Chapter 480: Silent Shadow Separation Surgery
In the early morning, Wade rose as he always did—just as the sky began to lighten. He opened the window first, then headed to the washroom. When he returned to his room, three or four letters already lay scattered on the desk. Owl Eva perched on the nearby shelf, busily drinking from her bowl.
“Good morning, Mr. Wade Gray,” Dobby said, holding a round tray in the center of the room. “Dobby heard you wake up and came to deliver honey water.”
“Thank you, Dobby,” Wade said, taking the cup. He added, “Your scarf looks lovely.”
Dobby tugged at the bright yellow bear-patterned scarf around his neck, grinning widely. “Mrs. Gray let me pick it myself! I think it’s absolutely brilliant!”
Unlike most House-elves, Dobby wasn’t forbidden from wearing clothing. In the Gray household, Wade’s mother Fiona treated him like a living wardrobe—every childish outfit Wade had once rejected was now purchased by her and worn by Dobby in rotation, one new set each day.
Dobby shared Fiona’s taste completely: he adored bold, flashy clothes—anything colorful and garish, really. The only exception? He always insisted on mismatched socks.
After sipping the honey water, Wade ran two laps around his closet space to stretch his body, then returned to the desk to sort through the letters. By now, several parcels had piled up on the table. A large eagle-owl had taken over Eva’s spot, greedily devouring the owl food from her tray.
Eva was furious—she fluffed her feathers and hunched her shoulders, retreating into the corner of her horn. But when she saw her master appear, she instantly spread her wings and let out a loud, threatening hoot, trying to drive the intruder off her throne.
The eagle-owl ignored her completely. It shot a cautious glance at Wade, then quickly finished the rest of the rations.
“Be generous, my dear,” Wade said, gently stroking Eva’s head. He gave her two handfuls of rations, then tossed another two to the eagle-owl. Finally, he filled a whole plate and placed it by the window, in case any other owls arrived.
The parcel from Machionni arrived as usual, packed with alchemy materials, potion ingredients, and financial reports. Sometimes, when Machionni traveled abroad for business, he’d bring back little trinkets he found interesting.
Without Machionni’s connections, Wade would’ve had to spend a fortune and a great deal of effort just to gather these supplies. For instance, African Tree Snake skin—essential for brewing Polyjuice Potion—was practically a restricted substance in the magical world. It was expensive, scarce, and nearly impossible to obtain legally.
Thanks to Machionni, Wade could keep Polyjuice Potion on hand at all times, even giving unlimited quantities to Mabel whenever needed.
Wade wrote a reply, then moved on to Dreian’s letters. Though the Wizard Purity Party could’ve used the Communication Pea, Dreian preferred writing by hand—perhaps because the act of writing helped him organize his thoughts more clearly.
Dreian never spoke of personal matters. Instead, his letters covered the party’s recent activities (though Wade could already see the news on the Streaming Mirror, Dreian’s accounts were far more detailed and included confidential information), discussed magic theory and video editing techniques, but mostly focused on philosophical matters: the nature and purpose of war, why the idea of wizard supremacy faced resistance even among pure-blood wizards, and the evolving costs and benefits of the party’s current direction.
When Wade replied to Dreian, he always felt a strange mix of exhilaration and a faint tremor—each word he wrote seemed to carry the weight of a spark that might one day ignite a fire in this decaying, stagnant, lifeless magical world.
To prevent these letters from becoming future weapons aimed at himself, Wade always signed them under a pseudonym—Braun—and changed his handwriting so no one could recognize it.
Next came a letter from Gringotts Wizarding Bank, one from Michael, another from Theo, a reply from Professor Mor regarding a question, and then several letters from St. Mungo’s…
Thankfully, thanks to magic, his feather quill could automatically write the replies. Otherwise, Wade doubted he’d survive the day without developing a pea-sized callus on his hand.
He opened the letter from St. Mungo’s.
> Dear Mr. Wade Gray,
> We are delighted to inform you that, following a period of careful treatment and care, your uncle Cornelius Daven’s condition has improved significantly and is now steadily recovering. His health is approaching the standard for discharge.
> If all continues well, Mr. Daven is expected to be released within three days. After discharge, he will only need to take regular medication and perform simple daily care routines to gradually return to normal life.
> If you have any questions about Mr. Daven’s condition or need further information, please do not hesitate to contact us. I am happy to provide any support you may require.
> Wishing you and your family good health and happiness.
> —Therapist Mary Nunez
As Wade read, his feather quill sprang to life, scribbling furiously:
> Dear dear Mary,
> Thank you for your kind and attentive care. This means more to our entire family than words can express…
Of course, Wade had no uncle named Cornelius Daven. The man was a scientist Wade’s father Ferdinand had found—an old man near death, abandoned by his family. Wade had entrusted Remus Lupin with bringing him to St. Mungo’s.
Normally, St. Mungo’s didn’t admit Muggle patients—only those who’d suffered magical harm. But in the end, money always wins.
To make the man eligible for admission, Remus Lupin had cast a mild curse, just enough to simulate magical injury.
Now, the man was about to be discharged. Remus would need to handle the paperwork, and Wade would have to meet him personally—someone who, despite being ordinary, had lived through the wonders of magic.
Wade doubted the man would refuse his invitation. Anyone who’d experienced magic would be utterly enchanted by the world of mystery. And after enduring the terror of watching his body fail, losing control, and spiraling toward death—no one would want to repeat that.
For wizards, true immortality remained out of reach. But there were ways to extend life. And even when death came, potions could make the journey far more dignified and peaceful than a Muggle’s final days.
Wade wrote a reply to Remus Lupin, then glanced at the rest of the mail.
Unsolicited invitations to unknown events, banquet invites from anonymous wizards, requests for alchemy advice, criticisms of his methods, pleas for donations of magical puppets or funds, bold love letters from admirers, and journalists seeking private interviews.
Wade barely glanced at the envelopes. He tossed them aside, then picked up his Rubik’s Magic Puppet and handed it the task of drafting replies.
He headed downstairs for breakfast.
Today’s meal was French-style: Earl Grey tea scented with bergamot, warm milk, whole-grain bread with nut butter, thin crepes, boiled eggs, and a fruit platter.
His mother was spreading nut butter on the bread. When she saw Wade sitting at the table, she handed him the bread and asked, “You’re not planning to go to the Quidditch World Cup, are you? All the news is talking about it.”
Of course, Fiona meant the wizarding news on the Streaming Mirror.
“No time right now,” Wade said. “The early matches aren’t exciting. The real action starts during the qualifiers.”
Ferdinand sipped his coffee. “I thought you said you were going out yesterday.”
“Just visiting a friend,” Wade replied. “Mabel. She’s been haunted by the Silent Shadow for ages. Professor Dumbledore brought in a specialist to see if they can help.”
“Can the Silent Shadow really be cured?” Ferdinand asked, surprised.
“It’s still experimental. We’re hoping it works,” Wade said.
The Gray parents exchanged a glance, then said nothing more.
We’re hoping it works…
It sounded like a faint hope. But no one voiced it aloud—perhaps because saying it might make it true.
“Of course it will,” Fiona said cheerfully. “Kind people are always blessed by heaven. By the way, who’s picking you up?”
“No one,” Wade said, smiling. “I’m going on my own, Mom. I’m fourteen now, and I’ve learned Apparition. It’s just Hogsmeade. Nothing can go wrong.”
Besides, he carried his Cloak Space with him—inside was Mihal. As long as he didn’t run into someone like Gellert Grindelwald, he’d be safe.
Ferdinand paused, then nodded silently. “Just let us know when you get there. Don’t make us worry.”
“I know, Dad,” Wade said.
The Gray home had no anti-Apparition spells. After all, wizards could only Apparate to places they’d been before. As long as no dangerous strangers had been hosted there, the house was safer than the outside world. And with Dobby living there, it was even more secure.
Wade had reported Dobby’s employment to the Ministry of Magic. Now, the Ministry couldn’t tell whether a spell was cast by Wade, Dobby, or Moody when he dropped by—meaning Wade had full freedom to use magic within his own home.
After breakfast, Wade gathered his things, gave a quick spin, and vanished from the room.
In an instant, he appeared in a quiet alleyway in Hogsmeade, beside the Three Broomsticks Inn. Music drifted from inside.
He activated his Communication Pea to inform his parents he was safe, then waited. Moments later, two figures appeared directly in front of the inn’s street—both carrying briefcases.
They stood still, scanning the surroundings.
Wade stepped out of the alley, smiling. “Good morning, Mr. Scamander. Steven Mor.”
Scamander nodded. “Morning, Wade.”
“Oh, Wade!” Steven Mor beamed. “Have you been waiting long?”
“No, I just got here,” Wade said. “Follow me. Lupin’s house is this way.”
“Oh, so I’ll finally get to meet Sirius Black?” Steven Mor said, eyes wide with excitement. “I read about the four of them in the newspaper two years ago. I’ve wanted to meet them ever since!”
Wade shook his head. “Sorry. Sirius Black’s out of town. He hasn’t returned in days.”
Steven Mor’s face fell. His eyebrows drooped, his smile vanished.
Scamander chuckled, watching his assistant’s disappointment with kindness.
They arrived at Remus Lupin’s house soon after. Lupin, Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey were already there. Mabel had been waiting for this moment—her fingers clenched tightly in her robes, her face pale, dark aura practically seeping from her skin as she stared at the old man who might decide her fate.
“Relax, child,” Scamander said gently, crouching down. “We’ll first examine your situation, then choose the safest method. I won’t harm you. Can you trust me?”
Mabel bit her lip, glanced at Dumbledore, then at Lupin, and finally at Wade. She nodded slowly. The dark aura receded.
“Good girl,” Scamander smiled, then led her inside with Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore to assess the Silent Shadow.
“Please, sit,” Lupin invited. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Hot chocolate, Wade?”
He waved his wand, and pastries and drinks floated to the table.
“If the Silent Shadow can be cured,” Steven Mor said nervously, “it would be the first time in history.”
“But I’m still worried it won’t go smoothly,” he added. “After all, the last girl who underwent the separation surgery… she died.”
“In that case,” Lupin said calmly, “if they can’t do it, no one can. So all we can do is trust them—and wait.”
Wade watched as Lupin poured the preparation into his coffee milk, mixing it with carrot juice. He knew Lupin wasn’t as calm as he seemed.
Wade held his drink, untouched. After a pause, he asked, “What if we used Felix Felicis? Would it increase the chances of success?”
“No,” Steven Mor sighed. “I asked Mr. Scamander the same thing. I could get a bottle if needed. He has his own sources.”
“But Mr. Scamander said Felix Felicis doesn’t just bring luck—it also makes people arrogant and reckless.”
“Separating the Silent Shadow demands precision, discipline, and focus. Even the smallest emotional shift could be catastrophic.”
“So he’d rather not rely on magic to grant good fortune. He wants his mind clear, unclouded.”
“Also, Wade,” Lupin added, “Felix Felicis helps you make the correct choice—but not necessarily the one you want to make.”
“Imagine if, in the moment of truth, the creature and the host both die? That might be the most correct choice. But magic would guide the outcome toward that… even if it’s not what you intended.”
“So don’t depend on it, Wade. Use it only in truly necessary situations.”
(End of Chapter)
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