Chapter 52: Professor Mor's Party
Steven Mor had clearly been instructed by his father to entertain the guests—specifically Wade—and he carried out the task with unwavering patience. He stayed by Wade’s side throughout the evening, never once showing irritation. Yet the sheer difference in their heights made the sight of them together irresistibly amusing to onlookers, who couldn’t help but chuckle every time they glanced over.
Steven simply ignored them, guiding Wade through the Suo Luo Garden.
The garden was immaculately kept, its soft, pale-yellow Long Table laden with an array of food and drinks for guests to serve themselves. The party centered around a fountain, its centerpiece a mermaid statue—legendary in beauty, with a graceful figure and shimmering tail, singing a haunting melody from between her lips. Along the stone railings, tiny dancing sculptures moved endlessly, twirling in place and releasing golden sparkles into the air. Wade reached out and gently touched one of the glowing orbs—it popped like a soap bubble, leaving a faint chill on his fingertip.
The grass surrounding the fountain had been freshly trimmed, forming a lush, velvety carpet of green. Flowerbeds and pathways were filled with vibrant blooms in full, riotous display—colorful clusters bursting with life, some of them even flowers that should only bloom in spring or summer, yet here they flourished out of season.
Along the sides of the walkways stood tall trees with broad, umbrella-like canopies—these were the Suo Luo trees, the reason behind the garden’s name. Steven proudly explained their history: these ancient trees dated back over two hundred million years, predating even the dinosaurs. They were true living fossils. The Mor family had a house-elf assigned specifically to care for them.
Halfway through the tour, a paper crane fluttered over, suddenly opening its beak to speak in Professor Mor’s voice:
“Steven Mor, bring Wade to the Small Stone Platform.”
“Got it,” Steven replied. The crane landed on his shoulder, then tilted its head slightly, as if glancing at Wade.
Seeing Wade’s gaze fixed on the crane, Steven smiled. “This is my father’s invention. He once studied at a magical institution in Japan, where students loved folding these little paper cranes. When he returned, he started using them to send messages. Later, the Ministry of Magic adopted the idea—though they found the cranes too cumbersome, so they switched to paper airplanes. Less flexible, can’t talk, no aesthetic appeal… the only upside is their low cost.”
“The Ministry of Magic?” Wade mused. “So, before paper airplanes, what did they use to send messages?”
A double-sided mirror was far too expensive. Surely they weren’t still using the Floo Network?
“Owls,” Steven said, barely suppressing a laugh. “Imagine—dozens of owls flying around an office, jammed into elevators, covered in feathers and droppings. I saw it once as a kid—absolute disaster.”
Wade now understood why Steven’s tone carried such a subtle disdain for the Ministry. Who could respect an institution when its officials were constantly being pelted with owl excrement?
The Small Stone Platform was a raised garden platform, three feet above the ground. White marble stairs led up to it, where lavender, bell-shaped flowers swayed in the breeze. Larkspur and geraniums were arranged in elegant contrast, and moss clung to the brick walls, giving the air a crisp, refreshing quality.
Only half a dozen people were present—each dressed in elaborate attire, clearly of high status. They turned as one at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Their reactions were perfectly synchronized: first, they noticed the towering Steven Mor, then their eyes dropped—downward—to the small, almost dwarf-like figure of Wade beside him.
“Oh, Wade, my boy!” Professor Mor greeted warmly, completely ignoring his own son as he clapped a hand on Wade’s shoulder and pulled him forward into the group. “This is my newest student—my real student—Wade Gray!”
The guests nodded and smiled at Wade. A man with brown curls offered a compliment: “This young man must be truly exceptional—only someone with remarkable talent could earn your attention at such a young age.”
Professor Mor nodded. “He’s only in his first year, yet he’s already surpassed your alchemy level at graduation, Machionni.”
A ripple of laughter spread through the group. Everyone knew Machionni had taken alchemy as an elective—but his skill was frankly mediocre. He’d been a constant source of frustration for Professor Mor during his time at school.
Machionni grinned, unbothered. He studied Wade with genuine curiosity.
Professor Mor, sensing the earlier claim hadn’t quite convinced them, added another point, deliberately drawing out the moment. “He mastered all of the following—Magic Phonetics Chart, Magic Glyph Collection, Runic Dictionary, and Introduction to Ancient Runes—entirely through self-study… in just two months!”
“Whoa—”
Now the awe was real. Most of them had taken Ancient Runes or alchemy themselves. They knew how difficult those strange symbols and awkward phonetic patterns were to memorize.
Regardless of the rest, one thing was clear: this boy’s memory retention and dedication already outpaced 99% of the student population.
“Not only that,” Professor Mor continued, dragging out the syllables with pride, deliberately saving the best for last. The others leaned in, feigning intense interest.
Wade observed silently.
He didn’t yet know who these people were—but he could already see Professor Mor’s standing among them.
“He’s only been studying with me for a little over a month… and he’s already completed his first true work. I swear—every single part was his own doing. Not a single letter of guidance from me.”
With a flourish, Professor Mor revealed a brand-new Book of Friends, levitating it in midair before the group. He held back a smile as he asked, “Can anyone guess its purpose?”
“Book of Friends?” The guests exchanged glances, forming a quiet circle around the book. One by one, they drew their wands and cast detection spells. The book shimmered under waves of magical light—again and again—but it was protected by a powerful charm. Standard spells couldn’t penetrate its magical structure.
Soon, two of them gave up. They hadn’t truly believed a child could produce anything significant, and their interest had been purely performative—just another way to curry favor with the professor.
The others persisted. Then Machionni’s eyes lit up. He plucked a leaf, transformed it into a feather quill, and scribbled a line on a piece of paper:
“Money is an endless sea—I wish to swim in it.”
He flipped through the pages rapidly, his expression shifting from curiosity to growing frenzy. The others had been indifferent at first, but soon their jaws slackened, eyes widening, swallowing hard as their mouths went dry.
Professor Mor smiled—calm, assured, as if everything was exactly as he’d planned.
(End of Chapter)
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