Chapter 287: Mr. Will of Diagon Alley
After dinner, the task of washing the bowls was handed over to the Magic Puppet. Everyone gathered together, listening intently as Remus Lupin recounted the story he had pieced together from old newspapers—
"I don’t know much about him, really. His story took place in the United States and France during the 1930s. There wasn’t much coverage here in Britain."
That was Remus Lupin’s opening line.
"Strange I’ve never heard of him…" Sirius Black muttered. "We weren’t even born back then!" He did a quick mental calculation—his parents had only just been born at the time. But Sirius had never liked his parents, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about them.
"Cleddens Baribown was raised by a Muggle in an Anti-Wizard Association. He suffered abuse from a young age, which turned him into The Silent One. Remarkably, he survived into adulthood."
Remus continued. "I became interested in his story after finding a single sentence in an old notebook—Cleddens Baribown was the only person who could have defeated Albus Dumbledore."
With that, Remus began to narrate the fragments of the tale he had uncovered.
Wade had already seen part of this same story in the Pensieve—specifically, the memories tied to the film series. But even so, he listened closely, captivated.
The same story, viewed through different eyes, took on a wholly new dimension.
Remus Lupin—no, more accurately, the British journalists who had written the original reports—had no idea that Cleddens Baribown was, in fact, a Dumbledore.
He was the son of Aberforth Dumbledore, Aurelius Dumbledore. Separated from his father at a young age, his mother had died early. His life was nothing short of tragedy.
Despite possessing the immense magical potential of a Giant, Cleddens never became a wizard. Instead, he became The Silent One, consumed by darkness. Manipulated by Gellert Grindelwald, he ultimately met a tragic end.
The British press, unaware of the truth, painted him as a monstrous figure. They exaggerated the destruction he caused in New York, using his name to amplify the terror of Grindelwald’s reign in Europe—meant to highlight the glory of Albus Dumbledore’s victory.
To the people of that time, the wizarding world’s savior wasn’t some scarred boy with a lightning-shaped mark. It was Albus Dumbledore who had brought peace. And so, they lavished the most extravagant praise upon him.
But Dumbledore himself likely never appreciated such adulation.
The feats that earned him legendary status had been built upon the bones of his own blood.
As a result, even in Britain, the coverage of those events remained sparse and shallow. Even Remus Lupin, who had searched meticulously, could only gather the barest fragments.
Yet even that was enough to leave Harry utterly spellbound.
He had never imagined what a young Dumbledore might have looked like. But now, after hearing Remus’s tale, one thought echoed in his heart:
This is Dumbledore.
A man who stood fearless in the face of war, defeating one powerful enemy after another. No threat, no temptation, no fear could shake his principles. He had protected countless innocent, helpless souls.
Deep within Harry stirred a secret longing—to become a wizard like Dumbledore.
But even the thought felt too heavy to voice. It required courage.
On the way to Diagon Alley, Harry had turned to Wade and said,
"Gellert Grindelwald, Cleddens, Voldemort… I can’t even imagine how many dark wizards Dumbledore must have faced in his lifetime."
Wade replied, "I once heard a saying—If a hero of an age shines too brightly, it means the age itself is too dark."
"Huh?" Harry blinked. That was a perspective he’d never considered.
Wade went on, "Peace shouldn’t be the burden of one man. It should be something people fight for together. If the entire world’s peace rests on a single person’s shoulders… I can’t even imagine how heavy that must be."
Harry fell silent.
For a long while, he said nothing—not even when stepping through the fireplace.
In the flickering green flames, they arrived once more in Diagon Alley.
As always, the routine was the same: withdraw money, buy necessities, then stroll through the shops, picking up little treats or sipping a beverage.
For the past two years, Aslan Magical Workshop had remained the busiest shop in Diagon Alley. Wizards from across the world traveled all the way to Britain just to stock up from its shelves.
After leaving the apothecary with their potion ingredients, the group headed straight for the workshop.
From a distance, they could already see a crowd gathered around the entrance.
"Come with me," Remus Lupin said. "I know a side door used by staff."
He often represented Wade in meetings with the workshop’s team, so he knew the place well.
Following Remus, they wound through back alleys and narrow passages, finally entering through what looked like a private residence’s back door.
Right away, they saw several workers carrying boxes.
"Hey, Private Residence—please don’t—Remus?!"
A staff member was about to shoo them away when he recognized Remus. His face lit up with surprise, and he hurried over—not with a handshake, but a forceful embrace.
"Long time no see! I’ve been waiting for this moment!"
Wade and the others watched curiously. The man wore the workshop’s signature blue-and-yellow uniform. Tall and thin, with patchy hair and a gaunt look—almost as if he hadn’t eaten properly in years. But his smile was wildly enthusiastic.
"Hello, Will. How’ve you been?" Remus smiled back, returning the embrace.
"Fantastic! Never better! If you’d told me six months ago I’d be living this life, I’d have laughed in your face!" Will grinned. His eyes flicked to the others standing beside Remus. "These are…?"
"Oh, let me introduce—"
"Wait, wait! Let me guess!"
Remus was cut off mid-sentence. Will stared at them with his slightly bulging eyes, starting with Sirius Black.
He studied him closely, then reached out with a firm hand. "You must be Sirius Black! I’ve admired you for years—you gave me strength, courage, hope!"
"Uh… thanks?" Sirius looked both awkward and flattered as he shook Will’s hand.
Then Will glanced down—and froze.
His eyes locked onto the emerald green gaze and the lightning-shaped scar on Harry’s forehead.
His expression twisted into pure astonishment, like a frog caught mid-hop.
"No need to say anything. No need at all—Harry Potter! Our Star of Salvation!"
He bowed deeply, then gripped Harry’s hand with surprising force.
Harry’s skin prickled. He nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Uh… hello, Mr. Will," he stammered.
"Meeting you is an honor! Could I… could I get your autograph?" Will insisted, still clutching Harry’s hand.
"Alright, Will, you’re scaring him," Remus said, stepping in to rescue Harry from the awkwardness.
Will finally turned his glowing eyes toward the last person—Wade.
Wade narrowed his eyes slightly, then stepped forward.
"Save the guessing," he said calmly. "I’m Wade Gray. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Will."
Will looked at his outstretched hand, then slowly took it—bending lower than ever.
"I’m truly grateful, Mr. Gray. You might not know me… but you gave me a second chance at life."
(End of Chapter)
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