https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-665-The-Afterimage-of-Night-Wind/13685882/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-667-Within-the-Field-of-View-Outside-the-Line-of-Sight/13685884/
Chapter 666: Forest Fairy's Hair
In the magical world, books were far more than mere vessels for text.
Strange Creatures’ Strange Books chased their readers like rabid dogs. Invisibility Books were, by nature, invisible. Some ancient Dark Magic tomes even tempted their readers to suicide. And Voldemort, in his cunning, had hidden a fragment of his soul within a diary—something that, to the average wizard, was a dangerously potent Magic Book.
Now, Professor Mor had tasked the future Alchemists with crafting something relatively rare: books that could recognize their rightful master. Anyone else who opened them would only see blank parchment.
A Magical Encrypted Diary—practical, yes, but so few knew how to make one that it was nearly impossible to obtain.
It was no surprise, then, that the students struggled. Professor Mor’s face was clouded with displeasure.
“Moonstone powder must be added at the same time as Unicorns’ hair!” he snapped, thumping the cauldron of a trembling student. “Do you really think a two-second difference counts as ‘simultaneous’?”
The girl flinched, her hands fumbling as she tried to fix her mistake—only to panic and dump another pinch of powder into the brew.
Professor Mor stared, utterly speechless. His mustache twitched like it was about to fly off.
At the far end of the classroom, a sudden thud echoed. A tall, slender boy stood frozen in shock, his entire face glowing an eerie violet as thick purple smoke billowed from his work. He stared, dazed, at his own smoking cauldron.
Professor Mor abandoned the first student and strode over, waving his wand. The smoke was instantly sucked out through the window.
He peered at the boy’s work, took a slow breath, and asked in a dangerously calm voice, “You didn’t memorize the Ancient Runes I assigned last week?”
“I—I did,” the boy stammered, swallowing hard. “I just… didn’t memorize them well…”
“Oh, so you did memorize something… quite bizarre.” Professor Mor’s voice was icy. “Tell me—do you really believe ‘concealment’ and ‘explosion’ are the same thing?”
At that moment, Professor Mor looked nearly identical to Professor Snape. Outside the window, Wade Gray couldn’t help but smirk.
His eyes swept across the other students: one was sweating through his collar, another frantically flipping through notes, and a third was discreetly wiping off a magical script with his sleeve.
But in this small classroom, not a single gesture escaped Professor Mor’s sharp gaze.
One by one, he pointed out every mistake. And inevitably, he kept comparing them to Wade.
“If this were Wade here, he’d have already buried you all in perfectly crafted magic books by now.”
“This much material—Wade mastered it in a single month. And you? I’ve taught you for half a year, and you still make these basic errors!”
“Go home and copy every page of the Dictionary of Magical Script from page 37 to 58.”
“Wade only ever missed once—and he remembered it. How many times have you failed on the same thing?”
When the bell finally rang, the students exhaled in relief. They packed up their things and filed out, only to pause just outside the door.
There, standing a few feet away, was Wade.
Their eyes flickered over him—some curious, some resentful, some amused.
Professor Mor loomed behind them, silent. One Ravenclaw upperclassman pointed at Wade with a wry smile and muttered, “You’re going to make us all suffer again. Next gathering? I’m pouring you under the table.”
The group trudged off, still grumbling. But before they vanished down the corridor, Wade heard a girl whisper, her voice cracking, “Why do they always compare us to him? He’s Wade Gray… even Professor Mor at his peak couldn’t—”
“Shut up!” another student hissed. “You don’t want to get caught. He’ll make you copy the whole damn book!”
Wade pretended not to hear. Only when the last footsteps faded did he gently tap the doorframe.
“Oh, you’re here, Wade.” Professor Mor looked up from his parchment, his stern expression melting into a warm smile as he recognized the silhouette.
He set down his feather quill, leaned back, and said, “Come in. How was the feather quill I gave you last week?”
As he spoke, he waved his wand. The copper kettles in the corner began to steam on their own.
“Excellent,” Wade said, stepping inside and setting down his backpack. He placed a teacup on the desk. “The quill made from Unicorns’ tail hair is the most comfortable to hold. It calms the mind. And if you’re wounded, just touch the tip to the skin near the wound—it helps prevent infection and speeds healing. Though… it’s subtle.”
To a Muggle, it might have seemed useful. To a wizard? Barely noticeable.
Since the end of third year, Wade had spent the past half-year practicing the crafting of countless feather quills—some useful, some absurd, some with bizarre magical effects. One had even sung when used, in a gruff, dwarf-like voice that was pure noise pollution.
But the point wasn’t to create gimmicky quills. It was to understand the subtle properties of alchemical materials, to master the fine techniques of alchemy, and to learn how different elements interacted.
Wade handed over the Unicorns’ hair quill. Professor Mor took it, examined it for a moment, then relaxed—his wrinkles smoothing into a rare, pleased smile.
“Excellent. The magical script remains stable, just like last week. This quill won’t degrade for at least five years.”
He set it aside and pulled out a finely carved wooden box. Winking, he said, “Now, let’s try something entirely new. I promise—Machionni himself couldn’t get this for you.”
Wade’s eyes lit up. Machionni was legendary for his connections—once even sourcing African Tree Snake Skin, a key ingredient for Polyjuice Potion, despite it being a banned substance. What could possibly be beyond his reach?
The box opened. Inside, a layer of small pebbles covered the base. Wade almost thought that was the material—until he noticed, beneath the stones, a single, hair-thin thread.
He picked up a pair of tweezers and carefully lifted it.
“What is this?” he asked.
Professor Mor didn’t hesitate. “This is legendary: Forest Fairy’s Hair.”
“…Forest Fairy?”
Wade knew only of lake fairies—like the one who imprisoned Merlin in old tales. According to legend, even the mighty Merlin, a half-demon child of dreams and mortal women, had been captured by a lake spirit named Vivien.
But those stories were dismissed by most—mere children’s fables. Adults listened with half a smile, half a doubt.
Now, staring at the thread—so fine it looked like spider silk—Wade looked to Professor Mor, eyes questioning.
The old man chuckled. “I didn’t pluck this from a fairy’s head. So whether they exist or not… I don’t know.”
“But the quill made from this hair? It can translate the languages of forest animals into text your mind can understand.”
“Any animal?” Wade asked.
“That depends on you,” Professor Mor said with a grin. “The best I’ve ever seen could translate twelve different animal tongues. If it’s you… I’d expect at least that level.”
A soft glug-glug-glug echoed from the kettle. The water had boiled.
Wade stood, lifted the kettle, and poured the hot water into the cup. The long tea leaves danced in the stream.
He sat back down. “Can this hair be reused?”
“Of course not,” Professor Mor said. “But you only need a tiny piece each time.”
He held up a finger, indicating a length no longer than a fingertip. Then, slowly, he added, “If you fail, I’ll let you try three times.”
Wade smiled. “Then I’ll make sure my first attempt succeeds. No sense wasting such a rare material.”
Indeed, Forest Fairy’s Hair was priceless. To anyone else, Professor Mor wouldn’t even let them touch it. But with Wade, he only smiled.
“Don’t be so certain,” he said gently. “This material is extremely sensitive. Failure is common. But that’s part of learning. More practice won’t hurt.”
He waved his wand. The chalk on the side of the blackboard leapt up, began writing, and drew perfectly detailed diagrams.
“Forest magic requires affinity with the moon,” Professor Mor explained. “Besides the hair, you’ll need to gather six other ingredients…”
As he spoke, Wade already had every word etched into his mind.
Like potions, most alchemical materials couldn’t be used directly. They required complex preparation—cutting, grinding, drying, roasting, soaking, calcining. A seemingly ordinary stone might have undergone dozens of steps.
Forest Fairy’s Hair was especially delicate. One misstep—too high a temperature, even a second too short—could ruin it completely.
So this afternoon, Professor Mor didn’t let Wade touch the materials. Instead, he taught him how to handle them, and the final alchemical procedure.
“Remember,” he instructed, “you must begin in total silence, under full moonlight. When you feel the harmony with nature… you’ll know it. That’s your perfect moment.”
“Thank you, Professor. I’ve noted everything,” Wade said, closing his notebook after filling several pages. He nodded firmly.
Professor Mor thought of the students who’d repeated the same mistake nine times after he’d emphasized the key points eight times. He looked at Wade—focused, precise, attentive—and couldn’t help but smile.
If only every student were like him…
He sipped his black tea. “I’ll let you go. Go eat.”
Just as he opened his mouth, he noticed Wade’s expression. The boy had tucked the notebook into his backpack, eyes downcast. His fingers gripped the strap tightly—white-knuckled.
“What’s wrong?” Professor Mor’s voice sharpened. His brow furrowed. “Is something troubling you?”
“Nothing,” Wade said, forcing a smile. His fingers tensed. “I just… yesterday, we finalized the stands. This tournament’s scale is unprecedented. I think many foreign Ministries of Magic might send observers.”
He paused, voice low. “I… I’m afraid of failing.”
“Worrying about failure?” Professor Mor asked.
“Yes,” the boy admitted. “Others can fail, and the world will understand. But if I lose… if the champion isn’t from Hogwarts… I doubt anyone will let me live it down.”
Professor Mor smiled softly.
He placed a hand on Wade’s shoulder, voice gentle. “You’re carrying more than Hogwarts’ honor, son. You’re carrying your own courage.”
“Failing? So what? Just being on that stadium is more than 99% of people will ever achieve.”
“The real failure isn’t losing the title. It’s letting fear steal your will to try. If you give it everything… no matter the outcome, no one can mock you. And this castle will always be proud of you.”
“Of course,” he added, straightening Wade’s collar. “I believe in my students more than anyone else. You must believe in yourself, too.”
Wade felt the weight of the hand, took a deep breath, and lifted his head. His gray eyes, once shadowed, now burned with quiet certainty.
“I understand… I won’t let you down.”
…
Click.
The door closed behind him.
The flicker of doubt, fragility, and emotion vanished from Wade’s face.
He stood in the doorway, instinctively glancing back at the thick wooden door. His expression returned to its usual calm, composed stillness.
In his arms, the parchment burned with warmth.
Antoine’s message card blinked to life:
> Antoine: How’d it go? Any findings?
After a pause, Wade typed his reply:
> Wade: Nothing. I found nothing suspicious.
> Antoine: Then let me tell you what I found. Since two years ago, Professor Mor has quietly sold off most of his assets—including his shares in Nimbus Flying Broomstick Company.
> Antoine: Anyone with sense knows—Nimbus is a golden goose. You don’t sell it, even if you burn your ancestral home. I can’t figure out why he’d do this.
Wade’s stomach dropped. He closed his eyes.
Then, quietly:
> Wade: And the other person in your investigation?
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
