When Harry stepped back outside carrying a brown leather suitcase, Ron and the others stared at him wide-eyed—because they distinctly remembered what the suitcase sitting in Hagrid's hut looked like.
The two were almost identical, the only difference being that one was old and worn while the other was brand new.
"Wait—Harry! Your divination!!" Ron suddenly exclaimed. "This suitcase—it's exactly like the one you saw in your divination!!"
"Yes, you're right, Ron." Harry turned to Newt and explained, "I once performed a divination for myself, and this suitcase appeared in it. Now, I finally understand its purpose."
"Your divination?" Newt asked with great interest. "You managed to predict something this specific?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it precise," Harry sighed. "At the time, I was trying to see how Professor Dumbledore would help me resolve my dilemma. And in the vision, all I saw was a suitcase—completely out of context. It puzzled me for a long time."
"Ahahahahaha!" Hagrid burst into hearty laughter. "Still, Harry, that's way clearer than all that Mars and Saturn nonsense."
"Yes, at least now you know exactly how it solves your dilemma," Newt said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Make good use of it."
"I will."
"So, Mr. Scamander gave you a suitcase too?" Hermione's eyes sparkled as she gazed at the leather case in Harry's hand. "Does it also have—?"
She gestured at their surroundings.
"Exactly. Though, the scenery inside mine isn't as developed as Newt's," Harry joked. "And I have to thank Professor Dumbledore for this—if not for him, I probably wouldn't have had the chance to get it."
"That's amazing!!" Ron and Neville suddenly high-fived and hugged each other in excitement. "We have a secret base now, Harry!! A secret base!!"
No boy could resist the allure of a secret hideout. It could be a treehouse or an underground bunker—the appeal was endless.
Newt, meanwhile, simply smiled as he watched the lively scene.
The four of them spent the entire day inside Newt's suitcase, reluctant to leave even as the castle's curfew approached.
Newt had already bid them farewell—his departure was somewhat abrupt, as he refused to stay in Hogwarts even for a single night. He insisted on leaving immediately for Drear Island—he was in a hurry to return the Quintaped.
For Ron, Neville, and Hermione, this was terrible news. They hadn't had nearly enough time to explore Newt's suitcase, which, to them, was an endless treasure trove of mysteries. Half a day wasn't even enough to scratch the surface.
But no matter how much they didn't want him to leave, all they could do was watch him go. Ironically, the one most reluctant to see Newt off wasn't the children—it was Hagrid.
The next day, when Ron and the others visited Hagrid's hut, he sighed dramatically as he talked about Newt's departure, as if it had drained the very life out of him.
Well, forcibly separating Hagrid from large, ferocious magical creatures probably did feel like a life-or-death matter for him.
As for Harry… well, Harry was busy. So busy, in fact, that he had even taken time off from school—two whole days of absence. If he weren't such a diligent student with a learning pace far beyond his peers, the professors would never have approved it.
And what had kept Harry so preoccupied? Naturally, his new suitcase.
When it came to construction, wizarding magic was truly remarkable, greatly reducing labor and time. But what if the project involved reshaping an entire landscape?
Anyone venturing deep into the Forbidden Forest would notice that a small riverside hill had completely vanished—because Harry had moved it all into his suitcase.
At this moment, even if Newt returned and stepped inside, he wouldn't recognize the place anymore.
A complete transformation.
Over the past two days, Harry had mastered an array of spells: the Gouging Spell (to dig three feet deep), the Blasting Curse, the Softening Charm, the Hardening Charm, the Shaping Spell, the Mending Charm…
He was practically as skilled as a Ministry wizard responsible for magical accident cleanup.
The once-grassy land had turned into a marsh. Harry had redirected a river into his suitcase—though he was quite curious about where it originated. Following its course, he had walked straight into the suitcase's boundary and nearly gave himself a concussion.
The outer edges of the suitcase appeared to stretch infinitely, but touching them revealed a solid wall.
An illusion.
The river, it seemed, flowed from a painting, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing at the far end of the suitcase. Though Harry couldn't yet decipher the magic behind it, he had a strong suspicion that the river simply looped within the space.
Now, a section of this river had become a waterfall. Harry had elevated the terrain using the soil he transported, turning a corner of the suitcase into a cliff where the river cascaded down.
It was precisely at this cliffside that Harry planned to build his home—though many details differed from the vision in his divination, the overall layout was nearly identical.
This was a grueling project. Harry had been working nonstop for two days, barely sleeping two to three hours each night, yet he had only made minimal progress. And that was after he had asked Dumbledore for help.
But Dumbledore, the world's most powerful wizard, only helped for half a day before escaping. When Harry returned to the Headmaster's office on the eighth floor to ask for more assistance, he wasn't even allowed inside. The stone gargoyle at the entrance bluntly stated that Dumbledore was not in the school.
Well… Harry had no choice but to take that at face value.
Old age wasn't suited for intensive labor—no surprise Dumbledore had bailed.
Still, in that short half-day, Dumbledore had shaped most of the suitcase's terrain, leaving Harry with only the task of refining and filling in the details.
Dumbledore was, indeed, formidable.
Harry had even sought out Professor Snape—er, that is, he had politely requested Professor Snape's assistance. Snape had brewed several massive cauldrons of plant growth and nutrient potions, which Harry planned to mix into the rain and spread throughout the suitcase's ecosystem.
For now, the land was barren, freshly turned black soil without a single blade of grass. It looked desolate, lifeless. But Harry was confident it would soon flourish.
Creating this personal world filled Harry with boundless energy. It was far better than building a garrison in Draenor—after all, a garrison couldn't be carried around.
This experience was so unique that even Dalaran's archmages would struggle to imagine it.
Harry was so engrossed in his work that he didn't even realize what day it was until Hagrid came to wake him up.
"Halloween!" Hagrid bellowed. "Merlin's beard, Harry, you nearly missed my giant pumpkins!"
"Huh?" Harry, exhausted, turned around groggily. "Halloween—it's already Halloween?"
Azeroth had its own version of Halloween, though unlike Earth's, it was a celebration of the Forsaken breaking free from the Scourge—symbolizing freedom and rebirth.
"Of course, Harry," Hagrid chuckled. "I know you're excited about building your new home, but you can't forget your friends—come on, Ron and the others have been waiting for you."
Unlike Harry, Ron and the others couldn't skip class for days. They could only envy him while stuck in lessons.
By the time Harry and Hagrid arrived at the Great Hall, the Halloween feast had already begun.
The professors had decorated the entire Great Hall in a dazzling display—candles that emitted a green glow floated in midair, jack-o'-lanterns and translucent ghosts were scattered everywhere, and bats flitted across the walls and ceiling. At least a thousand of them swarmed above the dining tables like clusters of low-hanging storm clouds, creating an eerie and immersive atmosphere.
Keeping his head low, Harry quietly slipped over to the Gryffindor table. The moment he sat down, Ron threw an arm around his shoulder.
"Ha! Look who finally decided to show up! Harry, we were starting to think you'd forgotten all about us," Ron said, his tone dripping with mock resentment. "You don't even come to class anymore—just hiding away in that secret base of yours all day."
"Shh, Ron!" Neville hushed him in a whisper. "Not so loud! Someone might overhear!"
"Alright, alright," Ron sighed dramatically. "I just wish I could help you out, you know? Honestly, I'm getting sick of all these classes."
"But you only managed to get the Levitation Charm right just before class ended," Neville pointed out bluntly. "And that was with Hermione coaching you. Without her, it would've been even harder."
"Doesn't matter, Neville. The point is, I got it in the end, and Professor Flitwick even gave Gryffindor a point for it," Ron said smugly, raising his eyebrows.
"Professor Flitwick just got to Levitation Charms?" Harry asked, sounding disappointed. "That's way too slow."
"Hey, Harry, not everyone is a genius like you," Ron protested. "The class is already moving pretty fast! Honestly, why don't you ask Flitwick to let you join the Charms Club? You know, like how McGonagall brought you into hers?"
"I did ask. He turned me down," Harry shrugged. "According to him, the earliest he'd let me in is next year. Said I should focus on just enjoying my first year at Hogwarts for now."
"Well, that doesn't sound so bad, does it?" Ron said casually. "You can't push yourself too hard, Harry."
"I'm not really pushing myself… wait, speaking of which, where's Hermione?" Harry glanced around. "I haven't seen her. Is she feeling unwell?"
"Not exactly—well, kind of," Ron said, shifting awkwardly. "She got into another fight with that Slytherin girl, Pansy. And it was because of you."
"Cough, cough!"
Leave it to Ron—one sentence nearly made Harry choke on his pumpkin juice.
"What?!" Harry stared at Ron, eyes wide. "What do you mean, because of me?"
The way Ron said it made it sound like something major had happened.
"Don't listen to Ron exaggerating," Neville said, biting into a roll. "You've been missing class the past few days, right? Well, after Charms today, Pansy started mouthing off, saying that without you around, Gryffindor wouldn't be getting all those extra points from the professors. That we're basically riding on your coattails."
"Harry, you know how Hermione is—there's no way she'd take that lying down," Ron added with a shrug. "Especially since she was the first one to get the Levitation Charm right in class today. Flitwick even gave her five points. So she snapped back at Pansy, of course."
"And then?" Harry asked, biting into a pasty with a blank expression.
"And then that damn harpy lost it," Ron said with disgust. "First, she started saying that no matter how hard Hermione tried, she'd never catch up to you. Then she insulted her teeth, called her ugly, said she was an annoying know-it-all who never shut up. Oh, and she even claimed that, deep down, you must hate her too, even if you never say it out loud."
"...You two didn't just stand there and let that happen, did you?" Harry asked, pausing with his goblet halfway to his lips.
He had thought that his punishment for Malfoy would have been enough to put the Slytherins on edge. Clearly, he was wrong.
"Of course not!" Ron said instantly. "From the moment we fought side by side on the train, I knew Hermione was our friend."
"Yeah, she might have a few annoying habits," Ron added, puffing out his chest proudly. "But there's no way Neville and I would just stand there and let Pansy the lapdog bully our friend!"
"To be honest, Harry, Hermione didn't really need our help," Neville suddenly chuckled. "Before we could even step in, she had already pulled out her wand and hexed Pansy. Ron and I just joined in for the follow-up."
"Oh yeah, that was a good one," Ron said, impressed. "I only found out afterward that it was the Knockback Jinx. Pansy got blasted clean off her feet! Brilliant!"
"That does sound brilliant," Harry nodded in approval. "So, you guys won the fight… but where's Hermione now? Shouldn't she be celebrating?"
"Who knows?" Ron sighed. "Anyway, it turned into another full-on Gryffindor-Slytherin brawl. You know how it is—first-years don't really have that many proper spells yet. You and Hermione are exceptions. For everyone else, if their wands even manage to shoot out sparks, that's already an achievement. So it ended up being fists in the end."
"McGonagall was the one who broke it up. She took twenty points from both Hermione and Pansy, and then gave detention to everyone who joined the fight," Neville recalled. "After that, no one's seen Hermione. She even skipped the rest of her classes."
"...That's not good," Harry sighed.
At their age, kids were sensitive. Pansy might have hit a nerve, and Hermione could be taking it harder than she let on.
BANG!
Just as they were speaking, a loud crash echoed through the Great Hall, abruptly cutting through the cheerful atmosphere. Harry turned his head just in time to see Professor Quirrell stumble inside, looking absolutely terrified. His ever-present turban was askew.
"Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know!"
Quirrell staggered to Dumbledore's chair, gasping for breath, then collapsed in a heap on the floor, apparently unconscious.
It was… strange.
Harry had already activated his Astral Sight the moment Quirrell burst in. He could see that Quirrell's spirit had suddenly dimmed—suggesting the unconsciousness was real—but the energy radiating from his body hadn't changed in the slightest.
What was he up to?
A diversion?
So Voldemort was finally making a move on the thing hidden on the fourth floor? And the troll was just a distraction to keep the professors occupied?
Meanwhile, Dumbledore had already fired off several sharp, crackling spells into the air, sending out bursts of magical fireworks as signals. Then he ordered the prefects to lead their houses back to their dormitories.
"Percy's over there—let's stick with him. Bloody hell, why is there a troll in the castle?" Ron said nervously. "I hope no one gets hurt."
"Wait," Harry suddenly stopped. "Does Hermione even know about this? Are you sure she never went back to the dorm?"
Ron and Neville both froze, then slowly shook their heads. They looked completely dumbfounded.
"She's not in the dorm. We asked her roommates—they have no idea where she went either," Neville mumbled. "We just assumed she'd turn up eventually…"
"It's not your fault," Harry reassured them. "You guys go with Percy."
"And you?" Ron asked, frowning.
"I'm going to find Hermione first—trust me, I have a feeling about this."
Without waiting for a response, Harry ducked through the crowd.
But he hadn't gone far when he heard hurried footsteps behind him. Glancing back, he saw Ron and Neville rushing after him.
"We're not leaving you behind, Harry!" Ron called out. "If my mum ever found out I ran away while my friend was in danger, she'd tan my hide!"
"Same here!" Neville added, his voice a little shaky. "My gran would do the same!"
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