https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-537-The-Game-of-Dark-WizardDanger/13685660/
Chapter 538: The Magic Puppet in Space
“Remember—never speak of the heir’s existence to anyone, not even to the Book of Friends or the Communication Pea. Safety isn’t guaranteed. The true secret must stay buried in your heart, or it can’t be exposed.”
Ari mimicked Moody’s voice with exaggerated flair, then instantly pivoted, hopping to the side and furrowing its short brows in Ferdinand’s tone:
“Then why did you choose to tell us, the couple? Was there another reason?”
Ari swayed again, now back in Moody’s role. It fell silent for a moment, then spoke in a gruff, gravelly voice, laced with an ancient stubbornness:
“In truth… I tried telling others my suspicions. But they all thought I’d lost my mind. Even Dumbledore….”
It paused, as if gathering strength, then continued slowly, each word deliberate:
“If the day comes when I’m gone… pass what I’ve told you to Wade. Tell him—stay vigilant! There are things I still don’t understand, but he must keep his eyes wide open. He must never trust anyone too easily!”
Ari planted its tiny hands on the table, glaring fiercely at the empty air. Its beady black eyes, however, only made the expression look endearingly comical.
Then, the puppet relaxed, slumping into a casual pose beside the table, legs swinging.
“And then… he just left.”
“Thank you, Ari,” Wade said, gently rubbing the puppet’s head with his fingertip, barely suppressing a chuckle. “You were brilliant.”
Ari tugged his index finger with one small hand.
“Master, will you be in danger at school? Can I help with anything?”
Wade met its gaze, smiling.
“My expectations remain the same—protect my parents. That matters more than anything else.”
Ari nodded firmly, its head bobbing with determination.
……
Back in the Closet Space, Wade found Mihal curled up in his nest, eyes closed in peaceful rest. The Cloak lay half-dead on the ground, sprawled like a dried-out devilfish, motionless and lifeless.
Aside from these two, the space looked just like any ordinary wizard’s home—several dozen rooms of varying sizes, each serving a different purpose: Alchemy Room, Library, Storage Room, Bedroom, Potion Room.
Outside, spacious open areas stretched out, planted with flowers and dotted with exercise equipment. In the distance, a field grew various herbs, and a modest lake shimmered under the sun, its banks home to several serene creatures.
A single cloud drifted slowly through the sky, raining gently—like a self-watering kettle on the move.
When Harry and the others stepped into the Closet Space, this was the scene they saw: vast beyond imagination, but otherwise unremarkable.
They had no idea this was Wade’s own creation. They assumed it was a gift from Professor Mor to one of his students.
Wade stood in the center of the open field, ignoring the Cloak’s faint, whining voice. He clapped his hands once.
The bell hanging by the door jolted into motion instantly.
Ping-pong-pong—ping-pong-pong—
The ground before him cracked open, collapsing layer by layer like the entrance to Diagon Alley. With a deep, echoing chasm forming, voices—muffled and chaotic—rose from within.
The Cloak shot upright, cheering, and bolted inside. Then the floor beneath Wade began to rise, lifting him gently downward.
After Wade’s modifications, the Closet Space now had two distinct levels: the upper level was ordinary, quiet, and clean. The lower level, however, was where his true genius lay.
This basement was a chaotic, sprawling fortress—a giant, disorganized workshop filled from floor to ceiling with Magic Puppets.
The largest puppet towered two stories high, shaped like a colossal jellyfish, its long, slender tentacles dangling below. It served as the basement’s crane, effortlessly lifting heavy objects to high shelves, and often drifted lazily through the space when idle.
The smallest puppets were tiny enough to slip into a human ear. Like ants, they scurried through the inner workings of machines, performing delicate tasks. Occasionally, one would get stuck and emit a frantic squeak-squeak-squeak.
Two crab-like puppets, about waist-high, worked tirelessly preparing materials—grinding powders, slicing thin sheets, pulling fibers, and heating components with fire.
Their eight legs moved in perfect, efficient coordination. Piles of prepped materials already filled several boxes, waiting for Wade’s next move.
Then there were the wasp-sized puppets—round-bellied, yellow-and-black, their stomachs filled with ink. They darted between bookshelves, carrying books or scribbling notes on parchment.
Though small, these puppets were highly intelligent. Their job was to organize Wade’s vast library—sorting, cataloging, and maintaining the countless books, scrolls, and notes he’d accumulated. The hidden library, a gift from Nicolas Flamel, stood right beside them.
There were countless books in the magical world—new ones published every year, journals, treatises, ancient manuscripts. Even if Wade lived as long as Flamel, he could never read them all.
So these puppets acted as curators. They filtered out outdated, incorrect, or redundant texts, summarizing the valuable content into compact collections.
Only the most essential, accurate, and complete books were kept on a special shelf, waiting for Wade’s personal inspection.
When no one was around, these wasp-like puppets even flew up to the upper level, cleaning, tending to the herbs, and assisting Wade in alchemy—performing admirably.
“Hey, guys, missed me?” Cloak zipped around, greeting enthusiastically. “It’s been ages… well, not really, but you won’t believe what happened this time…”
“Get lost,” boomed a deep voice from within the jellyfish puppet’s body. “Don’t interrupt my work.”
“Oh, found a new magic book?” Cloak teased. “No? Then what’s so amazing about this trip?”
A wasp-like puppet zoomed past, disdainful.
“Nothing worth noting.”
Another one drifted closer.
“You finish Spell Inversion Algorithm yet? If so, I recommend Medieval Magic Runes Research. You’re with the Master—you need to master more knowledge.”
If Cloak had eyes, they’d have been wide with shock.
“Me? A Cloak? I can fly, fight, cast defensive spells—why do I need to study?”
“Don’t waste your time,” another wasp-puppet chimed in, hovering beside it, wings buzzing. “It hasn’t even memorized the Latin roots of common potion ingredients! Not to mention—”
“Hey!” Cloak snapped, swatting all three away with a flick of its form. It grumbled, retreating to Wade’s side.
“Master, these bookworms don’t understand what you’ve done!”
“Alright, go play,” Wade said casually, patting the Cloak gently. Then he turned to the overflowing boxes of materials, lost in thought—what kind of Magic Puppet should he build this time?
Since the destruction of the first batch on that island, he’d rarely crafted human-shaped puppets again.
Objects that resembled him—whether they carried warm blood or not—were too easy to attach emotion to.
But now… perhaps he still needed more Magic Puppets—convenient, unobtrusive, and able to blend into crowds.
Wade pondered, then raised his wand.
Materials in the air began to swirl, gathering, reshaping, slowly forming a human figure.
(End of Chapter)
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