https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-444-Sacrifice-Always-Comes-at-a-Cost/13685496/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-446-Sirius-Black-and-Remus-Lupin/13685498/
Chapter 445: You Must Not Miss the Chance to Save Him
“I know,” Wade said, lowering his head to ponder for a moment. He took a deep breath and asked, “About the Magic Book he gave me… Professor… do you have any advice?”
Dumbledore didn’t answer right away. He rummaged through his drawer and handed Wade a box of Toffee.
“Don’t frown. Try a piece of candy? Sweets always lift the spirit.”
“…Thank you, Professor.” Wade accepted it, unwrapping the paper. The candy gleamed with a faint golden hue, radiating a rich caramel scent and sweetness.
He popped one into his mouth. It was unmistakably Makki’s work.
Unlike its modest appearance, the Toffee had a deep, complex aroma—but surprisingly little sweetness. Not overly sweet, not greasy, just perfectly balanced. It was exactly the kind of flavor Wade liked. Among the house-elves in the kitchen, only Makki truly understood his taste and adjusted the sugar content accordingly.
—Probably just a mix-up, Wade thought. One of the house-elves must’ve accidentally delivered Makki’s batch meant for him to Dumbledore instead.
He smiled faintly, eyes narrowing slightly in satisfaction.
The house-elves in the Wizard Purity Party Castle were also skilled cooks, but their style leaned toward strong flavors—preserved, smoked, and drenched in bold sauces. Once, they even served him a plate of raw beef mince mixed with pickled cucumbers and raw egg yolk. When he saw it, he nearly thought it was some ancient, bizarre torture method.
When he later found Wovilet enjoying it with gusto, he realized he was the only one who found it shocking.
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his gaze steady through his spectacles, hands folded, fingers tapping softly. His eyes were deep, thoughtful, carrying a quiet, mysterious weight.
After a long silence, he asked, “Do you like this kind of Toffee?”
“Of course,” Wade nodded.
“Good. Then take the whole box. It’s far too bland for me.”
He pulled out another box. “How about a Jelly Slug?”
“No, thank you,” Wade declined politely.
Dumbledore sighed, feigning disappointment. “It’s just shaped like a slug. The flavor’s excellent. It’s very popular at Honeydukes… Oh, well, if you don’t like it, that’s fine.”
He paused, then suddenly added, “Those books… if you’d like to learn more about them, you’re welcome to keep them.”
Wade blinked, startled, looking up at him.
Dumbledore smiled faintly and nodded. “I can’t stop you, Wade. Knowledge itself isn’t wrong. The error lies in ambition and desire.”
“You’ve grown into a wizard with sound judgment,” he continued. “No matter what you learn, I believe you’ll always hold onto your inner light. And if you ever feel lost… I’ll always be willing to listen.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Wade said, filled with gratitude.
“Well then, go eat lunch,” Dumbledore said, rising. “I hope the kitchen prepared a Cream Cake for us today.”
Wade hesitated. “Professor… I’d like to take a few days off. I want to go home and visit my parents. They must be worried sick.”
“Of course,” Dumbledore said gently. “Who could deny a child the right to see their parents? Oh, by the way—have you seen your Christmas gift yet?”
“No,” Wade replied.
“Then you should go sort through it,” Dumbledore winked. “There’s something inside… I suspect it’ll surprise you.”
…
The Phoenix’s Flame flickered, and Dumbledore, who had said he was going to lunch, didn’t leave the office. Instead, he stood by the window, gazing at the students skipping across the lawn.
The portraits on the wall, pretending to sleep, slowly opened their eyes. Some even slipped into other frames, hands over their mouths, whispering.
Darece Devant, the healer-headmaster from two centuries past, spoke bluntly: “Albus, I thought you’d never allow your student to touch Dark Magic—especially one who looks so dangerously close to crossing that line.”
Dumbledore remained calm. “I have faith in Wade.”
His predecessor, Armando Dippet, grumbled, “To be honest, I once felt the same way about Tom Riddle.”
“I, too, have studied Dark Magic,” Dumbledore said firmly. “Only by understanding it, mastering it, can we truly resist it—and use it wisely. Dark Magic isn’t as terrifying as people think.”
Phineas Black nodded in agreement. “Exactly. All the children of the Black family are exposed to Dark Magic from childhood. And look—Regulus… Sirius Black… both good boys.”
Phineas paused, briefly torn—should he include both in his praise? After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to keep them both. After all, one was already dead, and the other was the last of the Blacks. As a great-great-grandfather, he could afford a little leniency.
Darece Devant huffed. “But the vast majority who touch Dark Magic become twisted, corrupted! Albus, you should stop this child from learning it—especially since he listens to you!”
Armando Dippet nodded. “Yes… Never trust students too much. You never know what they’ll become in fifty years.”
“I do know,” Dumbledore said calmly. “I warned you, remember? You, Dippet.”
Phineas Black smirked. “I always said Riddle looked like trouble, but you wouldn’t listen. You told me to shut up!”
Armando Dippet pretended not to hear, turning his face away, refusing to engage.
He was willing to admit his mistakes to Dumbledore—the man who’d cleaned up his mess—but he’d gladly kick Phineas Black into a hole and bury him if he could.
Phineas Black was the most disliked headmaster for a reason.
Another headmaster, Euphrasia Moore, spoke gently: “I think they have a point, Dumbledore. Why not use this chance to cut off his contact with Dark Wizards?”
Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, then asked, “Phineas Black… if you’d been forbidden from studying Dark Magic as a young man, would you have obeyed?”
“Of course not!” Phineas said with a grin, basking in the disapproving stares of the others. “I’d have said yes to their faces, but sneaked off to learn in secret.”
Euphrasia Moore couldn’t help but ask, “I’ve always wondered—why didn’t you go to Durmstrang?”
“Why? It’s too cold! And too strict. Not much fun,” Phineas replied casually.
The others pounced. “You were strict as headmaster!”
“You banned students from criticizing Hogwarts’ rules!”
“You love Slytherin! Everyone else hated you!”
“So what?” Phineas shrugged, pretending to clean his ear. “I am Slytherin. Should I love Gryffindor instead?”
“Dumbledore, rein in this Dark Magic-loving troublemaker!” a red-haired headmaster shouted.
Dumbledore smiled softly, addressing the others. “I understand the pull of the unknown—the hunger to explore what lies beyond. Even if I could stop Wade from touching Dark Magic today, could I prevent Gellert Grindelwald from reaching out to my students tomorrow?”
“If Wade ever grows curious, touches forbidden knowledge, and begins to struggle… in a normal situation, he’d come to me.”
“But if I reject Dark Magic outright, he’ll likely hide his pain from me, turning instead to darker, more dangerous influences.”
“So I can’t be too strict,” Dumbledore said slowly. “Because I don’t want to… miss the chance to save him.”
The headmaster’s office fell into silence.
After a long pause, the voices began to stir.
“You’re exhausting yourself,” Phineas Black muttered. “Good thing I’m already dead.”
“Since you’ve made your decision, we’ll support you,” Darece Devant said gently.
“I hope this child doesn’t disappoint your trust,” Ephra said, closing his eyes.
“Albus…” Armando Dippet sighed. “Sometimes I think a person’s fate is sealed the moment they’re born.”
One by one, the portraits closed their eyes. Soon, soft snores filled the room.
Dumbledore stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon—as if looking beyond the world, into some unseen place.
…
Fawks dropped Wade off at home and departed. Wade stood at the entrance, peering through the window. His parents were sitting on the sofa, sorting through newspapers and letters.
He unconsciously quickened his pace, a smile tugging at his lips. He knocked twice, and the door flew open before the second knock even finished.
“Wade?!” Fiona gasped, her arms wrapping around him in an instant.
“I’m back, Mom,” Wade said, feeling the warmth of her tears on his neck. He gently turned his head.
Ferdinand rushed in behind her, his face lighting up with emotion. But then his expression darkened, his brow furrowed. He pulled Fiona back, shielding Wade with his body, eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the boy before him.
“Wade… are you really Wade?”
Wade sighed, nodding. “Of course it’s me. Need me to tell you two things to prove it?”
“Of course not,” Fiona said, wiping her eyes. “I’d never mistake my own son!”
She fumbled through her pockets and pulled out a bright, childish scarf. “This is Mom’s handmade one. Try it on—does it fit?”
Wade reached for it, touched by the gesture—until he saw the cartoonish Christmas-themed pattern. He pulled his hand back, frowning. “Is this really for me? Couldn’t you make one in a simpler color?”
Fiona laughed through her tears, pushed Ferdinand aside, and hugged Wade again. “That reaction… that’s definitely my Wade!”
Wade stared, silent.
—You said moms never forget their kids, right?
Ferdinand’s lips twitched upward, but his body sagged against the doorframe, too overwhelmed to move.
Feeling their unspoken anxiety, Wade sighed, wrapped his arms around his mother, and said again, “I’m really back, Mom.”
…
When the family finally settled, they gathered around the fireplace, listening to Wade recount his ordeal.
“…Grindelwald wanted to use the Streaming Mirror to spread his ideology, so he took me. Aside from being unable to leave or contact anyone, I was treated quite well.”
Wade gestured at himself. “See? I’ve gained a little weight. German food is far richer and more flavorful than British fare. Though I still don’t like mustard. Sauerkraut was acceptable.”
Fiona laughed, shaking her head. “You’re a mess—kidnapped, and all you care about is what you ate! Did they hurt you? Use any dangerous magic?”
“No,” Wade admitted, clearing his throat. “Because I cooperated. I gave them the information they wanted, taught a few people what I knew. So they didn’t see a reason to make things difficult.”
Ferdinand nodded approvingly. “Don’t be ashamed. That was the right approach—showing cooperation prevents greater harm, preserves strength, buys time and opportunity. How did you get back? Did they let you go willingly?”
“Professor Dumbledore came to rescue me this morning,” Wade said. “He fought Grindelwald. Grindelwald lost. To protect the others, he had no choice but to let me go.”
He chose not to mention Grindelwald teaching him Dark Magic. If he did, his parents would spend sleepless nights in fear.
“Great,” Fiona said, clasping her hands in gratitude. “Professor Dumbledore still proves reliable. I should’ve sent him a Christmas gift! Wade, does he like fine wine? Or a watch? Books might be better… but I worry he already has every one.”
Wade thought for a moment, then smiled. “Everyone sends him books. But Dumbledore might actually hope for a pair of wool socks.”
“Wool socks?” Fiona said, unsure, nodding slowly.
Eventually, she decided to follow Wade’s advice.
Though it seemed ordinary, Wade spent more time with the professor than they ever did. He knew him better.
Fiona even made a silent promise: she’d send Dumbledore a pair of wool socks every year. Maybe gloves… or even a cashmere sweater?
(End of Chapter)
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