https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-422-Gellert-Grindelwald-Investigate-Him/13685436/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-424-Wade-Origins-Have-Nothing-to-Do-with-Me/13685438/
Chapter 423: Go Find Him! Go Save Him!
Michael’s eyes lit up. He quickly rummaged through the pile of Gifts he’d received and—there it was—a Gift Box bearing the name “Wade Gray.”
“Ha! He can still send Gifts! That means his situation is better than I thought!” Michael grinned.
Beside him, Harry had already torn open the wrapping paper. Inside was a tiny Firebolt model. Harry took it out and held it in his palm, preparing to examine it closely. The broomstick model suddenly shot forward with a whoosh, its tail trailing a trail of blue flame. It circled the room once before returning to Harry’s hand.
“Amazing,” Harry said, beaming. This unique alchemical artifact was unmistakably Wade’s work—no one else would dare impersonate him so perfectly.
“Quick, what did Wade send you?” Harry asked, curious.
Michael peeled off the last layer of wrapping paper. Inside was a small, palm-sized object.
“A Cat Nest? No… more like a Fox Den,” Harry said, squinting. “Probably meant for that magic puppet of yours?”
“Not so simple,” Michael muttered, holding the object. He noticed a small protrusion on its side and pressed it gently.
Boom!
The “Cat Nest” instantly expanded, floating weightlessly into the air like a cloud. The soft, cozy indentation in the center looked perfect for a lazy nap.
Harry burst out laughing. “Wade’s clearly saying you’re too lazy!”
Michael shrugged. “Well, now we don’t have to share a bed anymore!”
They teased each other, then eagerly moved on to open the rest of the Gifts. The heavy weight that had lingered in their hearts all day seemed to melt away.
If Wade could send Gifts, he could send letters. That meant whoever took him wasn’t an enemy—just a wizard with a strange, eccentric personality.
“Wait!” Harry suddenly froze, holding up the hooded leather coat from Mrs. Weasley. His face paled. “I didn’t send the Gift I made for Wade last night! I thought he couldn’t receive it!”
Michael blinked, then sprang to his feet. “Oh no—I didn’t send mine either!”
They rushed to retrieve their parcels from the suitcase, coaxing Hedwig with gentle words until the irritable owl reluctantly took off with the package.
This time, the owl didn’t return right away.
…
But unlike what they’d assumed—Christmas Gifts magically arriving at Wade’s side—Hedwig flew straight into the house in Westminster District, dropped the parcel beside the bed, and gave a few curious coo-coos at the empty space.
She tilted her head. Of course, she thought. A Christmas gift belongs at the foot of the bed. With that settled, she took off again.
Beside the bed, the Rubik’s Magic Puppet twitched. With a soft pop, the box-shaped figure expanded—its top sprouted two wide, blinking antennae, side panels extended metal claws, and four wheels unfolded beneath.
It rolled forward, neatly arranging the new Gifts, then paused, staring up at the growing pile.
Outside, the sound of wings flapping echoed through the window.
The Puppet’s limbs retracted instantly. Only one large, round blue eye remained, scanning the room.
Then, two wizards appeared in the window, riding broomsticks.
Hedwig flew at 45 km/h—slow for a wizard. Most broomsticks could outpace her easily. But flying at high altitude in winter was no joy. The two wizards were frozen, their faces pale, eyebrows and eyelashes coated in thick frost.
They burst through the window into the warm bedroom, sighing in relief. But their expressions fell at the sight of the neatly made bed and the mountain of Gifts.
“I should’ve known,” Remus Lupin said quietly, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Whoever took Wade… they wouldn’t grant him this kind of freedom.”
The Gifts were clearly sent before his disappearance—scheduled for delivery, arranged in advance. The Owl Post Office offered such services, but the two wizards had still clung to a desperate, one-in-a-million hope.
Remus raised his wand, placing the two new boxes back on the shelf. Sirius Black asked, “How are Wade’s parents?”
“Alastor’s protecting them,” Remus said. “I told them Wade was spending Christmas with friends. But… I think his father suspected something.”
Sirius fell silent for a long moment. Then he sighed. “Even if he guessed… there’s nothing he can do. But we’ll keep it quiet for now. They’re Muggles. Even if they worry… it won’t help.”
The words were cold, but Remus knew it was true.
“This year’s been chaos,” Remus muttered, frowning. “We still haven’t found Mabel, the Silent One. Three prisoners escaped Azkaban—gone without a trace. Dementors are flying everywhere. And Gellert Grindelwald… he’s escaped too.”
Sirius ran a hand through his messy black hair, scowling. “Dumbledore believes Grindelwald took Wade. If the Wizard Purity Party is using the Magic Puppet… Europe could plunge into war again.”
“Not necessarily,” Sirius said. “No Muggle leader can match Grindelwald’s influence right now.”
“Still, with his power… he could manipulate a few Muggle leaders easily.”
They spoke in low tones, each word weighing heavier than the last. The more they discussed, the more the pressure crushed their chests.
Just one of these crises would be overwhelming. What must Dumbledore be feeling, carrying all of it?
Thinking of Dumbledore’s increasingly hurried steps, the constant furrow in his brow—how exhausted he looked—both wizards wished he’d tell them what to do. Yet they couldn’t bring themselves to ask.
In their hearts, they knew: they’d matched Dumbledore’s anxiety and effort in this search. And their only role was to obey, to wait, and to do everything in their power.
When their fingers finally regained feeling, the two wizards mounted their brooms and Apparated away.
Inside the room, one of the Magic Puppet’s eyes popped out—then the other.
The large, round eyes narrowed slightly, as if pondering.
After a moment, it rolled forward, reached into the Gift pile, and carefully pulled out a small parcel.
The wrapping paper bore a clumsy, childlike hand: Mabel.
—Was this the same “Silent One” the two wizards had spoken of?
Had she sent a Christmas Gift to her Master?
The Rubik’s Magic Puppet had been infused with Wade’s own thoughts. It wasn’t just intelligent—it possessed deep common sense and magical knowledge. It knew who Mabel was. It knew her power. It understood words like missing, abducted, Wizard Purity Party.
The metal claw reached up, pulled a newspaper from the bookshelf, and the blue eye scanned every headline. After a moment, it folded the paper neatly and returned it.
The Puppet wasn’t trusted by wizards like Gellert Grindelwald or Moody. They couldn’t see where its mind was hidden. Even if it “laughed” or “cried,” those expressions were just illusions—crafted by its creator. The Puppet didn’t have a face. Its eyes were two spheres on antennae. Its voice came from within.
No one knew what it was thinking.
But after a pause, it lifted the Gift from Mabel, studying the wrapping, the ink, the handwriting.
It remembered the time each gift arrived. The owl that delivered it. The direction it came from.
Then, it moved to the far side of the room, gazed up at the tall closet, and extended its claw to push open the door.
Inside, the Metal Cloak was proudly showing off its golden shine. It thought the door opening meant Wade had returned—quickly hiding to look dignified. But when it saw the new Puppet, it strutted forward.
“I haven’t seen Master all day!” the golden doorbell chimed, like a song. “Is he busy with the holidays? Too busy to visit us?”
The blue eye swept across the empty closet.
Wade had spent most of his time organizing this space. Only four puppets had been made: the bell at the entrance, a broomstick for cleaning, the Rubik’s Magic Puppet itself, and a duplicate of Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew.
Beyond them: the Metal Cloak, the Firebird Mihal, and a group of Acromantulas—prisoners and potion ingredients.
“Master is gone,” the Puppet said.
The bell fell silent. The Cloak froze mid-sway.
Mihal opened one eye from his nest. Peter Two leapt onto the Rubik’s Cube.
“Who did it?”
The voice was identical to Wormtail’s—high-pitched, rat-like—but the tone was utterly different.
“A Dark Wizard named Gellert Grindelwald. His followers—called the Wizard Purity Party—are powerful, ruthless. Even Dumbledore might not stop them.”
“Wade was taken by the Wizard Purity Party?” the bell shrieked.
“Seems so,” the Rubik’s Puppet replied.
“I’m going to find him!” the broomstick declared. “Don’t let my cleaning duties fool you—I can fly fast!”
“I’m here for the same reason,” the Puppet said.
“So am I!” Peter Two added.
“Take me too!” the Cloak cried, unfolding and enveloping them.
The proud Mihal hovered forward. “I’m coming.”
“What about me?” the bell stammered, frozen in panic.
“Master’s gone,” the Puppet said. “We can’t shrink this space. You must guard it—no one enters.”
“I understand!” the bell declared. “Even if I’m torn apart, I won’t let anyone sneak in!”
The Puppet’s eye flickered. “Good. Departure.”
The broomstick shot forward. The Puppet leapt aboard. Peter Two sat behind. The Cloak spread wide, shifting colors like a chameleon, blending into the surroundings.
The closet door swung open.
The Magic Puppets shot out, a streak of flame following behind. They heard the distant, ringing ding-ding of the bell as they vanished into the night.
Two silhouettes soared through the window, ascending into the cold, starry sky.
Snow still fell. The city below hummed with Christmas songs:
“Ding-dong, ding-dong, the bells are ringing, we’re sledding through the snow, full of joy… through the fierce wind and snow, we’re riding in our sleigh…”
…
Hogwarts.
“Wade’s missing?” Professor McGonagall gasped. “What happened?”
Snape’s face was as dark as storm clouds, ready to burst.
“Remus Lupin’s a complete waste of space. He was right there—and did nothing!”
In the midst of the Potion Master’s furious rant, the full story was told. McGonagall rubbed her temples, concerned. “And what does Dumbledore think?”
They hadn’t kept their voices down. Unnoticed, a house-elf in the next room had paused, candle holder in hand, ears perked up, listening.
Soon, the two professors hurried out. The elf finished his task, Apparated straight to the kitchen, and found Little Sprite Zoe washing dishes.
He tugged Zoe’s sleeve, whispering in a hushed voice: “Did you hear? Zoe…”
The news spread like wildfire through the house-elf community.
“What should we do?”
“There’s nothing we can do.”
“We’re just Hogwarts sprites.”
“No orders, no leaving.”
“Maybe we can get one of the students to give a command…”
“Perhaps Professor Trelawney would let Makki buy her wine?”
“What good is that? Wade’s not in Hogsmeade.”
“Wine can be bought anywhere—Austria, Germany…”
“Makki’s crazy!” Zoe’s companion panicked. “A house-elf caught doing that would be killed!”
“Makki doesn’t care,” Zoe said. “Dumbledore can’t stop it. He’s not Headmaster Dippet.”
“But… but that’s breaking the rules!” the others trembled.
“Wait!” Makki raised a hand, signaling silence. He listened intently.
Then, softly: “Makki… thinks he heard Dobby’s voice.”
“Dobby?”
…
Dobby had just Apparated to the castle’s edge, creeping along the wall, horn in hand.
He looked worn—dressed in a ragged sack—but his head wore a brand-new, fawn-colored hat.
It was the Christmas Gift from Wade, delivered that morning.
Dobby walked slowly, muttering to himself:
“Ah… Dobby still can’t find a job. Wizards won’t hire house-elves. No one pays us… If Professor Dumbledore won’t take me, maybe I should go to Wade Gray… Mr. Gray would surely hire me…”
“But Wade’s my friend. I don’t want to trouble him… He saved me. I shouldn’t ask for pay…”
He clutched the hat with both hands, his giant eyes fixed on the distant sky.
“I want pay… I want a gift for my friends… I want clean, proper clothes… I want… I want… a rest day. Just one day a year… to play freely…”
He whispered it so softly, even to himself, it was almost inaudible.
Then—pop!
A house-elf appeared right in front of him.
Dobby yelped, stumbling back.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Ten, twenty, dozens of house-elves materialized around him, surrounding him, eyes blazing with intensity.
Dobby froze, pressed flat against the wall, shaking his head. “No, no… I don’t want this! I just want a job!”
He recognized Makki—the one who’d once given him food. He lowered his head, ashamed. “Dobby… I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want work…”
“Dobby!” Makki grabbed his arm. “Do you remember what Mr. Wade Gray did for you?”
(End of Chapter)
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