Chapter 726: To Meet a Person
"No matter which possibility," Dumbledore's voice rang out with unnerving clarity, "it means we may be facing a threat even greater than Voldemort... greater than Gellert Grindelwald."
Wade’s heart sank. The summer sunlight streamed through the window, bathing him in warmth—yet it could not dispel the icy dread spreading from deep within his chest.
He thought of Harry from the original story—the Savior, blindly led forward by the Headmaster’s design, always complaining that Dumbledore kept him in the dark, never telling him the truth until he was thrust into the storm of destiny, solving everything in a daze.
Now it seemed knowing everything wasn’t as comforting as it had once appeared.
At least Harry, in his ignorance, had still had time to love, to play Quidditch, to bicker with friends, to fret over assignments and exams—and to be furious at Dumbledore for hiding the truth.
But knowledge came at a cost. Wade knew the storm was coming—but not when. He couldn’t watch the story unfold with the detached calm of a reader. Nor could he afford the simple, unburdened happiness of Harry’s youth.
His choices might shape the futures of countless others. And this world—this real, living world—was growing more distant from the story he once knew. He could no longer see the full board.
Yet even with his eyes closed, he had to move forward.
Dumbledore gathered the Time Particles back into the Water Kettle, then lightly tapped the side with a finger. A clear, resonant chime rang out.
"When a problem is destined to happen," Dumbledore said, "sitting at home and fretting won’t change anything. There’s something else we must deal with right now."
"Something else?" Wade frowned. "The Magic Puppets told me they didn’t kill Little Barty Crouch."
That was the only thing he could think of that might have drawn Dumbledore’s private attention.
"Oh, I know," Dumbledore replied calmly. "The killer is someone else. Right now, we need to go meet someone."
"Who?" Wade asked.
"You should remember," Dumbledore said gently, "when we were at the Monastery—there was another person present. One locked inside the Confessional."
Wade instantly recalled it.
The wooden door. The ancient, eerie groans from behind it. The blood-red eyes. The thick, cloying scent of blood...
Any painting of that figure would be enough to haunt a dream.
"Who is it?" Wade asked.
"One of my old friends," Dumbledore sighed. "As you see, he has endured... unspeakable torment. Even now, fear still entangles him, trapping him in nightmares... unable to wake."
His gaze settled on Wade.
"You and your Magic Puppets saved him, Wade. I hope you’ll accompany me to see him. Give him some courage. And Harry—perhaps, to him, you young ones are more effective than any calming potion."
"I understand," Wade said, knowing he couldn’t refuse. He nodded. "Shall we leave now?"
Before he could finish speaking, his stomach let out a loud, unmistakable protest.
The sound echoed through the quiet office, so sudden and loud it made the portrait of a lace-capped headmistress on the wall giggle softly. Phineas Black, however, was not so restrained—his laughter burst out in wheezing, guttural chuckles.
The heavy atmosphere vanished instantly. Only Wade remained, face burning with embarrassment. He regretted bitterly that he hadn’t eaten the sandwich his mother had packed before leaving.
"I think," Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with gentle amusement, "we should wait until after lunch. Be sure to bring Harry with you. Oh—today’s Chocolate Cauldron Cake is excellent. I highly recommend you try it."
...
Wade walked toward the Great Hall.
Earlier, when he’d left the Medical Care Room, students had kept their distance, either avoiding him entirely or politely nodding from the corridor’s edge as he passed.
Now, he felt as though he’d been tossed into a boiling vortex.
Every step forward drew eyes. Dozens of gazes followed him, locking onto him like compass needles. As he passed, the silence would shatter into a low, buzzing whisper behind him.
Some students waved excitedly, eagerly hoping for a response. Even when Wade kept his eyes straight ahead, their excitement only grew—spilling into frantic chatter with friends.
Others looked afraid. They avoided his gaze, whispering nervously to companions: "He’s terrifying… those Magic Puppets tortured other Champions so cruelly…"
Wade ignored them all, quickening his pace down the corridor—when suddenly, a commotion erupted ahead.
Before he could react, two red-haired figures shot past him.
"Silence! Silence!" George cried dramatically, waving his arms. "Make way—The King of the Magic Puppets approaches!"
"Fall to your knees!" Fred followed, raising his wand high, chest puffed out. "If you wish to live, surrender every Galleon, Sick, and Knut in your pockets! Lord Wade may spare you!"
Wade’s ears burned. With a sigh of exasperation, he snapped up his hand and gave them both a sharp, hard tap on the head.
"Ow!" Fred yelped, staggering back—colliding into George. He slumped sideways, tongue lolling out.
George threw himself into a theatrical performance. "No—Fred—no—don’t leave me!" he wailed.
"Wahahaha!" Fred, still pretending to be dead, couldn’t hold it in any longer. He burst into laughter. The corridor erupted in cheers and laughter.
At the Great Hall, familiar faces filled the room. Harry had just stepped in, and he hadn’t escaped the inevitable—being surrounded, bombarded with questions.
A Gryffindor student clutched Harry’s sleeve, refusing to let go, demanding details about the moment he “died and came back.” Harry’s face was flushed with embarrassment.
Just as he struggled to pull free, a sharp, cutting voice sliced through the air.
"Move aside! Harry Potter isn’t some circus act for your entertainment!" Ginny Weasley snapped. "If you keep harassing him, I’ll turn your tongue into slugs!"
The entire Great Hall fell silent. The Gryffindor student flinched, stepping back instinctively. Harry seized the chance, yanking his sleeve free, and exhaled in relief before collapsing into the seat beside Wade.
"Merlin’s beard!" Ginny muttered, sitting beside Harry. "You’ve faced down the Dark Lord, yet you can’t stand up to a few nosy fools?"
Harry looked at her as though seeing her for the first time—nervous, quiet, speechless.
Ginny suddenly realized who she was talking to. Her face flushed crimson. She leapt up, then darted swiftly to the far end of the Gryffindor Long Table.
Fred slung an arm over Harry’s shoulder. "Congratulations. You’ve just relearned our little sister."
"Exactly," George added, nodding sagely. "That’s the real Ginny Weasley. The most terrifying person in the Weasley family."
Harry: "..."
(End of Chapter)
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