Chapter 401: She Escaped?
Penelope explained the origin and danger of the Silent Shadow. The students in the Room were all silenced.
Perhaps because their lives had so far been relatively peaceful, and they’d never truly faced great danger, the young wizards thought very differently from adults.
While adult wizards worried that the runaway Silent Shadow might cause massive casualties or expose the magical world, the young ones could only wonder: What must that child have gone through?
“That’s so sad,” Wade heard someone whisper. “She must’ve been in so much pain.”
“What if she’s caught? Will they kill her?”
“Probably… I heard she killed a lot of Muggles.”
“But those Muggles were evil. They deserved it!”
“Still, the Wizengamot probably wouldn’t see it that way…”
The students murmured among themselves.
Percy cleared his throat forcefully. When everyone turned to him, he straightened up and spoke with authority:
“So you all now know—there exist certain people in the Muggle world who target young wizards. Those taken away? They’re better off dead.”
Someone raised their hand. “How do they choose their victims?”
Percy explained: “It’s said the ones taken almost always have Muggle blood. They reveal their magical abilities before entering school, and someone in the Muggle society notices—then they’re taken.”
Another voice asked, “But don’t they fight back? They have magic!”
“Exactly,” a girl said, confused. “Even if they haven’t learned spells yet, wouldn’t magic erupt when they’re forcibly taken? Wouldn’t that draw the Ministry’s attention?”
“Of course it’s not forced!” Percy was eager to show off his knowledge. “They might say the child’s possessed by a demon, or sick, or that they’ve awakened extraordinary abilities—any number of absurd excuses to take the child from their parents.”
“Muggles lack judgment. They’re easily fooled by lies. Then, those people use a Forgetting Charm to make the parents forget their child ever existed. After that, the child becomes a tragic experiment.”
“Forgetting Charm?” a Ravenclaw student frowned. “You said this was a Muggle organization. Can they even use a Forgetting Charm?”
“Yes,” Percy confirmed. “There’s no doubt some wizards are involved. I suspect some young wizards were raised under their control from childhood. Even after learning magic, they became puppets in the hands of these people.”
Seeing the students’ pale faces, their fear growing, Percy pressed on: “But don’t worry—none of you are at risk. Once you’re enrolled in school, you’re safe. In fact, the number of children harmed across Britain is incredibly small—only a few.”
He puffed out his chest proudly. “Even the Dark Lord fears Dumbledore. Muggle criminal organizations? They’re nothing.”
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the room. Some of the more frightened children began to relax.
Yes… we’re protected. We’re not like those children who were tricked away…
In truth, Percy felt no real danger. He hadn’t seen the island’s horrors with his own eyes, nor had he experienced anything truly complex. To him, it was just a distant story—some numbers, not a real threat.
He was about to emphasize his concern for them, his contribution, when he suddenly met Penelope’s gaze. A jolt ran through him. Right—this was the real reason they’d gathered the students.
“But remember this: to maintain the safety of all of us, you must strictly follow the Confidentiality Act! Only by keeping the magical world completely hidden can we avoid Muggle persecution.”
“Most of you have Muggle relatives or Muggle friends. Some even like to show off magic in front of Muggles—”
Percy shot a pointed glare at the Weasley Twins.
Though students aren’t allowed to use magic outside school, the twins sometimes staged “magic tricks” using small props, pretending to perform illusions in front of Muggles. Their intent was just to make friends, gain admiration, applause. But Percy hated such rule-breaking.
Under his gaze, the twins actually looked thoughtful—unusually quiet.
“—This is incredibly, incredibly dangerous. Maybe your trusted aunt or distant cousin will casually mention your magic, and someone dangerous will hear it. Then, the moment they decide to act… danger could strike at any time.”
“Sure, you’re safe at school. But what about when you return home for the holidays? Or travel? Or visit relatives? If someone’s set on doing harm, danger can come anytime!”
“So following the Confidentiality Act isn’t about restriction—it’s about protecting yourselves!”
…
Lunch break was short. Percy felt his first speech hadn’t even begun to shine when the meeting ended.
The young wizards filed out of the Student Council President’s Common Room in small groups, whispering and debating what they’d heard.
“I just… can’t believe it,” one murmured to friends. “Look, nothing’s in the newspaper. Professors haven’t said a word. How do we even know this is real?”
“Something did happen,” his friend replied. “Susan’s aunt works at the Ministry—she heard rumors. But that many victims? I think it’s exaggerated.”
“Yeah. It’s like Grandmother’s fairy tales—bad little girls get eaten by the big, bad wolf.”
They chuckled.
“Wait till they meet those people,” Ron snapped, glaring at their backs. “My dad wouldn’t lie!”
“Just keep it in mind, Little Ron,” Fred said, walking up behind him and ruffling Ron’s hair. “But the best thing is—none of us ever have to meet them.”
“Yeah,” George added, nodding. “You’re right. That bunch is a real pain.”
Ron swatted Fred’s hand away, unsure whether to be annoyed or pleased, when the twins hurried ahead, catching up with Wade.
“Hey, Wade—we’ve got an idea…”
“Maybe we need your help…”
“Dinner? You free?”
“Sure,” Wade replied without hesitation. “Same place.”
“Good.”
The twins walked off, shoulders touching, whispering together. There was no sign of stress about their upcoming OWLs. Their eyes sparkled—clearly, they’d cooked up something big.
Michael turned to Wade. “Do you think Percy was telling the truth? Were that many kids really killed?”
Wade paused, then said, “The real number might be higher… That island? It’s just a tiny piece of darkness.”
A flash of images raced through his mind.
He’d once thought the island had been erased from maps. But in the Personal Files room, he’d discovered it wasn’t hidden—it was registered. A private company, officially licensed to process fish and meat. It had a real business presence, paid taxes, operated openly.
Ships from the island regularly sailed through nearby waters, making the traffic normal. What they’d found was only a fraction of the records. The remains? Just a fraction of the truth.
The sea was a natural grave. It buried anything that couldn’t face the light.
Michael looked at him seriously, then nudged him with his elbow. “I knew you knew something. Come on—what were you doing that day during the Quidditch match? Where did that strange old cloak come from?”
“I’m sorry,” Wade said, calm and direct. “I can’t tell you.”
He wasn’t embarrassed. Dumbledore and Professor Snape had both protected him—keeping his presence on the island secret for his safety. Snape had even brought him back to school, injured.
Wade couldn’t betray their trust by revealing the truth. Not now.
“Fine… I get it,” Michael said, nodding slowly. “I probably already guessed.”
Wade smiled. Michael was sharp—never misread his intentions. That was probably why he had so many friends.
Afternoon brought two consecutive Herbology classes. The boys hurried down the stairs toward Professor Sprout’s greenhouse.
Behind them, Ron slowed his pace.
“Back to the common room… or to the library?” Harry asked.
They had Herbology too, but not until two hours later. This was one of the rare, relaxed stretches of free time each week.
Hermione, meanwhile, bolted from the door and sprinted toward class.
Ron hesitated. “Let’s find an empty classroom… We’ll practice spells.”
Harry blinked in surprise. Ron was usually the most laid-back of them all. He’d once tried learning spells with Harry, but soon lost interest to other distractions.
Though Ron never truly tried in his studies—never quite put in the effort, never quite failed—he still managed decent grades. That made him even more comfortable coasting through life, doing just enough to get by.
Harry wanted to do the same. He longed for an easier way. But every time he stepped into the Umbrella Room, the energy of the SSC members pushed him to try harder.
Still, he often felt inadequate—his notes were messy, he constantly doubted his memory. Only Defense Against the Dark Arts managed to restore his confidence.
Now, seeing Ron suddenly motivated, Harry was thrilled. They found an empty classroom and began practicing.
But mastering spells wasn’t instant. Take the Hovering Charm—taught in first year. Even now, third years still reviewed it, wrote essays about it. Some could float a car. Others could only move a table.
Most classes worked this way. Learning one spell could take two or three lessons… or even half a month.
Yet in the SSC meetings, spells felt effortless. Most of the time, Harry could cast them in ten minutes. Harder ones? A day or two at most.
Their practice focused on refining, strengthening, mastering.
This time, Ron was just like last time—working at the pace of an ordinary student.
They spent over an hour learning the Obstacle Spell. But Harry only needed a basic Repelling Charm to break through Ron’s “course.”
“Nice work!” Harry said, trying not to sound disappointed. “That was really good! You actually stopped me for a second!”
But Ron knew him too well. The hesitation was clear. He looked down at his wand, shoulders slumping.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said quietly. “I know I’m far from good enough.”
“Honestly, you’re doing great!” Harry insisted. “It’s just… I’m not like Wade. He can spot a problem in an instant. He knows exactly where you’re struggling.”
“Wade Gray?” Ron hesitated, almost speaking—but stopped.
Harry didn’t notice. He glanced at the clock. “Come on, we’re late for Herbology!”
…
Wade’s Herbology class had just ended.
Students packed away their dragonhide gloves and shovels, stepping out into the hall, heavy with the smell of dragon dung and exhaustion. Wade lingered behind.
“Wait a sec,” he said to Michael. “I need to ask Professor Sprout something.”
“I’ll wait at the entrance,” Michael said, brushing dirt off his clothes. “I need some fresh air.”
Wade walked to the far end of the greenhouse. Professor Sprout was carefully checking newly transplanted plants.
The weather was growing colder. Even inside the greenhouse, some plants looked unwell.
Professor Sprout cared for them with gentle, maternal care—like a mother tending her own child.
“Professor,” Wade approached. “Oh, Wade,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron with a warm smile. “What’s on your mind?”
“I was wondering… has Professor Dumbledore returned yet? I haven’t seen him.”
She sighed. “Dumbledore’s been very busy lately… for… well, for the matter of settling those children.”
“Those children?” Wade paused. “I heard Mabel… I mean, the Silent Shadow… escaped?”
(End of Chapter)
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