Chapter 467: Named Rock
As for how Kariel would be punished, Wade didn’t intervene.
Age was Kariel’s greatest amulet.
Just as Dumbledore had patiently waited during his time at school, hoping he’d wake up and turn back—so too would the Ministry of Magic hesitate to send a thirteen-year-old to Azkaban.
For a wizard, expulsion from school and the breaking of one’s wand was already a severe punishment.
Of course, acquiring a secondhand wand wasn’t difficult—but this penalty also meant the Ministry would prohibit Kariel from using magic entirely, forbidding him to possess a wand. Should he be caught with one, he’d face further consequences.
Like Hagrid, who with his wealth could easily buy a hundred wands, had once been forced to hide his wand inside a ridiculous, faded red rain umbrella.
Wade didn’t linger on Kariel. He suppressed his wand and descended the stairs. In the bustling hall, wizards couldn’t help but glance his way—some even ran over to shake his hand and introduce themselves.
Before long, Wade found himself holding several slender, pod-like objects. These were the equivalent of magical business cards, encoding a wizard’s name and a unique magical signal.
By placing one of these “pods” beside his own communication pea for three seconds, Wade could record its signal. From then on, simply pressing the pea and speaking the other’s name would allow them to communicate across distances.
It took him nearly fifteen minutes before he finally left the dim, wooden house and stepped outside.
Beside a desolate vegetable garden, Kingsley stood speaking with one of his Aurors.
“…Imprisoned, no bail allowed. We need more evidence. We must trace the identities of these vampires, locate their nest…”
When Kingsley spotted Wade, he clapped his subordinate on the back, gave him instructions, then walked over.
“Hello, Wade.” A faint smile touched his usually serious face. “The Sunlight Charm was excellent.”
“Thank you.” Wade replied. “The vampire who escaped…”
“Confirmed by your message,” Kingsley said. “He was indeed Garr Troke, the one who broke out of Azkaban. And the person he took from the storage room—though his appearance has changed drastically—there’s little doubt it’s another escapee: Gilderoy Lockhart.”
“Never thought the two of them would still be together,” Wade said matter-of-factly. “Then Peter Pettigrew is likely with them… or at least maintaining contact.”
Kingsley nodded. “The rat vanished completely after his escape. These two are our only leads. But if Peter Pettigrew is cautious, he might’ve abandoned them and gone into hiding alone.”
No, Wade thought. Peter Pettigrew would go to Voldemort—if he’s still alive.
He smiled slightly. “If they prove useless, we can always capture them later. As long as the tracking charm hasn’t failed… or been discovered.”
“Don’t worry,” Kingsley said. “It can’t be detected. Hesia used a very obscure spell—Lockhart wouldn’t know it. I asked several professors who taught him before; they all said Lockhart cared more about fame than learning magic. He only ever studied the parts he liked.”
Once Kingsley departed, Wade pressed the communication pea in his left ear and whispered, “Dreian?”
A moment later, a voice answered, “Wade Gray.”
“25 Milltown Street. They want to bring me there.”
“Understood.”
“Thanks.”
“No need to thank me. Professor Gellert Grindelwald is also very interested in these homes.”
The conversation ended. Wade removed the pea and turned to look at the magical puppet trailing behind him like a shadow.
The face he saw every day in the mirror now stood behind him as a separate being—strange, unsettling.
“Change your appearance,” Wade said. “You haven’t noticed how strange people look at you?”
The puppet shrugged. “Their gazes mean nothing to me.”
Still, his form shifted subtly—slightly shorter, broader in the frame beneath his robes, his black hair turning brown, his gray eyes deepening into dark blue.
After walking a few steps, the puppet looked like an ordinary student—nothing like Wade at all.
The path into the village remained as quiet as before. Without Kariel around, Wade no longer needed to speak in hushed tones.
“Lockhart and Garr Troke have finally surfaced. It’s time for your resurrection, Peter Pettigrew.” Wade whispered. “As long as the three of you are together, no one can doubt one of you is fake.”
The Magic Puppet—Peter Two—nodded. “I’ll find the right moment to meet up with them.”
“Did you bring the rat?” Wade asked.
Peter Two nodded, sliding his hand into his pocket—then deeper, into his stomach—and pulled out a gray, balding mouse missing one toe.
The creature flicked its ears, scanned the area with alert eyes, then lay still on Peter Two’s palm.
This mouse was no ordinary rodent. It was one of Wade’s alchemical artifacts—small in body, vast in wisdom, intelligent enough to rival the real Peter Pettigrew.
Peter Pettigrew was a world-famous Animagus, but Peter Two couldn’t truly transform into a mouse. Wade had used magical materials far exceeding the scale of a rodent.
Peter Two could alter his appearance, even grow larger and more imposing—essentially shifting from solid to hollow form. But he could only compress to the size of a seven- or eight-year-old child. He couldn’t shrink down to the size of a mouse that could rest in a palm.
So when he needed to become an Animagus, the real mouse had to step in—while Peter Two hid or activated an invisibility spell.
“Only fools would be fooled by this trick,” Wade instructed. “It won’t deceive a true wizard. Be cautious.”
“Yes,” Peter Two replied.
“Also—” Wade opened his palm, revealing two dark, lifeless eyes. “These are new eyes I made for you. They can’t change color, but they might prove useful in a pinch.”
Peter Two took them, carefully removed his old eyes, and inserted the new ones.
The eyes rolled in their sockets, rotating in different directions, before finally settling into place with a soft click.
When he looked up at Wade, his gaze had dimmed—no longer sharp, no longer gleaming with that cold, intelligent light.
Ahead, the lively street lay just beyond an alley, dotted with students hurrying to and fro.
Wade stopped. He looked at Peter Two. “Go. I hope you succeed.”
But Peter Two didn’t leave immediately. He lowered his voice. “Master… I have a request.”
Wade blinked in surprise. Then, “Speak.”
“I’d like you to give me a new name.” The puppet said. “Peter Pettigrew was a cowardly, vile man. I don’t want to be called Peter Two forever. Even if no one else knows, I want a name of my own—real, authentic.”
Wade paused. Then suddenly asked, “Has this been your thought all along… or did it just come to you now?”
The puppet hesitated, then confessed, “I’ve never liked being called Peter Two. But I only found the courage to ask you now, during the preparation for departure.”
Wade stared at those eyes—crafted from non-living matter, yet somehow revealing a quiet, earnest sincerity.
He smiled. “You’re right… Peter Two is too casual. Let me think…”
His gaze swept over the puppet, lingered on the distant mountains and forests, then settled on the pale gray rock beneath their feet, the earth itself.
“…Rock. How about that? A name meaning rock—symbolizing strength, resilience.”
“Rock?” The puppet’s plain face broke into a smile. “I like it.”
…
25 Milltown Street was, in truth, an abandoned villa on the outskirts, long uninhabited.
Its former master—entirely missing for over a decade—had died without wounds, without signs of illness. The mysterious nature of the death had fueled rumors that still lingered today.
Locals claimed the house was haunted, that restless spirits still wandered its halls. No one dared approach.
But for the past few days, someone had seen strange figures appearing and vanishing suddenly around the property—sometimes accompanied by bats circling overhead. The town had quietly accumulated a handful of exaggerated ghost stories.
Now, the story’s authors—men in the shadows—had rigged the building with explosives and set up heavy weaponry, all aimed at the blazing fireplace where a spell still burned. They’d waited a full day.
“Majer Byerd’s been dragging his feet,” someone inside muttered. “Is this operation really going to fail?”
The leader glanced at his watch. “Wait five more minutes. If they don’t show, we leave.”
Just as he spoke, the front door exploded outward.
Three figures stood in the entrance—before anyone could see their faces, they all shouted in unison:
“Akayas-Tomio!”
(End of Chapter)
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