Chapter 72: Reply Letter and Photos
A thin letter arrived from Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Inside, it listed Wade’s recent income—and a withdrawal of Galleons made by his father, Ferdinand Gray, from the Treasure Vault. Wade glanced at the numbers, then stuffed the letter carelessly into his pocket.
The parcel, on the other hand, came from Machionni. It included a letter detailing the latest sales figures for the Book of Friends, Wade’s share of the profits, and the upcoming marketing strategy for the next phase of expansion—despite ongoing production limitations, Machionni had already pushed distribution into Asia and Africa.
In the letter, Machionni had sketched out several upcoming versions of the Book of Friends, and—though the phrasing was exaggeratedly earnest—pleaded with Wade, the inventor, to “offer valuable suggestions” to ensure the new releases would achieve even greater success.
The tone was so sincere, so desperate, that it almost made Wade believe this business tycoon was losing sleep over the fate of the product, as if only Wade could guide him through the storm.
Wade: ……
He finally understood why Professor Mor had said: “Just use that man’s abilities to make money. If he bothers you too much, ignore him.”
No doubt Professor Mor had received countless letters like this before.
But for Wade, Machionni wasn’t just a source of income—he’d also sent a personal parcel of Alchemy Materials, delivered straight to his door. Most were common, but among them were rare items like African Tree Snake Skin, something even money couldn’t guarantee.
Still, Wade took the time to write a proper reply.
Not about which design looked more appealing—those were trivial. Instead, he shared some genuine ideas he’d developed while studying Alchemy recently.
For instance, the original Book of Friends only allowed two or three people to be linked at once, which often proved inconvenient. Wade had redesigned the Magical Script Circuit so that, with a single simple spell, multiple blank Books of Friends could now be linked together seamlessly.
Another idea: adding a small illustration to the bottom page of the new Book of Friends, featuring a set of simple symbols representing emotions—Emoticons.
It wasn’t particularly useful, but Wade knew how popular such things were with younger wizards. Words that felt cold in a traditional book could become playful and heartfelt when rendered as Emoticons. It might just spark another wave of demand.
He also suggested adding a special Location Tracking Feature to select Books of Friends, allowing the holder to track the other person’s whereabouts in real time.
After a moment of thought, Wade added one more paragraph:
> I believe the Location Tracking Feature should be clearly marked in the page header. The design and color should differ significantly from standard versions. Using such a feature for ordinary communication could easily cross into privacy invasion—most people wouldn’t accept it. It should only be purchased by parents and children, or by couples in truly sincere relationships…
He paused, then smirked.
Who knew his invention might accidentally break up a few couples down the line?
He pictured the scene:
In the past, lovers would ask, “Do you love me? How much? Swear it!”
Now, the test of loyalty might be: “Can you exchange location books with me?”
…Well, that was a test he hadn’t expected to face—yet here it was, sprung without warning.
Then he thought about himself.
He didn’t mind if his parents knew where he was. As for a romantic partner? Well, if he ever found one, it would be with marriage in mind. Loyalty in a relationship was non-negotiable.
And as for marriage at his age? Not a chance.
Was magic not powerful enough? Was Alchemy not fascinating enough? Love? What was there to love, really?
Love was just a distraction—something that stole precious time from his real pursuits.
So the arrow he’d shot today? It wouldn’t come back to him.
With that thought, Wade finished his letter, sealed it, and handed it to an Owl, who grasped it firmly in its talons before soaring into the sky.
…
Great Hall. Great Hall. Umbrella Room. Library. Black Lake. Forbidden Forest. Quidditch Pitch. Ravenclaw Common Room. Dormitory.
Wade had photographed nearly every iconic spot in Hogwarts—places that defined the school’s soul. Along the way, he’d snapped pictures with familiar classmates and professors, too.
Though he’d never been a parent, he’d spent years being a son.
Once, when traveling, he’d loved capturing unique buildings and breathtaking landscapes—hoping his parents would appreciate the beauty he’d seen.
But he’d finally realized: they weren’t interested in the scenery. They only wanted to see him in it.
So now, in every photo, the focus was always the same—people.
At the Greenhouse, he stood beside Professor Sprout, who smiled warmly.
By the Black Lake, he leaned on a laughing, energetic classmate.
Inside the Umbrella Room, SSC Members chatted and laughed together, relaxed and at ease.
Fear often comes from the Unknown—like walking through endless darkness, hearing only your own heartbeat.
But if you hold a lamp, illuminating the path around you, showing the thorns and the mud, even if the road remains rough, fear begins to fade.
…
The Film Camera available at Hogwarts was old-fashioned, and developing photos used to be slow and tedious. But magic had accelerated the process.
Wade transformed the Room of Requirement into a darkroom, then placed the film negatives into the Developing Solution. After Development, Stopping, Rinsing, Fixing, and Printing—finally, a stack of Animated Photographs emerged.
He moved to a sunlit corner and began flipping through them one by one.
The camera didn’t just capture motion and scene—it seemed to preserve the mood of the moment.
The smiles in the photos looked brighter than usual. Professor Sprout kept brushing his hair affectionately. Professor Flitwick occasionally leapt onto a stack of books in excitement, then jumped down again.
Professor Mor, usually gentle and wise, had always been a source of calm guidance for Wade. In the photos, he was still that same kind figure—until he took a sip of tea.
His face instantly twisted. Eyes squeezed shut. Eyebrows shifted. Lips twitched. He looked like he’d swallowed something unbearably bitter.
—Was that tea that bad?
Had someone accidentally poured in a cup of American-style black coffee?
Wade stared, trying to recall. But he hadn’t noticed the tea at the time.
Now, watching the photo, he saw Professor Mor grimace again, then cautiously take another sip—only to wince once more.
Wade burst into laughter.
That photo was going straight into his private collection. If Professor Mor ever saw it, he’d be utterly destroyed—erased from memory, reduced to dust.
He kept flipping.
Then, his hand froze.
His eyes softened instantly.
It was a Christmas snapshot—simple, ordinary. Just his family sitting together on a sofa.
But in the photo, the three of them were pressed close. His parents leaned into him, hands clasped. They gazed at each other with quiet affection, kissing gently, or lowering their heads to kiss his forehead.
Wade sat by the window, fingertips tracing the image.
A smile bloomed on his face.
His eyes sparkled with warmth.
(End of Chapter)
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