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Chapter 135: Remus Lupin's House
In the distant Hogwarts, Harry felt a sudden, searing pain flare across his forehead—the scar burning as if branded anew. A terrible scream echoed faintly from far away, ghostly and chilling.
He had been practicing on the Quidditch pitch when the agony struck, throwing him into a violent dizziness. His grip slipped from the broomstick, and he plummeted toward the ground.
"Harry—!"
The team screamed. Fred, who happened to be nearby, shot forward like a comet. He caught Harry’s ankle just before impact, pulling him safely to the ground.
Outside the cave, the group waited silently for Wade’s response.
Wade remained expressionless. "You know, when magical artifacts are created, their makers often infuse them with their own thoughts."
Michael exhaled, relief washing over him. "That shadow earlier—it was so evil. It must have been filled with dark thoughts… by Tom."
The young wizards accepted the explanation readily. But Remus Lupin stared at Wade, his eyes sharp with quiet suspicion.
He had once helped James Potter and the others craft the Marauder’s Map—a living chart that tracked every soul within Hogwarts. Each of the four founders had poured their thoughts into the map, binding their essence to its magic.
So while Michael believed the tale, Remus knew better. He had seen what a thought-infused artifact truly looked like.
The Inferno Flame burned fiercely, consuming everything in its path until nothing remained to burn. Only then did it begin to fade.
When they cleared the rubble, the entire cave was scorched beyond recognition. Even the spider-horn clinging to the walls and the roots buried in the stone cracks had been reduced to ash.
The blackened crown still lay atop the wreckage. Wade’s gaze settled on it with satisfaction—another name had vanished from its surface.
Liam stepped forward, reaching for the crown.
Wade grabbed his wrist. "Don’t go in. There might still be embers. You’ll burn yourself."
He raised his wand. "Crown, come!"
Even if the crown had once held a counter-accio charm, it was now useless—destroyed by the fire.
The crown shot through the air, and Remus Lupin caught it mid-flight. He turned it over in his hands.
All traces of magic had been erased. What remained was nothing more than a plain, ordinary metal object.
A thick, black residue clung to its surface—cracked and brittle from the fire, like dried paper ash. When Liam brushed it, it crumbled away.
"Fresh Water, like a spring!" Wade summoned a stream of water, washing the crown clean. Then he placed it carefully back into the box.
"Is there any use for it now?" Remus asked.
"None at all," Wade replied. "But I made a promise. Once the dark magic was gone, I’d return it to where it belonged."
Michael frowned, remembering how the crown’s true form had emerged under the water’s wash. "Wade… don’t you think it looks a little like the crown on the Ravenclaw statue?"
"Probably just a copy," Wade said calmly. "If Tom studied the same books as the founders, he might have tried to imitate them."
Michael nodded slowly.
In the story, Dumbledore had confided in only Harry and his closest allies about the Horcruxes. He never told the members of the Phoenix Society—those who had stood by him since the beginning.
Wade had once wondered why. Now, living in this world, he began to understand.
In the wizarding world, every person carried a wand—like a gun in their hand.
Originally, they used them only for cleaning, brewing potions, or warding off harm. But if someone told them that this very wand could kill… and that by doing so, one could cheat death itself…
How could anyone be sure that even the most steadfast soul wouldn’t one day falter?
Even if a person now despised Voldemort’s return from death, what if it were their parents, their lover, or their child at risk?
It wasn’t about trust. It wasn’t about character.
Some evils were too dangerous to be known.
They had to remain secrets—forever.
After the Horcrux was destroyed, their mission was complete.
Yet the group didn’t head straight back.
Invited by Remus Lupin, they decided to rest first at his cottage in Hogsmeade. They’d spend the afternoon exploring the village, then return to school in the evening.
Remus’s house was tucked away, close to the Shrieking Shack. Due to the nearby ghostly legends, the property had sold cheap.
It was a three-story stone house, with a narrow attic crowning the top—its shape resembling a slender, crooked chicken-leg mushroom. A wooden fence encircled the yard, where a dozen chickens and one goat roamed freely.
Beyond that lay a long rectangular vegetable garden, bursting with lettuce, snow cabbage, tomatoes, and strawberries. The beds were separated by borders of cornflowers, dahlias, and peonies in vivid hues.
Most wizards lived off the land. Remus had never had the chance before. Now that he had a stable home, he’d learned to tend it with care—just like everyone else.
With magic, it was all far simpler than in the Muggle world.
Inside, the entrance opened into a spacious living room. The fireplace flared to life on its own. The coat rack bent forward, offering a convenient place for the young wizards to hang their jackets.
To the side, a small door led into the kitchen.
"Pretty nice, isn’t it?" Liam said, surveying the room. "It’s way bigger on the inside than it looks from outside."
Remus waved his wand. The teapot and cups floated out of the kitchen, pouring hot tea for everyone. He brought out biscuits and cakes to serve their young guests.
Michael stood by the fireplace, studying the framed photographs on the wall.
There were pictures of Remus with Harry, of Wade and Harry together, and one of Harry hugging the goat.
One photo stood out—Remus as a young man. His gentle smile was unmistakable, the same as now.
In it, another boy stood beside him—dark-haired, glasses, messy hair. Clearly, Harry’s father.
Next to him was a round-faced, short boy with plump cheeks, small round eyes, and a sharp nose. He smiled shyly.
His face and expression made Michael instinctively think of a rat.
And then there was a fourth figure—barely visible, dark-haired, barely more than a silhouette. He stood close to James Potter, but his face was obscured.
"Who’s that?" Michael asked, unable to resist.
"Someone unimportant," Remus said quickly, stepping forward and pulling the photo down. "I forgot to put this away."
He turned it face-down on the table, then smiled at the others. "What would you like for lunch?"
As Remus worked in the kitchen, directing pots and pans to clatter and sizzle, Michael leaned close to Wade.
"His face changed. That wasn’t just ‘unimportant.’"
"Keep quiet," Theo whispered. "You don’t want to get punched. I’ve heard about him—Sirius Black. The most infamous Death Eater. The one who betrayed Harry’s father."
(End of Chapter)
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