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Chapter 492: Reconstructing the Worldview
Cornelius Daven stared in silence at the strangely animated cloak, then whispered, “Magic?”
Cloak: “….”
It spun in place twice, utterly exasperated. “Look at me! Open your eyes and really look! Do I have wires? A speaker? A propeller?”
“I may not have sight… but at this stage of technological advancement, to an old man like me, it all looks like magic.”
Cornelius Daven sighed. “Enough games. Just tell me what you want. What’s the real purpose?”
Cloak: “… So even if I vanish right now, fly you around in a lap, or play you a game of chess, you’d still chalk it up to human invention, wouldn’t you?”
Cornelius Daven’s eyes widened in shock. “You can… do all that?”
Cloak didn’t answer. Instead, it zipped over to Wade, pouting. “Master, look—he doesn’t believe me.”
Cornelius Daven’s gaze shifted to Wade.
Earlier, the Gray couple had already briefed him on their son—a young wizard, talented and diligent, who had achieved in mere years what others couldn’t in a lifetime. He’d invented numerous remarkable alchemical artifacts. In their eyes, their child was flawless—perfect in ability, character, and spirit. It was this child’s determination that had persuaded Cornelius Daven to accept the research position.
To be honest, as a diehard materialist, Cornelius Daven had believed not a word of it. He thought the poor couple had been brainwashed by some cult—or suffered from a delusional disorder.
He’d followed them back, not out of belief, but out of gratitude for the cure to his illness, and to investigate their situation thoroughly—so he could help them return to sanity and reality.
But stepping into this house, Cornelius Daven felt his worldview begin to crumble.
The lifelike magic puppet. The animated photographs on the wall. The cloak—thin as air, utterly hollow inside. And most shockingly, the undeniable truth: no one else in the world walked around with such intelligent, mobile “robots.” He’d checked the newspapers and watched television on the way here. He knew, without a doubt, that he hadn’t slept for twenty years. And the streets were full of people walking dogs and cats—nothing remotely resembling the sentient, agile constructs he’d seen.
Still, he clung to science, desperately trying to rationalize what he saw—anything to hold his crumbling mental framework together.
He looked up at the boy descending the stairs. His eyes trembled—fear, yes, but also a flicker of hope.
Wade stepped forward, smiled, and said nothing. He drew his wand and tapped the button on Cornelius Daven’s coat.
The golden button writhed like it was alive, then suddenly burst into motion—shifting, reshaping—until it became a golden butterfly. It fluttered its delicate wings and soared into the air.
Wade, born to Muggle-born parents, rarely performed such small tricks at home. But now, the Gray couple couldn’t help but follow the butterfly with their eyes, watching it dance in the air, its wings shimmering like golden gauze.
After a moment, the butterfly returned, circling back. Cornelius Daven instinctively extended his hand.
The golden creature landed gently in his palm. Its black antennae twitched, sensing the air around it. Its tiny feet brushed lightly across his skin—soft, subtle, tingling like a feather grazing his flesh.
Cornelius Daven held his breath, afraid even to blink. He feared he might shatter this fragile, living wonder.
Holding the butterfly—still bearing faint traces of the original button’s pattern—he felt as though a hurricane had torn through the foundations of his old world. The towering edifice of his beliefs had collapsed. He stood amidst ruins… yet in that emptiness, he saw something far greater. His mind cleared. His soul settled.
“So… this is magic?” he whispered.
“Yes,” Wade said.
“Can magic create life?”
“Yes. Magic can create life, alter species, even halt death,” Wade replied. “But this butterfly is only the result of Transfiguration. I can turn non-living things into ordinary creatures… or transform living beings into any object.”
“Transfiguration?” the old man stammered.
“Transformation, Potions, Spells, Herbology, Prophecy, Alchemy, Astronomy—these are the core branches of magic,” Wade explained. “If you’re willing, we could study them together… using scientific methods.”
Cornelius Daven lifted his head. The confusion, the doubt, the deadness in his eyes—all gone. In their place burned a fierce, unwavering flame: hunger, awe, wonder for a new world.
“Of course I’m willing,” he said eagerly. “Where do we start?”
…
The laboratory and all its instruments had been entrusted to Wade’s father. Ferdinand spent nearly a year preparing everything.
The Gray family had once been merely comfortably middle-class—nowhere near wealthy.
But after Wade entered the magical world, he used alchemy to build significant wealth within the magical community. Meanwhile, Ferdinand, guided by Wade’s advice, made a few strategic investments. Their fortune grew quietly—unstoppable.
The method of persuasion was simple: Wade merely said, “I have some talent in Prophecy,” and his parents instantly believed him.
Though Harry Potter’s world wasn’t identical to Wade’s previous one, some trends were inevitable. Seize the right moments at the right time, and you could ride the tide of history and reap massive rewards.
Still, the Grays didn’t become billionaires or world’s richest—Ferdinand was cautious by nature. He’d rather let opportunities slip than risk ruin. And Wade himself didn’t care much for money. Once wealth reached a certain threshold, it was just a useful tool—enough was enough.
But with that wealth, the Gray family’s laboratory had become a fortress of science and magic—a glittering castle of innovation, dripping with luxury, the air thick with the scent of money. Cornelius Daven stared in disbelief, eyes wide with wonder.
“Is this… heaven? Have I actually died?”
He ran his fingers reverently over the cutting-edge instruments, then reluctantly pulled his gaze away to look at Wade.
“So… if I’m to study magic… you’re my subject?”
“Thanks, but I’m not ready to be a lab rat just yet.” Wade pulled out a vial of blood. “Let’s start with this sample—werewolf blood.”
(End of Chapter)
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