In this world within the suitcase, where the sun and moon could shift at will, it was honestly easy to lose track of time once you got to work.
By the time Hagrid poked his head into the entrance of the suitcase and called for Harry and the others to come up for dinner, they finally realized that night had fallen.
Still, there was a strong sense of accomplishment. Piles of wooden planks were stacked on the grass, primarily intended for interior decoration. They would serve as walls or furniture—essentially the raw materials for Transfiguration.
Living creatures and inanimate objects could not be permanently transformed into one another, but transformations between inanimate objects could be made permanent—provided there was a material to serve as the base. After all, Transfiguration could not create something out of nothing.
Incidentally, most of the work had fallen to Harry and Hermione, as they were the most advanced in Transfiguration. Ron and Neville's skill levels weren't quite there yet, making it difficult for them to handle transformations of this complexity.
Thus, their task was to cut the wooden planks. When it came time to furnish the house, Harry and Hermione would only need to attach the planks or transfigure them as needed, without the hassle of altering their material or pattern.
This way, everyone contributed to the construction of the house, making the experience both engaging and enjoyable.
"Hagrid! I'm so hungry I could eat a whole cow!" As soon as Ron climbed up the ladder, he let out a thunderous roar.
Lately, Harry had been keeping his suitcase in Hagrid's hut, which made it convenient for him to enter the Forbidden Forest in search of herbs for the Soulbond Potion. As for the ingredients he couldn't find, Jaina helped procure them from Diagon Alley… and the contraband ones? Those came from the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade. Hagrid had been right—it really was quite convenient.
One after another, the group climbed out of the suitcase. Truth be told, they were all feeling a bit hungry—even Harry. But Ron, who had been exhausting himself the most due to his difficulty controlling his spellwork, was particularly ravenous.
Ron's eyes greedily scanned the table, which was filled with Hagrid's signature chaotic stew—an unidentifiable mix of meats and vegetables, occasionally revealing some mysterious animal's paw or limb.
Back in the day, Ron would have made up an excuse to escape this culinary nightmare. But now, with his stomach practically devouring itself, such trivial concerns were insignificant—food was food!
Forget anything else—Ron lived to eat! Birds, beasts, whatever—it all went down the hatch! If it had meat and bone, he'd gnaw through it! If it looked unappetizing, into the pot it went for another boil!
Eat, chomp, slurp.
Watching them dig in with such enthusiasm, Hagrid couldn't help but burst into hearty laughter. He truly loved scenes like this. Although he had always been friendly with some students, very few had ever visited his home like this—let alone wolfed down his cooking with such gusto.
"Eat up, don't be shy! There's plenty more in the pot," Hagrid chuckled as he brought out a plate of rock-hard biscuits.
As the name suggested, these biscuits were rock-solid—even Harry had to soak them in stew to soften them enough to eat.
"By the way, Hagrid, how's the suit? Does it fit well?" Harry suddenly remembered something and turned to ask. "If it's a bit tight or uncomfortable anywhere, Jaina can take it back to Madam Malkin's for adjustments. If you don't like it, we can get you a new one."
A couple of days ago, Madam Malkin had delivered Harry's custom-made, extra-large suit, which he had promptly gifted to Hagrid.
"Oh, Harry, I love it! It's a gift from you, after all," Hagrid said with a broad smile. "Fits perfectly—no problems at all! I'm planning to wear it to the Christmas feast at the castle. What do you think?"
"Sounds perfect," Harry joked. "It's just a shame there's no lady at Hogwarts built to match your size, or you'd have her swooning."
Harry's words made Ron and the others freeze mid-bite. They imagined Hagrid in a suit… and then tried to picture a woman large enough to be his match…
Their minds conjured up images of towering, muscle-bound women radiating pure, wild energy—Ron turned green.
"W-Well, we haven't actually seen you in a suit before," Ron stammered. "That must look really cool."
"I won't spoil the surprise, kids—that would ruin the fun," Hagrid chuckled.
"Merlin's beard, Hagrid, Harry's been a bad influence on you," Ron rolled his eyes, loudly complaining. But his complaint only made everyone laugh even harder.
"Hahahahahahaha!" Hagrid's laughter rumbled like an earthquake. As he laughed, he turned to fetch a bottle of mead from his cupboard. "Want some, Harry?"
"Sure, why not," Harry considered and nodded.
"We want some too, Hagrid!" Ron eagerly chimed in. "Give us a taste!"
"Oh, no way," Hagrid immediately shook his head. "Mead's too strong for you lot."
"But Harry gets some," Hermione pointed out, exasperated. "Hagrid, Harry is the same age as us! Besides, in Britain, children as young as five can drink alcohol with an adult present, and at sixteen, they can drink in a restaurant with supervision."
"Still not happening," Hagrid was unexpectedly firm on this matter. "Harry is Harry, and you lot are you. That's that. And besides, we're only having a little, aren't we, Harry? I've got to head into the Forbidden Forest later, so I can't drink too much."
"Fair enough," Harry nodded. "But what's going on in the forest? You've been in there a lot these past few days."
"Something's been attacking unicorns," Hagrid said with rare seriousness. "They're scared, and I need to protect them… and find out who or what is behind it."
"Even unicorns can be attacked?" Hermione was stunned. "They're classified as XXXX-level magical creatures! My books say they're incredibly fast, and anyone who kills a unicorn is cursed—who would be crazy enough to do that?!"
"Dark wizards?" Neville suggested. "Harry mentioned that wizards sometimes appear deep in the Forbidden Forest, far from Hogwarts."
"Dunno. Could be people, could be some unknown magical creature. Haven't figured it out yet," Hagrid shook his head. "But don't worry about it—it's not your concern. Oh, not you, Harry," he added quickly. "If it gets out of hand, I'll go straight to Professor Dumbledore."
Hagrid's words made Hermione huff as she stabbed her meat with a fork.
"Need any help?" Harry asked. "At the very least, we should make sure your place is safe. You know, my Shaman Club is meeting here this weekend."
"No need," Hagrid shook his head. "The castle grounds are still safe. The unicorns live deep in the forest."
"Then it's fine," Harry wasn't too concerned.
Magic truly was a force that defied imagination. In just a few days, Harry and his friends had built a house exactly as he remembered it.
Standing before the wooden cabin bathed in golden light, Harry remained silent for a long time.
No matter how close it was, it would never be the same…
He missed home.
After a long while, the wooden cabin's door suddenly swung open from the inside. Hermione stood excitedly at the doorway, waving her hand as she called out, "Harry? Harry! Come on! What are you doing over there?"
"Coming!" Shaking his head to clear away the jumble of thoughts in his mind, Harry responded, "Have you guys already picked your rooms?"
"Yes! That's right! I chose a room on the second floor where I can see the sunlight! Is that okay?" Hermione said happily.
The cabin's interior was far more spacious than its exterior suggested. Harry truly adored wizard magic—especially the Undetectable Extension Charm!
As soon as one stepped inside, a massive stone fireplace dominated the view. There weren't any decorations or furnishings just yet, but in the future, Harry planned to replicate the setup of his small home back in Thunder Bluff right here on the first floor.
All the necessary materials and tools for a shaman, including the ritual area for communing with the elements and ancestors, would be arranged on this level.
As for the second and third floors, Harry left them for his friends, allowing them to decorate freely according to their own preferences.
It was worth mentioning that, likely to prevent smuggling incidents or to safeguard wizards with inadequate magical skills from unstable Extension Charms—which could potentially cause objects inside to be flung out and attract Muggle attention, or even lead to the disappearance or death of living beings—using the Undetectable Extension Charm without authorization was actually against Ministry of Magic regulations.
Legally speaking, wizards needed to file a report with the Ministry before casting the spell, or alternatively, have an official from the Ministry perform it on their behalf—just like how many wizarding homes had interiors far larger than their exteriors.
However, judging by Newt's suitcase and Dumbledore's rather nonchalant attitude toward the matter… the laws in the wizarding world seemed rather lax, to say the least.
Naturally, Harry had no intention of adhering to such a rule.
He had dedicated himself to mastering this world's magic to make his life more comfortable and convenient—if he had to file a report just to cast a spell, wouldn't that defeat the whole purpose of learning magic in the first place?
Perfectly reasonable. Completely reasonable.
Moving into a new home was, of course, cause for celebration. To Harry, this little cabin was, in essence, the first place in this world that truly felt like home—a space that belonged solely to him, where he could feel safe.
It was, therefore, of great significance.
Harry even stayed up late sending out several rounds of owls to purchase ingredients. He even went so far as to wake up Gianna, who had already fallen asleep. After pecking him a few times in protest, the disgruntled owl reluctantly took the order and flew off to Diagon Alley.
Harry planned to prepare an authentic Thunder Bluff feast for his friends and the invited guests—including a dish recognized as the finest culinary masterpiece among all Tauren tribes.
"Need any help?" Hands clasped behind his back, Dumbledore moved closer to the pot, taking a deep breath. "Mmm, smells wonderful."
The old man looked as if he was very—no, extremely—tempted to sneak a taste.
"No need, Headmaster Dumbledore. Could you please take a step back?" Harry wielded a ladle like a makeshift weapon to fend him off. "You're too close to the pot. I don't want your beard falling in. Besides, you're a guest tonight. The Tauren don't let their guests do any work."
"Oh, Harry, if you hadn't reminded me, I might've forgotten that I'm here as a guest tonight," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "Truly, what a novel experience. It's been quite some time since I was last in such a role."
"You can't imagine how startled an old man can be when he steps out of his room for a late-night trip, only to be immediately called upon," Dumbledore joked. "Honestly, Harry, your persistence is astonishing. I don't even want to imagine how long you waited there."
"Too bad I only caught you once, Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry replied without changing his expression. "It's really quite a pity. Professors shouldn't be on guard against students—I thought it was a teacher's duty to help students with their difficulties."
"Yes, that is indeed a teacher's duty… but only when the student in question doesn't immediately drag the professor into hauling small mountains or casting Growth Charms on an entire forest of trees," Dumbledore said, shaking his head with a helpless smile. "And to think that poor old man didn't even have time to change out of his nightclothes before being pulled into a suitcase, his wand still cold from disuse."
"I thought we were friends, Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry remarked casually, ignoring the old wizard's pointed stare as he stirred the contents of the pot. "A true Gryffindor wouldn't refuse to help a friend."
"In that case, let's use a more fitting title between friends, Harry. We're not at school right now," Dumbledore said, finally breaking into laughter. He glanced at the lively scene behind him and sighed, "Honestly, I can't even remember the last time I was invited to someone's home as a guest."
Time inside the enchanted suitcase had been adjusted to nighttime. The sky was clear, with a crescent moon hanging in the heavens. Though visible, it wasn't particularly bright, making the stars shine all the more brilliantly.
In the distance, the forest cast faint, wavering shadows. The warm breeze brushed against their faces. A massive bonfire blazed in front of the cabin, illuminating the clearing as if it were daylight.
Dumbledore wasn't the only one invited—Professor McGonagall was also present. Harry deeply respected this upright and admirable professor, not only because she had guided him in his magical studies but also because she had shown him genuine care.
Under Dumbledore's gaze, McGonagall sat by the fire with Hagrid, each holding a tankard of butterbeer. Hagrid had just finished telling a joke, and though McGonagall tried to suppress her laughter, the slight upward curve of her lips betrayed her amusement.
Ron, Hermione, and Neville sat a little further away from McGonagall. A bonfire gathering like this was, of course, full of joy—Neville was attempting to roast his own meat, only to grimace after taking a bite and toss the charred skewer into the flames.
Hermione, meanwhile, was earnestly trying to recreate a Muggle-style barbecue her father had once made during a family gathering, enthusiastically explaining the differences between wizarding and Muggle seasonings.
The latter, as she pointed out, often involved a surprising amount of "technological ingenuity."
As for Ron… Ron was doing his best to stay hidden behind the bonfire, trying not to be seen by the figure sitting at the very edge of the fire's glow, where it met the forest.
Naturally, the only person who could make Ron this wary was Snape.
However, Harry thought Ron was overthinking it. Tonight, Snape had absolutely no interest in paying him even a second of attention.
After all, as part of his housewarming celebration, Harry had invited the professor who had, in his own way, also shown him care. Regardless of Snape's motivations—whether due to his connection to Harry's mother or otherwise—Harry had undeniably received his protection.
Snape had originally been reluctant to attend. As the head of Slytherin, he was as solitary and aloof as the snakes he represented, never seeking others' approval.
But when Harry mentioned that he would be summoning his ancestors' spirits—including his parents—to join the celebration, Snape's attitude changed at astonishing speed.
An easy win.
He even seemed rather eager. Snape was, in fact, the first guest to arrive—and quite early at that. He had even brought an exquisitely packaged box of pastries as a housewarming gift, which was so out of character that Ron's jaw nearly hit the ground in shock.
At this moment, Snape was seated far from the lively gathering. Beside him were two spirits, their translucent forms glowing faintly with a soft blue light. The three of them appeared to be engaged in a conversation—one that occasionally escalated into heated debate, punctuated by James Potter repeatedly passing through Snape's body with a mischievous glee.
Harry had, in fact, mentioned this to his mother, hoping she might persuade Snape to tone down his... rather blatant favoritism at school.
Whether Snape would actually listen was another matter entirely.
Especially considering the way Lily Potter had merely smiled and pressed her lips together in amusement at the suggestion...
Yeah. Harry wasn't holding out much hope.
Dumbledore had observed all of this, his gaze lingering on the distant scene. He now looked somewhat at ease, though a sigh soon escaped his lips.
"How wonderful..." he murmured.
Harry turned his head to look at the old man, whose expression was distant, his eyes carrying the weight of years past, filled with memories long since faded yet never truly gone.
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