Chapter 727: Immunity Power
Friends helped Wade and Harry fend off the intrusive stares, finally allowing them to eat their meal in peace.
"Actually, Harry’s situation was even worse when he first came back," Michael whispered to Wade. "Some of the Home folk were practically hysterical. Later, Dumbledore said a few words at breakfast, telling everyone to leave you two alone—no pestering, no asking about what happened that day. That kid back there? If Professor McGonagall saw him, he’d be in detention for days."
"Hey, Wade! Look over there!" Theo suddenly lowered his voice and pointed with his fork toward the Great Hall entrance.
Wade turned. There, Crabbe, Crabbe, Theo Nott, and a few others were walking with their heads down, hurrying toward the Slytherin long table. Hunched over, as if bearing an invisible weight, they were barraged by stares—some sneering, others filled with disdain. Even fellow Slytherin students kept their distance, their entire posture screaming stay away.
"I just don’t get it," Michael scoffed, stabbing his fork hard into the pie on his plate. "How can these kids still be in school? Their Death Eater fathers were caught right under everyone’s nose!"
Theo murmured, "My grandfather always said… Dumbledore’s weakness is his excessive leniency toward certain people."
"I don’t get it," Liam frowned. "Why wasn’t Malfoy’s father among those captured?"
"Maybe they’ve already split ways?" Michael guessed. "Look at how they treated Malfoy before—excluded him completely. If his father still held the same power, they wouldn’t have treated him like that."
Only Wade, who knew the truth, stayed silent. He glanced distantly at Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy sat alone at the far end of the long table, his expression cynical. When Crabbe and the others shot him desperate glances, Malfoy lifted his chin, offering a mocking, triumphant smirk.
…
After lunch, Wade and Harry pushed their plates aside, said goodbye to their friends, and walked toward the Headmaster’s Office.
"Are you really all right now?" Harry finally asked, concern in his voice. "You’ve been asleep for two days… Madam Pomfrey said your magic was severely drained. That kind of exhaustion in a minor is extremely rare."
Wade waved it off. "I’m fine. But you—"
His eyes drifted over Harry’s forehead, and he asked, "After being hit by the Killing Curse, did you feel anything… strange?"
Harry touched his scar and shook his head. "I feel great. And… well, the scar hasn’t hurt at all. Dumbledore said… it probably won’t hurt anymore."
"That’s good, isn’t it?" Wade said simply.
"Dumbledore said the same thing, but…" Harry hesitated. "When the scar used to hurt, I could sometimes see what Voldemort was doing. That was useful. But now… I have this feeling… like I can’t see it anymore."
"Never heard the saying?" As they began climbing the staircase, Wade spoke in a low, deliberate tone. "When you stare into the Abyss, the Abyss stares back."
"You mean…" Harry suddenly understood. "That Voldemort might be able to see what I’m doing too?"
—Like watching me struggle through class assignments? What good is that?
"Not just that," Wade said. "His magic is stronger than yours. His experience is far greater. If Voldemort realizes there’s a connection between us, he might manipulate your actions, twist your thoughts—turn you into a weapon without you even realizing it."
"So… cutting that connection completely? That would be a huge advantage."
Harry rubbed his forehead, thoughtful.
"Seriously," Wade asked curiously, glancing at him, "what happened when you were hit by the Killing Curse? Did you see the River Styx? The Ferryman?"
"No," Harry said, his voice soft with memory. "I felt like I was in Sirius Black’s house… but there was no one else. Just me, alone. And outside the window… there was a strange, old red-skinned child crying…"
"Then what?" Wade asked casually. "Did you go help him?"
Harry stared at him. "You think I’m an idiot? That kind of thing? I wasn’t going near it. Besides, I was thinking about Voldemort—what he’d do next to you. I panicked, just wanted to get out of that room as fast as possible. Then—suddenly—I woke up. And I was surrounded by magic puppets."
Wade’s step faltered for just a moment.
He knew Harry wasn’t lying. That was exactly the kind of thing Harry would do.
But he was hiding something.
Because Wade remembered—in the original story, Harry had appeared in a place resembling King’s Cross Station after being hit by the Killing Curse. He’d spoken at length with Dumbledore before returning to his body. And when he did, he realized only a short time had passed since he’d died.
But this time… Harry hadn’t even lingered in that strange liminal space between life and death. He should’ve awakened instantly—perhaps even the moment he fell.
Yet he’d lain there for a long time, only waking just as the battle was ending.
Still, Wade didn’t expose him. Instead, he smiled. "Thanks for thinking of me… but didn’t you consider that I might not even have died? If you stepped in, Voldemort would’ve just tried to kill you again."
Harry grabbed his hair in embarrassment. "I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time."
Then, with sudden determination, he revealed the one thing he hadn’t told anyone: the real reason he’d come back.
"Professor Dumbledore explained," Harry said. "Voldemort used my blood to resurrect himself. At first, it looked like he’d gained protection from my mother. But in truth, my mother’s spell charm was embedded in both our bodies."
"So as long as he’s alive, I can’t die. His Killing Curse didn’t kill me—it just severed the connection between us."
"Dumbledore said it was all just speculation… but I think that’s exactly what happened."
As he spoke, Harry recalled the moment clearly.
When Dumbledore explained it, Sirius Black suddenly erupted in fury—no reason, no warning. He screamed, roared, smashed two of the Headmaster’s prized silverware. Remus Lupin and Harry both had to pull him back, struggling to calm him.
Only when Dumbledore whispered something to him did Sirius suddenly go silent—frozen, trembling, eyes wide with something like grief, as if he were about to burst into tears.
Thinking back on it, Harry felt both amused and uneasy. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Sirius and Dumbledore were hiding something crucial—but Sirius refused to say more, only muttering, “It’s over now.” And that was that.
Then Wade asked, "So does that mean you now have immunity to the Killing Curse? As long as Voldemort lives, you’re protected?"
"No," Harry said, a faint, bitter smile on his lips. "Dumbledore said our connection is unprecedented—completely uncharted magic. It’s all just his guess. We can’t treat it like a guaranteed amulet."
"And…" His expression darkened slightly, a flicker of complexity in his eyes. "Voldemort isn’t stupid. He won’t make the same mistake twice. Next time… I won’t have that kind of luck."
(End of Chapter)
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