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Chapter 381: Malfoy and the Boggart
Ping! The bell chimed, and the countdown on the Blackboard vanished instantly. The classroom door slammed shut with a thunderous boom. The impact startled every student, who then watched in alarm as the curtains across the room began to shift and move. Forced to scatter, they were soon separated from one another.
The curtains had been enchanted with a Silencing Charm. As soon as friends were split apart, their shouts faded into distant echoes, and silence descended over the room. Each student felt suddenly isolated—like an island adrift in a vast, quiet sea.
Someone inside hurriedly darted around the moving curtains, desperate to reunite with their friends. But all they saw were endless layers of fabric, stretching in every direction. Was the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom really this large? It felt as though they had fallen into another dimension.
Then, a faint rustling sound reached their ears nearby. From behind the curtains, a small shadow began to form…
At that moment, Wade had already sensed something was off. “Invisible Expansion Charm?” he murmured. He knew that spell too well—no need to activate any secondary vision. His experience alone was enough to recognize it.
“Haha, I knew you’d figure it out,” Professor Flee said, grinning. “I told Seb Pull you were the expert in this area!”
“Temporary,” Professor Abigail added with a playful smile. “I’m actually applying to Professor McGonagall to renovate the Chamber of Secrets for the Serpent Monster. Maybe you could pull a few strings for me?”
“That’s not about pulling strings,” Professor McGonagall replied sternly. “Renovating the school’s Chamber of Secrets involves serious considerations—funding from the school board doesn’t include this, and student safety during access is paramount.”
“So we’re just experimenting,” Professor Abigail shrugged, grinning. “Thanks to Wade, though—didn’t expect him to finish all the Magic Creature puppets I requested so quickly. Otherwise, I’d have had to show them the Boggart today anyway.”
“Why not?” Professor Flee said eagerly. “Let them face both real and fake. That’s what makes it fun!”
Abigail blinked. “...Well, actually… that’s not a bad idea!”
The two exchanged a look and happily set off to bring the Boggart in. Professor McGonagall chose to pretend she hadn’t seen anything.
Wade said nothing. He quietly began placing each magic puppet from his bag onto the floor, issuing increasingly specific commands:
- One strange creature per student—no group attacks.
- No targeting of key body parts.
- No disabling, no urinating, no spitting water.
Professor McGonagall listened, her forehead slowly beading with cold sweat.
When the final puppet had expanded and was now holding a wooden bat, grinning as it stalked toward its target, Professor McGonagall finally decided: she had to ask the one thing she couldn’t stomach.
“Wade… these puppets… are they really going to do that… in public… you know… that?”
Wade sighed, equally exasperated.
“In simulation, they behave similarly.”
“But… how?” McGonagall insisted. “What kind of thought did you inject into them?”
“Since they’re meant to mimic real magical creatures,” Wade said, “I used actual creatures’ memories—though I didn’t expect this side effect.”
He exhaled. “Good thing they’re not for sale. Otherwise, they’d never sell.”
—So student mental health doesn’t matter? McGonagall almost asked. But then she remembered: these puppets were handmade, donated freely by Wade. Complaining now would feel petty.
Fine. Let it be.
After all, magical creatures don’t have limits. Let the students face this early. Better they learn now than panic and drop their wands the first time they’re touched on the backside in real danger.
With that, she convinced herself and let go of her worry.
Meanwhile, Professor Abigail and Professor Flee arrived with a large box levitated by a Hover Charm. By then, Wade had already arranged the Streaming Mirror’s main mirror, and now dozens of floating mirrors hovered before him—each displaying a different corner of the room.
Under McGonagall’s subtle hint, one camera feed remained fixed on Draco Malfoy—just in case the Slytherin decided to cause trouble.
Wade then selected the most dramatic moments and stitched them together into a new video. This footage would serve as evidence for McGonagall’s appeal to the Ministry of Magic and the school board—requesting funds to finally renovate the Chamber of Secrets.
…
Draco Malfoy had no idea a pair of eyes now watched him from above.
He tore through curtain after curtain, searching in vain for other students. Instead, he found a Grendilo. He snapped its claw, then fled.
Frustrated. Uneasy. A flicker of fear stirred beneath his skin.
Suddenly, a towering figure appeared ahead—vaguely resembling Braith Zabini.
Draco’s eyes lit up. He rushed forward, ripped aside the curtain—then froze.
“…Dad…?” he whispered. “What are you doing here?”
Before him stood Lucius Malfoy—tall, cold, his eyes like ice.
Lucius turned slowly, staring at Draco as if he were an unwelcome stain.
“Draco,” Lucius snarled. “You’ve disgraced our name. You don’t deserve to bear the Malfoy name. Leave. I have no son like you!”
The man roared forward, advancing like a storm—so much like Professor Snape that Draco stumbled back in terror, then turned and ran.
What’s going on? Why is he saying this? Am I not his son? Could it be… because of Crabbe?
His mind raced.
No—Mother wouldn’t agree. If I find her… she’ll fix this.
He didn’t know where he was running. He raised his wand, summoning a giant black serpent. It coiled around a sudden burst of red hat, then swung around a corner—only to reveal another figure.
Narcissa Malfoy knelt, tears streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry, Draco… I never meant to hurt you… but you’re not really our child. We found you in a Muggle trash bin. You’re… a Mudblood…”
“Our real son has returned. You… you should go back to your Muggle parents.”
“No—no!” Draco screamed, disbelief tearing through him. “I’m not! I’m not a Mudblood!”
He refused to listen, spun around, and fled again.
Curtains. More curtains. Always curtains.
A growing sense of dread prickled his mind. Then—another figure.
This time, it was Narcissa, sprawled in a pool of blood, her pale face lifeless, her gray eyes blank and vacant.
“AAAAAAH—!”
“Wade?” Professor McGonagall called sharply.
“Not me, Professor,” Wade said. “I don’t know what’s happening to Malfoy. He keeps returning to the Boggart’s location.”
“Then… how are the curtains moving?” McGonagall began, but then she saw the guilty expression on Professor Flee’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Flee said, bowing slightly. “I meant to guide him toward the outer edge… but the more I tried to block him, the more he kept moving toward the center…”
McGonagall stared at the screen, then looked at Draco’s trembling form.
She sighed.
“Take the Boggart away. They’re not ready to face something like this yet.”
(End of Chapter)
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