Harry Potter: Returning from Azeroth

It's hard to imagine just how fast these deceptively adorable little devils can move until you've been ransacked by a Niffler—and even harder to grasp how uncannily sharp their senses are when it comes to anything that glitters.

A trunk encountering a Niffler is like a battlefield meeting a marauding demon—utter chaos, complete havoc, and a desperate struggle doomed to fail.

"Oh! No!!"

Finally, as he hovered midair, Ron ceased his frantic struggle and let out a wail of despair—he could feel it.

The next moment, the Niffler leaped out from his robes, its little paw clutching a strap—specifically, the belt around Ron's waist, its buckle a gleaming, circular piece of metal.

Behind it, Ron's expression was one of pure horror as his trousers, now liberated from their restraint, surrendered to gravity and tumbled downward.

Beside him, Neville barely dared to breathe, petrified that any movement might draw the creature's attention. He stood still as a statue, hoping to remain invisible.

…

As the undisputed expert in handling Nifflers, it was Newt who finally subdued the mischievous creature and returned Ron's meager possessions—belt included.

Newt might be hopeless when it came to interacting with children or people in general, but when it came to magical creatures, he was in his element.

Facing the Niffler, he even took on a parental air, crouching down and giving it a thorough scolding, sternly instructing it not to steal from others.

Honestly, Ron wished the ground would swallow him whole—even though Hermione had turned away the moment the incident began, sparing him from her gaze.

Even so, he remained red-faced and silent for a long time after, completely mortified.

There was no denying Newt's expertise in magical creatures. He led the group on a tour of his enchanted trunk, introducing them to a variety of creatures they had never seen before—like the chameleon-like Displacer Lizard, the fuzzy Hairy Crab, and the agile Tree Monkey Frog…

Even Harry encountered a familiar face—the very same feline beast that had been so helpful the night before: the Zouwu.

According to Newt, this magical creature hailed from China and had the ability to travel vast distances in the blink of an eye.

Despite its imposing size, the Zouwu was surprisingly playful. With nothing more than a simple cat toy, even Hermione was able to get it to chase and pounce.

For Ron and the others, this was undoubtedly a day worth remembering—an adventure to boast about for years to come.

Newt, however, was more than happy to avoid any further encounters with the other Hogwarts students. Ron swore that once Newt left in a few days, he would make absolutely certain his brothers turned green with envy.

Pure joy, no thoughts of Hogwarts.

Not even a meal made by Hagrid at noon could dampen their excitement and curiosity.

A steak stew.

Harry struggled to pinpoint the exact origins of its ingredients—he found a few bones and claws of questionable provenance—but in terms of taste, well… it wasn't bad.

Even Harry was captivated by the sheer variety and uniqueness of the magical creatures. They possessed an otherworldly wonder, distinct from the beasts of Azeroth.

This was the thrill of adventure—discovering the unimaginable, relishing the joy of the unknown.

By the time they were all worn out and lounging on the grass, sipping lemonade in the warm afternoon sun, Harry noticed Newt beckoning him over with a secretive expression.

"Is there something you need help with, Newt? Don't hesitate to ask," Harry offered sincerely. "I'd be happy to help."

"Help?" Newt blinked in surprise, then quickly shook his head. "Oh, no, no. Actually, I just wanted to say—I found your descriptions of those magical creatures fascinating. They gave me a lot of inspiration. Especially the idea of Spirit Beasts—I'd love to see one in person."

Newt sighed wistfully.

During their conversation, Harry had recounted many of the unique creatures of Azeroth, purely as tales. He had, of course, reminded Newt that these were merely stories.

He had mentioned the legendary Spirit Beasts that hunters tirelessly sought, the Celestial Serpents of Pandaria, the jade panthers sculpted from living stone, the ethereal Starry Dragons of Mogu'shan Vaults, the fire-hued Dragonhawks, the mysterious Void Rays, and even creatures born of molten lava…

"For you, they're just stories, Newt," Harry teased. "If those creatures really appeared in this world, it would probably be a disaster."

"That's not necessarily true." Turning back, Newt gave him a playful wink.

It wasn't until Newt had walked several steps ahead that Harry finally processed the implication of his words.

Newt was a renowned expert in magical creatures.

Years ago, he had successfully pushed for the establishment of a law within the Ministry of Magic: the Ban on Experimental Breeding. It was one of his proudest achievements—more so than the creation of the Werewolf Registry, a fact he had casually mentioned in their conversations.

Before the law was enacted, wizards could freely create and experiment with new magical creatures—many of which were highly dangerous or suffered immensely due to their unnatural origins, causing endless trouble for both the Ministry and the wizarding world.

But with the ban in place, only a handful of people in all of Britain still had the legal right to breed or create new magical creatures. The Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts was one; Newt himself, as the man who spearheaded the ban, was another.

So… was Newt implying that he wanted to breed these creatures himself?

Harry thought about it… and honestly, there didn't seem to be any downside.

"If you do manage to breed them, could you give me a few?" Harry asked as he followed Newt back into the cottage.

"Of course," Newt replied cheerfully, rummaging through a pile of crates. "I had a feeling you'd be interested… Now, where did I put it?"

"Ah, here it is."

Dragging a trunk out from beneath a stack of boxes, Newt checked it over before pushing it toward Harry.

It looked exactly like the one Harry had seen in his Divination vision—down to the last detail. His heartbeat quickened.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's yours," Newt said matter-of-factly. "I can guarantee that when it comes to crafting magically expanded trunks, no one is better than me. Want to take a look inside?"

"Absolutely!" Harry didn't hesitate.

After witnessing the vast world inside Newt's own trunk, no one could possibly refuse an opportunity to own something similar—not even Harry.

Wasting no time, he clambered down the ladder. The experience was surreal—like stepping into a box within a box, akin to a Russian nesting doll.

As he descended, he felt the warmth of sunlight on his skin. Looking around, there were no buildings inside—just a single wooden signpost nearby. From a distance, it looked as if a hole had been torn in midair, with a ladder extending into a pristine grassland. A winding river meandered in the distance.

"I regret to inform you, Harry, that this trunk isn't quite as large as mine," Newt admitted as he climbed down behind him. "After all, mine has been expanded and modified over many years. But I think this should be enough for your needs."

"More than enough." Harry stamped his foot on the grass, then turned to Newt. "But I don't understand—why?"

"You mean why I'm giving you this trunk?" Newt smiled. "Actually, it was Dumbledore's request. He wrote to me recently, asking me to prepare a trunk for a child who would need its help."

"That would be me," Harry mused. "But I don't understand—Dumbledore and I agreed that I'd only receive it once everything was settled. Why now?"

Was this an early reward?

Quirrell was still alive, after all.

"Oh, that's because I decided to give it to you directly, instead of handing it over to Dumbledore," Newt joked. "Besides, he had another request—that I come to Hogwarts and take a good look at you—the Boy Who Lived."

"To be honest, no one has been able to understand what Dumbledore is thinking for decades," Newt sighed. "But I've learned that listening to him is rarely a mistake."

"So, you think I deserve this trunk?" Harry asked.

"Why not?" Newt shrugged. "A bit of an odd obsession, sure, but he's a good kid at heart. Don't dwell on it, Harry. Want to give this a try?"

Newt was undeniably an old man, his hair and beard streaked with white, yet something about the way he carried himself always made people forget his age.

Like now—one hand pressed against the wooden panel, his other gesturing enthusiastically toward Harry, an almost childlike grin of excitement on his face, as if he were showing off a new toy.

"What is it?" Harry leaned in curiously.

"You'll see once you try it," Newt stepped aside, making room. "Since I wasn't sure what kind of setting you'd prefer, I only built the most basic environment. Here, turn this dial."

The wooden panel had three dials. One of them, drawn in a hasty hand, bore symbols of a lightning bolt, a sun, wavy lines of unknown meaning, and swirling patterns. A single pointer rested on the sun.

"Go on, give it a try," Newt urged.

Harry twisted the dial. As the pointer moved from the sun to the swirling lines, he instantly felt a gust of wind rising from within the suitcase. The farther he turned it to the right, the stronger the wind became.

"This controls the weather inside the case?" Harry asked.

"Exactly! Now, try the next one—oh, wait! Not that hard!"

Newt's warning came too late.

Harry had already cranked the dial forcefully onto the wavy lines, pressing it deep.

In the very next second, a torrential downpour, warm to the touch, came crashing down on them from above. Before Harry could react, he and Newt were both drenched from head to toe, standing in the middle of an empty field with rain lashing against them in sheets.

It was a true downpour—the kind that reduced visibility to mere meters ahead, as if the entire space within the suitcase was on the verge of flooding.

"...That's rain, Harry!" Newt shouted, wiping water from his face. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the deafening roar of rainfall. "I should've warned you!"

Harry, utterly speechless, glanced up—and was met with the sight of a scorching midday sun still shining fiercely above them, its bright rays illuminating the cascading rain.

Pouring rain. A blazing sun overhead. The absurdity of it all made Harry reach for another dial and give it a spin.

In an instant, the entire sky shifted—what had been high noon transitioned smoothly into afternoon, dusk, then nightfall.

And just like that, the torrential rain became a starry downpour beneath the darkened sky.

Newt seemed to be enjoying the spectacle as well. He quickly flicked the third dial, and at once, the sky clouded over, thick storm clouds rolling in overhead. Now, at least, the rain seemed to belong in a natural storm.

Like a pair of children with a new toy, Harry and Newt stood by the wooden panel, turning the dials with reckless abandon, watching as the weather inside the suitcase shifted in an instant.

Lightning storms that crackled across the sky like tangled threads, blinding rain under golden sunlight, fog pierced by rays of dawn, swirling tornadoes, blizzards that blanketed everything in white…

By the time they had thoroughly tested the case's weather controls, the space within had settled into a warm, pleasant afternoon glow—no blizzards, no torrential rains, just the perfect weather for tea.

As for Harry and Newt? Their clothes were soaked through, their hair and bodies covered in frost and snowflakes.

They locked eyes.

Then, all at once, both burst into laughter.

"Looks like we got a little carried away," Newt chuckled, pulling out his wand. "Let's hope you don't catch a cold, or Madam Pomfrey will be furious."

With a flick of his wand, a warm rush of magic enveloped them. In seconds, both Harry and his clothes were completely dry, even his hair free of moisture.

No matter how many times he experienced it, Harry had to admit—magic made life so much easier.

"Thank you, Newt." He met Newt's eyes, his expression sincere. "Can I really keep this suitcase? I mean—something this incredible?"

If he'd had a case like this back in Azeroth, Harry couldn't even begin to imagine how much hardship it would have saved him, how much easier certain battles would have been.

The military applications alone were unprecedented. Forget everything else—just the fact that it could silently transport an entire force behind enemy lines, or carry troops without burdening the caster, elevated this beyond legendary equipment.

This was an artifact. No—this was a divine artifact among divine artifacts!

"Er, it's not quite that grand," Newt muttered, suddenly uncomfortable with the gratitude. He averted his gaze. "Actually, I originally made this for my grandson, Rolf, but… he ended up choosing a different one. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not." Harry stepped forward and pulled Newt into a firm hug. "If you ever need anything from me, just say the word. I know Dumbledore asked you to do this, but he is him, and I am me—I owe you for this."

"What? No, that's not necessary—alright, alright," Newt sighed as Harry tightened his embrace. He patted Harry's back awkwardly. "Thank you, Harry. Anyway, when you decide where to build your home, just take this wooden panel with you."

"That easy?" Harry's excitement grew. "Anything I should know about maintenance?"

"Just make sure the suitcase remains intact from the outside. Damaging it could break the Extension Charm, and that would be extremely dangerous." Newt thought for a moment before adding, "Other than that, not much. If you ever want to expand the space or alter the sky and weather, you'll have to handle it yourself."

"You'll need to master Extension Charms, Weather Modification Spells, Temperature Charms, and have a solid grasp of Alchemy and Ancient Runes. If you need help, ask Dumbledore—he helped me a lot back in the day." Newt smiled warmly. "The more magic you master, the more realistic the environment inside will become. Keep at it."

"I will," Harry promised. "And thank you again."

"No need to thank me—uh, I mean, let's head up. The others are probably waiting," Newt said hastily, clearly uncomfortable with the sentimentality.

As they climbed the ladder out of the suitcase, Newt showed Harry one more feature—one that proved just how advanced this particular model was.

On the side of the suitcase's handle was a small circular ring. By rotating it, the exterior of the suitcase could change at will—from its current brown leather to black velvet, or even an animal-hide finish. A simple twist, and it transformed in an instant—quick, seamless, and highly discreet.

The only downside? It couldn't shrink the suitcase's actual size.

But as Newt put it, "When you need to escape or pass through security checks, it's a lifesaver."

Which, of course, made Harry seriously wonder just what kind of activities Newt had been involved in with this suitcase.

Smuggling, perhaps?

He'd have to look into it later.

Something told him there was an incredible adventure behind this story.

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