https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-280-A-Message-from-the-Headmaster/13685207/
Chapter 281: This Is Magic
Morning broke as the first sliver of sunlight pierced through the heavy clouds, and Wade opened his eyes.
During the previous school year, he had maintained the habit of rising the moment the sun appeared, establishing a steady internal clock that still kept him up early.
After lying in bed for two minutes, eyes closed, Wade rolled over and got up. He washed his face and made his way downstairs.
The Gray family had yet to stir, but the kitchen already carried the warm, buttery scent of frying bread.
As he passed the stairs, the mirror beside him swayed slightly and spoke:
"Good morning, Master Gray. Your attire today is, as always, effortlessly stylish..."
"Thanks," Wade replied. "I'm wearing pajamas."
"Indeed, it's a handpicked print silk set by Madame Fiona—perfectly tailored to highlight your noble bearing. Every time I see it, it takes my breath away..."
"Really? But you don’t have eyes," Wade said.
"That’s just a figure of speech, Master. Today’s sunlight is ideal for light-colored shirts—pair it with dark casual trousers for a clean, sharp look. Perfect for a walk outside or meeting friends."
The mirror chattered on cheerfully, and even after Wade had moved past, its voice still echoed from behind:
"Even a visit to an elder would be suitably dignified..."
Wade shook his head.
This chatty little thing had been a gift he’d bought for his mother, Fiona. Ferdinand had told him that Fiona sometimes spent hours discussing fashion and makeup with it. In a way, it had freed the two of them from the endless loop of “It’s fine,” “It looks good,” and other generic remarks.
But Ferdinand, too, had grown a little melancholy—frequently drifting over to insert himself into the conversation, only to realize the subject was utterly foreign to him.
So he’d started secretly browsing fashion magazines.
Wade: "..."
He really wanted to tell his father that to join their world, he might first need to learn the difference between a shade of red.
Shaking off the mirror’s chatter, Wade reached the ground floor.
The living room had already been immaculately cleaned. A few tiny human-like figures were bustling about in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
Before Wade had gone to Hogwarts, the house had been regularly cleaned and cooked for by professional staff. Fiona had only needed to prepare her morning meal.
But as their home accumulated more magical books and artifacts, Fiona had taken over most of the household duties to avoid exposing their secrets.
Ferdinand tried to help, but his job often involved incidents—small, unpredictable disruptions—so the daily chores still consumed much of Fiona’s time.
Wade felt a pang of guilt, often thinking about hiring a house-elf. But he worried about the safety of his parents.
Most house-elves were fiercely loyal to their wizard masters, but some were rebellious. And like many magical creatures, they tended to look down on those who couldn’t perform magic.
Take Kreacher, the Black family’s house-elf, or Makki, the caretaker at Hogwarts—both were willing to obey Wade’s commands.
But would they obey Ferdinand or Fiona with equal respect? Wade couldn’t be sure.
Even if they served the Gray family out of loyalty to him, resentment or disdain might still simmer beneath the surface—and magical creatures were never subtle about their emotions.
And what if he hired a stray little sprite, discarded by its master? Without knowing their true nature, bringing such a powerful being into the home could be dangerous for the Grays.
At first, Wade had considered Dobby—until he invented his own magical puppets. Now, the problem was solved.
Three small magical puppets now handled nearly all the household tasks. Fiona only cooked elaborate, heartfelt meals when she felt like it, or knitted gloves and scarves for the family as a way to pass the time.
The puppets had grown accustomed to the family’s rhythm. As Wade sat down at the table, a steaming cup of coffee was already placed before him. Moments later, a full breakfast appeared.
Tiny Coco, holding a water pitcher taller than herself, poured a hot cup of water with remarkable precision.
Wade cut off a piece of bread and asked, "Any strange people been spotted around lately?"
Coco replied, "The most unusual one is Alastor Moody. He used a Split-into-Parts spell last night and destroyed a bicycle on the road."
Wade paused mid-bite, fork suspended, then set it down. "Did the Ministry of Magic send someone to deal with it?"
"No," Coco said. "He didn’t attract any Muggle attention. The bike’s owner assumed it was just an accident."
"Hmm," Wade mused. The Ministry was probably used to Moody’s antics by now. They only intervened if there was a risk of exposing magic to Muggles—otherwise, they’d rather not bother.
If an incident like this needed handling… the usual one would be Arthur Weasley.
After finishing breakfast, the second puppet, Lucy, placed today’s newspaper on the table.
Being so short, she carried the stack of papers like a floating stack—her arms barely visible beneath the weight. It looked as if the newspapers were moving on their own.
Wade couldn’t help but smile. "Want me to make you bigger? That might be more convenient."
Lucy shook her head. "No, thank you. We’re used to it. And this way, we can go out with you."
Wade nodded. "Fair enough."
The magical puppets, infused with thought, often felt indistinguishable from real people. They could talk, understand vague instructions, and perform complex, precise tasks. Almost everything a human could do—except reproduction and metabolism—they could do as well.
Compared to them, Muggle AI still felt clumsy and mechanical.
After breakfast, Wade glanced at the clock. It was time to leave.
He gave a quick greeting to Ferdinand, who had just gotten out of bed.
"When will you be back?" Ferdinand asked.
"Probably tonight," Wade said. "If I’m staying over, I’ll send you a message."
"Alright," Ferdinand nodded steadily. He seemed to want to say more, but hesitated, then settled on: "Don’t forget to eat."
"Of course," Wade replied, and headed upstairs to change.
Ferdinand stood by the window, lit a cigarette, and suddenly heard a fluttering sound.
He looked up—and saw a falcon soaring into the distance.
"Why can a man over a hundred pounds turn into a bird weighing less than a pound?" he murmured to the puppet beside him. "Doesn’t matter have to be conserved?"
Coco seemed to zone out for a moment, then answered softly:
"That’s magic, Master."
"Yeah…" Ferdinand exhaled slowly. "That’s… magic."
(End of Chapter)
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