Chapter 499: Departure – On the Way to the Pitch
Wade closed the thick tome, its dark red cover resembling congealed blood. It was a book of ancient Greek myths—a collection of stories he’d pulled out today to reread.
Icarus. A figure from Greek legend. He and his father, Daedalus, had been imprisoned by a king on a remote island. To escape, Daedalus crafted wings from feathers and wax, and the two flew free—ascending into the sky. Before their flight, Daedalus warned his son: Do not fly too high or too low. Either extreme is dangerous.
But Icarus, swept up in exhilaration and pride, forgot his father’s warning. He soared higher and higher—until the sun melted the wax, his wings disintegrated, and he fell into the sea, drowning.
Wade pondered: What was Flamel trying to tell him with this story?
Was it a warning against ignoring the lessons of the past?
A caution against arrogance and hubris?
That the pursuit of perfection leads to ruin?
Or was it a metaphor—knowledge like the sun, demanding reverence, not reckless pursuit?
Or perhaps—was it about Daedalus himself? The inventor who, in creating the wings, unintentionally caused the death of his beloved son. A tragedy born not of malice, but of unintended consequence.
Or maybe all of it, Wade thought.
There’s nothing wrong with exploration or the desire for freedom. The real problem? Icarus didn’t know his limits. He didn’t know how high he could truly fly.
That line of thought led him deeper—into thoughts of balance, of boundaries, of natural laws and the inevitable fall that awaits those who cross them.
He didn’t ask Nicolas Flamel any of these questions.
Because after that day, Wade had returned to his home. Flamel and Pereinal had gone to visit the place where they had once met, where they had once loved. In their final days, Wade knew it would be unkind to burden them with his philosophical musings.
He didn’t stay long. Soon, several letters arrived from friends—each one urging him to come watch the match.
Magic society was insular and conservative. It lacked the endless entertainments, grand festivals, and diverse celebrations of the Muggle world. The Quidditch World Cup was the only event that captured the entire Wizarding world’s attention—every four years, a global frenzy.
His friends believed he shouldn’t miss it.
The owl delivering the letters seemed to carry a personal mission, pecking insistently at the windowpane with a rhythmic tap-tap-tap. After a while, even Fiona couldn’t resist saying, “Go, Wade. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Wade said nothing.
In truth, he had little interest in the World Cup. He couldn’t quite grasp Quidditch’s appeal. He’d originally planned to arrive only for the final match.
After all, Quidditch was essentially a game of players hurtling through the sky at nearly 180 miles per hour, chasing tiny balls barely visible from the stands. The largest Bludger was smaller than a football, and the Golden Snitch—no bigger than a walnut. Even with a Magical Telescope, tracking them was nearly impossible.
The players themselves were almost invisible—faster than summer mosquitoes, their movements shifting too quickly for the eye to follow. Only someone like Lee Jordan, with his extraordinary talent, could keep up with the action by sheer sight alone.
Except for his first year, when curiosity had drawn him to the games, Wade rarely attended matches—especially not for Ravenclaw’s games.
But this time, under the persistent urging of his friends, he finally set aside his book and began to prepare for the journey.
The Gray family wouldn’t be attending such a Wizard-only event. Wade didn’t know the location of the Quidditch pitch, and Apparition wasn’t an option—there was no way to arrive safely without a proper destination.
So Remus Lupin came to pick him up.
Wade handed him the improved version of the Daydream Quill—one with an Anti-Addiction System.
“Machionni’s going to be thrilled,” Remus said with a smile. “He’s been waiting for you to come up with something new, but he’s too polite to ask.”
“His recent reports haven’t been bad,” Wade said, raising an eyebrow. “The numbers have been steady—actually, sales of the Streaming Mirror even rose because of the World Cup.”
Remus chuckled. “To Machionni, not releasing a new product during the holidays is the same as losing money. The previous years had launches, so this year feels like a missed opportunity—like he’s lost a fortune.”
Wade grinned. “He’s been bugging you, hasn’t he?”
“Constantly,” Remus admitted. “But I can handle it. The earlier products are running smoothly now. He just gets restless when he’s idle. Needs something to do.”
“That’s why the Daydream Quill is perfect for him,” Wade joked. “When he’s bored, he can live in dreams where raindrops fall from the sky and turn into Galleons.”
Remus laughed at the image—Machionni’s eyes turning into tiny gold coins.
“So, how do we get to the pitch?” Wade asked. “Can we Apparate directly?”
Sirius Black had generously bought a set of tickets for the entire house—prime seats, in a fine compartment. Remus had already attended the World Cup with his godfather and godson, so he knew the layout of the stadium. He could Apparate to a nearby area.
But Remus shook his head. “No, Wade. The pitch is too far. I can’t risk taking you there directly. We’ll fly to a nearby village first, then I’ll take you the rest of the way.”
“Why not use a Portkey?” Wade asked. “I read in The Daily Prophet that the Ministry has placed plenty of them around—great for easy access.”
“That’s true,” Remus said. “But the Portkeys are tightly controlled—both in location and timing. The Ministry wants to keep things convenient for Wizards, but also make sure Muggles don’t notice. So there are strict rules.”
Wade packed his things. The two of them went next door to Moody’s house. The old Auror had no interest in attending the event. He despised large gatherings.
When Remus knocked on Moody’s door and asked to borrow his fireplace, Moody warned, “Be careful. You won’t know where the attack comes from. The enemy could be among the crowd—someone with ill intent. Or worse, it could be some idiot with a wand stuck in their back, accidentally setting off an explosion.”
Wade couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m not exaggerating, boy,” Moody said seriously. “You’ll never believe how stupid some people can be.”
“Thanks, Alastor,” Remus said calmly. “We’ll be careful. We’ll avoid the idiots.”
Moody grumbled under his breath about their recklessness, then lit the fireplace and pulled out a jar filled with Floo Powder.
“Go,” he said, tossing a handful into the flames. “Stay safe. Come back alive.”
(End of Chapter)
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