Chapter 290: I'm Also a Werewolf
In less than ten minutes, Machionni had transformed completely—his clothes torn and frayed, a dark circle already forming under one eye.
"Don’t keep grinning like an idiot," said the white-haired Magic Puppet, its tone dead serious. "When you mock someone, you’d better be ready to get punched."
"I wasn’t mocking Professor Mor," Machionni protested, but before he could finish, the Magic Puppet shrank back to finger-length size and was promptly tucked into Professor Mor’s pocket.
Machionni landed with a thud, staring up at the ceiling in mute disbelief. "I’m explaining myself to a Magic Puppet now?"
Professor Mor nudged his calf with his toe. "Or perhaps you should explain why you couldn’t even beat a single Magic Puppet."
"Is this an ordinary Magic Puppet?" Machionni shot a sidelong glance at the professor, narrowing his eyes. "Our workshop’s models aren’t this agile, nor this powerful! This must be a custom piece Wade secretly gave you!"
Professor Mor squinted. "So you think it’s unfair?"
"It is unfair," Machionni muttered. "But I finally understand why you’re so biased toward Wade…"
"Hmm?"
"That child—protected by his parents, by Hogwarts, by everyone—lives like he’s in a gilded cage. Naive, kind, utterly out of place in this cruel world." Machionni spoke with solemn depth.
Professor Mor fell silent for a long moment.
He thought of others… Peter Pettigrew, Lockhart, Quirrell, students in the Maze fleeing insect hordes in terror, Madam Pomfrey swamped with work, worried students turning Dumbledore into a broken man.
He studied Machionni with an odd glint in his eye—wondering how the man had arrived at such a striking conclusion.
…
Wade descended the stairs and found the floating Mirror had changed its scene again—now showing a fierce match between the recent Grape Tooth Pull and Broomstick Fleet and Will’s Cafili Crossbow Team.
Wade didn’t know either team from Adam. But the Mirror was brimming with commentary from a passionate announcer, and the first-floor crowd buzzed with Quidditch fans.
The shelves of Child Mirrors were being snatched up instantly, even as staff rushed to restock. Yet the shelves remained perpetually empty.
Harry, finally freed from the crowd, stood beneath the Horn with his hood up, eyes locked onto the enlarged screen.
Sirius Black, meanwhile, had already picked out two of the finest Child Mirrors and was waiting in line to pay.
Wade wandered casually through the store. Most of Aslan’s best-selling items were his own designs—every top-tier sample was in his possession.
So he quickly grew bored. He exchanged a nod with Remus Lupin, pulled his hood up, and slipped out through the throng.
With no new books yet to buy, Diagon Alley beyond the Aslan Magical Workshop was nearly empty.
Wade headed toward the Old Books shop, hoping to dig up some forgotten tomes—occasionally, he’d find a treasure trove of old Wizard notes. Most were rubbish, but every now and then, a genuine gem slipped through.
"Sorry, Will can’t make time—he’s too busy… but if you agree, I’d be happy to take his place," came a faint, trembling voice.
Wade froze. For a split second, he thought someone had called his name—then realized the voice was talking about Will.
To hear a familiar face mentioned so soon after seeing them, spoken by someone else… it was an odd, almost surreal sensation.
The voice shook slightly. Wade hesitated, then turned toward the sound.
As he passed a shop sign, he tapped his head with his wand. A wave of cold flooded his body instantly.
The boy dissolved into the air like mist—gone.
Wade cast two more spells: one to conceal his footsteps, another to mask his scent. He turned the corner, and in a narrow alley, he found the source of the voice.
He hadn’t been wrong.
It was the girl who’d been talking to Will earlier at Aslan.
She was thin, petite, with fine, silken golden hair and a pale, almost colorless face. Her features were delicate, almost childlike.
In front of her stood a cloaked figure—hooded, shapeless, their presence chilling. The figure’s eyes, if they had any, seemed to bore into the girl with icy stillness.
"Do you know what we’re doing, Clare?" the cloaked figure asked, voice low.
Clare nodded firmly. "I know… it’s drug testing, right? Will can do it. So can I. I… I’m a Werewolf too."
The cloaked figure suddenly let out a cold, sharp laugh.
Wade’s eyes snapped wide open.
The voice was unfamiliar—but that laugh… he’d heard it before.
"Do you have magic?" the cloaked figure asked.
Clare paused, then lowered her head, her voice barely audible. "I… I can’t."
The figure was silent for a moment. "So you were a Muggle?"
"Yeah," Clare whispered, biting her lip. "I was bitten when I was seven."
"Most Muggles bitten by Werewolves die from the wounds. How did you survive?"
"I… happened to have a Wizard in our village. He heard the cry and came to help in time." She hesitated, then asked, "This… is it connected to the testing?"
"No," the figure said flatly. "Just curiosity."
"Then…?"
"No." The figure spoke lazily. "The potion only works on those with magic. Even if you’re a Werewolf, you don’t qualify. Only Will does."
"But… but—" Clare clenched her teeth. "Will already has a job now. He doesn’t have to risk his life for you anymore!"
The figure studied her for a moment, then smiled. "If Will says so himself, we’ll stop looking. But what you say doesn’t matter."
"But—!"
"You don’t understand the situation. Don’t make decisions for him, Clare."
Clare opened her mouth again, but the figure had already lost patience. With a flick of the hand, they turned and walked away, leaving only one final line behind:
"Tell Will—come meet us tomorrow night, 11 o’clock. Old place."
Clare stood frozen where she was, shattered, hollow.
Wade considered for a moment, then pulled a vial of Polyjuice Potion from his bag and downed it in one gulp.
The invisible figure began to grow, hair darkening to gray, facial features shifting subtly.
Moments later, the wizard “Wenar” stood once more.
Wade switched to a spare wand, dispelled the Disguise Charm, and stepped out from behind the corner.
(End of Chapter)
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