Chapter 406: Apparition
Mabel was mentioned—Rita Skeeter fell silent for a moment.
Back when they’d parted in the Dungeon, she never imagined it would be their last meeting.
Trapped on the Island, Rita had spent every waking moment obsessing over how to Depart. But once she returned to the peace of the outside world, she found herself haunted by midnight dreams of that place.
It wasn’t that she had any sentimental attachment to the Prison… No, it was simply that back then, the air had been thick with purity and kindness. The children, though their fates were tragic, had offered her selfless help—risking their lives to protect a stranger.
That feeling had been real.
It stood in stark contrast to the world she now lived in—filled with arrogance, envy, greed, and deceit.
After a long silence, Rita finally exhaled. “No. None of them.”
“The Ministry of Magic… Honestly, the Ministry doesn’t care about what comes after. Fudge is obsessed with the Quidditch World Cup—so much so that nearly five hundred people are being used to build the venue. They’re completely stretched thin. The staff who’d been stationed on the Island have all been pulled back.”
Saying the Minister’s name, she lowered her voice further, as if afraid of being overheard.
“Dumbledore is furious. Fudge is afraid of offending him, so he only sent a few Aurors to handle the task.”
“But he won’t let Dumbledore take charge of the investigation himself. So he came up with a stupid idea—have the Wizengamot Court reopen cases from over a decade ago, just to stall Dumbledore.”
“You know… after Sirius Black, Fudge’s excuse sounds perfectly reasonable. Dumbledore can’t outright refuse.”
“Rita—” A sharp, anxious shout came through the Communication earpiece, followed by someone inside complaining about the newspaper’s layout.
“Coming!” Rita called back, then turned to Wade, urgency in her voice. “I have to go. But there’s one more thing—I think you should know…”
“I heard the Ministry is sending a special task force to capture the Silent Shadow. Fudge gave them direct orders—kill the Silent Shadow and its Host on sight. No interrogation. No reporting. If anyone tries to interfere, they’ll be charged with a serious crime.”
“In short—be careful, Wade. If… if by some miracle you manage to make contact with Mabel, tell her to leave Britain as soon as possible.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. The connection cut off abruptly.
She shoved a few peas into her small satchel, ran her fingers through her hair, waved her wand to banish dust and spiderwebs clinging to her clothes, then strode out of the Storage Room with her chin high.
“Rita—my darling—”
A portly, balding Editor-in-Chief rushed toward her, eyes wide with relief. “Quick, come take a look at this article—”
…
Wade suppressed the Communication. He sighed.
He didn’t know why, but Rita seemed to believe Mabel might come looking for him.
But in truth, he’d only spent a brief moment with the girl.
Though he deeply sympathized with all the children, and though he now held them in high regard after learning of Rita’s time on the Island, objectively speaking, he didn’t think Mabel would trust him much.
Her fate—her very life—was beyond his reach. All he could do was wait for the moment when destiny would finally be decided.
The other students, unaware of his quiet weight, chattered happily about holiday plans, eagerly anticipating Christmas. The classroom buzzed with restless excitement.
Three days before the break, Wade finally received Dumbledore’s summons. He endured the afternoon classes with patience, then spent three hours flowing back through the castle’s corridors toward the Headmaster’s Office.
…
An owl flapped out the window, carrying away the letter Dumbledore had entrusted to it—another message to someone far away. The Headmaster returned to his desk and began writing a verbal note in the Book of Friends, meant for Wade.
Two seconds later, he heard a knock at his door.
The oak door, unbarred, creaked open.
There stood Wade Gray.
“You’re quicker than I expected, Wade,” Dumbledore smiled. “Of course, you’re not the type to be late.”
Wade noticed the cluttered desk piled high with documents. He realized he’d been too eager.
“I arrived a bit early, Professor,” he said gently. “You’re welcome to keep working. I can wait.”
“Good. I still have two more files to go through. Perhaps you’d like to read a book while you wait?”
“Of course, Professor.”
Dumbledore waved his wand. A cushioned armchair bounced over, and a small table appeared, laden with steaming black tea and sweets.
Magic couldn’t conjure food from nothing—but it could transport it from the kitchens straight to the Headmaster’s Office.
From the bookshelf, seven or eight books floated out of line and settled before Wade. He picked one at random, opened it, and paused.
It was The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
He flipped through a few pages—just as his eyes landed on The Tale of the Three Brothers.
It wasn’t chance. The Master of this office had read this story so often, the pages bore countless subtle traces—tiny creases, faint smudges, almost like hidden bookmarks—that guided Wade’s hand without him realizing it.
Though he’d read the book before, Wade now read it carefully, absorbing every word:
Three wizard brothers were traveling when they encountered a rushing river. They conjured a bridge to cross, but the Death God, offended by their lack of sacrifice, appeared and offered each brother a gift—
The eldest received the Elder Wand, the most powerful in existence.
The second received the Resurrection Stone, capable of bringing the dead back.
The third received the Invisibility Cloak, allowing him to escape Death.
But the Elder Wand was a fickle thing—it would abandon its master the moment that master failed.
The Resurrection Stone only summoned the souls of the dead, but they were wretched, tormented spirits, not true life. The stone was less a gift, more a curse.
And the Invisibility Cloak, while durable and immune to spells, could not truly hide from Moody’s magical eye. Its power was limited—yet it never wore out, never failed.
Wade had once thought the Death God was a petty alchemist, and the three relics merely his creations.
But after years of study, he now knew such events weren’t so simple.
The method to make an Invisibility Cloak was simple enough—but making it last forever? That was impossible.
And unlike ordinary alchemical artifacts, Wade couldn’t decipher the alchemical magic woven into Harry’s cloak.
He ran his fingers along the page, lost in thought.
If I were to make something like this… how would I do it?
His mind swirled with countless magical scripts and incantations, absorbed in the question.
When he finally snapped back to reality, Dumbledore was already finished, waiting quietly.
Wade glanced at the Headmaster’s silver-white beard, glowing in the lamplight. Dumbledore’s long fingers were pressed together, chin resting on them, eyes distant, fixed on the window.
Wade turned his head. Outside, the sky shimmered in a dazzling eggshell hue—crystal clear, the Forbidden Forest and meadows dusted with a thin layer of frost.
“Professor?”
“Hmm?” Dumbledore turned. “Are you interested in the story of the three brothers and the Death God?”
“I was just thinking—if those relics were alchemical artifacts, how could they have been made?”
Dumbledore smiled. “Don’t be caught in legends, Wade. The past is gone. What matters is your own power.”
“I understand, Professor.”
“Come.” Dumbledore stood, extending his hand. “Let’s go somewhere else. We’ll practice Apparition.”
Wade stepped forward and took Dumbledore’s arm.
Phoenix, Fawks, fluttered onto Dumbledore’s shoulder.
With a sharp, clear cry, the Headmaster’s Office flashed with flame-light—and both men vanished.
…
A loud thud echoed through the trees.
Wade and Dumbledore stood in a grove, the towering trunks arching overhead like a cathedral.
Wade recognized the place instantly—this was where Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had once helped him transform into an Animagus.
“Perfect,” Dumbledore said. “No Anti-Apparition wards. No wizards or Muggles nearby. Safe to practice.”
He waved his wand, and dry, fallen branches stretched upward, sealing the cracks in the ground.
The scattered leaves stirred, gathered into piles, then burst into flame with a soft whoosh. Warmth flooded the air.
Wade raised his wand, and several blue fireballs floated into place around them, glowing steadily, banishing the winter chill.
Now they stood in a ring of fire.
Even a simple Fire Spell could reveal a student’s foundation. Dumbledore’s eyes gleamed with approval.
“Apparition is a difficult magic. Normally, you don’t begin learning until sixth year.”
“But I noticed you’ve already been reading up on it. I assume you have a solid grasp of the basics?”
“Yes,” Wade said, pulling a scroll from his backpack. “I just finished an essay on Apparition.”
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise. He took the scroll, scanned it quickly, then rolled it up and tucked it away.
“Frankly, this essay is good enough for publication in The Daily Spell.” He chuckled. “I don’t know what else I can teach you. Let’s start from the beginning—watch me.”
Dumbledore barely moved.
One moment he was there.
The next—pop—he was several meters away.
“Did you see? Apparition doesn’t require complex spells or long incantations. The key is clarity of thought—and a strong, unwavering desire to reach your destination.”
He paused. “What are the three Ds of Apparition, Wade?”
Wade didn’t hesitate. “Destination. Determination. Composure.”
“Exactly.”
Dumbledore tapped his wand to the ground. A black circle appeared, etched into the earth.
“Focus on that circle. Imagine yourself there. Don’t fear. Don’t panic. Let your desire guide you. Then—rotate.”
Wade stared at the circle, memorizing its shape. He raised his arm and spun—
Boom!
A sound like a firecracker exploded. He thought he’d succeeded—until he opened his eyes and saw he was still standing where he’d been. Only his robe’s horn had flown three meters away.
“Take your time,” Dumbledore said calmly. “It’s hard at first.”
Boom!
Second attempt. This time, he did move—over a meter—but his left foot left his body behind.
“Split body,” Dumbledore said, unruffled. “Your focus wasn’t strong enough. Let your goal fill your mind.”
He waved his wand. A thunderous crack split the air, purple smoke erupting from all sides. With a soft pop, the foot snapped back into place—no pain, no shock.
Wade took a deep breath. Golden light flickered in his eyes.
He looked at the circle again.
And spun.
Pop!
Another split. This time, only a few strands of hair were lost. He didn’t even bother picking them up.
Pop!
He’d distracted himself at the start—didn’t move at all. He tripped and fell.
Pop!
Finally, he Apparated—farther than before. But too far. His foot plunged into the fire.
Thankfully, putting out a fire was basic wizarding skill.
Pop!
He landed on the edge of the circle. He searched the ground, then suddenly realized—his foot was already on the target.
He stared at the spot where he’d stood.
Could it really be? He’d succeeded so fast?
He knew from the books—Harry had practiced for months before mastering this.
Wade hesitated, then looked at Dumbledore. He stepped out of the circle, returned to the start, and tried again.
Pop!
This time, he stood firmly in the center.
Tap-tap-tap-tap…
A slow, steady applause echoed from the trees.
Wade looked up. Dumbledore was smiling, nodding in approval.
“You’ve done it, Wade.” The Headmaster sounded genuinely pleased. “I thought it would take at least a couple of lessons. You’ve exceeded my expectations.”
Wade smiled shyly. “I’ll keep practicing, Professor.”
The young wizard began flickering in and out of existence once more.
He wasn’t waiting for perfect preparation. He was pushing himself—faster, sharper, more instinctive.
Split bodies still happened. But each time, Dumbledore taught him how to heal instantly.
As the practice continued, the time between Apparitions shortened. The splits grew rarer.
By Ministry standards, Wade had already mastered Apparition. He could pass the exam and earn his license.
But Wade wasn’t satisfied.
He kept going.
Dumbledore watched the flickering figure, pride in his eyes—but also a quiet sigh.
(End of Chapter)
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