Chapter 450: Returning to School
“I was actually wondering—” Wade sighed. “How to explain to you, the condition under which I could return… was that I couldn’t support the Wizard Purity Party’s Promotion Plan.”
“Figured as much,” Machionni said. “Honestly, it’s actually a good thing for me. If every voice in the magical world came from FMC, I’d be worried about my own survival.”
“Then why are you holding back on letting Ministries of Magic broadcast your shows?” Sirius Black asked, tone edged with irritation. “I heard there were so many people trying to talk to you, but negotiations were dragging on. You know how many people have been bombarding Remus with messages, begging him to help persuade you?”
“Come on,” Machionni said seriously. “Would I really let a little safety concern cost me a chance to make big money?”
Sirius Black just rolled his eyes and turned away. He wasn’t going to argue with someone who’d risk his life just for profit.
But Remus Lupin, the one constantly harassed by letters, understood Machionni’s stance far better. “If you back down too easily, they’ll only push further,” he said. “But don’t clamp down too hard either…”
He turned to face Machionni, his gaze steady. “At least leave a crack open—let them tear each other apart. Otherwise, I really fear one day I’ll see your body lying in the street.”
“Don’t worry,” Machionni said, setting down his glass and pulling his soft hat low. “I know what I’m doing.”
As he passed Wade, he paused. “Stay at Hogwarts for now. Don’t leave school.”
“I know,” Wade said quietly.
Machionni gave a brief nod to the others, then strode off with brisk, purposeful steps—almost as if he’d come just to see Wade, to confirm he was safe.
“That man…” Sirius Black slumped sideways on the sofa, frowning. “He’s already filthy rich. Why is he still so greedy? Can Galleons even fit in a coffin?”
“To him, money is the ultimate goal,” Wade said. “Making money is pure happiness. Just like me—no matter how much magic I learn, I never feel like I’ve learned enough.”
Sirius Black gave him a sideways, half-amused glance. “You’re barely out of your teens. Wait until you’re fifty—then I’ll see if you’re still just blindly obsessed with learning.”
Wade just smiled. He didn’t argue.
“I’m going to see Mabel,” he said. “My mom made some pastries. I’m supposed to bring them to her.”
Though Fiona had also read about the Silent Shadow in the newspaper, she knew one thing for certain: anyone who’d crossed thousands of kilometers to save Wade couldn’t possibly be a bad person.
Wade knocked on the door. A soft voice called, “Come in.”
He pushed the door open. Mabel stood in the center of the room, her back turned, focused on practicing a spell.
On the table in front of her were half a dozen candles. She held her wand, pointing at each one in turn, whispering, “Blazing Flame Spell!”
No roaring flames erupted. Instead, a thin wisp of fire burst from the wand with a soft puff, igniting one candle. Then another. Then a third. One by one, until every candle was lit, filling the room with warm, golden light.
“Remus,” Mabel said, “I learned the fire spell!”
“Nice control,” Wade’s voice came from the doorway. “But aren’t you worried about setting the table on fire?”
Hearing him, Mabel whirled around, startled. “Wade!”
She paused, then added awkwardly, “…Mr. Gray.”
“Just Wade,” he said, stepping forward. His eyes landed on her right hand. “You’ve got a wand now?”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice quiet with gratitude. “Mr. Lupin took me to Diagon Alley to buy it. I used the money you gave me… and the Polyjuice Potion.”
“Your pronunciation and wand movement were perfect,” Wade said, smiling. There was genuine warmth in his eyes. “You’re picking it up fast, Mabel.”
He paused, then added, “I’m returning to school today. Seeing how well you’re adjusting… I’m relieved.”
“Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black are both kind people,” Mabel said with a small smile. “They really care about me.”
She started to say more, then stopped, her words caught in her throat.
Wade noticed the hesitation. “Is something wrong?”
Then it hit him—Mabel looked young, but she was thirteen or fourteen now, entering adolescence. She might be dealing with feelings and worries that even two adult wizards wouldn’t easily sense or understand.
“You can talk to Madam Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks,” Wade said gently. “She’s warm and kind. If you ever need advice, she’s someone you can trust.”
“Hogwarts is right nearby. The village is safe—no need to stay locked inside all the time. Go out sometimes. Buy things you like. Take a breath. This place is full of little wonders. You’ll like it.”
“Mr. Lupin said the same thing,” Mabel said softly, her voice fading. “I just… I don’t know…”
She fell silent for a long moment, then whispered, “I… I want to know how Haley is. If possible… I’d like to see her. Just from afar. To make sure she’s safe.”
Her voice trembled slightly, so careful, so cautious.
“Of course,” Wade said, his expression softening instantly. He remembered the pale-faced girl, so like a sister to Mabel. A wave of warmth rose in his chest. He understood perfectly.
He nodded. “I’ll ask Dumbledore. I’ll find a time to arrange a meeting. I don’t think it’ll be difficult.”
Hearing that, Mabel’s body relaxed. A relieved smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Wade.”
…
By the time Wade returned to Hogwarts, it was late at night.
Filch stood by the main door, holding a dim lantern. His usual sour expression softened into something rare—almost a smile.
“About time,” he said. The keykeeper shifted slightly, dragging his heavy frame toward the castle. “All settled at home?”
Wade blinked. “Uh… yeah. Everything’s fine. Oh—where’s Mrs. Norris?”
“Oh, she’s with the little ones,” Filch said, his voice unexpectedly tender. “When the cleaning crabs get stuck in the wall corners during their rounds, someone’s got to rescue them.”
To him, both Mrs. Norris and the cleaning crabs were beloved children.
“Any more glitches?” Wade asked.
“No… well, actually, there was one.” Filch grinned. “But they fixed it themselves. Those little ones are getting smarter every day.”
Wade nodded. The cleaning crabs had been his early project—primitive at first, just basic AI following commands. But they had simple learning ability. Over time, their wisdom had grown.
At the entrance hall, Wade spotted a few silhouettes moving in the corridor. He turned to Filch. “Shouldn’t it be curfew by now?”
“Of course,” Filch said, his face darkening. “Some young troublemakers always find ways to break the rules. When I catch them, I’ll teach them a lesson!”
He glanced at Wade. “Oh—don’t worry. You’re back, so you’re not counted. Go back to your common room.”
With that, he hurried inside, sprinting like a man half his age—faster than any seventy-year-old should.
Wade shook his head, raised his wand, and murmured, “Broomfly!”
Though Hogwarts had hundreds of broomsticks, only one image filled Wade’s mind when he spoke the spell. And only one broomstick responded.
“Whoosh—”
A sharp crack split the air as a slightly worn but well-kept broomstick shot through the darkness, hovering beside him with a playful hop.
“Missed you, old friend,” Wade chuckled, patting the handle. He mounted the broom and circled the castle and the Black Lake before gliding through a window into his bedroom.
The house-elf had kept everything tidy—warm, clean, perfectly preserved just as he’d left it at the end of the last term. Time itself seemed frozen here.
Wade exhaled, letting out a long, contented breath. His feet touched the floor, and instinctively, he compared the room to Gellert Grindelwald’s gray fortress.
That place was cold. The bed was hard. The walls were bare. The view beyond the window was dull. Worst of all—its house-elf wasn’t this thoughtful, this attentive. It couldn’t make everything feel just right.
—Back at Hogwarts. This is home.
Wade smiled, opening the closet and placing his things back in order. As he organized his bookshelf, a knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
“Hey, Wade!” Michael pushed the door open, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on him. Then, relief slowly brightened his face.
“I heard the broomstick fly through the window. Knew it had to be you. And sure enough!”
Michael rushed over, grasping Wade’s arm, checking him up and down. “It’s been ages, man. You’re back.”
“It hasn’t even been a month,” Wade said, setting down his books and stepping forward with a smile.
“Twenty-three days,” Michael corrected, eyes full of concern. “You were gone twenty-three days. What happened out there? Anything you want to talk about? I’m a great listener.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Wade said. “Just handled a few… technical issues.”
He closed the door and sat down, calmly recounting what had happened.
“Ancient strange…” Michael murmured, resting his chin on one hand. “Honestly, if you’d been beaten up, I’d have found that more believable. But Gellert Grindelwald? He’s not exactly known for being reasonable.”
“Ever since The Dark Lord declared himself Dark Lord, most wizards in Europe see him as second-generation. The first Dark Lord was Gellert Grindelwald.”
“So a man like that… treating you politely…” Michael shivered suddenly, as if a cold wind had brushed his back.
“Wade…”
“Yeah?”
Wade was pouring tea when Michael spoke again, voice low.
“Death Eaters all have the Dark Mark on their arms. Did the Wizard Purity Party give you some ancient symbol? A three-horned circle or something like that?”
His eyes locked onto Wade’s, searching for any flicker of unease.
But Wade just blinked once—then set the kettle down, calm and composed.
“If I’d joined the Wizard Purity Party, I couldn’t have come back here,” he said. “You don’t seriously think they’d send someone with my alchemy skills to Hogwarts just to be a spy?”
“Huh… yeah. Makes sense,” Michael muttered, scratching his head awkwardly. “Sorry. I guess I overthought it.”
“Honestly, your suspicions aren’t completely wrong,” Wade said, pushing the steaming tea toward him. “Someone did try to recruit me. But Grindelwald didn’t pressure me. If anything, he actively let me leave with Professor Dumbledore.”
“He did?” Michael said, skeptical.
“Not out of kindness,” Wade replied. “More like… political wisdom. A leader should have at least a minimum of dignity. Though,” he added, “he did once sneak up on me in a supermarket pretending to be an ordinary old man.”
Michael burst out laughing.
No explanation could have been more convincing than that casual, dry remark.
It proved one thing: Wade had not been tortured or controlled.
Michael felt a massive weight lift from his chest.
Friends had been taken. The guilt, the self-blame—Remus wasn’t the only one who’d suffered. Michael and Harry had carried that burden too.
Now, with Wade safe, he finally felt free.
“Besides you guys,” Wade asked, “did anyone else know why I didn’t return on time?”
“No,” Michael said. “Professor Flee told the heads of house you were away for personal reasons. Oh—here’s your schedule.”
He pulled out a parchment, glancing at the dense list of classes. His voice wavered slightly. “You’ve got five classes tomorrow morning. I’ve written down all the assignments from last week… but can you even finish them?”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Wade said calmly. “I already talked to the professors. They said, since I’ve already mastered the basics, missing last week’s assignments isn’t a problem.”
He brushed the parchment lightly. “Besides… I’ve got plenty of time now.”
(End of Chapter)
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