Chapter 40: The Weasleys
Besides Charms and Transfiguration, Wade spent the most time on Alchemy. As he studied, he found his understanding of other subjects deepening in unexpected ways. The book Professor Mor lent him—Beginner's Guide to Magical Item Crafting—was unlike any Alchemy textbook he’d seen. It skipped the dry history and theoretical foundations entirely, avoiding lengthy discussions on the elemental cycles of creation and destruction. Instead, from the very first line, it dove straight into the practical art of crafting magical artifacts.
From common items like Self-Inking Feather Quills, Animated Photographs, Flying Broomsticks, and Howling Letters, to rare treasures few could even dream of owning—Pensieves, Mirrors, Invisibility Cloaks, Guardian Armors—nearly every magical artifact Wade had seen or heard of was detailed within its pages. It even mentioned the Sorting Hat and the Time-Turner, though the latter was only discussed in speculation, with no actual construction process provided.
But simply reading the book wasn’t enough. Just as someone with no knowledge of electricity or programming couldn’t build a computer from a manual, one couldn’t craft a magical artifact without the proper foundational understanding. The complexity and danger involved far surpassed that of modern technology. Without the requisite magical knowledge, even the simplest procedure would remain incomprehensible.
After several weeks of studying under Professor Mor, Wade had listened to his critiques of assignments from Sixth and Seventh Years, and even assisted him in creating a teaching aid for his class. With time, Professor Mor suggested it was now time for Wade to attempt crafting his first magical artifact himself—something simple, yet meaningful. With just three or four carefully combined spells, astonishing effects could be achieved. The Self-Inking Feather Quill and the Howling Letter were both examples of such creations.
Ideas began to swirl in Wade’s mind. He imagined a feather quill that automatically changed ink color depending on the mood of the writer, or spectacles with built-in distance-measuring enchantments. Perhaps even a tiny puppet that could dance on its own—each idea forming in his mind almost instantly, accompanied by a complete spell sequence and precise procedure.
The required spells and magical scripts were all basic—skills he had long since mastered. With just a few practice attempts, success seemed certain. Wade felt confident. But then a question echoed in his thoughts: Should I really do this?
If he did, what would his work truly be? Just another copycat effort, no different from the student projects Professor Mor dismissed as “trash.” Same lack of originality, same superficial completion of an assignment, same negligible value. This was his first true Alchemy work. He didn’t want it to end up in the same discard pile as so many others.
That night, his mind wandered endlessly, yet sleep eluded him. In the hazy state between waking and dreaming, he suddenly heard faint rustling.
Wade sat up, drew his wand, and flicked it. The oil lamp in the dormitory flared to life, casting a steady, warm orange glow. The room was utterly still. Outside the window, a soft sound drifted through the air.
He pulled on his robes and walked to the window. That’s when he realized—snow was falling.
A heavy, silent snowfall blanketed the castle in pure white. Snowdrifts piled high over every irregularity, muffling the world beneath a thick, serene hush.
Then, like a spark in the dark, an idea struck him.
As soon as it formed, all his earlier whimsy seemed shallow and flashy by comparison.
He smiled, climbed back into bed, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep until morning.
…
Wade had thought his earlier confrontation with Quirrell—knocking him flat with a well-aimed shove—was already pushing boundaries. But it turned out to be nothing compared to what the Weasley Twins had in store.
They had enchanted a few snowballs, turning them into relentless, magical projectiles that chased Quirrell through the corridors, finally slamming into the back of his head with a satisfying thud.
Professor McGonagall was furious. She stormed out of the Great Hall, stripped the twins of thirty House points—entirely from Gryffindor—and sentenced them to a full month of detention. Two weeks before Christmas, and another two weeks upon their return.
The twins bowed their heads in mock remorse, eyes twinkling with mischief. As soon as Professor McGonagall turned her back, they exchanged grins.
"Why’d you need to target Quirrell?" Wade asked, standing in the corridor, genuinely curious. To someone who knew the truth, their stunt felt like walking on the edge of a cliff—dangerously close to crossing the line.
And while the Weasley Twins loved pranks, they’d never dared challenge a professor directly. After all, Gryffindor valued House Cup points fiercely—especially when Slytherin was always quick to mock them for being behind. If Quirrell had deducted two hundred points in one go, no one would’ve dared complain.
So why now? Why this recklessness?
The twins stared at him for a moment, then their faces lit up with sudden recognition.
“Oh, you’re—”
“The one from the Library—”
“What’s your name again?” they asked in unison.
“Wade Gray. Ravenclaw House,” Wade replied.
The twins snapped their fingers. That name—Ron had mentioned it countless times. Every time he returned from a class with Ravenclaw, Ron would sigh with envy, talking about how Wade Gray was clearly the next Percy—admired by every professor, destined for greatness.
But from what they’d seen, Wade Gray was nothing like their older brother. And more importantly, like them, he shared a deep passion for Alchemy. Instantly, that made him a kindred spirit.
They exchanged a look, then leaned in close.
“You don’t find this at all suspicious?” Fred asked.
“Quirrell always wears that huge scarf—” George added.
“No matter the weather, he never takes it off.”
“The house-elves confirmed—he’s never even let them wash it.”
“So whatever’s under that scarf… it’s a secret. A dangerous one.”
Fred declared with conviction: “Probably some cursed weapon—something that’s ruined his mind.”
George snickered. “Or maybe it’s just a hideous bald spot.” He burst into laughter. “Just imagine the look on his face if it were.”
“Come on,” Wade said, adopting a slightly Hermione-like tone. “You wouldn’t dare mess with Professor McGonagall’s hair, would you?”
“Don’t even mention that,” Fred said, already slipping an arm around Wade’s shoulder like they’d known each other forever. “But here’s something really odd—know what I found?”
“What?” George asked, playing the straight man.
“I noticed,” Fred said, drawing out the words, “that we’ve laid out every clue about the scarf… and you? You’re not even curious.”
Wade’s pulse skipped.
Suddenly, he realized—their playful banter masked something sharp and perceptive. Their casual demeanor hid a keen intuition.
His gaze shifted slightly. George caught it immediately.
He raised an eyebrow. “So… you know something?”
Wade crossed his arms, stepped back, and leaned against the wall, eyes narrowing at the twins.
“So… this is an interrogation?”
They exchanged a glance. Then, in perfect sync, they laughed.
“Of course not!” Fred said seriously.
“You figured it out before us. We’re the ones who lost.”
George grinned wide. “But interrogation? Never. We’ll find the answer ourselves.”
(End of Chapter)
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