Since the incident with the Dread Lord, Hagrid's research focus had shifted. His magical creature breeding experiments were no longer about hybridization or the bizarre creations he had once attempted. Now, his work centered solely on the miniaturization of magical creatures, eliminating any further ventures into more… controversial territories.
At first, Hagrid had been worried. After all, he had spent a long time searching for small magical creatures. His breakthrough came when he discovered the 'Nuisance Midge' through a newspaper advertisement, but after Roger had banned further research on it, Hagrid's progress ground to a halt. That is, until someone familiar came into the picture.
Professor Pomona Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff House and Hogwarts' Herbology professor, had a long-standing professional relationship with Hagrid. Many of the special plants she needed didn't grow in the school's greenhouse and required care that only Hagrid, as Keeper of the Forbidden Forest, could provide. Their work interactions had fostered a cordial relationship over the years.
When Sprout visited Hagrid with a new problem, an idea struck him.
"Magical plants," Hagrid thought, "seem like magical creatures in their own right."
After some discussion, it became clear that Pomona Sprout had little interest in Hagrid's hybridization experiments, and perhaps even a bit of distaste. However, due to the help Hagrid had provided her over the years, she agreed to cooperate—though her involvement was more out of gratitude than genuine interest.
Hagrid had reported this development to Roger as part of their weekly check-in. Roger, thinking the results would likely resemble a combination of the Screeching Mandrake and the Bowtruckle, wasn't particularly concerned. However, Hagrid wasn't keen on pursuing such an experiment. Having already raised dangerous magical creatures like dragons, three-headed dogs, and manticores—species with extreme risks but immense fascination for him—Hagrid wasn't satisfied with small-scale breeding. No, if he was going to do something, he wanted to do it right.
So, Hagrid set his sights on something rather unusual: magical mushrooms.
Mushrooms, despite their small size, could grow to immense proportions—some reaching up to 10 square kilometers and weighing over 60 million kilograms. But at their core, mushrooms were tiny fungi, capable of reproducing through spores and hyphae. They were nearly immortal, capable of growing large or small as needed. This versatility sparked Hagrid's imagination. He wanted to apply those same principles to magical creatures.
Using his own methods alongside the biological modification techniques Roger had shared with him, Hagrid set about creating a new breed of magical creatures.
The result of this experiment was a green-skinned creature that stood before Roger.
At first glance, Roger was reminded of the Greenskins from Warhammer 40K. The resemblance was striking enough that it left him momentarily startled. But after a thorough examination, Roger confirmed that the creature was, in fact, very different.
For one, it lacked the kind of technological shortcuts that the Greenskins relied on, like crafting powerful war machines out of scrap metal with nothing but their crude ingenuity. This creature's body was relatively weak—about the strength of an ordinary adult Muggle—far from the Greenskin's formidable constitution. While it could reproduce through spores, it required considerable time and nutrients to grow from a spore into a fully-formed creature.
In terms of danger, if classified by the Ministry of Magic, it would fall just below dragons and werewolves, likely rated at a 4X danger level. The only reason for this rating was its ability to regenerate—it could take significant effort to kill completely. Otherwise, it would have been ranked lower.
Still, the creature had potential. If Roger were to integrate the Second Brain Alchemy Diagram into its DNA, it could develop alchemical organs as it grew, learning how Muggles evolved into wizards. In theory, it could even tap into magic and create its own "warp field." And that was just the beginning. As Roger's modification techniques advanced, he could enhance its reproductive capabilities—although, for a moment, he halted his thoughts.
He wasn't about to create a new species that would add an unwelcome expansion to human civilization's already complicated history. It would be a morally reprehensible decision, one with endless consequences for a mere spark of curiosity. The human race had only recently escaped the bonds of serfdom and servitude—only a few decades ago. They were just beginning to enjoy a better life, and Roger had no interest in doing anything that could set that progress back for the sake of a fleeting experiment.
Suppressing these thoughts, Roger refocused, pulling himself back from the brink of a path he knew was far too dangerous.
Roger wasn't one of those legendary P社 (Paradox Interactive) players—the kind who always lets one unit slip through the net for every one they shoot down, creating endless chaos for the sake of balance. He wasn't that dramatic.
Still, Hagrid's newly developed species wasn't entirely without value.
If one day humanity sails into the sea of stars and discovers that "there are enemies on the other side," Roger mused, then perhaps this species might prove useful after all.
More realistically, humanity had a longstanding habit of uniting only when faced with a common enemy. If the universe turned out to be desolate, devoid of alien contact for centuries, maybe... just maybe... it could be released in limited numbers—fortified beforehand—to give humanity something else to focus on besides itself. A little controlled external conflict to curb internal collapse.
"By the way, Hagrid," Roger said, jotting down some notes in the observation report, while absently poking the green-skinned creature with a finger, "what do you plan to name this species?"
With the Dread Lord, things had been different. That situation had been dire—Roger had reduced everything to essentials, slapped the name on quickly, and began the bureaucratic procedures for elimination without much fuss.
But this case was more nuanced.
"Name it…?" Hagrid scratched his beard, thinking hard. Then, after a few moments of contemplation, he smacked his forehead. "Let's call it the Green-skinned Mushroom Beast."
It was very Hagrid.
As a half-giant and a lifelong lover of magical creatures, Hagrid had the makings of a true magizoologist. Years of hands-on experience in the Forbidden Forest had given him a practical edge, but he had also devoured a great deal of book knowledge—painful as that might have been for him.
Reading, after all, wasn't Hagrid's strong suit. Even with his deep passion for magical animals, wrestling through long, complicated species names often left him with headaches. So over time, he'd developed a personal philosophy when it came to naming creatures: keep it simple.
His naming conventions were either based on habit—like the Blast-Ended Skrewt—or descriptive and taxonomic, like this Green-skinned Mushroom Beast. Names that a future generation of magizoologists could recognize and remember without needing to translate half a thesaurus.
Roger had no objection. A name was just a label—a placeholder.
As long as it didn't end up being something like "Spiral Flash Super-Wheel Dance Roar: Triple Style", he could live with it.
He wrote the name down in the report without a second thought.
Then Hagrid, who had visibly relaxed now that Roger had confirmed the creature wasn't a high-risk threat, suddenly remembered something. "Oh—Roger, what was that 'Warhammer 40K' you mentioned earlier?"
Roger paused mid-sentence.
His earlier exclamation had been just that—an offhand comment, nothing more. Naturally, Hagrid hadn't played Warhammer 40K. But now the half-giant was looking at him with genuine curiosity, and Roger found himself thinking.
How do you explain Warhammer to a man who's over three meters tall, loves magical beasts like children, and just inadvertently bred something that looked suspiciously like a Greenskin?
Roger tilted his head, eyeing Hagrid with new perspective.
There was something oddly appropriate about all this. Twice now, Hagrid had created creatures that mirrored monsters straight out of the Warhammer universe. Could it really be a coincidence?
As that thought flashed through Roger's mind, something clicked.
Fate?Pattern?Design?
He frowned slightly.
Was there a deeper reason Hagrid's breeding experiments kept echoing the aesthetics—and mechanics—of one of Earth's most brutal science fantasy universes?
A chill danced down his spine.
Suddenly, he wasn't so sure it was just a coincidence.