Chapter 366: Don't Play Games in Class
“Hormone?” Harry had heard the word before—on some Muggle television show. In his mind, it was always linked to something… intimate. His face instantly flushed.
Wade tilted his head, thoughtful. “Strange… quite strange…”
Seeing that the others didn’t quite grasp it, he elaborated:
“In Muggle science, hormones are considered the source of life. They govern every aspect of human physiology and psychology—growth, development, health, mood, desire… everything is tied to them.”
“Supplementing hormones, they say, can slow aging, extend lifespan, and preserve vitality and youth. When hormone levels decline, organs deteriorate, and people grow lethargic and depressed. That’s why Muggle research into hormones has exploded in recent years.”
“And even tiny fluctuations in hormone concentration can have massive effects—completely altering both physical and mental states.”
Harry blinked, still half-understanding. “So… those people injected Remus with some kind of ‘wolf-transforming hormone’ to turn him into a Werewolf?”
Wade gave a slight nod. “I think their research into Werewolves must be incredibly advanced. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been able to isolate the specific hormonal compounds from a Werewolf’s body.”
Human experimentation was, of course, a deeply disturbing topic. But Harry’s experience was still too limited to conjure the full horror of it.
Still, Remus Lupin’s hand—resting beneath the blanket—twitched slightly. His fingers clenched involuntarily.
“I have a Werewolf friend,” he said, his voice rough and low. “Someone paid him to join an experiment… He’s been missing for months.”
Harry froze.
Wade lifted his eyes to Remus. He said nothing.
He knew Remus was referring to Will.
But Wade had no intention of revealing the truth.
Remus had clawed his way out of the darkest days of his life. He hadn’t just survived—he’d dedicated himself to helping others who’d suffered as he had.
But those he’d helped… they didn’t thank him. Instead, they resented him. They hated that he hadn’t stayed in the mud with them, that he’d found a way out.
The thought made Wade’s stomach turn.
In truth, it was better this way—let Remus believe Will was still the man he’d known, simply lost to fate.
…
Back in the dormitory, Wade sat in silence for a long time before finally opening his Book of Friends.
He contacted Clare.
【Wenar: Are you there?】
Earlier, he’d seen her photos in the hands of several vampires. He’d half-expected her to be missing too. But the message sent, and she responded almost instantly.
【Clare: Yes, yes! Mr. Wenar, what can I do for you?】
【Wenar: The blood sample you sent earlier showed no abnormalities. But we’ve developed a new line of research. I’d like you to send another sample—preferably right after your transformation.】
Clare replied eagerly:
【Clare: I understand. I’ll send it to you after the next full moon.】
Wade set down his feather quill and reached into the closet, pulling out a pouch of Galleons. He glanced at Eva, the owl who had arrived from the Gray family just yesterday, bearing a scarf knitted by his mother.
“Eva,” he said. “Take this to Clare. And check on her—see if there’s anything strange nearby. Any suspicious Werewolves or Vampires.”
He fastened a small gemstone badge around the owl’s neck—a newly crafted Mother Mirror, no bigger than a fingernail, seamlessly concealed within a transparent gem casing.
Eva extended her claw, grasped the pouch, and gave two serious, low hoots.
“Be careful,” Wade warned. “If she’s under someone’s control, come straight back.”
He fed her a few strips of meat, then watched as she soared through the window, vanishing into the night sky in an instant.
He closed the window, tapped the air with his wand, and a child-sized mirror unfolded rapidly—standing upright like a television on the wall.
“Fell,” Wade murmured.
Snap.
The house-elf appeared instantly, clutching a cloth, whispering, “Wade Gray, I’m at your service. Fell is honored to assist.”
“Tomorrow, when I’m in class, can you keep an eye on this mirror?” Wade asked.
“Yes…” Fell paused. “Just… watch it?”
“If you see a young girl inside, alert me immediately. If I can’t come, I want you to record everything that happens next.”
Ordinary child mirrors couldn’t record. But for Wade, that was no obstacle.
“Yes,” Fell whispered softly. “Fell will be careful. I’ll do it faithfully.”
Wade trusted him completely.
House-elves were all diligent, but Fell was the most meticulous.
The next day, they had Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
Professor Abigail had stopped pairing students for duels this term.
Instead, she’d learned a game from a Russian wizard friend—called “Maifa”—and was now enthusiastically replacing traditional lessons with it.
She called it, “Real combat doesn’t need flashy tricks. You just need to react faster than anyone else—and end the fight using your most natural method.”
The class began with Professor Abigail handing out identity cards:
- Auror: The strongest ability, but fewest in number.
- Ordinary Villager: No magical talent—only survival through hiding and escaping.
- Common Wizard: Some defensive and offensive abilities.
- Werewolf: Attacks anyone on sight, spreads infection.
Each identity had its own set of rules—abilities, roles, movement zones. Students were to act accordingly, and the game became a real-life Werewolf hunt.
The classroom erupted into chaos—students chasing, attacking, defending. Every Defense Against the Dark Arts class felt like a miniature battle.
Wade had tried this game before, once as an Auror. He’d eliminated all the Werewolves in minutes—then was downgraded to a Villager, since Aurors were no longer allowed to remain in the game.
But usually, he stayed near Professor Abigail, practicing magic or reading—safe from any Werewolf attack.
Today, however, Professor Abigail didn’t watch the game. She walked straight to Wade.
“Gray,” she asked, “can your magical puppet be shaped into a real magical creature?”
“It can be made to look like one,” Wade replied, “but it won’t have the actual abilities of a true magical creature.”
“That’s fine,” she said, “I might need several—Red Hats, Hinkypunks, Grendilos… and ideally, a Vampire and a Werewolf—life-sized. The school will pay market price.”
She said it, but her expression didn’t brighten.
“What’s wrong?” Wade asked.
“Oh, dear…” She sighed deeply. “Professor McGonagall told me not to let students play games like this. She wants me to focus more on OWL exam material. According to the schedule, you should be learning about magical creatures by now…”
(End of Chapter)
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