troubles' before..."

He took a deep breath, picked up a wet towel to wipe away his sweat, then continued in a low voice. "And two members of ancient families who were said to have taken part in what happened to the Flamel Family back then, families that had cleaned up their image and mingled among high society, one after another..."

"Something happened to them?" Ron involuntarily finished for him.

"They all died! Burned so completely that not even ashes remained!" Hagrid's voice dropped even lower, dry and rough, with a thread of incredulous chill mixed into it.

"The magical traces left at the scenes were sinister as hell—not the ordinary Incendio we usually see, but flames so hot they could melt stone into glass!"

"The Aurors investigated for a long time and found no definite result, but privately, everyone guessed it had something to do with... revenge."

The three children sucked in sharp breaths.

Revenge. In the magical world, that word often meant a long, dark, and bloody entanglement.

[This little rat has it so hard. Not even a single request for more chapters... Don't you great wizards like it?]