Chapter 102: Closet Space
The spatial dimensions inside the closet were still far from the Small World Wade had envisioned—only slightly larger than the Umbrella Room, and empty, with no decorations to speak of.
Of course, Professor Mor wasn’t interested in such surface-level details.
He didn’t have Wade’s eyes, but he had his own way of assessing the Magic Rune Circuit.
Layer upon layer of Ancient Runes formed a honeycomb-like structure—exquisitely intricate, perfectly balanced.
The Chain-like interlocking Invisible Expansion Charm displayed a complexity that was both orderly and elegant, simple yet meticulously precise.
Hundreds of spells pulsed like swirling vortexes, stabilizing the structure while leaving ample room for future expansion.
This was only a prototype.
Yet it had taken root and sprouted with a flawless grace, unfurling innocent green leaves.
Professor Mor studied its veins, nearly able to envision the moment it would grow into a Giant Tree.
When he stepped out, he looked at Wade and chuckled softly:
“Wade, I have nothing more to teach you about the Invisible Expansion Charm.”
Wade didn’t hide his joy. He grinned—his face, for the first time in a while, looking genuinely like a child.
“Any plans for summer?” Professor Mor asked.
“Reading books. Learning. Nothing else,” Wade replied.
Professor Mor paused, frowning. “Students aren’t allowed to use magic during the holidays. That’s terribly inconvenient for your studies. And you live in a Muggle neighborhood—any spell you cast would be detected instantly by the Ministry of Magic.”
“Actually,” Wade explained, “I’m planning to stay at home for a few days, then book a room at The Leaky Cauldron. That way, I can avoid the Ministry’s trace monitoring.”
Professor Mor gave a slight nod. “A possible solution… but not ideal. Old Tom’s a decent sort, but that place is often filled with suspicious strangers. A child staying in a pub? It’s neither safe nor appropriate.”
“I’ll have Mr. Lupin with me,” Wade said. “He’s going to teach me Defensive Magic Against the Dark Arts.”
“Remus Lupin?” Professor Mor snorted. “That’s precisely what I’m worried about!”
His distrust of werewolves was deep-rooted, unshakable—no amount of reasoning could ever earn him genuine trust.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” Professor Mor mused after a moment. “Go home first. I’ll speak with Mr. Scamander. Perhaps he’d be willing to let you visit.”
“Newt Scamander?” Wade’s eyes lit up. “You mean—”
“Yes,” Professor Mor smiled. “I imagine you’d love to see his magical suitcase. In terms of Space charms and weather enchantments, no one surpasses him.”
In Wade’s glowing eyes, Professor Mor added: “Besides, he likes Steven Mor—Steven’s even mentioned you several times. Mr. Scamander has a very favorable impression of you.”
As Wade left the office, his heart still raced, his steps light, his gaze bright with excitement.
Newt Scamander.
To Wade, the name had once meant only the protagonist of the Fantastic Beasts film series—kind, gentle, shy, rarely meeting anyone’s eyes. A man deeply devoted to magical creatures, loyal to Dumbledore, ready to risk everything for his old headmaster.
But in the real magical world, Wade had discovered that Newt had left his own indelible mark in the history of magic. His legendary case, his pivotal role in both wizarding wars, his lifelong dedication to protecting Fantastic Beasts—these were all recorded in history books.
And even more astonishing—
He had once captured Gellert Grindelwald.
A man whose life was woven with legend, though he likely never wanted such fame.
Only after stepping out of the Astronomy Tower did Wade finally open his Book of Friends.
The earlier messages had vanished—of course, given that he’d been in Professor Mor’s office for nearly two hours.
The most recent message came from Padma.
[Padma: They went to the Forbidden Area on the Fourth Floor.]
[Wade: Padma? Where are you?]
[Padma: Merlin’s beard! You finally saw it! I’m outside the corridor on the fourth floor.]
[Padma: Curfew’s almost here, Filch’s cat’s been watching me nonstop—I swear I just saw Peeves… What do I do? Dumbledore’s not here… no one’s coming back…]
Even through the fragmented text, Wade could feel the girl’s panic and dread.
[Wade: Hold on—I’m coming.]
Wade hurried to the Main Tower, detouring through the Great Hall to grab some bread and roasted meat.
Filch stood at the entrance, scowling at the students still lingering over dinner.
Wade gave him a polite nod. “Good afternoon, Mr. Filch.”
Filch blinked, suspicious. He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to decipher whether this was some trick.
But Wade had already moved past him.
By the time he reached the Fourth Floor Corridor, Padma was pacing back and forth, darting glances into the forbidden area as if afraid any sudden movement would betray her.
Not far away, the skeletal Mrs. Norris crouched on the floor, her yellow eyes fixed on her.
Hearing Wade’s footsteps, she turned her head.
Wade tossed her two fish snacks. Then he joined Padma.
“Wade!” Padma looked like she was on the verge of tears, her robes crumpled from her own anxious clutching.
“Don’t worry,” Wade said, handing her a sandwich. “Eat something. Did you tell a professor?”
“Michael went to Professor Flitwick. He said the Philosopher’s Stone is safe, so we shouldn’t panic—just enjoy the break from exams.”
There was a clear note of resentment in Padma’s voice.
“Professor McGonagall told Harry the same thing. She warned us not to act foolishly, or we’d lose a mountain of points. Professor Sprout’s teaching fifth years—we couldn’t get near her.”
She spoke quickly, clutching the sandwich but unable to eat.
“What about Dumbledore?”
“He got an urgent letter from the Ministry of Magic and went to London,” Padma whispered, her voice cracking. “We don’t have his Book of Friends. We can only send owls. We don’t know when he’ll get it… By the time he returns, it might be too late.”
“Don’t worry,” Wade said, trying to sound calm. “Remember what we talked about? Hogwarts is nothing that Dumbledore doesn’t know.”
After retrieving old memories through the Pensieve, Wade was now certain: in Harry’s first year, Dumbledore’s control over Hogwarts had been absolute. The so-called “opportunity” Quirrell exploited was nothing more than a deliberate crack in the wall—Dumbledore’s way of testing his students.
The underground “Obstacle Course” wasn’t a trap.
It was the real final exam—meant for Harry and his friends.
(End of Chapter)
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