https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-472-Ministry-of-Magic-The-Silent-Ones/13685547/
Chapter 471: Mantis Catching Cicadas
The slope was similar—lush green grass sprouting tenderly across the field; the farm was the same: cattle and sheep grazing, and chickens and ducks of all sizes scratching through the softening soil in search of insects and seeds.
Annie Johnson, who had initially been flustered by the unfamiliar surroundings, gradually relaxed as she recognized the familiar scenery. She sat on the wooden planks surrounding the house, cradling a plump, sleepy cat in her arms. Her white-streaked hair fell forward, catching the sunlight like strands of glowing silver.
The Forgetfulness Charm had deeply affected her mind, yet paradoxically, it had also brought her a strange sense of peace.
Wade watched her, a complex mix of emotions stirring within him.
Beside him, the farmer and his wife took the potion Dumbledore handed them, smiling and nodding. “Don’t worry, Professor Dumbledore,” the man said. “We’ll treat her like family—make sure she takes her medicine on time.”
“She’ll be Annie Bool from now on,” Dumbledore said. “And as for the rest—since she’s forgotten, there’s no need for her to remember.”
The couple nodded again, their smiles warm. Nearby, their two young children played and chased each other across the grass.
Annie Bool’s vacant gaze slowly shifted toward the children. Her eyes softened, fixed on them with quiet intensity. A single tear slipped down her cheek, unnoticed.
…
“The Bool family are both Muggle-born,” Dumbledore explained to Wade as they returned to Hogwarts. “Kind and generous. Nikla Bool Home has been run by the family since the time of her great-great-grandfather.”
“Wait,” Wade said. “So this is an official farm for Hogwarts?”
“I assumed it was just supplied through ordinary Muggle markets,” he added.
“Sometimes we do,” Dumbledore replied with a gentle smile. “But we usually don’t. For one thing, it reduces the risk of exposing the school’s location.”
Wade raised an eyebrow. “So it’s about security?”
“Partly,” Dumbledore admitted. “But more importantly, we can carry everything back in a single Serpent Skin Pouch. If we used a Muggle farm, we’d need to hire several trucks. And how would we explain all that cargo vanishing in an instant?”
Wade nodded thoughtfully. “Even trucks would be suspicious. You’d need a transfer warehouse—otherwise the driver would notice something’s off.”
“Exactly,” Dumbledore sighed. “Wizards often overlook such details. Especially since some places have started installing cameras… Once exposed, we’d have to evacuate in a panic.”
Wade nodded. “But we can’t just move the entire castle.”
The thought of a future where every person carried a camera in their pocket, and satellites constantly surveilled the earth, made him shudder—imagining the agony of wizards trying to preserve secrecy in such a world.
He changed the subject, finally voicing the thought he’d been turning over in his mind.
“Professor… Mrs. Johnson can manage basic daily life, but her mental capacity is that of a child. Caring for her at home won’t be easy. I’d like to give the couple a monthly care allowance. What do you think?”
Dumbledore regarded him with a soft, approving look. “Of course. You’re being very thoughtful. But I’m curious—why do you want to do this? Is it because of your friendship with young Mr. Johnson? Or… guilt?”
Wade paused, considering. Then he said, “…Perhaps a mix of sympathy. And… the feeling of ‘like unto myself.’ What happened to Kariel… it could have just as easily happened to me. I was just luckier.”
Even as a time traveler, he wasn’t certain he could fully grasp the truth of this world.
But he was fortunate—the people here were much like their original counterparts, making it easier for him to discern good from evil, and to master his own fate.
Still, he had read some fanfiction before—though he couldn’t recall the exact plots, fragments lingered in his memory:
- That Dumbledore was, in fact, the mastermind behind everything, weaving a web of deception.
- That Voldemort hadn’t died at Harry’s hands, and under his rule, Hogwarts had become a grim, lawless Gotham.
Dumbledore had no idea Wade’s mind was constructing a portrait of him as a cunning, ruthless white tyrant. He simply smiled, pleased.
“I’m glad you’re not consumed by anger or hatred, Wade. But if the roles were reversed, I believe you’d handle it far more wisely.”
Wade smiled, though inwardly he wondered—was there really a “right” way?
From Kariel’s perspective, the choice might have been stark: either let guilt consume him and gamble everything to save his mother, or accept the tragedy, carry the pain of loss, and keep moving forward.
…
“Aucto Etor Aroth!”
In the forest, Lockhart waved his wand, and a ripple of invisible force exploded outward. The dry leaves and bushes trembled.
“Done,” Lockhart said, lowering his wand. “Now the Aurors won’t track us easily.”
Garr said nothing. Exhausted, he sighed and walked to the stream, rinsing his hands and face in the icy water. The cold cleared his head.
Lockhart joined him, crouching beside the water. “I never thought you’d come back to rescue me, Garr. When those vampires caught me… I thought I was done for.”
So did I, Garr thought.
He hadn’t expected to escape. When he broke free, he’d brought Lockhart along and even helped him steal a wand—because at the time, he believed the wooden house was surrounded. He’d even thought Dumbledore might be outside.
As a powerless vampire, facing such ruthless wizards, he felt utterly helpless. So he’d planned to throw Lockhart into the path of danger—use him as a shield.
After all, Garr had only smuggled a few Ministry-prohibited items. Lockhart, by contrast, had erased the memories of over a dozen wizards—far worse.
But surprisingly, they’d escaped without a hitch. Now, seeing Lockhart so full of gratitude, Garr couldn’t bring himself to expose his selfish plan. He nodded, accepting the thanks, and asked, “How does the wand feel?”
“Not as good as my old one, but it’s workable,” Lockhart said, waving it. “It doesn’t resist me.”
“That’s good,” Garr said, standing. “We’re not safe yet. Dementors could be summoned at any moment. We need to keep running.”
“Agreed,” Lockhart said without hesitation.
Since nearly dying at the hands of vampires, he’d been driven by urgency. And though he ached from the ribs, the long run hadn’t tired him much.
After a quick drink of water, they pressed deeper into the forest.
Minutes later, a massive black dog—bear-like in size—appeared behind them, sniffing through bushes and grass patches. Its paws made no sound on the earth.
Not long after, a cloaked figure in tattered robes followed the same path. A gray mouse leapt over tree roots, darting forward with lightning speed, pausing now and then to look back, waiting.
“Not anxious,” the figure murmured, as if speaking to itself—or to the mouse. “If those two learn Peter Pettigrew is dead, my appearance would expose me. I must wait for the right moment… a moment they can’t explain.”
“Squeak!” The mouse stood upright on a branch, front paws tucked close to its chest, tiny voice high and clear. “Should we let Sirius Black meet them?”
“Of course not,” the figure said. “If he shows interest, you’ll lead him away.”
“Got it!” The mouse replied, then vanished into the underbrush, vanishing like a shadow.
The figure glanced back toward Hogwarts, then slowly followed the path.
It remembered its creation—its master once had a plan. One that would create the appearance of Peter Pettigrew’s death, while delivering a devastating emotional blow to Voldemort.
But then… the master had never spoken of it again.
Perhaps Voldemort had disappeared for too long. Perhaps the master had changed his mind.
Now, before this mission, no new orders had come. It had to decide on its own.
But that wasn’t unfamiliar. It had time. And it never lacked patience.
Rock touched its eyes, its expression unchanged—calm, still, as always.
(End of Chapter)
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