https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-428-Waiting-for-You-to-Become-a-Companion/13685442/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-430-Remus-Lupin-Do-Not-Walk-Toward-Darkness/13685444/
Chapter 429: The Person in the Streaming Mirror
“Wait— are they actually adding a Wizard subplot to the movie?” Ron asked, bewildered.
“Honestly, that’s a pretty creative idea…” Fred mused. “But won’t it feel kind of abrupt? At least drop a hint earlier!”
Percy frowned. “The plot’s getting completely chaotic! And they’re making Wizards the villains?”
“Villains? Come on, villains are cool!” George shot back without hesitation, raising his voice slightly.
On screen, Wizards charged forward amid stirring music—fighting fiercely, refusing to retreat—while Muggle soldiers looked utterly panicked and disorganized.
Mrs. Weasley had nearly snatched her wand to shut off the Streaming Mirror, but after hearing the children’s words, she slowly lowered it again.
Right… it’s just a Muggle television show. No need to panic…
She pushed down her unease, forcing a self-deprecating smile. She stared more intently at the mirror’s image.
Wizards and Muggles were clashing in battle… Well, of course it was fantasy. When was the last time Wizards had been involved in a Muggle war? But that moment when a soldier burned—so vivid, so magical—it sent a shiver through her.
Odd… Harry suddenly heard Michael whisper beside him. He turned. His Ravenclaw classmate was staring at the mirror, expression grave.
“These magic effects… they’re too real. And the spell gestures—this isn’t something a Muggle could just imagine out of thin air.”
Michael’s voice was barely audible.
Harry studied the screen. He saw it too.
They’d played a game called Magic Gate back at Wade’s home. It had made them all aware of how vastly different real magic was from Muggle imagination.
But the Weasleys didn’t have that kind of awareness. To them, magic was exactly what the screen showed.
“This… violates the Confidentiality Act, doesn’t it?” Harry said uneasily.
Thanks to constant reminders from those around him, Harry now understood just how strictly the magical community enforced secrecy. He lowered his voice.
“Maybe a Wizard leaked the information to the Muggle director… He’s in serious trouble.”
Michael stared at him, his eyes wide with something between disbelief and dread.
Harry scratched his head. “Did I get it wrong?”
“No,” Michael whispered, voice barely a breath. “I mean… this isn’t acting. This part… it’s probably real. Maybe even just happened.”
“What?!”
Harry gasped, his voice rising too loud.
At that moment, the Streaming Mirror showed a laboratory scene. His reaction was extreme—but no one thought it odd.
“Oh,” Percy said, wrinkling his nose. “That’s disgusting. How could a Muggle director even come up with something like this?”
“It’s not the director!” Ron corrected. “The screenwriter, right, Harry?”
Harry clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. He managed a muffled “Yeah,” cold sweat prickling his back.
If this isn’t a TV show… if it’s really happening…
Mrs. Weasley felt a fresh wave of dread. She stood up. “Alright, children—this part’s too inappropriate. You’re all going to bed. I’m writing a letter to the FMC tonight. They can’t broadcast this kind of thing to kids!”
“Wait, Mom! We’re not kids anymore!” The Weasley Twins and Ron rushed to block her.
“You’re not,” Mrs. Weasley snapped. “Your sister is!”
“I’m twelve!” Ginny Weasley shrieked. “And it’s all fake! What’s there to be afraid of?”
She didn’t care that Harry was still nearby—she fiercely defended her right to watch the Streaming Mirror.
“Yeah, Mom,” Percy added, surprising everyone. “We’ve seen worse at school. A giant cockroach is scarier than this. Besides, it’s Christmas.”
Under the pressure of her favorite son’s words, Mrs. Weasley hesitated, then reluctantly agreed.
“Fine. Thirty minutes. After that, bed. No exceptions.”
“Yay!” The children cheered.
They turned back to the mirror—only for the screen to shift abruptly.
A gaunt old man stood surrounded by cloaked wizards, delivering a speech.
“When the blood isn’t yours, can you pretend not to hear? When the dead aren’t your kin, can you still claim peace?”
Mrs. Weasley flinched. Before her mind could process, her wand shot from her hand and shut off the mirror.
“Mom—!”
“We agreed on thirty minutes!”
“At least finish this episode!”
“It’s too early to sleep! I want to watch Wizard vs. Aliens!”
“Shut up!” Mrs. Weasley roared, her face flushed with fury. “Everyone to your bedrooms! Now!”
Her sudden explosion of rage froze everyone in the room. Silence fell so thick you could hear a pin drop.
Fred and George exchanged a glance. Neither dared speak.
After a few seconds, Michael tugged Harry’s sleeve. They rose first.
“Well, goodnight, big home,” Michael said.
Harry opened his mouth, finally forcing out a whisper: “…Goodnight.”
“I’m sorry, children,” Mrs. Weasley stammered, her lips trembling. “I shouldn’t have yelled… but…”
“I understand, ma’am,” Michael said. “We’re going upstairs.”
“But…” George began, hesitating. Then he caught Harry’s gaze. A lightbulb clicked in his mind.
He grabbed Fred, pulling him off the floor. “Alright, then. Early to bed, early to rise—tomorrow we can fly broomsticks sooner!”
Ron, already nudged by Harry’s signal, had already started climbing the stairs, deliberately sulking.
Ginny Weasley, furious at her brothers’ sudden surrender, glared at them. Then, a spark of inspiration lit in her eyes.
“I get it, Mom,” she said, hugging her mother. “You should rest early too.”
“Oh, Ginny Weasley, my sweet love,” Mrs. Weasley murmured, her icy fingers brushing her daughter’s cheek. “I’m so proud of how responsible you are.”
“We’ll go up now!” Fred called from the stairs, grinning at his twins. “No one will ever suspect a thing, right?”
George grinned back. “You could try again.”
“Good idea.” Fred actually squeezed past, making a slow, deliberate loop around Mrs. Weasley. When she raised an eyebrow, he darted up the stairs, flipping her a cheeky grin.
“Fred, my sweet love, you’re so responsible!” George squeaked in a high-pitched voice, earning a withering glare from his sister.
Percy, expecting resistance from his younger siblings, was utterly stunned. When he felt his mother’s sharp gaze turn on him, he hesitated. But the weight of being “the most responsible child” was too strong. He sighed, said his goodnight, and reluctantly followed, casting one last longing look at the mirror.
Once she was certain all the children were safely in bed—and no one had snuck back down—Mrs. Weasley reopened the Streaming Mirror. She muted it and sat alone in the living room.
The pale blue light from the mirror cast a ghostly glow across her face, draining all color.
Her fingers gripped her apron, trembling.
It’s him… Gellert Grindelwald…
The terrifying Dark Lord’s escape had sparked nationwide debate. His photo had even graced the front page of The Daily Prophet, where journalists, with a chilling mix of detachment and sycophantic admiration, had “revealed” his “achievements.”
When Peter Pettigrew and the others escaped, the entire magical community had erupted. The Ministry of Magic launched a full-scale manhunt. Reporters constantly questioned why the Ministry hadn’t caught them—accusing it of corruption and cover-ups.
But after Grindelwald’s escape? The Prophet mentioned it once. Then, silence. No pursuit. No outrage.
Of course… she told herself. He’s not British. He’s never really been active here…
Even if he did something now… it wouldn’t affect them. And the other side was Muggle forces.
She tried to calm herself. But the fear wouldn’t fade.
Suddenly, she leapt up. She checked the doors and windows, then reinforced the protective and concealment charms around the house—just to be safe—before collapsing back into the sofa.
The screen had returned to normal programming. But the usual funny or tense plots no longer stirred her.
She sat, fingers twisting in her apron, desperately wishing her husband would come home.
…
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The Weasley siblings exchanged quiet goodnights, passing glances only they could understand.
“Cough. Cough.” Ron pretended to cough. “I’ll be bunking with Harry and Michael tonight. Won’t disturb your rest.”
Percy was only too happy. He said goodnight, already lost in thoughts of the unfinished plot, and hurried back to his room.
Boom!
As the door slammed shut, Fred and George immediately poked their heads out, scanning the hallway. Then they darted into Harry’s room.
Harry had already stuffed scattered socks under the bed and was rummaging through his suitcase.
“I’ve got my own Streaming Mirror,” he said. “Small one. Sirius Black gave it to me. Ah—found it!”
He pulled it out—before the door creaked open.
They all froze.
No furious face from Mrs. Weasley. Just a narrow gap. Then Ginny slipped through.
“Back to bed, Ginny Weasley!” Fred snapped. “You promised Mom!”
“Hmph! Not a chance!” She crossed her arms. “If you don’t let me in, I’ll scream for Mom!”
“What?!” George hissed. “You can’t—”
“Quiet!” Harry whispered. “She’ll come running!”
“Alright,” George said. “Harry, quick—don’t miss anything!”
“Got it.” Harry turned on the mirror.
The twins yanked the curtains shut, turned off the lights, and pretended the whole house was asleep.
Ginny’s face flushed. She squeezed between Fred and Ron. They pulled the blanket over themselves, barely covering everyone.
Grindelwald’s speech was nearing its end. Then the screen showed a montage—different angles of experiments on subjects, a pit filled with bodies, and a Muggle official sobbing uncontrollably.
Ginny pressed close to Fred. Ron whispered what they all felt:
“I… I don’t think this is a TV show.”
“It’s… not fake,” Harry said, shivering even under the blanket.
Ginny shuddered.
“Stop joking,” Ron said, voice tight. “If this were real, it’d have been discovered by now. The Ministry’s Aurors aren’t amateurs!”
“Aurors can’t watch the whole world,” Fred said grimly. “How many Muggles are there? How many Aurors? They can’t be everywhere.”
George added, “And the setting… doesn’t look like Britain. The accent—sounds American.”
The screen flickered violently—then snapped back to the usual plot: the protagonist chasing aliens.
Moments later, it changed again.
A sweating wizard stood center frame, whispering to someone off-screen.
“Are we ready?… What? It’s already started!”
He turned to the camera, wiping sweat, and said, “I’m speaking on behalf of the FMC. The footage you just saw? It has no relation to us. There were… unauthorized individuals who hijacked our signal. This is the first-ever signal hijacking in the magical world. We’re working to strengthen our protections—prevent this from happening again.”
He glanced sideways, as if being pressured—by someone, or a superior—guiding his words.
“Uh… our company takes no responsibility for any content or images shown. They are unrelated to us. The missed segment will be replayed. Please continue watching.”
After a long silence, Fred exhaled, awed.
“Merlin… it’s all real.”
“Terrifying…” Ron whispered. “Those Muggles… and Grindelwald… I finally understand why people fear him so much.”
Beside them, Michael said nothing. His face, pale in the dark, was unreadable.
(End of Chapter)
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