Chapter 234: It's More Alarming That Nothing Was Found
“Now, I suppose you finally know just how foolish your actions were?” Madam Pomfrey said seriously. “You’re still young, with plenty of room for growth—don’t rush to challenge adult wizards.”
“Yes, I know. I’m truly sorry,” Wade replied.
His tone was so respectful, so earnest, that Madam Pomfrey found herself unable to scold him properly. After a few mild reprimands, she hurried away, her attention already drifting toward the other young wizards still recovering in the ward.
As the staircase spiraled downward on its own, Dumbledore in his office exhaled visibly, as if relieved.
Wade raised his hand to knock—then paused when Dumbledore called out, “Come in, Wade.”
He stepped inside. Headmaster’s Office remained as mysterious as ever, filled with the quiet hum of ancient magic. On a nearby shelf sat the Pensieve, its surface swirling with silver mist. On the walls, portraits of past headmasters were softly snoring—whether asleep or merely pretending, no one could tell.
Wade had read about it in the books: these portraits shared a secret covenant with the school’s very existence. Hogwarts’ magic sustained them, and in return, they were bound to assist the current headmaster, regardless of their personalities in life. Of course, figures like Umbridge—unrecognized and unwelcome—were not part of this arrangement.
Dumbledore removed his glasses, wiped them carefully, and sighed, looking weary.
“Pomfrey is one of the most impossible people I’ve ever had to deal with. But I’m glad she likes you.”
A soft, melodic hum drifted from the corner. Wade turned—and saw that Fawks, the phoenix, had fully transformed into a brilliant golden-red bird, now fluffing his wings gently on the perch.
Wade hadn’t noticed him earlier. He must have arrived while the door was closing.
“Oh, right,” Dumbledore chuckled. “Fawks likes you too.”
“Is that because I made the magic puppet pet?” Wade teased. Then, straightening, he said, “Professor Dumbledore, I came to ask—how much do you know about Professor Abigail?”
“I suspected you’d bring her up,” Dumbledore said, winking. “I heard about your rather enthusiastic welcome ceremony yesterday.”
“Yes,” Wade replied. “I almost broke every bone in my body. I’ve never fought a wizard so skilled in combat.”
“Honestly, you surprised me,” Dumbledore said, waving his wand. Instantly, two boxes of pink ice cream appeared on the table. “But while we talk, why not enjoy a little treat?”
Wade took one box, then asked bluntly: “Did she train in the Muggle military?”
He wanted to avoid getting tangled in Dumbledore’s usual subtle games.
“Hmm. Yes,” Dumbledore replied, taking a bite. He winced slightly at the cold, then smiled. “Professor Abigail’s life has been quite extraordinary. She’s one of the rare wizards who truly understands Muggles—she lived among them for many years.”
He watched Wade, who was carefully holding his ice cream, listening intently.
“But I can’t reveal private details,” Dumbledore added with a kind smile. “If you want to know more, you’ll have to hear it from her yourself, once you get to know her better.”
Wade opened the lid, scooped a spoonful, then hesitated—before asking, “Do you know… could she possibly carry a gun? A Muggle firearm?”
“I know it’s her personal habit,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Just as we always carry our wands, and feel uneasy without them. I can assure you, Professor Abigail would never use such a weapon on a student. And unlike your previous professors, she is a trustworthy person.”
—Really?
Wade looked at him with clear skepticism.
“Besides,” Dumbledore continued, “I don’t see any harm in letting students learn about Muggle weapons. In fact, Professor Abigail once asked me if she could demonstrate the power of Muggle arms during the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.”
“You agreed?”
“Of course.”
“But…” Wade paused, thoughtful. “From what I know, handguns are just the tiniest fraction of Muggle weaponry…”
“So Professor Abigail brought along some… special surprises,” Dumbledore said casually. “You’ll need to learn how to defend yourselves—not just from dark creatures, but from Muggle methods too.”
Wade felt a flicker of surprise.
In the original timeline, Dumbledore had never entertained such thoughts. Back then, most wizards looked down on Muggles with quiet arrogance, treating the two worlds as separate, almost alien to one another.
Was it Professor Abigail who changed that?
Or… was it something else?
“Professor,” Wade asked, lifting his head, “during your previous investigations… did you encounter anything unusual?”
Dumbledore stared at him, his expression unreadable behind the lenses.
After a long silence, he said: “We found nothing, child.”
“Nothing?”
Wade’s brow twitched slightly.
“Exactly. And that’s worse than finding something,” Dumbledore sighed. “We thought that if magic couldn’t track them, maybe Muggle records might. But there was nothing. No witnesses. No rumors. Even when we had a Muggle check the airport surveillance footage, nothing turned up.”
“Our enemy… they’ve penetrated the Muggle world far deeper than we realized. That’s how they erased all traces. In this regard, we’re dangerously behind.”
There was no hiding the exhaustion and worry in his voice.
But then he looked at the boy before him—so young, so innocent—and immediately pulled himself back. All emotion vanished, replaced by calm, steady composure.
“This is unusual,” Dumbledore said, regaining his usual calm. “Most wizards know nothing about Muggles, let alone their technology. We’ll need to reevaluate our approach. Or wait for them to strike again. Every action leaves a trace. If it’s recent enough, we’ll find it.”
The couple had only realized their loss over a year later—no wonder tracking them was so hard.
If it had happened days, or even weeks ago, Dumbledore could’ve traced the faintest signs.
And Scamander was excellent at that kind of work.
Wade didn’t doubt him. But as he stepped out of the Headmaster’s Office, he turned back, watching the light fade slowly into the distance—his heart heavy with rising unease.
(End of Chapter)
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