Chapter 477: Stone Necklace
Injecting thought into a Magic Puppet was no easy Mastery, but Bode had once been an outstanding graduate of Ravenclaw. He had achieved "Exceeds Expectations" in multiple N.E.W.T.-level courses, so in the end, he succeeded without too much difficulty.
The Magic Puppet slowly opened its eyes. At first, its expression remained blank, then gradually softened—carrying a quiet, solitary melancholy that made it eerily reminiscent of Bode himself.
Bode waved his hand in front of it. When the Puppet stared back blankly, as if utterly bewildered, Bode withdrew his hand, slightly tense. “Hello? Do you know who I am?”
"Master," the Magic Puppet said slowly.
"Alright!" Bode pressed on. "Explain the potential risks of irreversible transformation... Oh, and tell me the seven components of Spatial Magic, plus the Calculation Formula for Constructing Magical Space."
Wade glanced at Bode, giving a subtle nod in approval.
The first question was standard for an N.E.W.T. exam—basic academic water. But the other two? They were far beyond what any school curriculum could offer. They might even be the kind of knowledge only a select few in the Department of Mysteries possessed.
Bode was using this test to gauge just how much of his own knowledge the Puppet had truly inherited.
After the Magic Puppet answered each question flawlessly, Bode nearly jumped with joy.
"Did you hear that, Wade? He knows it all! Better than I even expected—more coherent, too! Merlin’s beard, this is exactly what I’d imagined the perfect Magic Puppet to be!"
"You’re satisfied," Wade said, arms crossed against the wall, smiling. "So, shall we give him a name?"
Bode had clearly already decided. Without hesitation, he said, "Caspien."
Wade considered. "Lihai?"
"Yeah," Bode said eagerly. "Also means 'Guardian of Gemstones.' He’ll be a giant help for our research."
Wade gestured for Bode to step aside, then leaned in and spoke quietly. "I should caution you, Mr. Bode. Though Caspien was created to assist your work, you mustn’t treat him harshly."
Bode nodded. "I understand. He’s like a child to you, isn’t he? Rest assured—I’ll treat him with care."
"Not just that," Wade corrected. "We never sell custom, large-scale Magic Puppets—not because we can’t, but to prevent unfortunate incidents."
"Unfortunate incidents?" Bode frowned.
Wade looked him straight in the eye. "Mr. Bode, can you guarantee your own thoughts will never betray you?"
Bode wanted to say "No" instantly—but after a long pause, he shook his head.
He’d seen things in the Department of Mysteries that defied belief. He’d heard about the bizarre cases handled by Ministry colleagues. He was acutely aware: human thoughts were endlessly complex. Even within a single person, reason clashed with desire, morality with emotion. Every mind harbored contradictions—constantly denying, even betraying, itself.
"Exactly," Wade said. "That’s the problem. For commercially sold Magic Puppets, we impose strict safeguards to ensure they cannot harm or betray their masters. But you asked for a high degree of intelligence, so I had to loosen some of those restrictions. That means... he might not be entirely loyal."
"Could he betray me?" Bode asked, his face paling.
"Not easily," Wade said. "He’s like a child you raise yourself. He’ll grow into whatever you nurture. Most children don’t betray their parents—but if you constantly abuse, harm him, feed him only negative emotions... I can tell you, a Magic Puppet’s loyalty won’t be higher than a House-elf’s."
Bode had been deeply worried, but now he relaxed slightly. "I understand... Wade, even if you don’t trust my character, at least trust my wallet. I don’t have another Galleon to buy a new Magic Puppet."
He joked, shrugging. "So, of course, I’d never hurt him."
"In fact," Wade added, "even House-elves have never been punished by me. I know some of my colleagues find it amusing—but I’ve never done it. It feels cruel."
"Cruel?" Wade blinked. "What do they do?"
Bode shook his head. "Don’t ask. You don’t want to know. Anyway, thank you for your help with our research. Here’s the agreed-upon payment—along with the necklace."
He placed a leather pouch on the table, opened it, and plunged his arm in, rummaging around. Then he pulled out several heavy pouches and set them down. Finally, he revealed an old, weathered wooden box.
Wade opened it first. Inside, a black velvet cushion cradled the Stone Necklace. Compared to the soft, warm glow emanating from the stones, it looked as if a mischievous child had hastily strung it together.
He cast a few Detection Charms—confirming it wasn’t a dangerous Dark Magic artifact—then carefully lifted the necklace for closer inspection.
The flat stones varied in size and shape. To Wade, they reminded him of Fiona’s collection of mismatched metal buttons. Both sides of each stone bore ancient runes he couldn’t decipher. He asked directly, “Do you know what these runes mean?”
“My colleagues deciphered them,” Bode said. “They believe it’s an ancient spell—something like this—” He held the necklace, murmuring under his breath: “Ou Mai Gen, Fa Da, Te Ai A Mo Gen, Pull You Ta, Niu Pu Lang A You Ta…”
He chanted a string of syllables. The necklace flickered with a faint light—then dimmed just as quickly, like a bulb running out of power.
“See?” Bode said, sighing. “Too much time has passed. We’ve only managed this much. We couldn’t find a way to restore its magic.”
He paused, then added quickly, “But in ancient times, it was likely a protective or healing magical artifact.”
Wade took the necklace, studying it closely.
Bode rummaged through the bag again and pulled out a thin, worn notebook. “Here’s our old research notes. Take them too—they might help you.”
Wade raised an eyebrow. “I thought research from the Department of Mysteries couldn’t be shared?”
Though no one knew for sure whether it had ever happened, there was an unspoken rule: information from the Department was strictly confidential. The Silent Ones rarely spoke of their work to outsiders.
Bode laughed. “This isn’t the kind of thing that needs secrecy. After all, this necklace… well…”
“The importance isn’t that great,” Wade finished for him, knowing the rest was too awkward to say.
Bode exhaled in relief. “Exactly.”
Wade flipped through the notes, focusing on the parts he could understand—the analysis written by the Silent Ones. Eventually, he grasped the gist.
The runes, they concluded, were likely a spell to heal mental wounds or shield the mind from external harm. In ancient times, people faced many dangers—powerful Dark Magic creatures that didn’t harm the body, but devoured souls. Wizards also used far more sinister spells than the Imperius Curse to attack one another. So they wore special protective items.
But over time, most of those creatures vanished—now mere legends. And after centuries, the necklace had faded, its magic reduced to little more than a dim, flickering glow.
Wade looked up. Bode was watching him, eyes flickering with quiet guilt.
“Well,” Wade said, smiling, “I’ll keep the necklace. I’ve been researching thought-related magic lately.”
“That kind of magic is dangerous,” Bode warned. “Unless you have Professor Dumbledore’s permission, don’t go meddling with it.”
“I know,” Wade said, stowing both the Galleons and the necklace away. “Nice transaction. I should head back to school.”
He said goodbye to Bode, gave Caspien a nod, then turned and left the room.
The Magic Puppet, Caspien, had remained silent, sitting in his chair, observing the exchange. Only after Bode saw the young wizard off did he finally raise his eyes—fixing them on the one who had created him.
“Boom!”
The wooden door shut behind them. Bode turned. Caspien instantly returned to his emotionless, still state.
…
For the next few days, Wade devoted himself to studying the necklace.
He’d only just recovered from a recent mental assault, and his vigilance against thought-based magic had never been higher.
Dumbledore had fixed the immediate problem—but what if someone else ever used the Brain Chamber to manipulate minds across the world? An invisible command, broadcast to all?
Well, even Voldemort probably couldn’t pull that off. But if the chamber only needed to influence a handful of people… the effect would be stronger, harder to detect.
If he could restore the necklace—or learn the magic hidden in its runes—he might no longer be so defenseless.
The Department of Mysteries considered it worthless. But Wade didn’t.
When he used Second Sight, he saw that the runes around the necklace still formed an almost perfect pattern. The ancient script was mesmerizing. But the power was gone.
The same rune sequence, carved into the same stone, would do nothing whether on a gemstone necklace or a metal one. The magic only worked when cast properly—by the right spell.
Bode’s incantation? Wade had perfectly reconstructed it. The necklace lit up for two seconds—then nothing.
Then he noticed something: the runes weren’t a linear sequence. They formed a loop. That meant the beginning Bode had recited might not be the true start. The spell could begin at any point in the sequence.
And there were no indications on the necklace for how to pronounce it—where to stretch a syllable, where to emphasize, where to pause. These nuances would drastically affect the outcome.
Trying to brute-force all possible combinations, Wade calculated tens of thousands of possible ways to chant it.
After days of work, using the Time-Turner to test patterns, he had to admit it: the Silent Ones were right. This was a waste of time.
If he spent that time trying to recreate the spell himself, he might actually make progress.
With a shrug, he placed the necklace back on the shelf and exited the closet space.
Moments later, a shadowy figure drifted in.
The Cloak lifted the necklace, pretending it had a head. It slipped it around its neck, tugging the collar to hold it in place. Then, smugly, it floated out.
Just then, the Rubik’s Magic Puppet—currently working on space renovations—spotted it. It hovered in front of the figure, annoyed. “You’re supposed to be cleaning the book storage room. What are you doing here?”
“Look!” The Cloak proudly displayed its new “necklace.”
“Put it back! Now!” The broomstick slapped the Cloak twice. “This is something Master values. What if you break it?”
“It’s just a quick look! It can’t break!” The Cloak dodged the broom, laughing. “Besides, Master didn’t even put it back in the box today.”
The Rubik’s Magic Puppet sighed, turning away to continue its work.
But the Firebird Mihal, drawn by the noise, flew over curiously.
The two began bickering—laughing, shoving, playing. The necklace wasn’t secured properly. It slipped, fell with a soft clink onto the floor.
“Ah!” The Cloak cried.
“It wasn’t me!” The broomstick zipped away.
“It’s fine! It just fell,” the Cloak said, using its lower edge to nudge the necklace. “It’s still whole.”
Just then, Mihal suddenly leaned down and pecked at the stones.
A red light pulsed across the necklace—flickering like it was melting.
The Cloak froze. Without another word, it grabbed the necklace and shoved it back onto the shelf.
Crack!
A soft, sharp sound. One end of the necklace jolted, striking something beneath it. The object cracked open instantly.
The Magic Puppets stared at each other. Then, in an instant, they scattered—racing out, desperate to avoid responsibility.
…
Back in the castle, Wade wandered the corridors, checking his end-of-term academic results. As expected, every course had earned top marks.
The fifth-year and seventh-year exams were over. Students were in a state of carefree celebration.
The Final Feast remained as lavish as ever—satisfying every hunger, every craving.
Of course, Wade had to return the Time-Turner to Professor McGonagall.
Sometimes he hoped she’d forget. But when he asked, he learned she didn’t even have the authority to keep it. During the holidays, it had to be sent back to the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries.
“It’s just a learning aid,” Percy said, in a tone of seasoned advice. “Useful, yes—but don’t grow attached. You’ve proven your brilliance by taking all courses at once. But don’t make a mistake over something so small. Don’t try to exploit loopholes in the law.”
Wade said nothing.
When he finally returned to his dorm, covered in the scent of food, he stepped into the closet space—only to find several Magic Puppets lined up, waiting to be scolded.
(End of Chapter)
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