https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-179-The-Second-Horcrux-Destroyed-/13684989/
Chapter 178: The Burning of Gaunt House
Wade had always thought Remus Lupin was a good man—but now, he was increasingly convinced that Remus was even better than he’d imagined.
Yes, Wade had helped him in many ways. But he knew some people, even when shown kindness, acted as though the favor were a debt owed to them—arrogantly “advising” others or demanding more than they gave, never once considering repayment.
Others, on the other hand, saw being helped as a disgrace. They refused to acknowledge the debt, avoided their benefactors altogether, and some even harbored secret wishes that the one who’d aided them would fall into ruin—only then would their twisted sense of balance be restored.
But Remus Lupin was different.
He was like water—gentle, yet deeply yielding. He never looked down on Wade simply because he was a professor. Nor did he become subservient or overly eager, just because he was hired.
If he sensed Wade was about to do something dangerous, something harmful to himself, he’d gently, kindly advise against it. But once Wade had made up his mind—no matter how strange or inexplicable the choice—Remus would give it his full effort, without ever demanding to know why, without ever using the excuse of “I’m only doing this for your own good.”
It made the relationship incredibly comfortable—especially for someone like Wade, who carried so many secrets in his heart.
Just like now.
Remus didn’t ask what Wade had discussed with Dumbledore last time. He didn’t probe about where Wade’s information came from. He didn’t question why they were burning down the Gaunt House—a crumbling, half-ruined shack already swallowed by weeds and overgrown trees.
He simply came up with a plan, then got to work without delay.
The house stood beside a massive, gnarled tree whose thick roots had cracked through the roof, and whose branches sprawled downward like skeletal fingers. The windows were shattered, and tall nettles grew so thickly they blocked half the glass. Dust and grime coated the narrow, grimy panes.
But the worst of it—the overgrowth—was already dead. So cleaning it up wouldn’t be difficult.
“Flame Arise!” Wade and Remus each pointed their wands, and the dry grass before them erupted in flame with a sudden, thunderous whoosh.
If they’d let go of control, the fire would have spread like wildfire, leaping from one combustible thing to another. But they held firm. The flames danced along their wands’ guidance, curling inward like a living wall, forming a massive ring of fire.
Remus had already explained the art of fire control to Wade many times.
Some wizards tried to strengthen their control with strange rituals—shouting incantations, contorting their bodies, staring so hard at the flames their eyes seemed about to burst, or using enchanted tools. But the true key was always the same: a clear, unwavering belief, untouched by distraction.
Once the ring closed, it began to expand slowly outward—first from the inside, then spreading across the ground. Insects and small animals fled from the grassy patches, scurrying toward the edges. The flames moved steadily, not rapidly. A wildcat bolted out, paused behind a bush to watch, then darted back in a flash, dragging its kitten after it.
Smoke rose in thick, rolling plumes, billowing upward like a forest fire in the distance.
The ring expanded for over ten meters before stopping. Then, slowly, the fire consumed everything within it—leaving nothing but ash.
Wade raised his wand, and a sudden gale roared into existence, sweeping away the blackened debris and revealing the dark gray earth beneath.
Remus followed with a Fresh Water charm, sending gentle streams across the ground to keep the ash from scattering.
In the end, only one small hut—hidden beneath the tree—and the surrounding weeds remained untouched.
Throughout the entire process, neither Wade nor Remus approached the house itself.
Wade glanced up at the spreading smoke above. “We’re ready,” he said to Remus. “Even if the people of Little Hangleton are asleep, someone might still see it. They’ll call the police.”
A forest fire wasn’t something that went unnoticed. Anyone who spotted the smoke would almost certainly dial the emergency number.
But the fire station was far away, and the roads were poor. They still had time.
Remus nodded. “Remember what I told you—precision of control is more important than raw power.”
“Yes.” Wade tucked his wand away and drew out the secondhand wand he’d bought from a magic shop—a pear tree wand with a phoenix feather core. He took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and centered himself.
“Inferno Flame Arise!”
A burst of orange-gold fire shot from the wand’s tip, striking the great tree beside the cottage. Instantly, it erupted into flame.
Wade didn’t lower his wand. He fixed his gaze on the fire, feeling a faint, invisible connection between himself and the inferno—a silent, intimate bond.
Remus held his own wand ready, prepared to act at a moment’s notice.
The Inferno Charm was dangerous and hard to control. But it was a decipherable spell. If the fire only wavered slightly, Remus could still throw up a temporary barrier, buying Wade time to regain mastery.
The flames surged, twisted, and rose higher. Then—suddenly—they reshaped into the form of a snarling guard dog, as if about to attack, only to dissolve into embers. Next, a Hippogriff burst from the fire, circling the house, igniting every flammable surface it touched before melting back into the blaze.
The fire continued to shift—morphing into a dragon, a phoenix, a nosedog, a bird-serpent, a wolf, a chimera. Some flew, others ran. They lunged at the edge of the ring, but Remus countered with a shimmering wall of water.
As the fire creatures grew more agile, they no longer tried to break free.
Remus glanced at Wade—his forehead glistening with sweat—and silently admired him.
Many wizards never dared use the Inferno Charm. Fear of losing control was a real obstacle. Magic was deeply rooted in belief. And the fear of failure only made mastery harder.
Remus himself had only learned it in his teens—back when he and his friends had done countless reckless things, fearless of death or darkness, merely repulsed by evil, not afraid of it.
Even then, it had taken him weeks of practice on the beach, burning countless objects, before he finally mastered it.
He’d prepared for Wade to fail—more than once. He’d expected to have to toss the old wand and start over. But now… the first attempt was already working.
This child was no ordinary wizard.
He was born to be powerful—perhaps even greater than Dumbledore.
Maybe even surpass him.
Remus narrowed his eyes, watching as the fire coalesced into a golden bird—like a phoenix, yet different from Dumbledore’s own. It flapped its flame-woven wings, soaring through the inferno. Its eyes—made of fire—seemed to look straight at them.
Faint crackling echoed from within the flames. Sometimes it sounded like glass shattering. Sometimes like distant explosions.
Remus didn’t find it strange.
This had once been a wizarding family. The property would surely be protected by old wards and enchantments. But the Inferno Flame was strong enough to break most of them.
Then—his calm expression shattered.
From within the fire, a familiar scream rang out.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
