https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-480-Silent-Shadow-Separation-Surgery/13685562/
Chapter 481: Spirit World
"What if we gave Mabel Felix Felicis?" Wade asked. "Wouldn't that help at all?"
Remus Lupin and Steven Mor exchanged a glance, then both sighed.
"Wade," Remus said gently, his tone laced with affection and quiet understanding. "Mabel’s body hosts the Silent Shadow. If she drinks Felix Felicis, it’s as if the Silent Shadow drinks it too—there’s no way for the potion to distinguish who it’s meant to serve."
Steven Mor offered a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry, Mr. Scamander may be new here, but he’s been preparing for months. Dumbledore sent him letters long ago. He’ll succeed."
He said it to comfort Wade—and himself.
Thick walls and solid doors couldn’t fully contain the magical disturbances. From outside, the three men occasionally heard the howling wind, flashes of intense light, and sharp, crackling sounds like popping peas—unsettling, nerve-wracking.
After a long while, suddenly, a flurry of clattering noises erupted from within, followed by Madam Pomfrey’s scream: "What on earth is happening?"
Remus shot to his feet, rushed to the entrance, then hesitated—fearful that entering would disrupt the treatment.
Wade joined him at the door, gently tapping the wood. "Professor? Is everything alright in there? Do you need us?"
A moment later, the door swung open violently.
Wade and the others stepped inside cautiously.
Dumbledore sat in his armchair, glasses off, fingers pressed to his temples, silent and exhausted.
Scamander stood beside the table, flipping through his notes, muttering under his breath, brows furrowed in deep concentration.
Only Madam Pomfrey remained by Mabel’s side, waving her wand, sending streams of healing light over the girl. But the spells fell like stones into a vast sea—no effect, no change.
The girl who had laughed and spoken just hours ago now lay pale and unconscious in the bed, eyes shut, breath shallow.
"Has the treatment… failed?" Remus whispered, his face draining of color.
He had been Mabel’s supervisor for days, sharing every moment with her. In that time, she had become family. Seeing her like this—lifeless, broken—shattered his heart.
"I… I’m so sorry," Scamander said, looking at him, unable to meet his eyes. "The separation failed… and her condition is worsening rapidly."
"How… how could this happen?" Remus asked, stunned, turning to Dumbledore for answers.
Madam Pomfrey lowered her wand, letting out a long, weary sigh. "At first, it was working. The Silent Shadow was almost detached… but then—"
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses, his blue eyes peering through the lenses at the unconscious girl.
"Remus," he asked calmly, "did you discuss with Mabel why we needed to separate the Silent Shadow?"
"Of course," Remus replied. "She agreed."
He paused, frowning. "But… she hesitated. For a long time. Then she finally said… she’d go along with whatever we decided."
To Remus and the others, separating the Silent Shadow—this dangerous, dark creature—was the only way to restore Mabel’s soul to wholeness and purity. She had no reason to refuse.
The Silent Shadow consumed its host’s life and soul, and had already branded Mabel a wanted criminal in the Ministry’s eyes. She’d been forced into hiding, constantly fearing capture and execution.
And if the creature ever broke free, it could cause massive destruction, endangering countless innocent lives.
Mabel was kind-hearted. After being told the risks, she agreed without resistance. The only sign of unease came the night before—she couldn’t sleep, and in the morning, she’d whispered to Remus: "Remus, if I die… could you take care of Haley? Not much, just… check in on her sometimes."
He’d promised. Then comforted her: "Dumbledore said if this fails, we can pause and try again later. Don’t worry. The worst outcome is just waking up to find everything unchanged."
Remus repeated their conversation quietly, then asked, "Could the failure… be because she was afraid? That she resisted?"
"Likely," Dumbledore said slowly. "Her soul and the Silent Shadow are deeply intertwined. If she isn’t willing, no one inside can pull them apart. Forcing it would only kill her."
"But now," Scamander added, guilt heavy in his voice, "the magic has provoked the Silent Shadow. We’ve contained it—barely—but its consumption rate has accelerated."
Remus didn’t speak. He stepped to the bed, staring at Mabel’s face—pale as paper, lips devoid of color.
Just an hour ago, she’d been alive, vibrant. Now, her life force had visibly drained, fading fast.
He couldn’t bring himself to blame Dumbledore or Scamander. He knew, deep down, that if it were him, he couldn’t have done better.
He only blamed himself—for pushing Mabel to undergo this magic. He’d wanted her to live openly, freely in the world. But he’d forgotten the danger.
He’d been too hopeful.
Remus sank slowly into the chair beside the bed, afraid to touch her—so fragile, like porcelain. His fingers trembled.
Wade watched, then gently touched the stone necklace in his pocket. A sudden, heavy sensation—fate—settled over him.
"Wade," Dumbledore said. "Now’s the time to use the gold powder. Let’s stabilize Mabel’s time flow first, then try other options."
"I brought it." Wade pulled out a crystal vial and placed it on the table. Inside, golden powder glimmered, glowing even in the dim light—strikingly similar to the substance in a Time-Turner’s hourglass.
"Also, Professor," Wade added, "I’d like to try speaking to Mabel… in her Spirit World. To convince her to let go of the Silent Shadow."
"How?" Dumbledore asked calmly. "You saw—she’s unconscious. She can’t hear you."
"I know," Wade said. "But I mean… I’ll go into her Spirit World. Speak to her there."
He pulled out the stone necklace, explained its function quickly, then said, "Haley might be even more effective—but she’s an ordinary person. I worry she wouldn’t survive the magic."
"Unnecessary concern," Dumbledore replied. "Whether Muggle or wizard, the soul is equally resilient. And time is running out. We can’t afford repeated failures."
Dumbledore took the necklace, examined it, then uncorked the vial. With delicate, precise movements, he let the golden powder fall across Mabel’s skin.
Almost instantly, the werewolf’s sharp senses detected it—her breath and heartbeat slowed to near stillness.
"That buys us time," Dumbledore said, looking at Wade and Remus. "Remus, Wade—go find Haley. Explain the situation. Try to persuade her to help."
"Understood." They left immediately.
"Um…" Steven Mor stood at the entrance, hesitant. "Can I… help in any way?"
"Of course," Dumbledore said, twirling the necklace around his fingers. He looked into Steven’s honest, wide eyes. "Steven Mor, would you allow me to visit your Spirit World?"
"Uh… what?" Steven blinked, confused.
"I want to test the necklace’s effect," Dumbledore explained. "There’s no trace of dark magic on it, but to confirm its safety, I must experience the world firsthand."
To enter Mabel’s Spirit World and convince her to release the Silent Shadow, she needed someone she truly trusted. Haley, though close to Mabel, was too fragile—she couldn’t risk her life on such a mission.
And someone had to accompany her inside.
Though Remus had known Mabel longer, Dumbledore believed Wade had greater influence. To Mabel, Remus was a supervisor—a reliable elder. But Wade was a friend who had died for her, someone she had fought to save. That bond carried weight.
Could Wade enter his own Spirit World safely? Yes. But could he and Haley enter Mabel’s without danger?
Would the Silent Shadow attack them?
If they were attacked, could they be pulled back in time?
These questions needed testing.
Among those present, Steven Mor’s Spirit World was the simplest—making him the ideal candidate.
He didn’t overthink it. He only remembered his past embarrassments, feeling a little awkward. But thinking of the life at stake, he hesitated only briefly before agreeing.
"Okay. How do I do it?"
"Sit down. Give me your hand."
Dumbledore wrapped the necklace like a cuff around both their wrists.
Then he turned to Scamander. "Watch closely. If anything goes wrong, wake us immediately."
Scamander nodded solemnly.
Dumbledore recited the spell Wade had taught him.
As soon as the incantation ended, Steven Mor’s head lolled sideways—he fell asleep instantly.
So did Dumbledore, his head drooping, breathing slow and even.
Scamander watched for a moment, then stood and cast protective charms around the room. He returned to his seat, eyes fixed on the two sleeping figures.
Madam Pomfrey stayed by Mabel, administering potions at intervals, her brow furrowed with worry.
…
Dumbledore stood on a path of smooth stones, eyes widening as the world around him shifted.
Beside him, Steven Mor looked around, amazed. "Is this… my Spirit World?"
Unlike Wade’s endless corridor, Steven’s Spirit World was a garden—lush, peaceful, and eerily familiar. It resembled the one at the Mor estate.
But here, trees hung with crystal fruits the size of fists, and flower beds bore clusters of glowing crystal balls. The air shimmered with quiet magic.
They walked for a while, and as they passed, each crystal ball displayed fragments of Steven’s memories—random, unstructured.
One tree held his infant self babbling nonsense. Another showed him reading books at school. Another, him tending to magical creatures.
Whenever Steven touched a ball, the memory flared vividly in his mind. He laughed at his younger self’s foolishness.
Dumbledore paused before a crystal ball showing a baby Steven, smiling faintly.
Then he said, "Steven Mor. Try to feel hostile toward me."
"Uh… what?" Steven blinked, then understood. He focused, imagining Dumbledore as his most hated enemy.
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the garden.
The crystal balls clattered together, their voices rising in pitch.
Dumbledore staggered—then, without warning, he was thrown back into the room.
He opened his eyes to find Scamander staring at him.
"How do you feel?"
"Pushed out," Dumbledore said, closing his eyes. "But no harm done."
"I’m sorry, Professor," Steven murmured, waking up. "I don’t even know how it happened… Was the test a success?"
Dumbledore paused, then shook his head. "Not quite. Your Spirit World is too peaceful. Even hostility felt weak. It doesn’t compare to the real threat—the Silent Shadow."
"I think we need to try again," he said. "Has Remus returned?"
Before he could finish, the door burst open.
Haley stepped in, wrapped in a small cloak, voice trembling. "Where’s Mabel?"
…
The necklace wrapped around Dumbledore and Remus Lupin’s wrists. Remus shifted uncomfortably—his chair suddenly felt like a spiked beast beneath him.
"Sorry, Remus," Dumbledore said, just before the spell began.
Remus paused, then smiled. "For Mabel… I’ll do anything."
Moments later, both men fell into deep sleep.
—This is my Spirit World?
Remus looked around, stunned.
A maze. Endless, twisting paths. He stood at a fork, uncertain which way to go.
Dumbledore was gone—likely exploring another part.
Then he noticed mirrors embedded in the walls—dozens of them, different sizes.
He stepped closer. In one, he saw versions of himself from different ages.
He walked a little further—then froze.
In a mirror tarnished with greenish copper rust, he saw his younger self in bed. His mother leaned over, blowing out the candles, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"Good night, Remus," she smiled.
"Good night," the child whispered.
She left, the lamp in her hand. Outside, a shadow darted past the window.
Then, a face pressed against the glass—rough, monstrous, grinning with sharp teeth.
Remus suddenly understood.
"No… no!"
He lunged forward, hand reaching for the mirror—then plunged through.
The werewolf burst through the window, passing through his own body without resistance, seizing the terrified boy in the bed and sinking his fangs into his neck.
"Die!" Remus roared, firing a spell without thought.
He didn’t realize he’d already stepped out of the mirror. He didn’t see the werewolf—Greyback—now standing in the corridor behind him.
The spell’s light lashed toward the creature. The entire maze trembled. A crushing, oceanic pressure surged—overwhelming—until the werewolf vanished.
Remus collapsed, trembling, gasping for air. Before he could react, the maze shattered.
He woke, shivering violently.
"Relax, Remus. Relax," Dumbledore said, gripping his shoulders. "It’s over. You’re safe."
Remus panted, staring up at him, his eyes slowly clearing.
"...You?"
"It was me."
Dumbledore nodded. Seeing Remus’s magic finally calm, he released him.
"I’m sorry."
This time, Remus understood.
It wasn’t just that Dumbledore had shown him painful memories.
It was that, before entering, Dumbledore had planned to become Greyback—to test whether the Spirit World would harm a soul it deemed an enemy.
Remus sat in silence, heart heavy. He wanted to scream. But words wouldn’t come.
He touched his neck, his eyes dimming.
(End of Chapter)
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