Chapter 58: Waning Moon
“So, about your… Parchment—” Ferdinand said, his face pale.
“Book of Friends,” Fiona corrected him sharply, her tone exasperated. “Dear love, it’s a Friendship Ledger—not just some old parchment!”
“Alright—Book of Friends,” Ferdinand repeated, his eyes fixed on Wade with a dazed stare. “You sold the patent… they gave you fifty thousand Galleons… and there’s still a steady stream of patent royalties coming in?”
His expression was off—something strained beneath the surface. The sudden joy that had brightened Wade’s face began to falter. He straightened up, voice carefully serious: “Yes, Father.”
“And someone even offered two hundred thousand Galleons to buy you out… but you didn’t accept, because your Professor wouldn’t allow it?”
“Yes.”
Ferdinand looked like he was struggling to breathe. “You’re still with that Professor—”
“—Professor Mor.”
“Right, Professor Mor. And another businessman—Marco Machionni—came to Diagon Alley with him…”
“—Mr. Marco Machionni,” Wade corrected gently. “They’ve both been very kind to me.”
“And then, right in front of a goblin—and you—” Ferdinand paused, voice cracking. “He transferred fifty thousand Galleons straight into your account?”
“Yes, Father.”
Ferdinand’s expression was too strange to be simple pride. Wade felt a knot tighten in his chest. He suddenly realized—he should’ve consulted his parents first. But under Machionni’s urgent pressure, everything had moved so fast, as if someone had hit the accelerator. He hadn’t even paused to think.
Professor Mor and Machionni weren’t the kind to be careless. But perhaps, Wade thought, his parents didn’t know magic. To them, even though Wade was only eleven, he was the only one in the Gray family who could truly speak to them on equal footing—someone capable of making decisions.
The thought made him uneasy. He pushed it down, forcing a light tone: “It’s just that Machionni was in a rush—school’s starting soon, and he didn’t want to miss the chance. I’m sorry, Dad. I should’ve come home first to talk it over.”
“Honestly!” Fiona snapped, shoving Ferdinand aside with mock indignation. She pulled Wade into a fierce hug, planting a loud kiss on his forehead. “Our Wade is only eleven! Do you expect him to plan every move like a grown-up? He’s brilliant! My little boy—financially independent at eleven! And with his own invention! Who’s ever heard of that? I can’t even believe I gave birth to someone so extraordinary!”
She peppered him with kisses, then tugged him up from the sofa. “Come on, what are you waiting for? Dinner’s ready! I made a feast! Ferdi—go wash your hands!”
“—Alright.”
As Wade was steered toward the dining table, he glanced back. Ferdinand was slowly pushing himself up from the armrest, heading toward the bathroom—his steps unsteady, nearly stumbling.
Fiona didn’t notice. She hummed a cheerful tune, lifting the lid off a dish. The rich aroma of food instantly filled the air, awakening every appetite in the room.
But Ferdinand didn’t eat. He nearly poked a tomato up his nose. When his steak fell off his fork, he ended up chewing on the utensil for a few seconds before realizing what he’d done.
“He’s just overwhelmed,” Fiona whispered to Wade, sensing his unease. “He was eleven when he still couldn’t do basic addition and subtraction under a hundred!”
“That’s… exaggerated,” Wade couldn’t help but laugh. He smiled at the image of his clumsy, nonexistent father—and at the fierce, glowing love in his mother’s eyes.
Later, after dinner, Wade hesitated. “Dad… Professor Mor helped me a lot today. He said he didn’t need anything… but I still want to thank him. I just don’t know how.”
In his past life, he’d known the unspoken rules of gratitude: a gift of twenty or thirty thousand Galleons to someone like Professor Mor would’ve been expected. Not doing so would’ve been seen as ignorance.
But Wade hesitated. If he offered money now, he was certain Professor Mor would be furious—not out of greed, but because it would feel like an insult. A transaction where friendship had been given freely.
As a child, Wade knew he didn’t have to be polished or calculating. But pretending nothing had happened—accepting the kindness without a word—felt just as wrong.
“Oh…” Ferdinand blinked, as if waking from a dream. After a long pause, he said, “Write a thank-you letter, Wade.”
“A letter?”
He hadn’t expected that. Just that morning, he’d told Steven Mor to write one. Now, the same advice was coming back from his father.
“Yes. Be sincere. Be heartfelt.” Ferdinand thought for a moment. “Send it on Professor Mor’s birthday—or during the holidays. A small gift, something meaningful. But most importantly—show him your best academic results. That’s the real thank-you.”
“I understand,” Wade said, nodding.
“Good. Go write it. And… Wade?” Ferdinand forced a smile, though it looked painful. “I’m… so proud of you, son.”
…
Watching Wade disappear into his room, Ferdinand collapsed into the nearest chair. His hand plunged into his hair, shoulders slumped in exhaustion.
“What’s wrong with you today?” Fiona murmured, wrapping her arms around him from behind. Her head rested on his neck, her long hair spilling over his shoulders. “Wade made a fortune from his invention. His professor treats him like family. The businessman was honest, kind, generous—everything’s perfect! And yet you look like you’ve seen a ghost. He didn’t even smile when he came back to his room, Ferdi. Whatever it is, don’t be the kind of parent who ruins a moment.”
She kept murmuring, her voice soft, until his tense muscles began to loosen.
“You’re right,” Ferdinand said, squeezing her hand. “Professor Mor is a good man. Everything’s fine… I’m just… overwhelmed. I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she said. “Tomorrow morning, you’ll apologize properly. He came to you full of joy, and you gave him nothing but silence.”
“—I know.”
…
Later, deep into the night, once Fiona was fast asleep, Ferdinand slipped on his robe and stepped onto the balcony. He reached for a cigarette, but his hands shook so badly he failed several times.
Finally, he lit it. He inhaled deeply. The smoke curled into the air, blurring his vision—and the cold, silent London night beyond.
Only then did the wave of fear crash over him.
His Wade… his clever, thoughtful, kind-hearted son… a mind worth millions. A fortune just waiting to be claimed. And yet—alone, with strangers, in a world he barely understood… traveling to places no one knew.
What if something happened to him? What if he was hurt?
Wizards could vanish without a trace. Ferdinand didn’t even know where to look.
He smoked one cigarette after another, his body trembling from fingertips to toes. The night was freezing—bone-chilling.
…
Above, Wade stood at his own balcony, watching the smoke drift upward in thin, curling threads. He saw the faint flicker of firelight dance through the dark.
Leaning against the railing, he tilted his head back. The waning moon hung in the sky—a silver hook, cradled against the spire of a distant building.
(End of Chapter)
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