Chapter 696: Is This Real?
Wade’s mood had been restless lately.
Soon he’d be starting elementary school—just thinking about being surrounded by squealing, sniffling little kids months from now made his skin crawl.
But as a six-year-old, the number of incidents he could actually Determine was painfully limited.
He’d finally managed to convince his Parents to let him Determine his own clothes—no small victory—but that was all he could claim. He still couldn’t avoid the terrible food, the inevitable school enrollment, or his mother’s whimsical impulses that could send them off on a surprise trip at any moment.
Like today.
He woke up to find himself in another completely unfamiliar place—some kind of abandoned monastery, judging by the crumbling stone and overgrown ivy. Probably another “historically significant” tourist spot.
But the most absurd part?
Those two adults had just left him here—abandoned with a complete stranger, in a place neither of them knew. And they didn’t even say where they’d gone.
—Could his Parents really be this unreliable?
For a fleeting moment, doubt flickered in Wade’s mind.
But the evidence was undeniable.
That doubt was quickly swallowed by a tidal wave of resentment, fury, and disbelief.
Maybe it was the childish body—hormones, environment, or some other influence—making his emotions harder to rein in. His rational control felt thin, slipping back toward the raw, unfiltered Water level of a child.
So when he spoke, his tone was sharp, unkind:
“Hey, kid. Who are you?”
The other boy looked soft, delicate—about his age, slightly thinner, but with eyes so vividly green they sparkled like glass. Clear, bright, and instantly endearing.
The boy flinched at the harshness, shrinking back, his neck tucking inward.
“Harry Potter,” he whispered.
Wade raised an eyebrow.
Did he hear that right?
He repeated, more sharply:
“What did you say your name was?”
“Harry Potter.”
The boy said it again, then looked around frantically, voice trembling.
“Where… where am I? How did I get here? Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon—they’re… they’re not here?”
Wade went silent.
He narrowed his eyes, scanning the boy’s messy hair, and caught a glimpse of a distinctive, lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
Then his gaze moved upward—straight to the name hovering just above the boy’s head.
【Harry Potter】
What in the world was that?
A game’s HUD?
Then the thought struck him like a spell:
—What if this world… was real?
The boy shivered, tears welling up, his voice breaking.
“They… they Determined to leave me here, didn’t they? I knew it… Uncle Vernon always thought I was a burden…”
Wade didn’t answer.
He shut his mouth tight, face stern, eyes sharp and alert—like a hunter assessing a threat.
His gaze dropped from the scar, down to the boy’s clothes: ill-fitting, ragged, mismatched.
Then to the thin wooden stick lying on the ground beside him.
And then to his own surroundings—identical.
His own trousers had pockets that had spilled a few bottles onto the stone floor.
Wade’s pupils contracted.
Something was seriously wrong.
This wasn’t just a strange place.
This was worse.
Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, snatched up both wooden sticks, then grabbed a pile of the boy’s discarded clothes and yanked Harry toward the nearest ruin.
“Run!”
“Boom!”
Behind them, a deep, ancient voice echoed through the courtyard.
Wade didn’t hesitate.
He dragged Harry down hard, forcing the boy into a tumbled roll behind a broken archway.
Rough stone and tangled weeds became their instant shelter.
Wade gasped for breath, scanning the source of the sound.
A girl with honey-colored curls lay sprawled on the ground, wearing something like a combat suit. She was screaming in pain, a terrible wound across her back, blood soaking into the pale gray stone.
Wade squinted.
What was that name floating above her head?
“…She needs help,” came a small, trembling voice beside him.
“We… we could help her, right?”
Wade turned.
Harry was staring at him, wide-eyed, hesitant.
“Maybe… maybe we could call for help? Find someone to call?”
Help her?
Who even was she?
Friend or foe—no idea.
And right now, they might not even survive.
Panic clawed at Wade’s chest.
He felt himself getting angry, tense—on the verge of snapping.
But he held it back.
He took a deep breath.
Calm down.
In his previous life, his parents had always told him:
Harsh words were easy to speak—but impossible to take back.
Some wounds they caused never healed.
So if you didn’t know how to speak with grace, or if your emotions had already taken control—better to stay silent.
Wait. Think. Then speak.
He’d died young, never mastering the art of words.
But he’d learned one thing:
knowing when to shut up.
Once he’d calmed, he reconsidered.
This child—Harry—was about his age.
If he truly was the real Harry Potter…
He was born in late July.
So he was younger than Wade in this life.
Psychologically speaking, he was a genuine six-year-old.
And yet—after the initial shock and fear—Harry hadn’t screamed, hadn’t cried, hadn’t struggled when Wade pulled him away.
He’d even thought to help someone else.
That was… impressive.
In a few breaths, Wade’s mind raced through possibilities.
He looked at Harry and said, low and firm:
“Stay still. Stay quiet. There might be enemies nearby.”
Harry hesitated, then nodded.
He cast a sympathetic glance at the wounded girl, then stayed perfectly still behind the stones.
Then, the boy winced, clutching his leg.
His shoe had come off during the run.
He’d stepped on pebbles—now blood seeped from a cut on his foot.
Wade quickly pulled his own trousers up, using his belt to tie the shirt and pants together, folding the pant legs several times to keep them from dragging.
But the boots—those big, clunky boots—were a problem.
Not that he was picky.
But in a place like this, without proper footwear, a leg injury could be fatal.
Mobility, movement, survival—all compromised.
Even the smallest obstacle could decide life or death.
—If only these boots could shrink.
The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it.
—What was that spell again? Speed Shrink?
The moment the idea formed, the boots shifted.
In a blink, they shrunk to the perfect size—just right.
—It… worked?
But I didn’t even use a wand.
Wade stared at his hands, stunned.
Something in him—something beyond this body—was far more powerful than he’d thought.
He quickly sorted through his clothes, pulling out the bottles from his pockets, trying to figure out what they were for.
Then, two light taps on his arm.
“Wha—?” Wade turned, whispering.
Harry pointed silently toward the center of the courtyard, eyes wide with disbelief.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
