Chapter 305: The Tide of the Age
“So that’s how it is…”
Wade didn’t find Will’s resentment or ingratitude particularly surprising. He felt only pity for Remus—wasted on such a fool.
He paused, almost ready to say something. But then he remembered: this man was merely speaking under the influence of a truth potion. Any scolding, any mockery, would fall on deaf ears. There would be no reaction, no remorse—nothing.
The realization made the moment feel hollow.
Wade leaned back into his chair, calm.
“Tell me about this ‘him’ you speak of—the one who gave you a dream, who made you follow him so willingly. Who is he? What’s his name?”
“We… we call him the Leader,” Will murmured, his face alight with reverence. “Sometimes, we call him Alpha. He’s like a father to us—guiding us forward. He made us know… that our existence had meaning…”
He droned on, a stream of empty adulation—praise, devotion, nothing of substance.
This poor soul’s mind seemed filled only with grand, hollow phrases, lacking any real strategy, any tangible plan.
Wade frowned, cutting him off. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you? What does he look like?”
“He… he looks about forty or fifty, handsome, magnetic… brown hair… and on his arm… there’s… a… butterfly tattoo…”
Will’s voice grew weaker. Suddenly, his body snapped rigid, as if yanked upright by an invisible force. His chair toppled over with a crash, and he writhed in agony, gasping short, sharp screams: “Ah! Ah! Ah!”
Wade watched as black mist poured from Will’s mouth, eyes, and fingernails—like threads of spider silk, wrapping tightly around his limbs, constricting with each passing second.
He knew.
This was a lethal curse.
In normal sight, Will’s face had turned ashen, pale and blue in patches, trembling uncontrollably.
The curse was weakening the Veritaserum’s effect. His eyes cleared slightly, and he stared at Wade with desperate, pleading eyes.
“Save… me…”
Wade crouched down, looking into the man’s bloodshot eyes.
“This curse was laid by your Alpha,” he said softly. “It kills you the moment you reveal any secret.”
He stared into the bulging eyes.
“I can save you. But after the curse is lifted… you’ll work for me. You’ll be my spy.”
Will’s eyes snapped wide.
He glared at Wade with pure hatred, clenching his teeth so hard they cracked—but he no longer begged.
In the violent tremors, the chair creaked against the floor. His voice faded, then silence.
Wade closed his eyes.
Then rose to his feet.
“Meow~”
A tiny, high-pitched meow came from behind.
One by one, small, fluffy heads peeked through the entrance. A cluster of kittens sat there, watching their master.
All of them were Wade’s magical puppets—perfectly mimicking real cats.
He walked over, scooped one up, and gently rubbed its ears.
One kitten padded forward, pushed the fallen man with its soft paw, then turned back to Wade and chirped:
“Dead, meow~”
“Yeah,” Wade said, voice flat. “Take him to the spiders. Extra meal.”
The kittens immediately latched onto the man’s clothes and chains, dragging both him and the chair out with sharp, rhythmic tugs.
Wade sat still for a moment, mentally reviewing the string of troubles he’d faced lately.
He felt it clearly now—the faint flutter of a butterfly’s wings, setting off a storm.
Why were so many hidden forces—never mentioned in the original story—rising to the surface?
Why was the situation growing so much more complex?
In the original timeline, Harry Potter’s seven years… and even the nineteen years after… had only ever featured Voldemort and his Death Eaters as the primary threat.
But now, more and more factions—concealed beneath the surface—were surfacing.
Wade sat in silence, his mind narrowing on one possibility.
—The Book of Friends.
A portable, affordable communication tool had triggered a revolution.
Yes, wizards already had methods—fireplace calls, two-way mirrors, owls—but each had flaws.
Dumbledore’s Patronus messages? Restricted to a handful of individuals.
The Book of Friends shattered the isolation of the wizarding world.
Lightweight, efficient, nearly instantaneous—letters spread like wildfire, and secrets festered in silence.
And because of Wade’s influence, the change had started in Britain—creating a kind of magical concentration effect.
Conflicts and tensions were coalescing on this island, driven not by chance, but by interest.
In the past, ministries rarely communicated—except during rare, large-scale events.
Magic schools existed in isolation, with no exchange of knowledge, no competition.
Even the Triwizard Tournament, once a bridge between nations, had been abandoned for centuries.
Everyone lived in their own little corner, wild and free—untouched.
But now?
The world had changed.
Wade recalled walking into the magic workshop and seeing customers from all over the world.
Why were they there?
—To buy the Streaming Mirrors.
The product had just launched.
A message had reached Brazil—nearly nine thousand kilometers away—and they’d responded instantly.
Wizards who once lived self-sufficient, isolated lives were no longer closed off.
Distances were shrinking.
The barriers of nation, region, and tradition were crumbling.
The storm was gathering—quietly, powerfully.
Wade had only glimpsed a single horn of it.
He felt a quiet pressure, a foreboding of the chaos ahead.
Yet, he steadied himself, gently releasing the tension.
Problems would come.
They would be solved.
But for now, the most important thing was ensuring the safety of his family.
Outside, the creaking of the Spider Cage had gone silent.
A swarm of Acromantulas was tearing apart the remains of their fallen comrade.
The kittens sat nearby, watching with quiet fascination.
A broom and mop swept across the floor, quickly restoring order.
Wade’s closet space was growing busier by the day.
He had once dreamed of building a small world like Mr. Scamander’s—full of wonder, mystery, and magic.
But now, his space held only a dozen or so magical creatures—most of them alchemical constructs.
He glanced at the now emptier Spider Cage, then turned and left the room swiftly.
(End of Chapter)
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