Chapter 212: Does Your Headmaster Have Mind-Reading Powers?
Fiona finally understood her husband’s reasoning. A wave of relief washed over her, followed by a shiver of fear.
“Thank goodness you thought this through… I almost blurted it out.”
Ferdinand reassured him gently. “It’s not certain there’s danger. I’m just preventing the possibility. And Wade—”
Wade, who had remained silent throughout, gave a small nod. “I understand. I’ll contact the school’s professors and see what’s going on.”
“Thank you,” Ferdinand said sincerely, then couldn’t help adding a warning. “Kariel’s disappearance isn’t just our family’s problem—it’s Hogwarts’ and the British Ministry of Magic’s responsibility. You just handle contacting and communicating. Leave the rest to adults. Don’t go running off to play hero.”
Wade couldn’t help but smile. “Got it. I’m not a Gryffindor.”
…
Ten minutes later, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall appeared at the front door of Wade’s home.
Dumbledore wore his signature pointed hat—ornate with swirling patterns symbolizing wind and water. Though mysterious in appearance, it did little to conceal the fact that his entire outfit looked like a bedrobe. Fiona glanced at the sky, confused but respectful.
Maybe great wizards really do dress like this? she thought, awestruck.
Though the Gray family had never met Dumbledore before, the moment they saw him, they instantly connected the man before them to the figure Wade had described—the Hogwarts headmaster.
There was no one more fitting the traditional image of a wizard than this man.
Professor McGonagall, by contrast, looked entirely ordinary. Her deep green robes were unassuming, even in the Muggle world. Her fingers bore faint traces of ink, as if she’d been writing just moments before. In her hand was a scroll of parchment, its pages yellowed and slightly curled at the edges.
Wade, seeing them through the window, opened the door before they could knock.
“Professor Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Gray, and Wade,” Dumbledore said calmly. “I hope we’re not interrupting your lunch.”
The headmaster’s composed demeanor instantly eased the Gray family’s anxiety.
“I’ve checked the enrollment records,” Professor McGonagall said seriously. “In September 1991, there was indeed supposed to be a student named Kariel Johnson. But he wrote a letter declining to attend, stating he’d be going to Ilvermorny instead. The school didn’t pursue further contact. All of this is documented.”
“Didn’t you contact Ilvermorny?” Fiona asked. When McGonagall looked at her, she quickly added, “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to imply blame.”
“That is our oversight,” McGonagall said, her lips tightening. “But Hogwarts cannot force every student to attend. Many young wizards choose to learn magic at home, under a mentor, or at other magical schools. We cannot stop them.”
Ferdinand whispered, “Landon didn’t know this. He thought Hogwarts would forcibly take his son. That’s why he fled the country so desperately—now he’s walked straight into danger.”
“Where is Mr. Johnson?” Professor McGonagall asked, her tone grave. “We need to know more about the situation.”
“He was in an accident,” Ferdinand said. “I think he’s told us everything he can remember.”
“Magic can help uncover details he may have forgotten,” Dumbledore said politely.
Ferdinand’s face paled.
He immediately thought of the Dementor’s Kiss—but didn’t speak it aloud.
Dumbledore seemed to sense his thought. “Of course. You have my word—no harm will come to him.”
Ferdinand glanced at Wade, the unspoken question burning in his eyes: Does your headmaster read minds?
Wade blinked once, then turned to Professor McGonagall. “Professor, apart from Kariel, are there other students who’ve skipped school for similar reasons?”
McGonagall’s expression darkened. “Every year.”
As Fiona and Ferdinand paled, Dumbledore added, “Not every child who chooses not to attend Hogwarts ends up missing. Mentorship has long been a common tradition in the magical world.”
But it didn’t comfort them.
The fact that someone had so easily taken Kariel proved they weren’t acting alone for the first time.
It was likely that previous victims had never been missed—either because their parents believed the lies in forged letters, couldn’t access the magical world, or worse, had died or forgotten their children entirely.
Ferdinand drove the two professors to the police station where Landon Johnson was still being held.
Under Landon’s voluntary cooperation, Professor Dumbledore extracted a fragment of his memory—confirming he wasn’t lying, and revealing the face of the man they now knew as Majer Byerd.
But the image offered little real value.
The man’s name could be false. His identity, fabricated. His appearance, possibly altered. Even his gender and age might not be real.
Still, if Byerd was the kind of wizard who regarded Muggles as beneath him, he might not have bothered hiding his true form at all.
Next, Dumbledore contacted the Ministry of Magic and planned to visit Mrs. Johnson at the sanatorium.
“We can’t recover lost memories through force,” Dumbledore said. “And we won’t torture her to retrieve them. But magic itself leaves traces—especially in wizards who’ve never undergone formal training. Each one’s magic is unique.”
Yet, the adults made it clear that Wade wouldn’t be involved in the next steps.
He only learned fragments from his father. What Dumbledore and the Ministry would do next, whether they’d uncover any leads—Wade had no idea.
As a student, his immediate priority remained school.
The brief Christmas holiday ended quickly. Students returned, and copying assignments became the new trend.
Wade had expected to wait much longer before hearing anything more.
But on the third day back, he got a lead from the Weasley Twins.
“…Apparently, someone inside sold a magical necklace to a Muggle,” Fred said. “The woman at the sanatorium was strangled by it.”
“My dad had to go handle it,” George added. “He’s still at work—hasn’t come home all day.”
“…She’s dead?” Wade stared, stunned.
Then, a chilling thought struck him:
Annie Johnson lost her memory… then was killed. But Landon—why is he still alive, running around begging for help?
(End of Chapter)
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