Chapter 528: Magical Creatures Chapter - 1

Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts was as spacious and warm as ever, and seated before the massive carved desk was a seventh-year student: he wore the yellow Hufflepuff uniform, his freckled face showing early signs of maturity, his once-handsome brows now furrowed, his eyes filled with deep confusion.

“Relax, Ben,” Headmaster Longbottom said gently, “your question is a common one—I faced it myself when I was young.”

“You too…?” Benjamin instinctively lifted his left hand, where a watch he could never remove was strapped.

“No, I’m not referring to your difficulty controlling Extra-Wizard power—that, in my view, isn’t a problem at all,” Headmaster Longbottom said with a faint, knowing smile. “I’m referring to the fact that two girls are around you, and you’re unsure which one you prefer. Isn’t that it?”

“Gwen, a Slytherin elite, possesses solid and profound magical knowledge, and has advanced further than her peers in developing Extra-Wizard power—clearly, she would make an excellent ally. You’ve shared extraordinary adventures together, and feelings have already formed between you—I’ve seen it all.” The Headmaster first opened one hand, then the other. “Scotia, your classmate, has average grades and abilities, yet she’s a girl who sees nothing but you. When you’re with her, your heart is filled with quiet joy; she lets you truly feel the beauty of the world—if you’ve ever been as confused about power as I was, then a simple, sincere girl is the best choice.”

At that moment, Benjamin’s mind was flooded with curiosity about the Headmaster’s personal life, to the point he completely forgot his own dilemma. He couldn’t help asking: “Did you once have a ‘comrade’ too? Everyone says—I think you and the Prime Minister…”

Headmaster Longbottom’s expression turned serious again. He immediately cut him off: “It seems you don’t need emotional advice after all. Let’s get to the matter at hand: I called you here about your graduation thesis. You must visit Dalaran to observe and interact with more advanced magical creatures—it’s to enhance and stabilize your power. You already know this.”

Benjamin nodded guiltily, certain the Headmaster was angry.

“There’s another matter. We’ll use your thesis as an excuse to send you on an exchange to Red Star Groove. You’ve mastered the Snatcher, and Snatchers can detect high-value items invisible to ordinary people—not just treasure, but sometimes intelligence as well.”

“Me…?”

“Of course. You could also choose to be a plain, obedient exchange student—finish your thesis and return.” The Headmaster’s tone grew light again. “General Potter has many plans to gather intelligence on Su Fang. The burden isn’t placed entirely on one person. Our strategic goal isn’t difficult either—just understand the movements and intentions of the Su magical world, to prepare for a greater plan ahead. That’s all.”

Benjamin’s emotions gradually steadied. He realized he was perhaps only a peripheral supplement to the plan—and that made him feel far lighter.

“I understand the matter, Headmaster.” He asked, “May I ask you about emotions…”

“These two matters can be coupled,” the Headmaster relaxed back in his chair. “Tell Gwen about this. A new adventure will deepen your bond and help you decide.”

Benjamin’s eyes widened sharply. From the Headmaster’s words, he heard clear bias—and began to suspect the entire mission’s true purpose. But he couldn’t directly question it. He could only ask cautiously: “But wouldn’t this be… unfair to Scotia?”

“Unfair? Yes, somewhat. The grand narrative has always been unfair to Greengrass.” The Headmaster’s tone grew slightly cold. “But you never had confusion about Extra-Wizard power, nor did you need emotional comfort, did you?”

“Actually, I do. I’ve always felt my abilities don’t deserve General Potter’s high regard. Magical creatures themselves are weaker than other Extra-Wizard powers, and I can only transform for ten minutes at a time.”

“Your ability is highly adaptable. Paired with Gwen, who already has strong combat prowess, you’ll achieve more than the sum of your parts.” The Headmaster nodded. “More importantly, this is a Ministry-exclusive achievement—developed entirely without any Celestial technology. We built it ourselves. Potter values that deeply.”

After a brief silence, Headmaster Longbottom felt he had said all he needed to. He stood and spoke softly: “Go think it over carefully. The bigger picture isn’t so urgent that we need new recruits for critical missions—but this decision concerns which girl you wish to pursue. It’s your personal choice.”

After Benjamin left the Headmaster’s office with heavy thoughts, Headmaster Longbottom waved his wand, and the thick wooden door slammed shut. Behind him, the portraits began chattering at once: “How could you send a seventh-year on such a dangerous mission?” “But we did even more dangerous things at fifth year.” “Strictly speaking, this mission isn’t dangerous at all.”

Neville Longbottom sighed heavily, turning his chair to face the former Headmasters. “I warned him from the start—it’s fundamentally an emotional issue. But there’s a powerful noblewoman… she insisted on interfering.”

Above churning clouds, a purple public bus glided smoothly through the sky, facing away from the rising sun. As the familiar ding-dong sounded, the middle-aged conductor announced their imminent arrival, and the passengers, drowsy from morning slumber, finally stirred, preparing to reach their workplaces.

Among the crowd of workers was a seventh-year Hogwarts student troubled by his graduation thesis. He combed his brown hair like an adult, and on the front of his neat robe hung a violet eye in full bloom—a sign he had mastered Extra-Wizard power. When he boarded, it had drawn no small amount of envy.

“Morning, Ben,” the griffin attendant greeted him. “Still studying Buckbeak today?”

“No,” Benjamin replied politely. “I’ve made plans with a friend—she’s interning in the Combat Mage Corps.”

“They’ve been swamped lately,” the attendant said, surprised. “Did he take time off just for you?”

With a faint warmth in his chest, Benjamin met Gwen in the Magic Inn’s café. She had dyed her hair a flowing golden blonde—stunningly beautiful.

“Morning, Ben,” Gwen waved enthusiastically. “What’ll you have?”

“Just chocolate.” Benjamin pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “Aren’t you busy today?”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll be idle for a long while,” Gwen sighed, shrugging. “I submitted a request for field duty—and got rejected. They must think I’m too strong, afraid I’ll outshine the captain and threaten his position.”

“That’s funny, Gwen. Didn’t know you were still so good at jokes.” Benjamin laughed. “So you’ve been assigned guard duty, then?”

“Yes—right here at the inn. Ugh. It’s a task everyone wants, but I find it unbearably dull.” She sipped her drink. “You said you had something to tell me—planning another grand adventure?”

“It’s not a joke. We must take this seriously,” Benjamin said earnestly. “General Potter wants us to enter Red Star Groove under the guise of academic exchange, then gather intelligence on the Su magical world.”

“That’s normal. Every wizard who gets near that city spies. Everyone knows—and so does the KGB.” Gwen shrugged. “So what’s the plan? Let me guess—you’ll pretend to be the magical creature specialist, while I hide and wait for my chance?”

“But I haven’t decided whether to do that. Old Beetle said I could just go as a normal exchange student.”

“You came to me because you’ve already decided, haven’t you?” Gwen’s excitement rose. “And since we joined Torchwood, carrying out the General’s orders is only natural—even if Old Beetle wants to protect students, or at least wants others to think he does. But again: the KGB already assumes we’re here to spy. So why not actually spy a little?”

“Besides, I think this plan works. I can draw their attention openly, giving you the chance to act unseen.” She continued. “What animals can you now transform into reliably?”

“Invisibility Beast, Griffin, Winged Devil, Tree-Protector, and recently, the Snatcher.” Benjamin sighed. “I just found out—this little watch is purely domestic. No wonder it’s so unstable.”

“Instability is normal—even better,” Gwen said carelessly. “The principle relies on a Boggart. In other words, every time it glitches, it turns into a more suitable creature, right? Remember when you summoned a Thunderbird? Did you ever manage it again?”

“No—only once. I’d actually like to try again.”

“Anyway, with the Snatcher, our plan should work.”

Benjamin hesitated, then slowly said: “But if you pretend to be the magical creature specialist… I think you don’t know much about them, do you?”

“True. That’s a problem.”

“Better to be honest—I’m the exchange student, and you’re my escort. That way, the KGB will focus more on you, giving me a better chance to surprise them.”

“Escort?” Gwen pulled his shoulder closer. “Girlfriend? How about that?”

Benjamin’s face flushed red. He stammered: “If you’re willing… I…”

On the day the plan began, Benjamin found himself more nervous than expected. He leaned against the cruise ship’s railing, gazing at the distant horizon. The edge of the cloud sea glowed orange-red, then the sun sank into the sea, the sky turning indigo, stars appearing one by one. Occasionally, the ship shuddered slightly, breaking his thoughts.

“What are you thinking?” Gwen walked up behind him with two steaming teacups. “We’re heading north. You’d better change into warmer clothes soon.”

“I’m still thinking about the mission,” he swallowed. “What exactly does General Potter want us to investigate?”

“You don’t have to investigate,” Gwen shrugged, placing a hot paper cup on the railing near his hand.

“He definitely wants us to. I think he already has an answer—this is just a simple test. But the result will point toward something more…” Benjamin fell silent for a long while, staring at Gwen. Her face was still exquisite; beneath the golden hair, new tea-colored roots had begun to grow.

“Who are you?” he couldn’t help asking.

The evening breeze brushed their robes. Gwen’s expression shifted slightly, but her tone remained indifferent. “Gwen Cooper. I’ve always been me. I don’t know what you’re imagining.”

“You’re still lying. I checked—Dalaran has no combat mage named Jack Cooper. Who is your father?”

Gwen said nothing. Benjamin kept watching her, waiting.

“You may suspect, but it doesn’t matter,” she said stiffly. “I am who I am, unrelated to my family. I don’t get along with them either. Look at the city instead. Don’t overthink: whether you return empty-handed or risk everything to achieve greatness, for the next two weeks, we can only rely on each other.”

Following her finger, Benjamin saw a band of amber light within the clouds—distant, yet somehow warm.

“Is that Red Star Groove?” Benjamin squinted at the glowing point suspended in the sky. “They say it moves constantly. Our people always board it only when it drifts over the Arctic Ocean…”

“Normal. Vladimir wouldn’t tolerate us looking down on his homeland from above,” Gwen nodded. “Let’s return to the cabin. Tomorrow morning, Su Ministry of Magic will send someone to meet us.”

Benjamin suppressed his doubts. Though he increasingly suspected Gwen carried some extraordinary lineage, the mission ahead was clearly more urgent. He told himself rest was essential—no one knew how the Su Ministry would react. They could only adapt on the spot.

The next day, Benjamin rose early, dressed in thick woolens and a lined robe. As he stepped onto the deck, cold air tinged with metallic scent filled his nose. The ship had arrived directly beneath the floating city—its steel foundations nearly blotting out the sky. The light source had shifted from the sun to a colossal red star sculpture, its orange-red glow pouring down, illuminating a black car with an open door and a girl in silver-gray uniform beside it.

“Looks like they’re sending a car for us,” Gwen said, stepping out behind him and yawning. “Flying cars…”

Before she finished, another strange vehicle descended from above—completely violating aerodynamics, yet bearing propellers, barely recognizable as an aircraft. It lowered hooks and latched onto the car’s edge.

“Well, there are plenty of Muggles on this ship—they still have to pretend,” Gwen shrugged, walking toward it first.

Benjamin followed, studying the receptionist. Her dark chestnut hair was pinned into a sharp bun; her amber eyes radiated determination. Despite her formal, serious demeanor, Benjamin couldn’t help noticing her beauty.

“Welcome, both of you. I’m Valentina Nechayeva. I’ll be your liaison officer for the duration.” She shook both their hands, then closed the car door. “Today’s schedule focuses on check-in and rest. Formal exchanges begin tomorrow morning.”

After brief introductions, the car ascended. Benjamin’s gaze swept over the city’s inverted underside—entirely steel, vast smooth plates forming a geometric shape, radiating an odd industrial beauty. They flew past the entire structure, rising nearly to the city’s surface, then entered a long metal tunnel.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Gwen said. “In Dalaran, we always land on the ground.”

“When in Rome,” Benjamin wisely chose silence.

After clearing immigration, the driver took them deeper into a parking garage. Valentina took their documents to process paperwork, leaving Benjamin and Gwen alone in the waiting lounge. The space was clean and bright: rows of comfortable chairs interspersed with potted plants, a warm-toned oil painting on the wall—golden wheat fields swaying in the wind, two farmers with small sickles on the right, their smiles firm, their eyes lively.

Benjamin, wary, suspected the figures in the painting were surveillance. He turned his gaze to the window—outside, most buildings were tall, pointed towers with massive windows; elevated highways crisscrossed, cars moving constantly. It resembled modern Muggle cities—except the overpasses were more complex and the towers taller.

“Fascinating,” Benjamin said casually. “In an age where everyone ignores secrecy laws, the Soviets are still clinging to the edge of them.”

“There’s free hot drink,” Gwen said, pouring herself tea from a corner counter, then staring out the window.

Slightly drowsy, Benjamin thought. The city’s layout felt so light and bright, lulling him into relaxation. Add to that the early rising—he, too, began to zone out, like Gwen.

“Apologies for the wait,” Valentina returned, holding two amber-colored drinks. “Your documents are processed. While waiting for the car, please enjoy our specialty beverage.”

“Kvass?” Benjamin turned, sipped—and it wasn’t kvass. Sweeter. A gentle, encompassing sweetness. As it entered his mouth, the feeling of relaxation intensified.

“We call it Amber Light. A byproduct of the Emotion Furnace—it relaxes the mind, eases fatigue…”

“Like watered-down Felix Felicis,” Gwen commented. “It’s a potion, right?”

“You may call it a health drink,” Valentina smiled.

Benjamin took another large sip. If it were Felix Felicis, he’d have drunk it eagerly. Only when the pleasant sensation faded did he realize—something was off between Gwen and Valentina.

Fortunately, a black convertible arrived quickly at the reception hall entrance. They said nothing more, picked up their luggage, and got in.

“We’re heading to Dawn District—the guest housing area. Close to Gorky Polytechnic, City Hall, and the commercial street—convenient for your schedule,” Valentina explained. “You’ll be staying in Building No. 3, newly renovated last year…”

Benjamin listened half-heartedly, half his attention on the window. Most buildings shared the same style: pointed roofs, ornate carvings, vast glass facades. As the car passed them, a peculiar, orderly beauty filled him with calm delight.

The drive didn’t last long—the floating city wasn’t large. When a row of twelve-story flat-roofed buildings appeared, he read the English script beneath the sign: Dawn District.

Valentina took them to an old man reading a newspaper at the front desk to collect their room cards. Their rooms were on the fifth floor, side by side. Neither objected.

“I’ll pick you up at 11:30 for lunch at the college. Afterward, we’ll begin afternoon tours and exchanges,” Valentina said, then left.

Benjamin opened his door. The room was spacious and comfortable, softly colored in beige. Again, drowsiness crept over him.

On the bedside table sat a sunflower—or rather, a sunflower-shaped device. Its center bore a smiling face, as if it could speak. Beside it lay a small disc engraved with a red star, and a tiny slip of paper.

The card read in bold letters: “Please connect to Smart Assistant via Thought Terminal One.” Below it, a diagram showed placing the terminal on the temple. Beneath that, small print explained its principle: based on Legilimency, with extremely low intensity—only focused thought could activate it.

Benjamin was wary. He suspected the terminal could amplify Legilimency to forcibly read thoughts. But he wasn’t afraid—he’d earned an E in Occlumency.

He cautiously pressed the terminal to his temple. The sunflower spoke: “Hello, comrade. I am the Smart Assistant. I control all room systems—lighting, temperature, curtains, music. I can also connect to authorized public robots to provide services. What do you need?”

A deep sense of warmth and familiarity surged in Benjamin. He found it fascinating, novel. He began delighting in commanding the sunflower—ordering music, adjusting the AC, chatting with it. The assistant revealed that though they spoke aloud, it didn’t hear words—it sensed the precise mental formulation of each thought, read via low-intensity Legilimency.

While playing, Gwen knocked on his door, gesturing dismissively for him to remove the terminal.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “Don’t they know Muggles already made voice-controlled assistants? I’m already doubting whether this floating city is as advanced as claimed.”

“Muggles?” Benjamin blinked. “But their Legilimency tech seems well-developed. We can study it, right?”

“Yes. Now that I know, I feel watched. It’s unpleasant.” Gwen frowned. “I hope this ends soon. This place is uncomfortable.”

Benjamin understood. The sunflower might not be voice-blind—it might be a blatant eavesdropper. But they’d trained a counter-espionage charm before arriving. Perfect timing.

They sat on the sofa, pressing wand tips to each other’s temples. Soon, a strange connection surged—they began telepathic communication.

“Oh my god, that was a happiness potion! That health drink—it’s laced with Felix Felicis. I tasted it immediately.” Gwen scolded him. “You drank too much. Don’t you feel overly relaxed? Almost sleepy?”

“You’re right. And it’s not just from the drink—I’ve felt it since I stepped onto this city… And have you noticed? Everyone we’ve seen so far is smiling. Could this be some dark magic?”

It’s a spell, but whether it’s evil is hard to say; Su Fang’s public records mention that every resident of Red Stargrad contributes their negative emotions as the magical energy source for the city’s operations, and the great levitation array was designed based on this principle.

Do the residents cast the spell themselves? I find that hard to believe.

They didn’t say, but I think it’s easy to guess: clearly, those who wear the Thought-1 devices for long periods automatically feed their emotions into the device—oh no, perhaps it’s the other way around—the Thought-1 devices actively drain people’s negative emotions. That’s it…

Ben felt a chill of dread. He remembered how, while wearing the terminal, he had unconsciously been flooded with pleasant feelings, and how he’d felt strangely hollow after removing it. Now it seemed likely this was the effect of magic.

It seems they’re far more advanced in this area—but then again, it’s normal. They’ve always led the world in ritual magic research. I just didn’t expect they’d developed Legilimency so deeply.

I have another concern: is our telepathy spell truly safe? Since its principle is based on Legilimency, could they be monitoring it too?

This theory startled both young people, but after a brief silence, Gwen said easily, “I doubt it. This spell was secretly developed by the Ministry of Magic—they probably never imagined we’d use telepathy to communicate.”

Ben nodded in deep agreement. For children born in the new millennium, the Ministry of Magic under General Potter was unquestionably trustworthy. The Ministry’s research had always led the magical world; they could not imagine the terrifying possibility that [the Ministry’s key technologies and secret programs were entirely orchestrated by the Soviets].

Thus, smiles returned to their faces, and Ben began to look forward to the upcoming exchange trip to the academy.