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Chapter 175: Friendship and the Match
Since Sirius Black’s release, Wade had felt something shifting within his perception of Remus Lupin—the gentle, paternal figure he once knew was slowly unraveling. Remus had become far more lively, and now and then, a subtle undercurrent of cunning would peek through.
Yet, when it came to Wade, he remained the same tender, endlessly patient friend.
Remus glanced out the window. “We should go. The Vanishing Cabinet is already where you said.”
That was Wade’s original plan—until, just moments ago, he’d caught Remus glancing toward the distant Quidditch pitch with an almost unconscious longing.
“You want to watch Harry’s match, don’t you?” Wade asked.
Remus shook his head. “There will be many more matches. If you’ve decided today is the time to act, then our mission comes first.”
“My business is important,” Wade replied, pressing his hand against the cabinet’s door and closing it firmly. “But this match isn’t insignificant. Harry’s flying brilliantly—Professor McGonagall said he flies as well as his father.” He turned, eyes alight. “We can watch the game first. It won’t delay us much. But we need to hurry to the pitch.”
Remus paused, then smiled—a quiet, warm acceptance. He cast a Disguise Charm to conceal his form, and fell in step beside Wade as they left the room. They quickened their pace toward the Quidditch field.
Serpentine lightning coiled through the sky, and thunder rumbled in the distance.
Remus looked up at the oppressive gray clouds. “It’s going to rain.”
“Mm.” Wade glanced up too, then suddenly chuckled. “I don’t know why, but I always get the feeling that important matches happen on rainy days.”
Remus laughed. “What’s the connection?”
“Muggle films portray it that way.” Wade shrugged. “You’re always bringing up Muggle things. Even your inventions draw from their ideas.”
“That’s rare,” Remus said. “Most wizards from the Muggle world avoid speaking of it. Even as adults, they choose to live fully within the wizarding world.”
“I am from the Muggle world,” Wade countered. “Why should I hide it? The witch hunts are centuries in the past. Yet we’re still so divided. That’s what baffles me.”
“Maybe,” Remus mused, “because many who claim to look down on Muggles secretly fear them?” He paused. “For us, the worst punishment is the Cruciatus Curse—agonizing beyond endurance. But for Muggles…”
Wade interrupted, voice quiet. “I’ve read about the horrors they’ve inflicted on each other. Cruel, inhuman methods. So brutal… Wade… you can’t even begin to imagine.”
“Even Bathilda Bagshot,” Remus continued, “dared not write those things in her History of Magic.”
“Wizard cruelty isn’t any less terrible,” Wade insisted. “In Modern History of Magic, I read that Gellert Grindelwald once set fire to half of Paris with dark magic.”
Remus shook his head. “How many like Grindelwald truly exist? Few. He wasn’t twisted by dark magic—he was born into darkness. A soul like that is rare.”
His voice darkened. “But most wizards who use dark magic end up broken inside. Killing doesn’t just take a life—it scars the soul beyond repair.”
Wade thought of Tom Riddle—once handsome, radiant with promise. Then the face, hollow and noseless, twisted by the fragmentation of his soul. The body had warped to match the ruin within.
Under the dull, overcast sky, their conversation faded. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken weight—each lost in thoughts that chilled the air.
Then, a sudden eruption of cheers from the stands shattered the stillness.
“Looks like the match has started,” Remus said.
They hurried up the stairs, reaching the very top row and finding a few empty seats. They settled in, pretending to be ordinary spectators, gazing upward at the sky as a dozen players darted through the air like sparks.
Suddenly, a warm, fuzzy weight bumped against Wade’s side, then a pair of sharp barks.
“Sirius Black?” Remus, also invisible, murmured. “I’m here.”
The panting breaths of an animal vanished—then Sirius’s voice, grumbling: “I forgot—I’m invisible now. No need to transform. You two are late! You almost missed the start!”
There was no hint of resentment in his tone.
Remus smiled. “You’ve got four legs. Naturally, you’re faster.”
“…True.” Sirius dismissed it instantly, his voice brightening. “Can you spot Harry, Remus? He’s flying the highest—just like James Potter. He’s incredible.”
Wade leaned back in his seat, listening to the two invisible adults whispering beside him. A quiet awe stirred in his chest—surprise, yes, but deeper, respect.
Anyone else with Sirius’s past might have become withdrawn, bitter, consumed by rage or madness. But here he was—alive, energetic, laughing. Save for his gaunt frame, one would think the past eleven years of imprisonment had left no mark.
And that was good.
The pain couldn’t vanish so easily. But Sirius was trying. He was healing—reclaiming the vibrant young man he’d once been, not trapped in the shadows of despair.
Wade wondered—was that why Remus had changed too? Was he quietly helping Sirius, in his own way?
The players clashed fiercely in the sky. With Sirius’s commentary, the match felt even more intense. Wade began to grasp the rhythm of the game.
Then—cold. A sudden chill on his forehead. Instinct took over. He snapped his eyes shut, raised his wand, and whispered a spell.
A ring of air erupted from the wand’s tip, forming an invisible dome overhead—like a vast, floating umbrella. It was large enough to shelter all three of them.
“Thank Merlin,” Sirius sighed. “I hate getting soaked.”
Wade felt a sudden prickle—someone was watching. He turned.
Professor Dumbledore stood at the edge of the stands, gazing at him. The old wizard gave a single, gentle nod, a warm smile curling at the corner of his lips.
Wade said nothing.
“Remus,” he murmured. “I think Dumbledore knows we’re here.”
“Hmm.” Remus exhaled slowly. “Not surprising. A skilled wizard can detect traces of a Disguise Charm.”
“True,” Sirius said with a shrug. “As long as it’s not Professor McGonagall who finds out, I’m fine with it. Dumbledore’ll probably just pretend he didn’t see anything.”
He stared up at the storm-laden sky. “Harry’s wearing glasses. Rain will hurt his visibility more than the others. I wonder if he’s cast a waterproof charm.”
Wade’s eyes followed the tangled motion of the two teams high above, his mind drifting. Could it happen again? Could the Quaffle go rogue like last time?
The Quaffle bounced wildly between players, chased by the Snitch, thrown in reckless arcs. Bludgers and the occasional Needle strike were common tactics. In the downpour and dim light, the tiny ball’s path was impossible to track.
Zoe and the others had prepared.
Would Dobby come?
(End of Chapter)
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