https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-422-Gellert-Grindelwald-Investigate-Him/13685436/
Chapter 421: The Shrunk Wade
Harry sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace for the entire afternoon, staring blankly at the flickering flames, lost in thought. Michael sat beside him, equally listless, too drained even to speak. They both wanted to do something—anything—but adult supervision had strictly forbidden them from leaving the room. Remus Lupin hadn’t returned yet, and an unfamiliar young witch, Tonks, was now acting as their caretaker.
“Hey, come on, cheer up!” Tonks tried to lighten the mood. “Look at me—” She turned her nose into a bright pink pig snout and let out a series of grunting sounds. But the two children in front of the fireplace didn’t even glance her way.
“My magic’s never failed before!” Tonks groaned, her voice rising in frustration. “Think positively—this kid wasn’t killed, he was taken. That means he’s still alive. If we call in the Ministry’s Aurors, we’ll get him back!”
This time, Michael finally looked up.
“Have the three escaped prisoners been caught?”
Tonks: “….”
“Has Silent Shadow been found?”
Tonks: “Uh…”
“Did you explain what happened when the Dementor attacked a civilian in Diagon Alley yesterday?”
Tonks felt like crying. She knew the blame wasn’t all hers—but the relentless barrage of questions was crushing.
Michael sighed deeply, burying his face in his hands. His mind replayed the scene from that morning: the moment Wade had stepped out of the house, his expression tired, his energy low. He’d noticed it, but thought nothing of it—after all, the whole family was out shopping. He hadn’t wanted to leave Wade behind.
If only he’d spoken up then. If only he’d insisted Wade stay behind…
Would that have prevented this?
Suddenly, the fireplace flames flared green. All three turned sharply. Tonks whipped out her wand, shielding the children behind her.
Then came a familiar, overlapping voice:
“Ugh! What’s all this fuss? We didn’t need this many people!”
“Fred, you stepped on my foot!”
“Sorry, Ginny Weasley—but I’m George!”
A flurry of redheads tumbled out of the fireplace in chaotic disarray. Ron was crushed beneath the pile, Ginny Weasley was shoved onto the sofa by her brother’s knee, and she collapsed onto her knees with a soft thud. Fred and George tumbled after, tripped by their younger sibling, and landed face-first in the soot-streaked grate, covered in black dust.
Then came Arthur Weasley, managing to maintain a shred of adult dignity as he stumbled out, brushing soot off his robes. “You boys are going to pay for this!”
“Mr. Weasley!” Harry peered out from behind Tonks. “Ron! Ginny! George! Fred! What are you doing here?”
“Oh, hello again, Harry,” Arthur said, brushing himself off. “And you must be Michael. We’re here to pick you up. The children.”
“—Pick us up?” Harry blinked, confused. Michael’s brow furrowed instantly.
“Wade’s gone missing. What happened?” Fred asked, pulling Ginny to her feet.
Ginny turned red, shrinking behind her brother, wishing she could vanish entirely.
George added, “We’re here to help. More hands mean faster results, right?”
“Are you okay, Harry?” Ron asked gently, as if Harry were made of glass. “I know you’re not doing well…”
“Tell us what happened,” Fred said, pushing his younger brother aside.
A chorus of voices buzzed around Harry, but he opened his mouth and couldn’t speak. His throat felt like it was filled with sand.
How could he explain it? That he’d let his friend wander off—because he was careless?
Fortunately, no answer was needed.
Before Harry could utter a word, the front door burst open. A cold gust of wind swept through, carrying fine snowflakes into the room.
Dumbledore stood in the doorway, his silver-white hair and shoulders dusted with snow. His expression was terrifying—like a storm contained within a man. The very air seemed to crackle with suppressed fury, freezing the room in silence. The babble of voices vanished instantly.
But Dumbledore’s anger wasn’t directed at those inside. He quickly composed himself, scanned the room, gave a single nod, and raised his wand. A silvery-white Patronus shot forth in a single, powerful beam.
Moments later, sharp cracks echoed from the courtyard—like firecrackers—followed by the arrival of several wizards, who Apparated into the living room and pulled back their hoods.
Harry recognized Remus Lupin, pale and exhausted. Sirius Black, long thought lost. Kingsley Shacklebolt—the Auror who had once tried to arrest Sirius. And two unfamiliar wizards.
The one-eyed wizard with mismatched eyes frowned. “Why so many children?”
Kingsley spoke calmly. “Because the missing one is a child too, Moody. These are likely his schoolmates.”
Alastor Moody grunted. “Most of them look like Weasleys. Arthur, get them home. This isn’t a place for children.”
“He’s our friend!” George snapped. “And our magic isn’t weak! Don’t underestimate us—we can help!”
“The only help you can give is not getting in the way,” Moody said coldly.
“We’re involved!” Michael insisted, his voice trembling despite his effort to stay calm. “Wade disappeared right in front of us. We might have clues!”
Moody’s blue magical eye swiveled sharply toward Michael. “Oh? And what clues did you find, sir?”
Michael clenched his jaw. He had nothing to say.
“I’m to blame,” Remus Lupin suddenly spoke. “I took them out… but I was careless. I didn’t notice—”
“Blaming now won’t bring him back,” Dumbledore interrupted. His voice was calm, almost serene—so much so that Harry wondered if the earlier fury had been an illusion. “What matters now is finding Wade.”
Even in his despair, Harry couldn’t help but wonder: if Dumbledore hadn’t been angry at Remus, then who had sparked that rage?
Then Dumbledore turned to them. “Harry, Michael—this place may no longer be safe. You’ll stay with the Weasley family for now. Arthur, take them.”
“Of course, Dumbledore,” Arthur said, already moving.
“We’re staying!”
“I can help!”
“We’re not kids anymore!”
The children protested, but the adults just frowned—some with thinly veiled annoyance, like they were dealing with bear children.
“I know,” Dumbledore said, calm and steady. “When help is needed, I’ll ask for yours. But right now, we must seize every moment. Can you trust me to handle this?”
His voice carried a quiet magic. The tension, worry, and anger slowly melted away. His tone was gentle—but his resolve was absolute.
Harry realized that arguing now would only prove them unworthy of being included.
Michael clenched his fists, then stood. “Let’s go, Harry. They’re right. We can’t make things worse by staying.”
Arthur exhaled in relief, quickly tossing Floo powder into the fireplace. “The Burrow, children. That’s your destination.”
The green flames roared. One by one, the children vanished into the fire.
Silence settled over the room.
“Tell me everything, Remus,” Dumbledore said.
“Yes,” Remus replied, voice low. “This morning, I accompanied them to a Muggle supermarket to buy Christmas gifts…”
He recounted every detail—transportation, route, address, time, and the conditions surrounding Wade’s disappearance.
“Apparently, a child went missing at that same supermarket. They offered some help. Fortunately, the store recently installed surveillance cameras…”
“Surveillance cameras?” Sirius Black asked, frowning.
“Muggle recording devices,” Tonks explained. “They capture moving images.”
Remus paused. No one else asked.
“From the footage, we saw a suspicious old man,” he continued. “He was watching Wade closely.”
He paused again, unsure how to describe him. “His appearance… it’s hard to pin down with words.”
Dumbledore spoke. “Let me see your memory.”
With a flick of his finger, an old stone basin appeared on the table.
“I brought the Pensieve.”
Without hesitation, Remus touched the tip of his wand to his temple, pulled out a strand of silvery-white hair, and dropped it into the basin. Moments later, he withdrew the wand, now trailing wisps of glowing mist.
He poured the memory into the Pensieve. Dumbledore tapped it twice with his wand. Instantly, a miniature scene appeared above the basin—Wade pushing a shopping cart through the supermarket, a bald old man approaching him with unnatural calm.
Dumbledore’s face grew cold.
---
Meanwhile, Wade was dreaming.
He stirred, hearing a strange, ancient wind.
He blinked awake—his heart stopped.
Before him loomed a creature with a head the size of a house. It leaned down, tongue as wide as a bedsheet, covered in white spines like spears, quivering toward him.
Wade shot upright, instinctively drawing his wand and slashing downward. Sparks flew—but the spell did nothing. The creature yelped, leapt high into the air, and vanished in a blur.
Wade stared at his useless wand, then at the now-escaped beast.
Then he realized: it wasn’t a monster.
It was just a long-haired cat.
He’d always been the one to use Enlargement Charms to terrify others. Now someone had turned the tables—on him?
No… Wade paused. The cat had jumped high. Too high.
He slowly looked up.
The ceiling was impossibly high—far beyond anything he remembered. The chandelier was enormous, like a cathedral’s centerpiece.
He looked down at the floor. What he’d thought was tile was actually a thick white fabric, woven with intricate patterns.
A real 800-square-meter bed.
A spotted carpet beetle—rabbit-sized—crawled past. Its yellow-brown shell gleamed, antennae feather-like, twitching as it seemed to assess the strange creature before it.
Wade finally understood.
He wasn’t being mocked.
He’d been shrunken.
He hadn’t been stuck in a spell—his own body was tiny.
No one had cast a charm on him.
And yet… he had the Shrinking Potion on hand. Professor Snape had taught about it last term—along with its antidote. He’d even kept a vial.
But then he remembered: he hadn’t brought his Cloak of Invisibility today.
He reached into his pocket—then froze.
No, I didn’t bring my Cloak Space.
But maybe that was a good thing.
If he had brought it, that priceless magical artifact—crafted with endless effort—might already be gone.
He forced himself to calm down, then waved his wand gently, searching for another solution.
Of course. The room was warded.
Anti-Apparition Curse. Wide-area Repulsion and Shielding Charms. Even an Owl couldn’t reach him. No wizard, no Muggle, could stumble in.
Only a few small windows—high up, sealed shut.
But near the ceiling… a ventilation shaft.
He looked at the dark grating. The air felt free, beckoning.
If he could become an eagle… he could fly up.
But his current state was unstable. Could he even perform an Animagus transformation?
And even if he could—this was his last resort. One wrong move, and he’d reveal himself to the enemy without escaping. No second chances.
He didn’t know if someone was watching.
But he resisted the urge to transform.
Instead, he tried the conventional way.
“Split-into-Parts Spell!”
The spell’s light struck the glass—leaving only a shallow crack.
And strange… golden particles sparkled around the wand’s tip. Like tiny, festive sprites—just like the ones Professor Flee used to decorate the classroom at Christmas.
They were the same kind of magic that little creatures used.
He looked at his toy-like wand. Sighed.
Far away, the cat that had jumped off the bed now stared at the tiny man. Then at the glowing golden sparks.
It bared its teeth, crouched low, and crept forward—silent on soft paws.
(End of Chapter)
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