"What foul spell did you hit me with, boy?"
"Fascinating people, muggles. I begin to understand why my father is so enamored with them. This is called a 1911. Ancient by muggle standards but effective none the less. It does not cast spells like a wand, but fires 'bullets.' This one just sent into your body at 890 feet per second a 230 grain Cor-bon Pow'RBall hollow point"
Fenrir growls
"These particular hollow points have a goblin silver ball embedded in the tip. Not only does that wound burn like Dragonfire, you cannot heal it."
Fenrir roars
"Save your strength, Fenrir. I have 7 more in this magazine alone."
"Well hello, prey. You confront me, Fenrir Greyback? All alone?"
"I'm Ron Weasley. Long story... But a seer told me you're the one who murders my future wife, Lavender Brown."
"Oh? Good, I look forward to it. Thanks for giving me the name, boy. I'll savor it as I bite through her throat, and watch the life leave her eyes."
"No... You don't understand. You're never going to touch her."
"What? Are you here to fight me, boy?"
"Fight you? No... I'm here to kill you."