https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-492-Reconstructing-the-Worldview/13685575/
Chapter 491: Magic Does Not Exist
"Can I take the Broomstick?" Rubik's Magic Puppet asked again. "Without it, our mobility is too limited. Tracking or escaping would be inconvenient."
Wade thought about it and nodded. "Sure."
"Wow, I'm finally going outside too?" The Broomstick was overjoyed, bursting out in a flash.
Seeing that today’s Master was unusually lenient, Rubik's Magic Puppet raised one claw and cautiously asked, "Can we take Mihal too? Keeping it locked up at home all the time feels like a waste. And you know, Master—you and I both know we don’t have a way to destroy a Horcrux."
Wade raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Since its creation, Mihal had only been let out a few times. The reason was simple: this Inferno Flame-born bird was far too dangerous for anyone else.
The Inferno Flame could burn anything flammable, and the more it burned, the stronger it grew. While not entirely uncontrollable, it was extremely difficult to manage. Few wizards could truly master it.
Theoretically, if Mihal lost control, one single breath of fire could incinerate an entire city.
Under Wade’s unusually sharp gaze, Rubik's Magic Puppet lowered its claw sheepishly, chuckling nervously. "Guess that’s a no… How about the Cloak? Uh… well, of course the Cloak has to stay behind too. Can’t have no one left to do the work."
Rubik's Magic Puppet dragged Lock toward the window, waving a claw. "Well then, goodbye, Master! We’ll bring back good news!"
The Broomstick shot out first, hovering at the window’s edge, every fiber of its being radiating eager anticipation.
"Wait," Wade stepped forward. "If you run into something you can’t handle, contact me immediately. I’ll bring Mihal and get there as fast as possible."
"Got it!" Rubik's Magic Puppet called back, hopping onto the Broomstick with Lock. Their bodies began to blend into the surroundings, shifting colors until they vanished completely—only the Broomstick’s gleeful voice remained in the air:
"Hahahaha! Voldemort! Death Eaters! Tremble! We’re coming!"
A sharp whoosh split the air, and Wade’s hair fluttered in the wind.
The Cloak sat motionless at the closet’s entrance, arms resting on its collar, its form utterly expressionless—yet somehow managed to look utterly pitiful.
"Come on," Wade said, pulling the Cloak onto his arm. "You’ve got other things to do."
"I know… cleaning the house, right?" The Cloak whined, pouting. "But Master, I want to go out too. Can I take shifts with Rubik’s Magic Puppet?"
"Your duty is far more important than sweeping floors," Wade said, opening the door and walking down the stairs. He whispered, "You have to watch someone for me."
The Cloak tilted its golden, shimmering fabric in surprise. "Me? I’m so conspicuous—hardly the best choice for spying."
"Not just watching," Wade continued. "You also have to care for him. Protect him. You’re the smartest Cloak in existence. I know you’ll understand when to act."
The Cloak froze for a moment, then spoke with sudden confidence. "Of course. I won’t let you down. Where’s my assignment?"
By now, Wade had reached the corner of the stairs. He paused, hearing voices from the living room. After a moment, he resumed walking, and the Cloak instantly fell silent.
"Listen," the white-haired old man said gently, shaking his head. "I don’t know how you did it… I’m truly grateful you healed me. But magic? That’s just too absurd. My dear, beloved Gray."
He gave a self-deprecating smile. "You don’t need to make up excuses. If you need anything, just say so. I’d be happy to help."
He sounded hollow, resigned—almost indifferent to life itself.
Wade understood why. Cornelius Daven had once been respected, admired, a towering figure in his field. But when illness struck, everyone abandoned him.
Sometimes, he’d wake up—just briefly—fully aware of the agony, the helplessness. He’d sit in his wheelchair, trapped in his own filth, wracked by pain so intense it felt like thousands of ants were crawling under his skin, unable to even scratch.
Those memories, though his body was healed, would never fade.
Coco didn’t know how she’d been cured. As a Muggle, when she left St. Mungo’s, the healers had given her a Forgetting Charm—erasing the entire hospital experience. But she didn’t want to know.
Once, she’d been a scientist, driven by curiosity. Now, she felt that curiosity had died completely.
"Hey," Coco crossed her arms, standing by the coffee cup, "don’t you dare deny magic exists, just because you can’t believe it. I’m clever, lovable, brilliant, and capable. I’m a magical companion—personally crafted by the great Wade Master! Have you ever seen anything like me in the Muggle world?"
"Amazing," Cornelius Daven sighed. "So advanced, in just a few years? I must’ve slept too long. I’m clearly out of touch."
"Robot? Coco isn’t a robot!" Coco shouted. "And—oh right! Dobby! Dobby, come here!"
A pop echoed through the room. The House-elf appeared instantly, placing a teacup before the guest. "Please, tea, Mr. Daven."
Cornelius Daven rubbed his eyes, blinking. "Did I just… see a real, live robot? Have I been asleep for twenty years?"
"Twenty years? I doubt technology has advanced that far," Ferdinand said calmly. "This is magic, Cornelius."
"No. No. Magic doesn’t exist," Cornelius insisted. "The universe follows natural laws. No such thing as teleportation. No artificial being can think independently. This is just a very clever illusion. I just haven’t figured out how you’re doing it yet."
"Wade’s here," Ferdinand said, spotting Wade descending the stairs. "Why don’t you talk to my son? He’s a real wizard."
"A wizard?" Cornelius raised an eyebrow, a skeptical smirk tugging at his lips, turning toward Wade.
Wade said nothing. He simply gave his arm a flick.
The Cloak sprang to life, circling Cornelius Daven once, hovering before him, its golden light shimmering.
Then, with a smug grin only a sentient, sentient Cloak could pull off, it said:
"Come on! Guess how I did that!"
(End of Chapter)
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