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HRA# Chapter 55: The Secret of Newt's Suitcase
🕑 Added 2025-03-01 19:07:35 +0000 UTC"Breakfast time is already over," Harry raised an eyebrow and said, "Did you stay up all night?"
Hagrid looked utterly disheveled at the moment. He was still wearing the same tattered clothes from yesterday, which had been ripped up by the centaurs, and over them, he had hastily thrown on an apron covered in dirt. Yet, despite his ragged appearance, he seemed full of energy.
"Yeah, how could I possibly sleep?" Hagrid said excitedly. "Honestly, you'd never guess what's inside Newt's suitcase. Last night, I even helped deliver a baby Invisible Horror—you probably don’t even know what that is, do you, Harry?"
"Invisible Horror? You mean the ones with fur that can be used to make Invisibility Cloaks?" Harry recalled.
"No, no, no, not the Demiguise, the Invisible Horror!" Hagrid launched into an enthusiastic explanation, his passion for magical creatures making him indistinguishable from Newt. "The Invisible Horror is a hybrid between a Demiguise and a Ghoul. It also has the ability to turn invisible, but unlike the Demiguise, which resembles an ape, the Invisible Horror has no fixed form."
"It can change its shape at will, Harry!" Hagrid grew more animated as he spoke. "I can't even describe the feeling—until I actually caught the newborn in my hands, I couldn't tell where the mother ended and where the baby began!"
"I’m guessing it’s dangerous," Harry sized up Hagrid.
"Oh, absolutely, of course it’s dangerous," Hagrid shrugged. "The Invisible Horror is a carnivore that usually lives deep in the forest and preys on humanoid creatures—wait, how did you guess?"
"You've got a scratch on your face, Hagrid," Harry pointed out kindly. "I’d suggest putting some ointment on it to prevent infection. By the way, is it safe down here? Hermione and the others are still waiting above."
"I got injured?" Hagrid touched his cheek, only now realizing the wound. "Oh, just a scratch, nothing to worry about. Let them come down, Harry. Newt and I spent all night getting things ready."
"Since you were all coming today, we had to make sure some of the… big fellas were secured in advance."
"That explains it," Harry nodded. He stepped back inside the hut and called up toward the ladder.
It didn’t take long before Ron and the others carefully climbed down.
Just like Harry had been at first, they were utterly stunned by what they saw.
Warm sunlight, a gentle breeze brushing against their faces, tiny flying insects zipping through the air, and the sight of magical creatures lazily lounging in their nests.
These creatures truly lived here.
Neville gasped and nudged Ron, pointing at a spot where a lizard had suddenly flicked out its tongue and snatched a flying insect out of the air. The sight sent a wave of excitement through the group.
"This is… absolutely incredible!!" Hermione grabbed Harry’s shoulders in excitement. "A suitcase with this much space inside! It even has a sky! And a sun! And wind!! Harry! Can you figure out how this was done?!"
"With what I know about magic so far, I can tell this relies heavily on the Undetectable Extension Charm," Harry gritted his teeth as he tried to pry his arm free from Hermione’s grip. "Easy there, Hermione."
"The Undetectable Extension Charm is the main component, but equally important are weather charms and temperature regulation spells—different magical creatures require different climates to thrive, and each species has its own designated habitat," came Newt’s voice from the side.
"Hey, Newt. Hope we’re not disturbing you," Harry greeted him.
"Of course… um, I mean, no, not at all," Newt responded a little stiffly. "You all arrived earlier than I expected."
"This is simply amazing! Mr. Scamander!" Hermione exclaimed in excitement. "How did you manage all of this? According to Professor Flitwick, spell effects shouldn’t last forever, yet you've created this vast space inside a suitcase, even replicating sunlight! Merlin’s beard, this is unbelievable! Is this the true power of magic?!"
As she spoke, Hermione eagerly stepped closer, causing Newt to back away little by little until he bumped into a table behind him. He cast a pleading look at Harry, his eyes practically screaming for help.
"How do you maintain the oxygen balance in here? Do you need to exchange air between the suitcase and the outside world? And with so many magical creatures, do you take care of them all by yourself? What if the suitcase gets damaged? What happens to everythi—mmph! Mmmph!!"
Hermione had countless questions bubbling out of her, her eyes practically sparkling. But unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—she was abruptly silenced.
Harry had stepped behind her and clamped a hand over her mouth, physically dragging her away from Newt. Finally, the older man let out a relieved sigh.
"My goodness…" Newt loosened his collar and wiped some sweat off his forehead.
He was really not good at dealing with children—especially ones as enthusiastic and inquisitive as Hermione.
"Hiss!!"
Just as Harry moved Hermione away, he suddenly inhaled sharply. Letting go immediately, he looked down to see a row of faint teeth marks on his fingers.
The culprit, of course, was the indignant Hermione, her cheeks flushed pink as she glared at him.
"…You scared him, Hermione," Harry shrugged and explained in a low voice. "Newt’s a bit shy. Try to take it easy."
"Really?" Hermione blinked in surprise. She wasn’t an inconsiderate person, so when she turned to look at Newt and saw how visibly uncomfortable he was, she quickly apologized. "I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize—"
Her words abruptly stopped.
Not just her—even Ron and Neville, who had been fooling around in the background, suddenly fell silent.
Because, from behind Newt, a… completely indescribable magical creature had just leapt into view.
It had a short, stocky body covered in thick, reddish-brown fur. Five sturdy legs extended from its body, but instead of feet, they had what looked more like hands—large, thick fingers, each limb ending in an oddly malformed shape.
Harry recognized it immediately.
It was the same magical creature Newt had released—well, not entirely. Last time, only two of its legs had emerged before Newt quickly sent it back into the suitcase.
Now, they were finally seeing it in its entirety.
It was extremely ugly, and equally terrifying. Though its five red-furred feet were already striking enough, what truly captured one's attention was the enormous, tooth-filled mouth right in the center of its body.
A Quintaped.
Harry still remembered the name Hagrid had shouted last night.
"Stop. Don't move." Newt's voice rang out clearly in everyone's ears. But in truth, even if he hadn't spoken, the others had already instinctively slowed their movements, doing their best not to attract attention.
Harry tensed up slightly because he saw Newt quietly drawing his wand—this meant that even the Magizoologist himself was having trouble controlling this magical beast.
"Tsk, tsk tsk—tsk tsk."
Muttering strange sounds, Newt flicked his wand lightly, and a wooden barrel suddenly flew out from beneath a nearby table. The barrel was filled with some kind of meat—so much that it formed a small mound.
It was obvious that Newt was nervous, too. Though the Quintaped’s fleshy, beady eyes darted toward the barrel of meat, its gaze lingered much longer on the group of people behind Newt—especially on the younger ones like Harry and his friends.
Its body lowered slightly, its five muscular feet tensing.
A clear sign of an imminent attack.
"Roar!!" Without hesitation, Harry flung back his robe, unstrapped the shield from his back, and let out a loud, ferocious bellow, hammering the shield with his warhammer.
Crack! Boom!!
A bolt of lightning, seemingly from nowhere, struck Harry’s shield with a deafening clap, making Hermione cry out in alarm. But instead of vanishing upon impact, the lightning clung to the surface like a woven net, branching out in intricate, tree-like patterns.
His warhammer crackled with sparks as well. When Harry swung it forward, a long streak of lightning shot forth, striking the ground in front of the Quintaped. The earth blackened instantly, and even the stones split apart from the force.
The Quintaped froze, as if hesitating.
Three seconds. Five seconds.
Then, all of a sudden, it bit down on the barrel of meat and leaped away in an instant.
A collective sigh of relief echoed from the doorway of the hut.
"That was cool, Harry," Neville whispered. "That lightning strike was incredible."
"Well done, Harry," Newt said, turning to him. "You made it feel threatened—that was crucial."
"No need to worry, Newt. I’m here too," Hagrid said, thumping his chest confidently. "Ain’t it a beauty, Harry? That’s a Quintaped for ya."
"That’s a Quintaped??" Hermione’s face turned pale. She stammered, "I—I read about it in your book, Mr. Scamander. It’s classified as a XXXXX-level magical creature."
"What does that mean, Hermione?" Ron asked from behind her.
"Every XXXXX-level creature is a wizard-killer," Hermione explained, swallowing hard. "And according to legend, Quintapeds were once wizards themselves."
"Absolutely correct, Miss… Hermione, was it?" Newt said with a smile. "There is indeed such a legend. It’s said that long ago, two wizarding families lived on the Isle of Drear—the MacBoon family and the McClivert family. One night, after drinking too much, the two patriarchs engaged in a wizard's duel, and Dugald McClivert was killed."
"Seeking revenge, the McCliverts attacked the MacBoons, transforming every last one of them into Quintapeds," Newt recounted leisurely. "But no one expected what happened next—the MacBoons, in their monstrous forms, became even more dangerous. Despite the McCliverts’ desperate attempts to reverse the transformation, they failed. In the end, the Quintapeds wiped out every last member of the McClivert family."
"Ugh, this sounds like something out of Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration class," Ron muttered under his breath, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Newt chuckled. "If the legend is true, then yes, it would certainly be a cautionary tale of transfiguration gone wrong."
"So… is it true?" Hermione asked eagerly, eyes wide.
"No one knows for sure," Newt shrugged. "There were no survivors to confirm the story. And Quintapeds certainly can’t talk. The only thing we do know is that they fiercely resist every attempt by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to return them to their original forms."
"So that means they really could be transformed wizards? That’s why the department keeps trying?" Hermione cast a wary glance in the direction the Quintaped had fled.
"Perhaps," Newt joked, "but if the MacBoons really did turn into Quintapeds, they must be quite content as they are. They certainly show no desire to turn back."
"That’s not funny at all… Magic is far too dangerous. I need to be more careful," Hermione muttered, before suddenly raising her head. "But… in your book, you said Quintapeds couldn’t be trained or domesticated. So why did that one seem—"
She hesitated.
"Seem like it had been tamed?" Newt smiled. "You're very observant, Miss Granger… but in truth, I haven’t tamed it."
"You haven’t?! Then how did you—"
"Patience, child," Newt said gently. "Quintapeds are extremely dangerous carnivores, and they have an unusual preference for human flesh. As a result, their relationship with wizards has always been purely hostile."
"So, to be precise, I didn’t tame it. I simply fed it. Few creatures hunt when they’re already full. That would be a waste of energy. And, well, Quintapeds are incredibly ticklish—at least, this one is."
"I don’t know how it escaped from Drear Island. That island is unplottable for a reason—to keep the Quintaped threat contained." Newt shook his head. "If not for Dumbledore’s request, I would’ve already sent it back."
"I think we might need you to personally escort us during our tour of your case, Newt," Harry mused.
He had assumed that after a night of preparation, Hagrid and Newt had secured all the dangerous creatures. But after that close call with the Quintaped… perhaps it was best to be cautious.
"Oi! Harry! Look at me!!" Ron suddenly shouted excitedly. "Look! I’m floating!!"
Harry turned to see both Ron and Neville hovering about half a meter off the ground, looking dazed but absolutely delighted.
"Ah-ha! They’ve been stung by a Billywig!" Newt exclaimed cheerfully. "I have a Muggle friend who loves being stung by them—says it makes him feel like he can do magic."
As he spoke, Harry spotted a small, bright blue insect, no more than half an inch long, emerging from the back of Ron’s neck. Its iridescent body gleamed like polished jade, and its rapidly spinning wings—positioned on top of its head—propelled it through the air in a corkscrew motion. A long, thin stinger dangled from its underside.
That must be the Billywig, Harry thought.
"Are you two coming along, or do you plan to just float here?" Harry asked Ron and Neville, dismissing the lightning from his shield and hammer before strapping them back on. "If you want to stay here, I’ll have to lock you inside the hut. If that Quintaped returns, you’ll be in trouble."
"Right!" Hermione chimed in. "I don’t want to come back to find two piles of bones… or worse, two piles of dung."
Hagrid roared with laughter.
"Ugh! Hermione, shut up!" Ron gagged. "Just get us down from here—Hey! What’s that?!"
Before he could finish, a small mole-like creature scurried out of nowhere, leaping onto Ron’s pant leg and scrambling up his robes in an instant.
"Merlin’s pants! Harry! HELP!!"
Instinctively, he let out a cry for help. Anyone would panic if a creature the size of a rat suddenly burrowed into their clothes, terrified that it might sink its teeth into something… especially with the unsettling sensation of it scurrying around inside.
It was like trying to swim midair. Ron flailed his arms wildly, desperately trying to grab hold of the creature wriggling inside his robes, but the dizziness from the Billywig sting made him perpetually a step too slow.
This wasn’t just a case of scalp-tingling fear—Ron’s entire body broke out in goosebumps.
“Ah, that’s a Niffler!” Hermione exclaimed, delighted to recognize yet another magical creature. “They love anything that glitters. Ron, do you have anything shiny on you?”
“Something shiny… Do horns count?” Ron asked blankly, still floating in midair.
“Hm?” Harry’s gaze sharpened.
“No, no, I meant—ah!” Feeling the sudden shift in atmosphere, Ron instinctively shrank his neck, then let out a wail. “Hey, don’t touch my Knut, you little thief! That’s my last bit of money!”
The Niffler suddenly scurried up from Ron’s collar to his shoulder, clutching a well-worn, polished bronze Knut that gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight—before promptly stuffing it into the pouch on its belly.
Ron’s screams intensified.
Comments
Vick
Niffler ARE menaces.
