https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-472-Ministry-of-Magic-The-Silent-Ones/13685547/
Chapter 473: The Silent Ones' Bargain
Hermione gripped the Time-Turner tightly.
Though the device had burdened her greatly—each time she slipped back through time to avoid her classmates, to retake classes she’d missed—she had already made up her mind to abandon two subjects.
Yet, when the moment came to hand it over, she still felt a pang of reluctance.
After a pause, under the watchful eyes of the others, she slowly unclasped the device from around her neck and placed it into Bode’s hands.
“Well,” Hermione said with forced lightness, shrugging one shoulder, “to be honest, this thing nearly drove me mad. I can’t imagine how Percy managed to keep his schedule straight.”
“Come with me, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said, rising. “We’ll need to reorganize your timetable. Have you decided which two classes you’d like to drop?”
“Of course,” Hermione replied, following the professor out the door. “Muggle Studies and Divination.”
Professor McGonagall, who had never cared much for Professor Trelawney, smiled approvingly. “A wise choice.”
Once they had departed, Bode carefully suppressed the Time-Turner’s temporal energy and turned his gaze toward Wade.
“Mr. Gray,” he said, “we originally intended to reclaim your Time-Turner as well. But Professor Dumbledore personally vouched for you. He assured us you possess the ability to safeguard your device—and that you truly need it. We heard Mr. Johnson was after your particular one, correct?”
“Yes,” Wade said.
“You fooled him and those vampires with a magical puppet? So they only took a fake?”
“Yes.”
“May I see the puppet?” Bode’s eyes flickered with sudden interest. “A magical construct so lifelike, I’ve never seen one like it.”
“I’m sorry,” Wade said smoothly, “but it’s not convenient right now. I sent it to run an errand. It’s not in the school.”
Bode didn’t seem disappointed. If anything, his expression brightened.
“So it can act independently? That means you don’t worry it’ll cause trouble or wander off. You trust its wisdom and loyalty completely—almost as if it were your own child.”
“But such puppets aren’t for sale at Aslan’s Magical Workshop. This must be your private creation.”
He paused, then asked, “If I wished to commission one of these, how many Galleons would it cost?”
“That’s not a matter of Galleons,” Wade replied diplomatically. “It involves ethical and legal considerations.”
“Let me be frank,” Bode said, his voice turning serious. “I am a member of the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries—the Silent Ones. We conduct dangerous magical research. A puppet like yours could drastically reduce our casualties.”
Wade hesitated, thinking of Rock. “If it’s for research, I’d be willing to help. Truly. But these puppets have independent minds and personalities. To me, they’re like my own children. I can’t bear the thought of them being treated as disposable tools.”
Hearing the softening in his tone, Bode smiled faintly. “We would afford the puppet the same protections we grant our own agents. Its core would be safeguarded. And if it suffered external damage—well, it could be repaired.”
Wade nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“Then, how much would a custom puppet cost?”
Wade mentally calculated, then gave a number without hesitation.
When he heard the six-digit sum, Bode’s smile froze. His expression flickered, stunned.
“This… this is incredibly expensive.”
“It’s not excessive,” Wade said, offering a sympathetic glance. “Consider the price of the puppets sold at the shop. They’re barely fist-sized. You’re asking for one the size of a human, with intelligence indistinguishable from a real person. This price is barely a cost recovery.”
Bode sighed. He had to admit, it was true. But his face remained grim. Fudge didn’t prioritize the Department of Mysteries like past ministers had. There was no way he’d approve such a budget for a ‘toy.’
In comparison, hiring two more real wizards would cost far less.
He studied Wade carefully, then asked, “Mr. Gray… as an accomplished Alchemist, would you be interested in joining the Silent Ones?”
Wade remained silent for a beat, then sighed. He saw the eagerness etched across Bode’s face.
“The Silent Ones?” he repeated, deadpan.
“Yes,” Bode said. “Our department is the only branch of the Ministry that answers to no Legal Enforcement authority. Not even the Minister of Magic can interfere.”
“Because we study the most mysterious, most dangerous magic in existence. The Time-Turner was one of our creations. So are the sciences of Thought, Space, Death, Prophecy… The work we do shapes the world.”
“Only by joining the Silent Ones can you access such research. What do you say? Will you accept?”
Wade met his gaze steadily. “It sounds… incredibly tempting.”
“Of course!” Bode beamed. “Joining us is no simple matter. You’ve earned this chance through your talent. All we ask is a single magical puppet…”
“Wait,” Wade interrupted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Even if you could grant me entry, I haven’t even fully grasped the basics of magic yet. Researching such advanced mysteries would be far too early for me.”
“Hmm…” Bode hesitated. “For a wizard of your age, I’m sure the higher-ups wouldn’t refuse. You could start with reading and organizing information…”
His confidence wavered.
“Let’s talk about it after I graduate,” Wade said with a polite smile. “Then I’ll have a clearer sense of my path.”
The Department of Mysteries was alluring. But in the original timeline, the Silent Ones hadn’t stopped Voldemort from taking over the Ministry. And judging by Bode’s fate, he hadn’t survived long.
They were the mathematicians, theoretical physicists, cosmologists of the magical world—brilliant minds pushing the limits of human understanding. Yet, when it came to the coming war, to protecting lives… they seemed largely ineffective.
Why rush to join such an organization?
He already had professors like Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, Mor—and even Gellert Grindelwald.
Bode stared at the boy’s calm, polite expression, then fell silent. After a moment, he asked, “So… about the puppet?”
Wade blinked innocently. “You mean… you expect me to pay for it myself?”
“Of course not!” Bode flushed slightly, clearing his throat. “I can only secure half the budget. If there were a discount…”
He looked at Wade, then added, “Of course, I won’t let you bear the cost alone. I’ll make it worth your while. Kariel Johnson’s unauthorized use of the Time-Turner will be dropped. We’ll stop pursuing it. And…”
He bit his lip, then said, “I’ll give you an ancient alchemical artifact. It’s broken, yes—but it comes from a tomb so old, its inscriptions are nearly indecipherable. Tremendous research value.”
“What is it?” Wade asked, intrigued.
“A necklace.” Bode tapped the table with his wand. A shimmering image appeared—a string of strange, ancient-looking stones, threaded together. The runes etched into them were unmistakably arcane.
Wade leaned in, preparing to examine it closely—then the image dissolved into mist.
“Deal?” Bode asked.
Wade smiled. “Deal.”
He doubted the necklace was anything special—probably gathering dust in a Ministry warehouse, ignored by all. But he was fascinated by ancient relics.
After all, magic wasn’t always progressive.
While modern wizards had spells for healing, daily conveniences, and curses, ancient ones had access to something deeper.
Long ago—perhaps when gods still walked the earth, when magical energy flowed freely—some wizards had become so powerful they rivaled deities.
In those times, they’d touched the very source of reality. Their creations bore impossible functions.
Creating a magical puppet capable of assisting in research wasn’t something done overnight—especially when Bode wanted it to possess real knowledge and intellectual capacity. That required the Silent Ones themselves to implant thought.
So Wade agreed to deliver the puppet at the final Hogsmeade weekend of the term.
Before then, on a sunny afternoon, he accompanied Mabel to meet Haley.
Haley, adopted by Professor Sprout’s relatives, lived in a Muggle town. When they arrived, they saw a group of children racing down the street, shouting and laughing—playing a game of cops and robbers.
Haley was among them, cheeks flushed, breathless but exhilarated, sprinting through the crowd.
Her vibrant energy was a stark contrast to the pale, fragile girl who had once lived in a dungeon cellar.
Mabel, disguised with Polyjuice Potion, sat on a park bench, watching. After a long silence, she lowered her head and wiped a tear from her eye.
“She looks so happy,” Mabel whispered, smiling. “Let’s go.”
“You’re still a child,” Remus Lupin cautioned. “You could join them. There’s no need to rush.”
“No,” Mabel shook her head. “If I meet her today, she’ll keep looking for me. Every time she passes this place, she’ll wonder where I am. But if she forgets… she’ll be free to live.”
And most importantly, she knew the Silent Ones rarely lived long. Even if she wanted to return, she couldn’t.
Why subject herself—and Haley—to another painful goodbye?
Better to leave now, while the memory was still fresh but not overwhelming.
The girl was young. In time, she might forget.
Mabel’s resolve was firm. Remus and Wade said nothing more.
They stepped into a secluded alley. Remus drew his wand, held it aloft—then, with a loud pop, the Knight Bus materialized from thin air, resembling a giant, purple frog.
Mabel glanced back at Haley, now laughing with friends in the park, then climbed aboard.
The bus shot between two trees in a flash, vanishing into the distance—then reappeared in another city.
Remus paid the fare. Wade quickly cast a charm to anchor both of them to their seats, preventing them from being tossed about by the vehicle’s erratic jumps.
“Magic bus,” Mabel whispered, gripping the rail. “Can it take us anywhere?”
“Across Britain, at least,” Wade said. “How do you use it?”
“Extend your wand and prepare eleven Sickles,” Wade replied, glancing at her. “But honestly, it’s not a comfortable way to travel. You felt it—like riding a washing machine on steroids.”
Mabel chuckled. “Remus took me through the Floo Network once. That was awful too. Do wizards never care about comfort? Magic is so powerful.”
“True,” Wade mused, rubbing his chin. “Portkeys and Apparition hurt. Flying on a broomstick is freezing. Long rides leave you aching. The Flying Carpet is better—but it’s banned in Britain.”
Remus grinned. “Sirius Black has a flying motorbike. When he returns, I’ll get him to take you for a ride.”
“A flying motorbike?” Mabel sighed dreamily. “I’d love that.”
“Of course,” Wade said. “Mr. Scamander will be back soon. He’ll know how to help.”
Even if not, suppressing the Silent Shadow might be enough to slow Mabel’s decline.
Wade studied her pale face, heart aching.
Mabel didn’t believe it would help. But she smiled anyway, nodding brightly.
…
The weather grew hotter. The sun blazed down—yet a thick, dark cloud lingered above Britain, drifting from south to north, east to west, for months on end.
It was the Dementors—out hunting criminals beyond the Ministry’s reach.
Restricted by law, they couldn’t approach humans unless a target was confirmed. So they hovered above cities, siphoning off happiness from afar, lingering only a few hours before moving on.
If they stayed too long, even without touching anyone, those within range would grow hopeless, despairing—some even driven to suicide.
After weeks of drifting, they finally settled beneath a forest, far from towns.
A few hundred meters away, a children’s amusement park echoed with screams and laughter.
The Dementors, unable to resist, stretched their necks and inhaled deeply. Frost spread across the ground.
Aurors on broomsticks watched from a distance. Seeing the Dementors stay at a safe distance, they relaxed, pulling out flasks and sipping.
Then, the frozen grass bent suddenly, forming a series of footprints.
A few Dementors turned toward the source.
And from the air, a figure appeared.
Little Barty Crouch pulled back his hood, smiling.
“Good afternoon, friends.”
(End of Chapter)
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