Chapter 410: Professor Abigail of Cat Panther Academy
Several students glanced at Wade, then at Abigail, and quietly filed out. Professor Abigail casually cast a Silently spell toward the entrance, then turned to Wade with a smile that still lingered on her face but seemed just a touch strained.
“What’s on your mind, Wade?” she asked.
Wade sat across from her, shrugging lightly. “Nothing too important. Just wanted to say thank you—glad you arrived in time. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”
Abigail raised one eyebrow.
Perhaps it was just an illusion, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Wade’s emphasis had been on “in time” rather than “thank you.”
—Was he doubting why she’d shown up when no other professor had?
Maybe she was overthinking it. But still, Abigail felt the need to explain.
“I was actually already on the train,” she said with a playful wink. “Remember? I told you holidays couldn’t stay at school.”
Her voice held a mischievous lilt. “I’m not a former student of Hogwarts, but I’ve heard so much about this school—especially this unique Magic Train. When I got the chance to ride it, I couldn’t pass it up.”
She chuckled. “I was just so excited last night that I fell asleep shortly after boarding. That’s why I didn’t appear at first.”
“Ah, I see,” Wade said, relief softening his expression. “So it was your curiosity that saved the day. Good thing, too.”
He paused, then added, “Your Patronus… is a Doberman, right?”
“Y-yes, it is,” Abigail replied, her smile flickering slightly.
For no reason she could name, that ordinary question made her expression freeze. She quickly shifted the subject.
“And yours? An Eagle, isn’t it? Very majestic—perfect for you. Who taught you that?”
“Remus,” Wade said, pausing. “Remus Lupin. He’s my private tutor.”
The moment the name left his lips, even Abigail’s practiced composure wavered. Her eyes flickered toward him—just for a split second—but it was enough.
Wade could almost feel her unspoken thought: You hired a Werewolf as your private tutor? You know he’s one, don’t you?
A faint weight settled in his chest. He lowered his gaze.
“Professor,” he asked quietly, “did you study at Ilvermorny? What’s it like?”
“Oh… Ilvermorny,” Abigail murmured, unconsciously smoothing her hair. “It was founded on the same principles as Hogwarts—divided into four Houses: Thunderbird, Cat Panther, Horned Serpent, and Pukki. New students go through a Sorting Ceremony, just like here…”
“Which House were you in?” Wade asked.
“I? I’m from Cat Panther Academy,” she said, a soft smile returning. “When I stood above the Gordian Knot—yes, that’s Ilvermorny’s Sorting Ceremony—both the Cat Panther and Thunderbird statues responded to me. But in the end, I chose Cat Panther.”
A fond memory seemed to warm her expression.
Wade nodded occasionally, silently observing her.
He wasn’t entirely ignorant of Ilvermorny. Among the countless books in the Hogwarts library, there were many travelogues and magical notes from wizards who had journeyed far. Some mentioned other magical schools—Ilvermorny, in particular, came up again and again.
Hogwarts was widely regarded as the oldest and greatest magical institution, but others had their own reputations. Ilvermorny, though a copycat in many ways, was often praised for being the most democratic and inclusive. Some even mocked its co-founder, a Muggle named James Potter-Stewart, who had once served as headmaster.
In contrast, Ilvermorny’s Sorting Ceremony—its dual-choice system—was hailed by many as superior to Hogwarts’ enchanted hat.
Wade remembered: the Cat Panther and Thunderbird Houses were both roughly equivalent to Gryffindor—Cat Panther symbolized courage, Thunderbird embodied a love of adventure.
Though it was an oversimplification, a student’s House often reflected their core traits, which were then reinforced over years of study through peer influence, shared values, and constant resonance.
Cat Panther… Courage.
Wade pondered: Could Dumbledore’s patience stem from sensing that Abigail was fundamentally a Gryffindor at heart?
After all, someone who could conjure a Patronus couldn’t be entirely evil. Umbridge, so gleefully wicked in her own way, was a rare anomaly.
He mused for a moment, then asked, “Does Ilvermorny even have a train to school? How do students get there?”
Abigail laughed. “Ilvermorny sits atop a mountain, surrounded by dense forests. Trains simply can’t reach it.”
“Students usually arrive at nearby villages via Floo Powder, then fly up on broomsticks. In recent years, Magic Carpets have become popular too. For students from Muggle families, the school provides special enchanted carriages—private, magical conveyances.”
She spoke on, lost in thought, until the train’s announcement crackled through the speakers, reminding students to prepare for disembarkation.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, snapping back. “We’re nearly there. You’d better get your things together.”
“Of course, Professor. See you next term,” Wade said. “I’m really looking forward to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts class.”
Because Dumbledore hadn’t returned, the Chamber of Secrets renovation hadn’t been completed. As a result, students hadn’t yet met Werewolves, Vampires, or other magical creatures in person. But next term, the course would surely be far more thrilling.
Abigail blinked, then smiled. “Happy holidays, Wade.”
“Happy holidays to you too, Professor.”
---
The train slowly pulled into King’s Cross Station, now a sea of people.
Though parents had already received word through the Book of Friends that the train had been rescued, they’d rushed to the platform anyway, anxious and searching.
“Anthony, my love, are you alright?”
“Miles… Miles, has anyone seen Miles Black?”
“Ginny Weasley, my precious, let me check on you!”
Even before the train stopped, parents were shouting, desperate to spot their children in the crowd.
The doors opened, and students poured out, rushing toward their parents. One girl collapsed into her mother’s arms and burst into tears.
Wade spotted his father standing near the tracks, standing on tiptoe, eyes scanning the carriage with intense urgency.
Then—suddenly—he saw Wade, pulling a suitcase behind him.
His father’s eyes locked onto him. His expression froze.
His lips trembled, as if he wanted to call out, but no sound came.
He took two steps forward—then nearly stumbled.
Without thinking, Wade moved. He was right there in front of him, arms outstretched.
“Dad, don’t worry. I’m fine,” he said, voice calm and steady.
He felt his father’s body tremble. Then, with surprising strength, the man pulled him into a fierce embrace—like he feared Wade might vanish at any second.
Behind him, Harry, pulling his own suitcase, watched with quiet envy. Michael squinted.
Was that… an Apparition?
If it wasn’t an illusion, then Wade had just performed a full Apparition—something only licensed wizards could do without penalty.
Michael’s heart sank. He glanced around, panicked. No license, no permission—this is a felony.
But the station was chaos. Tears, shouts, laughter, and relief filled the air. No one noticed. Even the explosion of noise from the train’s arrival drowned out any potential alarms.
After all, plenty of parents had Apparated straight from the platform. And older students often showed off by returning home that way.
“It’s okay… Thank Merlin you’re safe,” Ferdinand said, voice hoarse. “I only just heard about the attack when I got here.”
“Just some hungry Dementors,” Wade said lightly. “They’re under Ministry control. Couldn’t hurt us—just drained some happiness.”
Ferdinand shook his head, still tense.
He wasn’t a Muggle who knew nothing about magic. He knew full well how dangerous Dementors were—unpredictable, terrifying.
Nearby, the Granger couple were already calmed by Hermione, who laughed. “Haha, so that’s all it was? We were terrified you’d been taken!”
“Even Ministry staff can’t just stop a student train like that!” Mrs. Granger frowned. “That’s barbaric!”
“Alright, alright, we’re fine!” Hermione looped her arms through her parents’ and started walking. “I’m starving!”
She glanced back at her friends, waved, and smiled.
The moment passed in silence between the Gray father and son.
Then Wade stepped aside and introduced the others.
“Dad, these are my friends—Harry Potter and Michael Conner. Harry, Michael, this is my father.”
“Hello, boys,” Ferdinand finally smiled, stepping forward. “I’m Ferdinand Gray.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Gray!” Harry said, shaking his hand. His fingers felt icy.
He glanced at Wade again, a pang of envy in his chest. To be missed. To be worried over. To be loved so much…
Michael followed suit, grinning. “Hi, Mr. Gray! Thanks for having us. And—seriously—your coat is awesome.”
“Thank you, Michael. And Harry, I’ve heard so much about you from Wade.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” a loud, over-enthusiastic voice interrupted.
Wade turned.
A journalist stood beside them—young, wearing glasses, a deep gray vest with dozens of pockets, and a badge on his chest that read “FMC” in bold letters.
Wade recognized the name. FMC—Flowing Mirror Corporation—was a family-run news company founded by Machionni. He’d mentioned it in his letters, always praising its rapid growth.
But Wade, having spent years in Hogwarts’ isolated environment, had never truly felt its presence.
Now, he saw the man looked like a Muggle journalist—dark circles under his eyes, clothes slightly rumpled—except for one detail: perched on his shoulder was a blue bird.
That was the Streaming Mirror’s Mother Mirror—the Ministry’s official surveillance camera.
The journalist’s eyes lit up when he saw Harry Potter.
“Mr. Potter!” he blurted, pushing forward. “Can you tell us about the attack on the train?”
“What?” Harry blinked, flustered. “I—I’m not really… aware…”
Wade stepped in, blocking the man. “Sorry, we’re not available for interviews. And we’d appreciate it if our names weren’t published on the Streaming Mirror.”
The journalist frowned. “Who are you?”
“Wade Gray.”
“Ah—Mr. Gray!” The man opened his mouth, then hesitated, sensing something in Wade’s calm, steady gaze.
He’d interviewed dozens. He could tell who would break under pressure, who would crumble with a few questions. And Wade Gray wasn’t one of them.
“Alright, too bad,” the journalist said, scribbling in his notebook. “Happy holidays! Hope we get a chance next time.”
He turned without delay and approached the next target: Percy Weasley.
Percy’s eyes lit up instantly. His face turned scarlet. He straightened his robes, forced a smile, and whispered, “Of course!”
Nearby, Mrs. Weasley still held her youngest daughter, whispering comfort. Ron rolled his eyes, muttering about being ignored.
The Weasley Twins, however, noticed right away. They exchanged mischievous glances, then silently mimicked Percy’s stiff posture and anxious smile.
“Let’s go,” Wade said.
They pushed their luggage carts toward the magical barrier. Only a few people remained ahead.
A Ticket Inspector stood nearby, checking his pocket watch, allowing passage in small batches to avoid drawing Muggle attention.
One by one, the students passed through.
Then it was their turn.
“Stay discreet. Don’t—” the Inspector began, glancing over them.
His eyes paused on Harry.
He froze.
But this was routine. The students pushed their carts forward, heads down, and stepped through the wall—into the Muggle world.
(End of Chapter)
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