Chapter 126: Friendship and Shadow
Wade Gray blinked awake, staring up at a ceiling studded with twinkling stars and a glowing crescent moon. He froze for a few seconds, then slowly realized—he was already at school.
Today was Wednesday. Ravenclaw had only one class in the morning—Herbology—and it wasn’t the first period.
After rising from his bed and eating breakfast, Wade made his way once again to the Room of Requirement.
He reshaped the chamber into the ideal space for practicing Alchemy, arranging the spyglass and detector he’d bought from the Miscellaneous Goods shop around the room—both deliberately left in a damaged state. The cracked double-sided mirror was placed carefully on a shelf. Then he approached the Vanishing Cabinet once more.
Before the holiday, Wade had already repaired most of the cabinet. For the parts he couldn’t understand, he’d consulted Newt Scamander—rewarding, indeed.
Inside Newt’s suitcase was a vial of lake water from Loch Ness, which connected to the outside world through a magical link. The principle was nearly identical to that of the Vanishing Cabinet. The difference? Newt had placed a barrier at the connection point, allowing only certain things—usually seawater and small sea creatures—to pass through.
But the Vanishing Cabinets had no such barrier. Opening and closing the doors alone triggered a two-way teleportation.
What had puzzled Wade for so long was, to Newt, basic magic knowledge. With ease, he solved the mystery and even offered an improvement—making the transport more stable and safer.
During the final days of summer break, Wade had completed the full repair design at home. Now was the moment to test whether it was truly correct.
He stared intently at the cabinet, his eyes deepening into a faint golden hue. At the tip of his wand, a soft, golden arc of light flickered into existence.
“Something wrong? You didn’t sleep well?” Michael asked, noticing Wade yawn for the third time.
Wade rubbed his tired eyes. “Just… a bit drained.”
Focusing through the eyes, channeling magic—even while sitting still—was mentally exhausting.
But the cabinet was fixed.
Wade’s gaze swept over the chamber. The magical rune circuit flowed smoothly, flawlessly. No cracks. No weak points.
All that remained was repeated testing, ensuring safety, before he could move freely through it at will.
They walked across the lawn toward the greenhouses. As they exited the castle, they met a group of Slytherin students heading the same way.
Draco Malfoy, surrounded by his usual entourage, suddenly raised his voice.
“Comet 2001 is the best flying broomstick on the market right now—far superior to the Nimbus 2000. Better defense system, just released last month—”
Pansy Parkinson, ever eager to please, chimed in with a tone of mock astonishment:
“Surely it must be expensive, Draco?”
“Of course it is!” Malfoy boasted. “My father told them—we’re buying seven Comet 2001s. The entire staff inside the shop was stunned.”
Seven brand-new Comet 2001 brooms? Even students from wealthy families were taken aback.
Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw with friendly ties to Slytherin, asked bluntly:
“Malfoy, why so many brooms?”
“Interesting question, Boot,” Malfoy smirked, squinting. “Guess why it’s exactly seven?”
No one needed to guess.
Terry blinked. “Did you join the Quidditch team?”
Malfoy feigned mystery. “The shop doesn’t have that many Comet 2001s in stock. They’re working overtime to finish them. I won’t get mine until the weekend…”
He dragged out the last syllable, eyes flicking toward Wade, who walked quietly at the back of the group.
“I hear some people still ride old relics—like Comet 140s. Tsk tsk. How sad. When mine arrives, I’d be happy to let them take a look.”
Wade rode his broom every day to and from the Ravenclaw Tower. Malfoy knew that.
The Sweep 140—exactly the broom Wade used—was the one Malfoy was mocking.
But at that moment, Wade was still lost in thoughts of the Vanishing Cabinet. It wasn’t until Michael spoke that he finally understood.
“Malfoy,” Michael said, feigning surprise, “I heard you tore up your entire Book of Friends?”
“Can’t be,” Michael added, “You’re still using an owl to communicate with your family, right?”
A ripple of quiet laughter spread through the Ravenclaws and some Slytherins.
Using an owl wasn’t unusual—after all, Books of Friends couldn’t magically deliver gifts or messages from home.
Every morning, the Great Hall buzzed with owls darting through the air, dropping letters and packages.
But the humor lay in the contradiction: whether Malfoy had torn up the book out of pride, or secretly used it anyway after regretting his words—either way, it made him look ridiculous.
Either foolish or embarrassed—Malfoy always picked the worst option.
In truth, everyone in his dormitory knew he’d regretted it the very night he’d torn it up. He lasted only one day.
The next evening, he wrote a letter to his parents. By the third day, his mother had sent him several new Books of Friends.
Malfoy turned furious, face red with rage, and shouted:
“Some people are just pugs, always following others around—filthy—”
He couldn’t finish.
His tongue and palate stuck together instantly, trapping his words.
“Draco!” Pansy shrieked, whirling toward Wade with fury. “Undo this now!”
Wade lowered his wand, expression cold.
“Can’t speak? Then don’t speak.”
He turned his gaze back to Malfoy.
“Malfoy, you clearly don’t understand the difference between friends and shadows. Because deep down, you’ve never truly seen anyone as a real friend, have you?”
The words struck like a needle.
Even Pansy glanced sideways at Malfoy, her smirk fading.
No one inside the school needed reminding how Malfoy treated his followers—always condescending, always in control.
Malfoy seethed, eyes blazing, wand trembling in his grip. Sparks fizzled from the tip, but no spell formed.
He looked around.
Crabbe and Goyle had drawn their wands—yet stood there, vacant, waiting for orders.
Did they really not realize they couldn’t speak? Or were they pretending to be obedient while silently agreeing with Wade?
Pansy stood frozen, too afraid to intervene. The rest of the Slytherins? Even less likely.
Not just because several Ravenclaws had already drawn their wands—but because, after Wade’s intervention, these sharp-eyed Slytherins had noticed something chilling:
He’d cast the spell without speaking.
Silent magic… a sixth-year skill.
Instinctively, the young serpents chose silence and retreat.
Even the Ravenclaws who’d been smiling moments before now wore cynical, guarded expressions.
Wade was known for his aloofness. Michael wasn’t. He got along with everyone across all houses.
Just as Malfoy stood trapped, caught between fury and helplessness, a figure appeared—breaking the tense silence.
(End of Chapter)
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