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Chapter 180: Remus Lupin: Obliviate
The distinctive siren wail of the Fire Engine echoed through the forest, drifting in from afar.
"It's time to go," said Remus Lupin.
"Wait a moment," Wade whispered to Mihal. "Please."
Mihal spread his wings and landed gracefully upon the ruins. Golden flames unfurled from him, spreading across the entire area like a blazing tide. Moments later, the fire retracted, and the Golden Bird emerged from the dust, clutching a dark, soot-stained ring in its beak.
The ring still clung to a thick, sticky residue. After being scorched by Mihal’s inferno flame, the gunk crumbled and fell away like ash. The gold of the ring had melted entirely, pooling into a strange, twisted shape. Mihal pecked at it twice, dislodging the molten metal, then returned to Wade, carrying only the black gemstone. He gently placed it into Wade’s outstretched hand.
Remus Lupin watched curiously. The stone looked more like a lump of obsidian than anything else—its surface etched with a complex pattern of interlocking triangles and circles, cracked through the center. All traces of curse or magic had been burned clean by the flames.
Wade lifted the gemstone with a handkerchief, holding it up to the light. The light seemed to vanish into it, swallowed whole.
He knew—this was one of the legendary relics bestowed by the god of death upon the Peverell brothers: the Resurrection Stone. It had the power to summon the dead back to the living world. Merely holding it in one’s palm and turning it three times could bring a departed soul into being.
But the return was not true resurrection. The spirit returned only to the eyes of the stone’s wielder. And even if they lingered in the world of the living, they carried only endless loneliness and pain. It was a cursed object disguised as a holy artifact—far less powerful than the other two Deathly Hallows, the Elder Wand and the Cloak of Invisibility.
In the story, Dumbledore had been tempted by the desire to see his parents and younger sister once more. He wore the ring—only to fall under Voldemort’s curse. Even with Snape’s potion, it had only prolonged his life by one year.
Yet Dumbledore was Dumbledore.
In that final year, he wove a grand plan—one that ensured Harry would ultimately defeat Voldemort, even after his own death. But without Dumbledore’s guidance, that year had been the darkest in the history of the magical world. Hogwarts had fallen into chaos. The Ministry of Magic had become Voldemort’s puppet. Students from all houses except Slytherin suffered under his reign. Harry and Neville, along with the others, were forced to leave the school in exile. Many Muggles and wizards were killed.
Only when Harry and Neville triggered the Horn of Light’s great surge—gathering all the Horcruxes and destroying them—did they stand a chance. Only then, with the Elder Wand’s true allegiance awakened, could Harry turn Voldemort’s Killing Curse back upon him.
Had it not been for that cursed stone, Dumbledore—so powerful, so wise—might have lived far longer.
After all, consider Nicolas Flamel, who drank the Elixir of Life and still walked the earth. Or the witch who had worked on the Hogwarts Express since 1830—no one knew she was the same one, though students believed the staff changed often. Even Armando Dippet, Hogwarts’ former headmaster, had lived for over three centuries before passing quietly in recent years. Few remembered him. His death was barely noted in The Daily Prophet.
Dumbledore’s magic was unmatched among all headmasters—so much so that even now, with his hair white as snow, he was still far from death’s door.
—If he ever reached it peacefully.
...
Wade placed the Resurrection Stone carefully into the shielding magic box, sealed it, then transformed the suitcase into a ready-made clothing cabinet. He pulled open the door and asked the Firebird:
"Mihal, can you stay inside? Be careful—don’t burn anything."
Mihal nodded, flew in, circled once, and settled into a dry corner. He chirped twice.
Wade then gathered some stones and dry twigs from the hillside, building a small nest for him. Mihal exhaled a spark, igniting the pile. He curled up contentedly in the warmth of the fire.
Wade suppressed his satchel, then turned to Remus Lupin.
"Let’s go."
They left the forest swiftly, returning to Little Hangleton village just as the Fire Engine roared through it.
The shrill whistle shattered the silence, jolting sleepers from their dreams. Dazed, they sat up, blinking at the distant plumes of smoke rising from the trees.
"Fire!"
Panic echoed from every direction. No one questioned why they had been asleep. No one noticed the two figures hurrying past on the narrow path.
At the inn, several people stood outside, staring toward the burning woods. Remus and Wade slipped through the crowd and returned to the room they had secured earlier.
The black Vanishing Cabinet stood at the center of the room.
Remus pulled open the cabinet door and said to Wade, "You go back to school first. I’ll take the cabinet to Hogsmeade."
Wade nodded, said nothing, and stepped into the cabinet. In an instant, he was back at Hogwarts.
Zoe was waiting just outside, smiling.
...
Remus closed the cabinet door, cleaned away the faint traces of human presence, then opened his suitcase. He slid the Vanishing Cabinet inside, secured it, picked up the magic box, and donned his gray round hat, pulling the brim low as he stepped out.
Inside the inn, the bartender was arguing with a guest about the sudden fire in the forest.
"Probably someone was having a picnic and didn’t put out the fire properly," McKee speculated.
"Could be the wind carried a cigarette butt in," he added solemnly. "Most fires start that way."
"Or talk about those two guests earlier," the bearded man Pete interjected. "I still can’t believe a grown man suddenly turned into a child?"
"It’s true," McKee insisted. "They both had dark hair, gray eyes—same person, no doubt."
Pete snorted. "More likely a father and son, don’t you think?"
"But I didn’t see anyone else enter," McKee insisted.
"You must’ve missed them!" Pete shot back.
Behind them, Remus Lupin silently apologized—then raised his wand.
"Obliviate!"
A flash of light. The two men blinked. Their expressions dulled, blank.
After a moment, McKee said, "Yeah... probably the wind carried a cigarette butt in. Most fires start that way."
"No… I saw the flames deep in the woods. An unextinguished campfire makes more sense."
"...Anyway, some people just don’t care about forest fire safety. It’s always us, the ones living nearby, who suffer."
McKee finished speaking—then suddenly felt a faint shift behind him.
He glanced back. Nothing. He shrugged and turned away.
(End of Chapter)
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