Chapter 407: The End of Term
Although Wade had quickly mastered Apparition, Dumbledore did not end their lessons. For the next two days, they continued their daily afternoon sessions in the clearing deep within the forest.
Of course, Wade still had classes to attend at school, so no one inside sensed his secret training.
The more familiar a spell became, the simpler it felt. At this moment, transforming a button into a beetle required no mental imagery—just a flick of the wand, and it was done. Apparition worked the same way.
At first, Dumbledore had praised his diligence. Then he began to gently discourage it. Finally, he said nothing at all—merely offering silence as support.
But once Wade returned to school, Dumbledore couldn’t help but let out a long, quiet sigh.
Professor McGonagall, mid-sentence in her report on holiday arrangements, paused, frowning. “Is there a problem with the schedule?”
“No,” Dumbledore said, pausing. He offered a bitter smile. “I was just wondering… when did Hogwarts become a place where students no longer feel safe?”
Professor McGonagall arched a brow, her tone firm. “Who said that? Everyone knows—Hogwarts is the safest place in the world.” Her expression practically screamed nonsense.
Dumbledore didn’t explain. He picked up the Stay-Over List, scanned it, and noticed Harry’s name was absent. He asked casually, “Is Harry staying in Hogsmeade for the holidays?”
“Apparently, Wade invited him,” McGonagall said. “He’ll be staying at the Gray residence.”
“Hmm…” Dumbledore mused, then set the list down with a soft smile. “Friendships during school years are always special. But I’ve rarely seen such closeness between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.”
“Indeed,” McGonagall said, a touch of awe in her voice. “Wade Gray’s study group has been remarkably effective. Everyone’s improved—Neville even more so. I truly hope other students take note.”
“It’s not something you can force,” Dumbledore said, removing his glasses to clean them. “A strong leader makes all the difference.” He set them back on his nose. “I’ll be attending the Wizengamot for a few days. The holiday arrangements are in your capable hands.”
“Of course,” McGonagall replied. “When will you return?”
“Christmas,” Dumbledore smiled. “I wouldn’t miss the school’s Christmas feast for the world.”
…
On the final day before break, the school still held a weekend trip to Hogsmeade.
But to Wade, the tiny wizarding village held little appeal. He had one last task: confirm the final details of the Curse-Deflecting Vest with the Weasley Twins. After that, he planned to rest, then spend the afternoon practicing Apparition.
That night, utterly exhausted, Wade sat down at the Great Hall table, barely started eating, when someone appeared beside him.
He assumed it was Michael—until a voice asked, “Wade, why didn’t you go to Hogsmeade today?”
Wade blinked, turning to see Kariel, grinning broadly.
Strange—Dumbledore had assigned Wade a Care-Kariel duty. But Wade had been too busy, even with the Time-Turner, to spare time to check in on him across the house.
And Kariel… he was cheerful, energetic, almost eager. Yet Wade couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy was subtly avoiding him. Was he afraid Wade would detect something off? Or… something else?
Wade’s mind raced with questions, but outwardly, he only gave a small, polite pause. “I bought everything I needed. Diagon Alley has better selections anyway.”
“Diagon Alley?” Kariel sighed dreamily. “I’ve heard so much about it—but never had a chance to go.”
“You’ll have to wait until summer,” Wade said. “Only then can you stay on campus.”
“I’m not staying!” Kariel said cheerfully. “I’m going home!”
Wade stiffened. “Going home?”
“Yep!” Kariel grabbed a roasted potato, peeled it with a grin. “I’ll take the train to King’s Cross like everyone else. My dad’ll pick me up.”
“Mr. Johnson… you’ve been in contact with him?” Wade asked slowly.
He remembered Dumbledore saying Landon Johnson had vanished. How had he gotten in touch with Kariel at Hogwarts?
“Of course!” Kariel said, then suddenly winked. “Don’t tell anyone, though. You know how much my parents dislike magic.”
“Right…” Wade nodded. “Got it.”
After everything that had happened, it made sense that Mr. Johnson wouldn’t like magic. That he allowed Kariel to attend Hogwarts at all was already a rare act of openness.
But something still felt… wrong. A chill crept up Wade’s spine.
“Hey—come visit us during the holidays!” Kariel suddenly said. “My parents really want to meet you. They even said they’d like to visit your home!”
Wade hadn’t even processed it when his instinct kicked in. “I don’t think that’ll be possible. I’ll be too busy this holiday. And my parents are preparing for a trip to Australia.”
“Oh… that’s too bad,” Kariel said, though his tone lacked disappointment. He finished his potato with a few quick bites, then returned to the Gryffindor long table.
Only then did Michael finally arrive, sliding into the seat beside Wade.
“Was that Kariel?” he asked. “What did he want?”
“Just asking about holiday plans,” Wade said. “What about you? Did your parents agree to let you come to my place for Christmas?”
“They’d be thrilled,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “My mom said it’d finally be a peaceful Christmas. They’re determined to have their own time together—and told me not to interrupt.”
He glanced sideways, noticing several Muggle-born girls passing Kariel their home telephone numbers, whispering, “Call us during the break, Kariel!”
“Sure thing!” Kariel said, suppressing a laugh, grinning.
“Honestly,” Michael muttered, “you’d think he’s more popular than me.”
Wade didn’t respond. His fork hovered mid-air. A cold shiver ran down his back.
He finally realized what felt so off.
Kariel kept saying “my parents” as if Mrs. Johnson were still alive.
But… that was impossible.
Mrs. Johnson had died years ago.
Had Mr. Johnson lied to Kariel? Pretended she was still around?
But if that were the case—how could Kariel not sense it? If his mother never answered, never spoke, wouldn’t he have noticed?
Wade set his fork down. His stomach felt like ice. He had no appetite.
“Hey, look—Professor Abigail!” Michael suddenly exclaimed. “Haha, she’s already dressed for Christmas!”
Wade turned.
Professor Abigail stood in a whimsical, cartoonish Christmas robe—red with fluffy white trim, decorated with tiny trees, bells, and stars. She wore a bright red pointed hat, just like Santa’s.
Professor McGonagall stared in mild shock. Hagrid looked utterly dazed, hesitating whether to warn her—Christmas was still days away.
Dumbledore, however, beamed. “Magnificent!” He waved his wand and conjured a matching pointed hat for himself, topped with a shimmering star that sparkled in the air.
From Gryffindor, Fred whistled. “Professor, you look amazing!”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Abigail said, hands on hips, striking a pose. “I may not be staying, but today, for me, it’s Christmas at Hogwarts!”
“Exactly!” someone shouted. “Today is our Christmas!”
“Christmas happiness, Fred!”
“Christmas happiness, George!”
The Gryffindor table erupted. Some students pounded the tables, others clapped. A few even began singing carols.
The once-stiff atmosphere melted into joy. With a flick of her wand, the professor sent snow cascading from the ceiling—flakes drifting down in thick, soft clouds. Tiny fairies, carrying flower baskets, danced through the air above the Great Hall.
Lee Jordan leapt to his feet, shouting toward the staff table, “Professor, can we have some Honeywine?”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Why not?”
He waved his wand. Instantly, golden goblets of Honeywine appeared on every table—just a few sips per person, but the students nearly screamed with delight.
Only Wade remained unchanged. He quietly pushed his apple juice closer to himself.
“Don’t get drunk, children,” Dumbledore called over the noise. “Don’t want you sleeping through tomorrow’s train.”
But no one was listening. They were already pouring, laughing, celebrating. House-elves arrived with special holiday sweets, filling the air with sweetness and warmth.
They cheered:
“Hogwarts Christmas joy!”
A faint, distant voice seemed to echo—long and soft.
Instinctively, Wade activated his second sight.
The protective magic woven through the castle remained steady, as always.
But the golden magical script pulsed more vividly now. The fine lines of enchantment were clearer, almost alive—like the castle itself was cheering along with them.
…
The next morning, students with hangovers groaned in bed. Wade, however, had already packed and left the dormitory.
He went straight to the library, using a Replication Charm to copy all the books he needed for holiday preparation—bypassing the borrowing limit.
Unfortunately, many books with powerful protective magic couldn’t be copied. Still, Wade kept thinking: if he kept this up, he’d one day build another library.
The task took time, but he could rewind time. By the time he finished, Hermione arrived.
She had already borrowed several thick tomes, stuffed into her backpack—which had been enchanted with an Invisible Expansion Charm.
“Ready?” Hermione glanced at her watch. “The train’s about to depart.”
“Let’s go,” Wade said, slinging the backpack over his shoulder.
They walked together toward Professor McGonagall’s office.
Midway, Hermione suddenly said, “Wade… are you really going to keep taking all these classes until you earn twelve OWLs?”
“I’ve got that plan,” Wade said.
He glanced at her troubled expression. “You don’t have to follow my path. Do what feels right for you.”
“I want to get all the certificates,” she admitted, frowning. “But… Professor Trelawney’s Divination is useless. She just encourages nonsense. Honestly, Arithmancy is far more engaging.”
“Every subject has value,” Wade said. “But right now, Divination isn’t necessary.”
The real knowledge was in books. Trelawney’s vague, dramatic prophecies? Just noise.
Wade did suspect he had some talent in Divination—but he’d always approached it with caution.
History was full of tragic tales of those who claimed to see fate—most of them ended badly. And no one had ever truly changed their fate.
Why struggle against the inevitable, only to become part of the prophecy yourself?
Better to walk forward, blind, but free.
“So you’re still going to keep taking it?” Hermione asked.
“Call it a habit,” Wade said with a small smile. “I like collecting achievements.”
Hermione stared, speechless. Then, after a pause: “Honestly… Muggle Studies isn’t helping me much either. I’ve been thinking—maybe I’ll drop both this term.”
Wade nodded. “Good idea. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”
“Just focus on the subjects you’re good at,” he added.
Hermione shot him a look—half exasperated, half grateful.
She’d been under pressure, yes—partly because of Wade.
Among their peers, he was the only one taking all the courses. That made her feel constantly behind, even when she hated Divination.
She’d always pushed herself to be perfect—afraid of failing exams, unprepared for questions, afraid of being outdone.
As a Muggle-born student, a quiet sense of insecurity lingered beneath her confidence.
But Wade saw it as simple: fit or not.
She exhaled. A decision formed.
One more semester.
If those two subjects still gave her no real reward… then she’d let them go.
They reached McGonagall’s office. Wade knocked.
“Come in,” came the voice.
They entered, then removed their Time-Turners from around their necks.
McGonagall smiled as she took them. “Don’t worry. You’ll get them back in three weeks.”
She locked the Time-Turners into a box, then returned it to the shelf.
“Go on,” she said. “The carriage is waiting.”
Wade and Hermione said their goodbyes, stepped out of the castle—and saw students from all houses already preparing to leave.
Hagrid stood beside the Night Kneazle carriage, ready to depart.
The short, intense term had finally come to an end.
(End of Chapter)
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