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Chapter 92: Change, Learning
As Wade had anticipated, the Slytherin students didn’t go tattling to Professor Snape.
Seven or eight of them had ambushed a Ravenclaw of similar age—only to lose badly and end up sobbing uncontrollably. Such an embarrassment was something even Malfoy, who constantly boasted about his father, would never want the world to know.
That day, after Wade left, the injured boys helped each other limp to the Infirmary, claiming they’d accidentally caused a potion explosion during private practice. Such mistakes were common among students—but for so many to be hurt at once was far too suspicious. Madam Pomfrey immediately blamed Professor Snape for failing in his duties, grumbling about it for over half an hour.
When Snape arrived in a hurry upon hearing of the injuries, he hadn’t even stepped through the door when he heard Madam Pomfrey’s sharp voice echoing through the corridor.
Confused, Snape stood there, silent.
He had no idea what had happened—only that he was being blamed. So he stood at the entrance, face dark and expressionless, silently enduring the scolding.
After all, Madam Pomfrey had been the school’s healer since Snape was a student. He’d clashed with James Potter’s group countless times, often ending up injured and needing her care. Though he could now argue with Dumbledore himself, he always held back around this woman.
Though he said nothing, his cold, piercing gaze swept over each of the injured students.
Snape could tell at a glance—the widespread red swellings on their skin were unmistakably from a failed Pimple Potion. But potions class had been going on for over half a year now. Who still made such a basic mistake?
Only Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor—or the notorious “explosion prodigy” Seamus Finnigan—might have been excused.
Once Madam Pomfrey turned her attention to another student, Snape stepped forward.
“What happened?”
Malfoy, his face smeared with healing salve, kept his head down, hiding his expression. He whispered, “It was my fault, Professor.”
Snape narrowed his eyes.
Draco Malfoy’s posture felt strangely familiar—like the way he himself had looked, years ago, lying in the Infirmary, making the same excuse.
But back then, he’d known that even if he told the truth, no one would help him—only mockery and worse bullying would follow.
Draco Malfoy, spoiled by his parents, had no reason to protect the bullies… so why was he covering for them now?
Still, since all of them had been beaten together, Snape didn’t bother digging deeper. He’d always thought Draco’s arrogant, sarcastic attitude deserved a good thrashing—sooner or later, it was bound to come.
…
The next day at noon, Michael and Wade headed to the Great Hall for lunch. When they passed by a group of Slytherins, Michael instinctively tensed—only to notice that the two boys—Mileson and Theo Nott—had lowered their heads slightly, waiting until Wade had passed before resuming their previous activity.
“What did you do to them?” Michael asked, astonished.
“Well…” Wade hesitated. “You might not believe me, but—before I even entered the classroom yesterday, they’d already given up.”
Michael stared at him, then slowly nodded, understanding dawning. “If it’s something you can’t talk about… I’ll pretend I didn’t ask.”
“It’s not really a secret,” Wade said slowly. “I can show you—if you promise not to be terrified.”
“Terrified?” Michael scoffed, then paused. “Wait… did you get a Boggart?”
A Boggart was a shape-shifting magical creature that took the form of one’s deepest fear.
Wade shook his head. “No, not that. Though I’d love to see one, if I ever get the chance.”
As Pansy Parkinson and a few other Slytherin girls passed by, they glanced at Wade and gave him a stiff, uneasy nod.
After seeing this happen a few times, Wade noticed a subtle shift in the attitude of some of the first-year Slytherins toward him—not hostility, not contempt, not even the usual scheming for revenge. Instead, there was fear… mixed with a quiet awe, even reverence.
Slytherins… they seemed to admire strength.
The thought flickered in Wade’s mind.
…
With no needling from Slytherin students, Wade’s days were almost entirely consumed by learning. Even the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match went unseen—though he’d heard Harry caught the Golden Snitch in just five minutes, and Snape, serving as referee, had looked furious.
The Invisible Expansion Charm proved far more difficult than expected—especially since Wade aimed to craft something on the scale of Newt Scamander’s pocket dimension-like storage chest. Professor Mor even advised him not to worry.
In his free time, Wade crafted two alchemical artifacts to practice his skills. One was a Möbius ring that turned slowly, with a tiny figure walking endlessly along its surface. The other was a miniature crab that swept and mopped the floor on its own, occasionally spraying cheerful, colorful bubbles that lifted the spirits. Hermione and Padma both fell in love with it.
On Sunday afternoon, Wade brought his Insect Training Companions to the Umbrella Room. The reaction was immediate and deafening—everyone screamed in shock.
Harry unleashed a powerful Disarming Charm that sent the mantis’s front leg flying. Hermione managed her first successful Shield Charm. Michael, meanwhile, set the spider ablaze with a fiery spell, making it shriek and scuttle in panic.
The results were undeniable—despite their grotesque appearances, the Insect Training Companions were incredibly effective. By the end, even Neville had improved noticeably. When Padma was surrounded, he leapt onto the spider’s back and jammed his wand into its massive compound eye.
Remus Lupin had also begun teaching magic. The first spell Wade requested was the Memory Extraction Spell.
Remus Lupin: I can sense… why you wish to learn this spell.
In the Book of Friends, Remus’s words carried a clear note of caution. He warned: Under Ministry of Magic regulations, any spell that alters another person’s memories is strictly forbidden.
Wade: The user is me.
After a pause, Wade’s reply appeared on the page: I’ve forgotten something important—and I must recover it. Also, I’d like to learn Mental Defense magic. Do you know it?
Remus Lupin: Of course. During the war, we all had to learn how to protect our minds from being read by enemies. But to be honest, I’m not an expert. The real master of such magic was Severus Snape.
Wade: I just need the basic techniques. I want to make sure no one can silently invade my mind and steal my will.
Wade had no intention of learning Mental Defense from Snape. After all, those skilled at shielding their minds were often equally skilled at stealing thoughts. He wouldn’t let anyone—ever—see into his thoughts or memories.
Still, communicating through the Book of Friends gave him a sense of safety. Even if the learning was slower, he could improve through practice.
In the Room of Requirement, Wade finished writing a line and looked up, glancing at the gray basin resting on a stone pillar.
The basin was flat and wide, empty, with no water inside. Its outer rim was encrusted with gems that sparkled brilliantly, giving it a dazzling, luxurious appearance.
(End of Chapter)
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