Chapter 240: Dream and the Storm Wind
The drizzle had lasted from noon straight through to nightfall.
At first, it was just a faint patter, but soon it grew heavier, drumming against the windowpane in a rhythm like music.
With the moisture in the air already saturated, this downpour might mean no storm for ten days or more.
After returning home, Remus Lupin said to Wade:
"I hope you're not too disappointed, Wade."
"James Potter and the others didn’t manage to become Animagi until their fifth year—after years of trying. Most wizards take even longer—sometimes even a decade or more—before they finally succeed."
"Compared to them, you're already ahead. Perhaps just a few weeks more, and you’ll reach the most suitable moment."
"When that day comes, your preparation will be even stronger than it is now."
Seeing the concern in Remus’s eyes, Wade smiled.
"I understand. I’d already prepared myself for a few failures… And honestly, I haven’t failed yet. I’m just waiting, aren’t I?"
Remus exhaled in relief, grinning.
"Of course. Don’t forget the spell at sunset."
"I understand."
Wade spent some time reading in his study. But when he realized he hadn’t turned a page in a long while, the alarm clock suddenly shrieked.
He reached out and silenced it, then pointed his wand at his chest and whispered,
"Amado, Animo, Animado, Animagus."
Thud!
A powerful heartbeat answered from deep within his chest—like some creature desperate to break free from its seal.
Wade turned his head toward the window. Rainwater traced long, thin lines across the glass, one following another, weaving a shifting, intersecting pattern—only to be instantly replaced by new ones.
He wasn’t truly disappointed. As he’d told Remus, he’d already expected to spend two or three years preparing.
Failing a few times during the mandrake ritual was nothing unusual—six or seven attempts wouldn’t be surprising.
And yet… he’d succeeded on his very first try.
The incantation was a long, continuous process. An unexpected accident, unconsciousness, or simply oversleeping could mean starting all over again.
But Wade had stuck strictly to his schedule—never missing a single session.
Still, the closer he got to success, the longer the waiting felt.
He knew the storm would come eventually—but every second before it arrived stretched like taffy.
With that in mind, he poured himself a small glass of Butterbeer (Alcohol Version) and drank it in one go.
The alcohol content was so low it wouldn’t even affect a House-elf.
The bitter tang of the beer mingled with the creamy scent in his throat, followed by a faint warmth and a surprisingly complex bouquet.
Wade finally understood why someone inside would love this golden drink.
He felt light-headed, as if everything around him had grown weightless. His mood lifted.
He restrained the thought of "Just one more," lay down on the bed, and pulled the blanket all the way up to his chin.
"Sleep," he told himself.
"Need to wake before sunrise tomorrow!"
…
Wade didn’t realize he was dreaming.
He was flying through the sky, clouds drifting past like wisps of smoke. Hogwarts Castle grew distant, shrinking into the horizon, while the moon and stars drew impossibly close.
The giant moon shone like a lake of silver light, hanging above him, radiant and pure.
Stars surrounded him—countless pinpricks of light—but when he looked closer, they weren’t stars at all.
They were spherical, pockmarked stones, some glittering with a metallic sheen.
A sudden question struck Wade: Shouldn’t stars be fixed, eternal?
His mind answered instantly: You’re flying through the asteroid belt of the solar system.
Then, silently, a massive, dark-gray planet drifted past him.
It blocked the moon completely, swallowing the entire sky.
The sheer size of it made him feel insignificant, even afraid.
And in that moment, a name surfaced in his mind—Ceres.
The largest asteroid in the solar system.
Instinctively, he tried to pull away—but the planet’s gravity was already dragging him in.
It became agonizingly hard to move.
As he strained to escape, fragments of rock shot toward him like bullets.
Wade dodged frantically—still, a few stones the size of fists struck him. The world rocked violently.
He gasped awake.
Remus Lupin was gripping his shoulders, shaking him hard.
"Wade, wake up! The storm’s here!"
Before the words even faded, a lightning bolt split the sky—floodlighting the room in blinding white.
The flash vanished instantly. Seconds later, thunder rolled in from the distance, rumbling like a beast.
Wade’s foggy mind cleared. He leapt from the bed, grateful he’d forgotten to change clothes.
He grabbed his coat and pulled it on, then dashed downstairs with Remus.
Boom!
The window of Wade’s bedroom burst open. Torrential rain poured in, accompanied by a dark silhouette.
"Don’t waste time!" Sirius Black roared. "We don’t know how long this storm will last—we’ve got to fly!"
His voice was barely audible over the thunder, but both men saw the broomstick in his hand.
Wade snatched one of the brooms, leapt on, and shot straight out the window.
He landed on the ground a second later.
When lightning flashed again, he ducked into the cellar, retrieved the Crystal Vial he’d hidden there earlier.
Inside the transparent bottle, a crimson potion glowed, reflecting a vivid, vibrant light—just enough for one sip.
"Perfect," Sirius declared. "All systems go. Let’s depart!"
"Wade, stay close!"
Three brooms shot forward in unison, like swift seabirds battling the storm.
Sirius led, Wade followed in the middle, and Remus brought up the rear—three figures forming a line, cutting through the curtain of rain, then slowing as they entered the forest.
Under the flickering light of lightning, Sirius spotted the hidden entrance he’d left behind.
They surged forward like arrows, landing on the soaked grass with a splash.
Wade dismounted and glanced at the others. Without hesitation, he raised his wand to his chest and recited the spell again:
"Amado, Animo, Animado, Animagus."
Then, he uncorked the vial and drank it down in one gulp.
Pain exploded through his body.
His muscles felt like they were melting. Bones cracked and reformed. Skin burned as if thousands of needles were piercing through it from within.
His limbs twisted and contorted, his head shrinking rapidly. His body reshaped itself—melding with his clothes in a strange, seamless way.
And in his mind, an image formed—of a creature.
Wade didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, letting magic flow naturally, answering the call.
The black-haired boy seemed to dissolve in an instant.
A large bird with a shimmering blue glow flared across the sky—its wings snapped open, and it vanished from sight.
(End of Chapter)
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