https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-403-Enhanced-Magic-Puppet-Creatures/13685413/
Chapter 404: Christmas Invitation
After dinner, Wade gave Michael and the others a quick wave before heading off alone to the Eighth Floor of the Castle. He wandered back and forth through the Empty Corridor, muttering under his breath.
“I need an Alchemy Laboratory… I need an Alchemy Laboratory… I need an Alchemy Laboratory…”
Next to him, the portrait of Sibbald still struggled with a few Giants—sometimes forcing them to dance, sometimes getting beaten, more often than not just standing motionless. He didn’t react at all to Wade’s pacing.
Wade couldn’t help but feel that even the moment when he’d suddenly shouted a warning to himself seemed unreal now.
The door to the Room of Requirement appeared. Wade glanced back at Sibbald one last time before pushing it open.
Inside was a vast circular chamber. Shelves along the walls held countless books on alchemy. Glass vials of all sizes lined up neatly, filled with various alchemical materials—some ordinary, others glowing with strange light, a few even bouncing around inside their containers.
On the central workbench lay a long row of tools. Strange-looking glass vessels bubbled with green liquid, while cauldrons simmered over flames, cooking colorful chunks of ore.
Where a fireplace should have been, two smelting furnaces stood instead. One was currently lit, its copper pipe extending upward like an elephant’s trunk, connecting to a nearby cylindrical container.
Two people were already inside.
Fred and George knelt on the floor, scribbling furiously on a large piece of parchment depicting a giant. Nearby lay items that shouldn’t belong here—knitted hats, old vests.
“What are you up to?” Wade asked, sitting down beside them and picking up the parchment.
Fred rubbed his nose and grinned. “Hey, look! This is exactly why we needed your help.”
“Pretty neat, right?” George said excitedly. “A hat or vest that can deflect dark curses! It might not be much, but it’d handle minor dark spells just fine!”
“But our Ancient Runes aren’t strong enough,” Fred admitted. “We’ve got ideas, but some parts just… we don’t know how to make them work.”
Wade studied the design. He’d thought about something like a curse-deflecting hat long ago—something useful for protecting friends, even if it wasn’t sold. But he’d abandoned the idea.
The problem? Such a thing could only block minor magic—magic that was already harmless. It had little real value.
And to work properly, the wearer had to look directly at the caster’s face at the moment of the spell. Only then could the curse be reflected back. That made it impractical.
In the original story, the item was just a joke—something for the Weasley twins to sell as a novelty.
But in the wider magical world, most wizards were weak. Mastery of Shield Charms was rare. So during wartime, such items sold surprisingly well.
The design before Wade was nearly identical to the one from the books—just a few minor flaws in the magical script. He fixed them quickly.
Still, the protection it offered was underwhelming—barely enough against Muggle firearms.
That’s why he’d given up on it. But after what happened on the island, his thinking had changed.
“This defense is too basic,” Wade said. “But maybe we can improve it through materials?”
The twins exchanged glances and asked in unison, “How?”
“Have you ever observed a beehive?” Wade asked.
“Of course!” George said. “All the hives I’ve seen are identical—same structure, same pattern. Perfect. Almost too perfect to be real.”
Fred nodded in agreement. “I’ve heard even hives on the other side of the world are the same. Like they were designed by some god. Unreal.”
“Right,” Wade said, sketching a hexagonal honeycomb pattern on the parchment. “A honeycomb structure uses the least material to create the largest possible space. It’s incredibly strong.”
“Plus, its lattice network distributes stress evenly from all directions. It’s excellent for insulation, soundproofing, and durability—while remaining lightweight.”
Wade knew the honeycomb structure intimately. It was the very reason his closet space could expand safely and steadily—because he’d used this design to inscribe the runes.
Now he applied the same logic to the defensive gear.
“See,” he explained, his hand moving swiftly across the parchment, “if we build the inside of a curse-deflecting hat or vest—preferably a vest, for better coverage—with a titanium-copper alloy in a honeycomb pattern, then apply a Shield Charm…”
“Wait, wait!” Fred raised his hand. “What’s titanium-copper alloy?”
Wade paused, then said, “It’s a metal alloy based on copper, with a small amount of titanium added. It’s strong, flexible, has excellent elongation—widely used in the Muggle world.”
George turned to his brother. “Never heard of it.”
Fred shook his head. “Me neither.”
Wade recalled the magazines he’d read at home. “It was developed decades ago. Used in aerospace. I don’t think any wizard’s ever used it in alchemy.”
“Aerospace?” Fred whistled in awe. “Cool! New material! Let’s use it!”
Wade sighed inwardly. To him, it was a decades-old industrial material—hardly new. But given how isolated the magical world was, he could understand the shock.
Fortunately, the Weasley twins weren’t the type to reject Muggle innovations just because they were Muggle. They were open-minded.
Still, George frowned. “But… won’t it be expensive?”
They’d originally planned to use old, worn-out hats and vests their mother had once knitted—tattered beyond repair. Even Ron refused to wear them anymore.
Wade stared at them. “You two make good money now. Can’t afford a little alloy? And how much material do you need for a lining? One piece could make dozens of vests.”
George blinked, then grinned. “Oh! Right! And the rarer the material, the higher we can sell it!”
He slapped Fred’s hand, thrilled.
Wade shook his head silently. The twins had earned well—Bill and Charlie had stable, well-paying jobs. Percy was the only one not working, but even he earned a steady income.
Yet their home life hadn’t improved. Ron still wore patched robes and used an old wand.
Wade didn’t understand their family’s financial habits—but he didn’t pry. They dove into the discussion with renewed energy.
…
On Monday, Wade didn’t see Dumbledore at school. But Harry sat down beside him at breakfast.
“Did you sign the Stay-Over List?” Harry asked, cutting into his steak.
“No,” Wade said, glancing at Harry’s expression. “I’m definitely going home for the holiday.”
“Are you… preparing to stay?” Harry asked.
“Probably,” Harry said, poking at his steak with his fork. “Remus and Sirius Black are both busy. You know—about that island. They might not have time during the holiday, so they suggested I stay at school.”
Back in his first year, Harry would’ve leaped at the chance to stay. He’d rather be at Hogwarts than go back to Privet Drive.
Now, his home was just a short walk away—but he couldn’t go. That frustrated him.
“What’s the problem?” Michael said from beside him. “If you want to stay, stay. If you change your mind, you can always go back.”
He winked, hinting at the Vanishing Cabinet.
Last year, they’d used it often to sneak into Hogsmeade. But this term, their workload had increased, and Remus’s home was often empty. They hadn’t used it much.
Harry sighed. “It’s not the same.”
Michael frowned. “You don’t want to go out?”
Harry shook his head silently.
Hogsmeade had once been a mysterious, exciting place to him—something he’d visit eight times a day when he lived there. But the novelty had faded. The shops hadn’t changed in years. Even the Hogsmeade weekends were just walks and basic shopping.
Compared to that, Hogwarts still had the maze—something truly fun.
He didn’t want to go home because of the place. He wanted to go because someone should be there.
But Sirius Black was too busy. Messages ended abruptly every time. Remus, though healed, was rarely around. Even his replies in the Book of Friends came only after long gaps.
Wade thought for a moment, then asked, “Harry, how about coming to my home for the holiday? My dad and mom would love to have you.”
Ferdinand and Fiona had met Harry for the first time without knowing his fame or identity. But after learning about the news from the magical world, they were fascinated—especially Fiona, who, as a mother, felt deep sympathy for a child who’d lost both parents and endured so much hardship.
Harry hesitated, still unsure.
Before he could answer, Michael piped up. “Wade! You’re only inviting Harry? What about us? Are we not your friends?”
Wade smiled. “Of course I’m inviting you too.”
“Then it’s settled!” Michael said, grinning. “I’ve been inviting you to my house for ages—you’ve never come!”
“I’ve been too busy,” Wade said. “Next time, for sure.”
He turned back to Harry. “So… want to come?”
Harry’s shoulders relaxed. He smiled. “Yeah, sure.”
That way, Ron and Hermione wouldn’t have to stay at school just to keep him company.
If Harry had to stay, they’d stay too. Ron claimed he couldn’t stand being around Percy. Hermione said she wanted to read in the library. But Harry knew the truth—they were staying to be with him.
But Ron and Hermione hadn’t seen their families in months. Harry could use Hogsmeade weekends to go home. They couldn’t.
He didn’t want them to miss Christmas with their families just for him.
“Wade,” Michael asked, curious, “what’s there to do at your place?”
“Hmm…” Wade thought. “Well, we’ve got movies, operas, ice skating…”
He remembered Fiona insisting he go to all those events. “There’s light shows, Christmas markets, a winter amusement park with tons of fun rides. And in the evenings, there’s circus performances.”
“Sounds amazing!” Michael said, eyes bright.
He was half-blood, but after his mother married a wizard, their life followed wizarding traditions. They lived on the edge of a village, rarely interacting with Muggle neighbors. They’d never attended a Muggle Christmas celebration.
Michael’s idea of Christmas was gift-giving, roast chicken dinners, and a Christmas tree—fun, but otherwise ordinary.
Harry’s eyes lit up too. He’d only seen those events on television. He’d always wanted to experience them, but never had the chance.
They were deep in planning their holiday when a sudden flurry of owls burst into the Great Hall from outside.
Students scrambled to protect the long tables, but feathers still landed on food.
Latecomers groaned, abandoning their roast meat and pumpkin juice, settling instead for two roasted potatoes.
Owls were still the primary method of delivery for newspapers and magazines—especially The Daily Prophet.
The cold, damp owls dropped their coils of newspapers onto the tables before flying off again in a flurry.
“Why can’t they deliver letters at a decent time?” Michael grumbled, tearing open his paper. “I could get them in the morning, or while walking to class. Why always during meals?”
His voice cut off abruptly.
He stared at the front-page headline.
Then he let out a cold laugh. “Wade. Harry. Look at this.”
Wade had received a paper too, but hadn’t opened it yet. He glanced over.
The headline, in bold black letters, read:
“Ministry of Magic’s Heroic Action: Rescue of Muggle Children from Danger!”
(End of Chapter)
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