The guard's spit nearly landed on Hoffa's face. Thankfully, his wand-turned-sunglasses provided some protection. Disgusted, Hoffa stepped back a few paces, dodging the short-tempered middle-aged man, and moved toward a quieter corner of the bustling port.
Once there, he couldn't resist pulling out the letter from Dippet again to confirm its contents.
June 18th, 9:00 AM, Double Horn Cape, Thamesport.
There was no mistake—it was clearly written. Turning the letter over in his hands, he debated whether he should open it to see if it provided any additional instructions or clues about his destination.
As he hesitated, there was a soft pop, accompanied by a powerful wave of magical energy.
Startled, Hoffa turned his head to see a green-clad figure Apparating almost directly beside him.
It was a tall, young witch wearing elegant green robes and a neatly styled bun. She carried a sleek black briefcase and glanced briefly at the letter in Hoffa's hand before asking coldly, "Is it you?"
"Me?"
"There's a magical beacon on the letter. It activates when you're at the location. I've been waiting for you."
Her tone was detached and impersonal.
Realizing who she might be, Hoffa thought: Is this the so-called graduate? Why does she look so un-British?
"And you are...?" he asked tentatively.
"Let's get to Double Horn Cape first," the witch replied curtly.
With that, she strode forward briskly, offering no further explanation.
She was tall and walked with such long strides that Hoffa had to jog to keep up. They followed the Thames for nearly a kilometer until they reached a secluded corner.
Compared to the bustling chaos they had just left, this area was desolate—a stretch of stony shoals dotted with a few dilapidated, partially collapsed houses in the distance.
Sure enough, there was a rusted metal sign that read Double Horn Cape.
But behind the lonely sign was nothing but a long, wooden plank bridge stretching into the water. No buildings, no shops—nothing.
It looked like a hastily assembled film set, the kind that a director might throw together at the last minute.
"This is... Double Horn Cape?" Hoffa asked, clutching his side and panting heavily. This witch was really tall—at least 175 centimeters, by his estimate.
"Take a deep breath," she said, wasting no words. She placed her hand firmly on Hoffa's shoulder.
Confused, but sensing no malice, Hoffa complied, taking a deep breath.
Without warning, the witch shoved him forward. Unprepared, Hoffa tumbled off the bridge and plunged into the wide Thames River.
Splash!
The cool yet slightly warm water swallowed him instantly.
Hoffa didn't panic. Over a year of magical adventures had strengthened his resolve. Holding his breath, he sank into the river, the muffled sounds of water filling his ears.
His body descended rapidly, almost as if this section of the river had no buoyancy at all.
Just as he was beginning to wonder what kind of place this was, something slippery coiled around his body. At first, it was one thing, then two, and eventually several of them wrapped around him.
These slippery entities began lifting Hoffa upward.
Wait a minute, Hoffa thought, I was sinking, wasn't I? Why does it feel like I'm rising now?
Sure enough, he was ascending. The light above him grew brighter and brighter—the blue of the water, the pink of the sunlight.
Splash!
Hoffa burst out of the water, finding himself floating in a circular pool. Around him was a ring of ancient stone steps.
His eyes took in a breathtaking sight: the soft pink hue of a sunrise, crystal-clear azure water, salty sea air, and the cries of seabirds.
Wooden plank bridges crisscrossed the sea's surface in intricate patterns. Groups of wizard-dressed figures strolled along the bridges.
Nearby, others who seemed to be in similar situations as Hoffa were also emerging from identical circular pools.
To his amazement, he realized he had traveled directly from the river to the ocean.
The sea was dotted with old-fashioned cruise ships, each adorned with red smokestacks puffing white smoke.
Beyond the ships stretched a narrow cape shrouded in light morning mist. Nestled against the hills were rows of red and blue-roofed buildings, their outlines hazy in the gentle fog.
This place had none of the industrial bustle of Thamesport. It resembled a quaint resort town instead.
Hoffa barely had time to take in the view when, for the first time in six months, the familiar voice of the system echoed in his mind:
Discovery: [Poseidon's Secret Realm - Moloch - Double Horn Cape]
50% Exploration Completed - Reward: [One-Third of a Spell Fragment]
(One-Third of a Spell Fragment contains unique energy. Collect three fragments to upgrade a spell ability.)100% Exploration Completed - Reward: [Madman's Knowledge]
(Madman's Knowledge is dangerous. Once obtained, it will inevitably stray from your expectations.)
Madman's Knowledge? Hoffa was momentarily stunned. This seemingly peaceful secret realm wasn't constructed by wizards.
Rising from the circular pool, Hoffa noticed the water droplets on him disappearing instantly.
It had been so long since he'd heard the system's voice, let alone received any rewards. His first instinct was to explore the realm further.
But before he could act, an excited series of squeaky calls emanated from the pool below.
"Eek-eek! Eek-eek!"
Hoffa glanced down.
To his surprise, a group of gray dolphins surrounded him. One was directly beneath him, while three more swam close by, rubbing against him with their smooth skin as if seeking praise.
Seeing these friendly marine creatures, Hoffa's spirits lifted. He gently patted the heads of the nearby dolphins.
"Good boys! Did you bring me up here? What good boys you are!"
The squeaking stopped abruptly, and an eerie silence fell. Only the sounds of waves lapping and the distant roar of the sea remained.
Hoffa felt a twinge of unease. Looking around, he realized that at least a hundred dolphins had surfaced in the area. All of them were staring at him with wide, astonished eyes.
"Eek."
The nearest dolphin let out a single call, but its tone carried a strange, almost pleading emotion—as if begging Hoffa to praise it again.
Though the situation felt odd, Hoffa hesitated only a moment before patting the dolphin's head again.
"Good boy, you really are a good little guy."
The moment he spoke, Hoffa knew something was off.
The dolphins erupted into chaos. They swam toward him in a frenzy, their eyes alight with insatiable eagerness. Some leapt high into the air, soaring over the wooden bridges before splashing down beside him. They crowded closer, forming tight clusters as they vied for his attention.
"Eek! Eek! Eek-eek!"
The air was filled with the chorus of their cries.
It was as if they were all shouting: Praise me! Praise me! Quick, praise me!!
Hoffa was dumbfounded. The dolphins overwhelmed him, their heads pressing against every part of his body. They jostled and argued with each other, rubbing against him relentlessly in an effort to win his favor.
As more and more dolphins gathered, Hoffa found himself lifted above the water, standing on their backs. Some even pushed their heads into his shirt, seeking acknowledgment. His sunglasses were knocked askew in the chaos.
Finally, a sharp whistle pierced the cacophony.
Pheeew!
An elderly man in a gray robe, who seemed to be some kind of supervisor, stormed toward the scene from the wooden bridge. He blew his whistle again and bellowed furiously:
"Get out of here, you ugly, lazy, worthless, good-for-nothing creatures! Get back to work in the sea!"
"Awuuu..."
"Awuuu..."
"Awuuuuu..."
The dolphins collectively let out mournful cries. Reluctantly, they cast one last longing glance at Hoffa before dispersing, swimming away in all directions.
Then, the gray-robed old administrator reached out, grabbed Hoffa by the collar with precision, and yanked him onto the floating bridge. Furious, he barked, "You brat, did you just praise the dolphins?"
Hoffa, confused, could only nod.
"You idiot!" the old man exploded. "Are you blind?"
He banged his fingers against a rusty metal sign on the dock with a loud thud, thud, thud. "Did you even read what it says? Do you have any idea how much damage you've caused me?"
Hoffa glanced at the weathered sign. Written in bold letters were the words:
"UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES—No Rewarding or Praising Vanity Dolphins!!! (Feeding, petting, praising, or even affectionate eye contact is strictly prohibited.) Violators will be fined 100 Galleons!!!"
The enraged old man shoved Hoffa toward the sign, practically dragging him. Hoffa stared at it, bewildered, not entirely sure what the fuss was about. But he understood enough to realize he'd broken some sort of rule and was now in trouble.
Sure enough, the old administrator snarled, "It costs 50 Galleons to train just one Vanity Dolphin. No excuses—100 Galleons! If you can't pay, you're not leaving today!"
100 Galleons? Hoffa's eyes widened in disbelief. All because he patted a few dolphins?
Just then, a clear and confident female voice rang out nearby.
"Moye, are you bullying people again? Since when are those dolphins yours?"
Hoffa turned to see the tall, green-robed witch who had pushed him into the water earlier. She stood on the bridge, arms crossed, her towering figure almost obscuring the view. All he could see were her impossibly long legs.
"What do you know, young lady?" Moye snapped, turning to glare at her.
"Got a problem?" the tall witch replied coolly. "Those dolphins don't belong to you. They're under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Besides, wizards under the age of fourteen are entitled to two exemptions when violating 2X-level decrees: one explanation and one warning. Only on the third offense can they be penalized.
If you think I'm wrong, feel free to file a complaint with the Department."
"You—!"
The skinny, hunched old man was so flustered he couldn't utter a coherent response. Furious, he swished his robe, shot Hoffa a venomous glare, and stormed off.
"Don't let me catch you again," he spat before disappearing in a huff.
As the greedy deceiver left, Hoffa turned to the tall witch in green robes.
"What kind of dolphins are those?"
The witch pointed at him. "Your clothes are a mess."
Hoffa glanced down and realized that most of his shoulder was exposed, thanks to the old man's rough handling. He hastily straightened his clothes. Only then did the witch explain:
"Vanity Dolphins. These magical creatures were bred by ancient wizards long ago to help guide them through secret realms.
But the technique for creating them has been lost. Nowadays, only a few wizarding enclaves in Britain still use this ancient method. Vanity Dolphins exist solely to seek human praise. For them, a single word of compliment is the highest honor imaginable."
Hoffa stared at her, incredulous. "What?"
The young woman continued, "For these dolphins, a compliment from a human is equivalent to receiving the Merlin Order of Honor. And being petted while complimented? That's like the First-Class Merlin Order of Honor—a distinction they would boast about for their entire lives.
This trait is precisely why ancient wizards trained them to perform all sorts of tasks.
However, once they've received human praise, there's no point in them continuing to work. They might go on to pursue more meaningful endeavors, like reproducing, instead of completing the tasks assigned by the wizard.
That's why Moye doesn't allow anyone to praise his dolphins. Every compliment costs him a worker. Generally, a Vanity Dolphin is only praised when it's old and nearing the end of its life—its one and only compliment in its lifetime. Got it?"
"Got it," Hoffa replied, swallowing nervously.
For some reason, as he looked at the dolphins, all he could think about was Aglaia.
After explaining, the tall girl held out her hand and said plainly, "The letter. Give it to me."
Hoffa suddenly remembered that she was the graduate he was supposed to meet.
He pulled out the letter and handed it to her, then extended his own hand. "Hoffa Bach. May I ask who you are?"
"Osivia," she replied.
She shook Hoffa's hand perfunctorily, her eyes fixed on the letter from Dippet.
Osivia? Is that her first name or her surname? Hoffa wondered, scrutinizing her face. No matter how he looked at her, she didn't resemble a Brit.
Hoffa cautiously asked, "Are you from abroad?"
"I'm Soviet," she replied without looking up.
It took Hoffa a moment to process her words. Right—at this time, that place was called the Soviet Union. But why would Dippet assign him a Soviet witch? Shouldn't wizards from that region attend Durmstrang?
He couldn't help but examine her more closely.
Though dressed in a formal deep green robe and sporting a perfectly neat hairstyle, this Osivia was undeniably beautiful—high cheekbones, deep green eyes, and skin so pale it almost seemed otherworldly.
After reading the letter, Osivia's expression grew slightly more serious.
She folded the letter neatly, then gave it a slight shake, transforming it into a hairpin. She placed the pin into her bun, where several others were already nestled.
This casual action left Hoffa even more astonished.
This green-robed Soviet witch was clearly skilled in Transfiguration.
After finishing with the letter, Osivia noticed the curious gaze behind Hoffa's oversized sunglasses.
She frowned. "What is it?"
"Are you a graduate of Durmstrang?" Hoffa asked.
(End of Chapter)
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