Chapter 722: A Walk with the Headmaster
After a series of rigorous tests, Madam Pomfrey finally declared that Wade had fully recovered his health—his childhood magic had caused no irreversible damage.
Immediately, his friends surged forward, gathering around the hospital bed. One reached out to tug at Wade’s sleeve, another gently brushed his arm, as if seeing him for the first time.
But under the watchful gaze of the headmaster and Wade’s parents, they couldn’t express their overwhelming emotions. Once they’d confirmed Wade was safe, they all quietly departed—
Even in a magical school, students generally avoided lingering under the headmaster’s scrutiny, even when that headmaster was Dumbledore.
Soon after, the Gray couple arrived at the time to leave. Fiona lingered, brushing a hand over Wade’s collar with clear reluctance. “Once you return home in a few days,” she said, “we’ll sit down and talk properly.”
“Don’t worry,” Wade replied, taking her hand. “This holiday, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll meet again soon.”
Fiona nodded, wrapping her scarf around her neck. Ferdinand slipped an arm around her shoulder and guided her toward the exit.
After a few steps, Wade noticed his father pause, then turn back.
“If there’s something you must do,” the man said, his voice lower than usual, “go ahead. Don’t let us hold you back.”
Sunlight traced the fine lines around his eyes, highlighting the depth of emotion in his gaze.
“You know, Wade… your mom and I only hope you’re safe.”
…
Wade straightened his school robes, carefully polishing his wand and its spare before placing them away. As he pushed open the ward door, summer sunlight poured in like honey, spilling across the stone floor in warm, golden patches.
Dumbledore stood by the window, absorbed in the view outside.
Wade joined him, peering through the glass.
A few scattered groups of students dotted the lawn, basking in the final moments of term. Exams were over, but academic results hadn’t been released yet—this was the most carefree time of the year.
Some strolled by the lake, others chased after mischievous Gnomes, while a few zoomed through the air on broomsticks, laughing as they dodged one another. Everyone seemed happy.
Dumbledore pulled a small jar of Honey Drops from his pocket and offered one. “Care for a piece? Sweets always remind us of life’s brighter side.”
“Sure!” Wade took one and popped it into his mouth.
The candy—handpicked by Dumbledore—was occasionally overly sweet, but its flavor was unmatched. Wade was beginning to understand why the headmaster ate them one after another.
When life weighed too heavily, even a brief burst of sweetness could be a lifeline.
Dumbledore took one too, eyes crinkling shut from the sugar. Then he chuckled. “Look—they’re leaving.”
Wade squinted. A carriage was slowly rolling out through the school’s main gate. Hagrid stood at the entrance, waving enthusiastically at it.
Wade knew. The people inside were his parents.
“I’m glad to see you have such love for your parents, Wade,” Dumbledore said softly. “Not everyone is so fortunate—few can claim the purest, most selfless love in the world.”
Wade watched the carriage grow smaller, a quiet guilt stirring within him.
“But I’ve always made them worry… for my parents, perhaps it would’ve been better if I’d been ordinary.”
“But the world might have become far worse,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “You’re doing what needs to be done. Only in peace can ordinary people truly thrive.”
Wade fell silent, a weight lifting from his chest.
He remembered the plot of the original story—after Voldemort’s resurrection, the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters roamed freely, breaking into homes, shattering bridges, unleashing hurricanes, and spreading Dementors like plague. Innocent lives were snuffed out without warning.
These horrors were mentioned only briefly in the original tale—but their damage was no less real.
If Wade had been just an ordinary student, doing nothing, then among the victims, his parents might have been among them.
Then he frowned.
“But people still seem to believe Voldemort is dead… even after witnessing the resurrection ceremony with their own eyes?”
Dumbledore turned, walking toward the Headmaster’s office, motioning for Wade to follow.
“We can only assume the magic of the Brain Chamber is stronger than we thought,” he said. “And although no one saw Voldemort’s final painting, that all-consuming Flame—burning everything to ash—made many people instinctively believe he was dead.”
People often judged others by their own understanding of reality.
Faced with the terrifying power of the Inferno God Spell, they believed they couldn’t survive such a strike. And deep down, many hoped—just hoped—that the Dark Lord had been consumed.
That thought should’ve passed in an instant, replaced by reason.
But under the influence of the Obliviation Charm, the idea that “Voldemort is dead” was reinforced again and again—until it became a shared belief.
Wade felt a pang of unease.
“But if people don’t know the truth,” he said, voice edged with worry, “they’ll have no defense when they face Voldemort.”
Even with awareness, most wouldn’t stand a chance against a wizard of his caliber.
“Wade,” Dumbledore said gently, “Voldemort is far weaker than you think. Right now, he’s like a frightened child—hiding in the shadows, licking his wounds, trying to rebuild his strength. He’s more afraid of being exposed than we are.”
Wade nodded. “And even if we reveal the truth, the wizarding world’s memory will forget it faster than we can speak.”
“Yes,” Dumbledore agreed. “You’re right.”
“Professor,” Wade recalled something from the newspaper, “I heard Fudge recommended you to succeed him as Minister of Magic when he resigned?”
“That’s true,” Dumbledore smiled faintly, shifting the candy in his mouth. “But I believe Hogwarts needs me more. Rufus Scrimgeour would make an excellent Minister—firm in his beliefs, much like Bagnor. Exactly what the Ministry of Magic needs now.”
Wade’s eyes flickered. He studied the headmaster.
“Even without Voldemort, you still refuse to become Minister? Given the rising power of the Wizard Purity Party…”
Gellert Grindelwald’s name hovered on his tongue—then he swallowed it, replacing it with:
“I’ve heard the former Bagnor Minister was surprisingly open-minded. But Professor Scrimgeour… he seems rather stubborn.”
(End of Chapter)
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