https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-385-Rita-Skeeter-s-Exile-Journey-2/13685386/
Translated Chapter
【Where are you?】
【I… I don’t know… I saw the ship pass by the Outer Hebrides, then keep going west… until I reached an island out in the sea…】
【Are you safe for now? Don’t tell me the details.】
【For now… yes, I’m still safe.】
【What danger did you encounter?】
【It’s… it’s the people I was supposed to investigate… I accidentally sneaked into their base, ended up on this island… I can’t leave—someone’s been chasing me ever since…】
【Stay alert. Protect yourself. We’ll find you.】
【Be careful… there’s something on this island… it can… influence you…】
The parchment bore fragmented, scattered lines—like words written by someone on the verge of collapse, unable to finish what they meant to say.
Wade used a Replication Charm to preserve the message. Dumbledore studied it for a long moment, then suddenly stood. With a flick of his wand, he tapped the wall.
Several portraits hanging on the wall slid aside with a soft, grumbling protest.
“Dumbledore,” croaked the old headmaster, “am I really such an eyesore?”
“Apologies, Mor,” Dumbledore said gently. “I need more space.”
The wall rippled like lake water, spreading concentric waves. Then, a clear, detailed world map appeared.
Dumbledore studied it, silent for a moment, then asked, “Wade, any thoughts?”
“I’ve examined that fake Book of Friends,” Wade said. “The spell on it feels ancient, strange… and then it hit me—this was a project I once abandoned.”
He laid the counterfeit Book of Friends flat on the table and gently waved his wand. Silver and golden light danced across its surface.
To an ordinary wizard, it would’ve looked like nonsense—but Dumbledore’s brow lifted slightly. Even without seeing, he could feel the subtle difference.
“Fascinating…” the headmaster murmured, almost to himself. “Its magical linkage seems different from the one you use.”
“Yes,” Wade confirmed. “Muggle communication relies on base stations as central exchange points. I originally wanted to build something similar for the Book of Friends—then we wouldn’t be limited by connection counts. Just enter a code, and you could send a message to anyone.”
“That sounds promising,” Dumbledore said. “But why did you abandon it?”
“Because,” Wade explained, “the messages would go to the base station first, then be forwarded. That meant the station could monitor every letter—and even alter them. So we scrapped the idea.”
Machionni was a businessman, not a surveillance agency. And besides, the magic couldn’t conceal itself. Any competent alchemist—say, someone who passed their NEWTs in Alchemy—or a master like Dumbledore himself could detect it.
Dumbledore nodded slowly. “So you suspect Miss Skeeter’s letter was tampered with?”
Wade gave a firm nod. “I can’t rule out the possibility it was a trap.”
“Prudence is wise,” Dumbledore praised. Then he added, with a warm smile, “But don’t worry too much, Wade—I’m with you.”
Wade blinked, then laughed. “Yeah… you’re right.”
“Then let’s go. I hope we’re not interrupting your class.” Dumbledore said lightly. “Don’t forget the brave Owl.”
“Yes, sir.” Wade returned to his dormitory, retrieved the cage containing the loyal Owl—exhausted from its long flight, now fast asleep.
As he was about to step out, his shoulder suddenly felt heavy.
He turned. Eva stood there, glaring at him with narrowed eyes, growling low in her throat—like she was accusing him of abandoning her for another bird. Her sharp claws had sunk into his coat.
“It’s not a delivery today, my dear,” Wade said, gently placing her back on her perch. “I need her to help me find someone.”
Eva didn’t seem to understand, but she turned away, tail flicking sharply in his direction.
Wade smiled, pushed open the door, and stepped outside. Dumbledore stood waiting in his deep red traveling cloak, already bathed in the soft light of the early morning.
Behind them, Hagrid shoved the great oak door shut with a powerful shove.
Screee—
The hinges groaned as the door scraped against the stone floor, echoing through the air.
Wade glanced back. The castle loomed in the mist, shadowy and indistinct—half-real, half-legend, like a painting from another time.
The Owl stirred, startled awake. It flapped its wings nervously, eyes wide. Wade quickly fed it a few Owl treats and murmured reassurance, stroking its feathers until it calmed. It leaned forward and gently pecked his finger, its huge, dark eyes clear and bright.
Dumbledore extended his arm. “Right. Let’s depart.”
Wade grasped his arm, whispering, “I really need to learn Apparition soon.”
He’d wanted to for a long time—but always something else came up.
Dumbledore chuckled. “Once we’re back, I can teach you—provided you don’t mind an extra class. I know you’re busy.”
Before he could finish, both men vanished in a flash.
For a split second, it felt like they’d passed through a narrow, pressurized tunnel of water—then thud, they reappeared with a sharp pop.
Wade gasped for air, then immediately pressed, “Is it really true, Professor?”
Dumbledore couldn’t help smiling. “Of course. As long as you have time.”
“I do have time!” Wade said eagerly, eyes wide. He gave Dumbledore a look that said, Now, tell me when.
“Next Sunday at nine. I’ll come to you,” Dumbledore said. “And remember—don’t tell anyone.”
“Understood!” Wade grinned.
Now that was settled, he finally took in their surroundings.
They stood on a vast, desolate island. Strange, jagged rocks jutted from the ground. Flat patches bore ruins of stone houses, overgrown with moss. Nearby, stone-walled fields lay abandoned, choked with wild grass. Across a slope, a sheer cliff jutted out like a sleeping giant—only its head visible, face blank and staring at the sky.
“Where are we, Professor?” Wade asked.
“St. Kilda Island, in the Outer Hebrides,” Dumbledore replied. “When I was young, I came here in search of ancient wizarding ruins—the Carasian Stone Circle. Back then, the village was still inhabited.”
Wade surveyed the crumbling houses and rotting tools. He whistled under his breath. This place had been abandoned for decades at least.
He knew Dumbledore was old—older than anyone he’d met—but he often forgot the man had lived through a time when China was still under Qing rule, when the Sino-Japanese War hadn’t even begun, and scholars still took imperial exams.
The gulf of time hit him like a wave.
Dumbledore didn’t notice his distraction. He was examining the cage, watching the Owl—still shaken by the sudden shift in space.
Wade opened the cage and lifted the bird into his arms, soothing it until it settled. Then he asked, “We need to find the one who sent you that message… you know where she is, right?”
“Gurk…” The Owl, intelligent and perceptive, gave a low, mournful sound. Wade saw fear in its wide, round eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Wade whispered. “You don’t have to go near it. Just show me where it is.”
“Gurk?” The Owl tilted its head, confused.
Wade turned to Dumbledore. “You know, don’t you?”
He paused, then added, “—I’m an Animagus.”
Dumbledore didn’t react with surprise. Instead, he nodded with approval. “A magnificent Falcon. I’ve heard few wizards can transform into birds.”
“You know?” Wade sighed, understanding now why the headmaster had chosen him.
Then he asked, curious, “What about you? Are you one?”
There were only seven registered Animagi in the world—Professor McGonagall among them. Dumbledore’s name had never appeared in The Daily Transfiguration, a magazine that frequently listed them. Yet Dumbledore was once Hogwarts’ most brilliant student, the Transfiguration Professor, and the greatest wizard of this age.
It was hard to believe he didn’t have the ability.
Ordinary wizards might assume Dumbledore didn’t care for such magic—after all, Animagi can’t become powerful magical creatures. But Wade knew better. A true seeker of magic would be fascinated by the complete transformation—from form to structure, from muscle to cell.
Dumbledore simply smiled. Then he drew out his feather quill and murmured, “Bosetos.”
A simple spell, but difficult to cast successfully. It turned an ordinary object into a tracking device.
A flash of emerald light—then the quill looked perfectly normal again.
“Keep this,” Dumbledore said, handing it to Wade. “Force it once, and it activates.”
“Got it.” Wade didn’t press further. He tucked the quill into his pocket, then—without hesitation—shifted into his Falcon form. He soared into the sky, circling high above.
The Owl flinched, nearly falling from its perch. It flapped its wings frantically to regain balance, then took flight.
Dumbledore watched from below, eyes half-lidded. Two birds circled each other in the air, communicating silently. Then, one after the other, they flew west.
Freedom. Confidence. Courage.
In ancient Egypt, the falcon was revered as the embodiment of Horus—the god of kingship, protector of the dead, whose eye watched over the journey to the afterlife.
The Babylonians had a lion-headed eagle. The Roman legions bore the double-headed eagle. The Sasanian Empire used it as a symbol. Russia’s coat of arms features it. Even America’s national emblem is the bald eagle.
Twenty nations have adopted the eagle in their flags or coats of arms. It stands as a symbol of power, divine messenger, and sovereignty.
But the real falcon is solitary. It doesn’t flock. It despises domination. It is fearless, loyal to its mate, and free.
Dumbledore had long believed Wade was the one wizard who truly embodied the spirit of the falcon.
Before Wade’s Animagus form was complete, Dumbledore had speculated what he might become—considering sharks, sea serpents, peacocks, wild horses, cats, scorpions. But in the end, he’d settled on the falcon. And now, the truth confirmed it.
Joy stirred quietly in the old wizard’s heart.
The two birds shrank into the sky, fading into the high clouds.
Dumbledore stood at the cliff’s edge, his red cloak flapping in the sea wind. Gulls wheeled overhead, crying out with piercing voices.
…
Flying above the ocean was strange. The horizon stretched endlessly—sea and sky merging into one. Even with shifting clouds below, the sense of direction blurred.
Wade didn’t know if it was his human mind or if falcons always felt this way.
But the Owl—like it had a satellite in its head—flew with absolute certainty. It pulled forward as if guided by an invisible thread.
Wade followed. Over the endless sea, the Owl never failed. It landed on tiny islets, a passing cruise ship, once even a whale floating on the surface.
They flew in fits and starts. Wade carried food in his pocket. With magic, he summoned fresh water. So the pair remained strong.
Then, in the distance, a larger island emerged on the horizon.
The Owl stopped far away, landed on a green sea buoy, and gave a sharp, urgent call—this is the place.
But when Wade tried to approach, the Owl spread its wings, blocking his path with a loud, warning hoot.
Wade guessed, “Can’t get closer? Danger?”
The Owl gave a serious, trembling cry. Fear flickered in its eyes.
Wade didn’t press. He shifted back to human form, enlarged the buoy to boat size so they could rest, then took out his magical telescope.
From afar, the island looked ordinary—developed, clean. White sand beaches, dense forests, a dock with fishing boats, a lighthouse on the cliff. A road wound into the woods, wide enough for two cars, vanishing into the trees.
But from high above, Wade spotted a cluster of buildings glowing faintly white in the distance.
Yet—no people.
Just several Surveillance Cameras.
Wade pulled out the feather quill and snapped it.
Pop!
Dumbledore appeared beside him, as if materialized from thin air.
“Found it?” the headmaster asked, light and cheerful. “Faster than I expected.”
“We’re here,” Wade said. “The island ahead. The Owl won’t let me near—probably armed defenses…”
Before he could finish, a strange, low hum rose from the island.
A wave of sound spread outward, fading by the time it reached them.
But both men froze.
“Did you feel that, Wade?” Dumbledore asked. His hair seemed to float slightly in the air.
“Yeah,” Wade replied. He looked down at his hand—fingers twitched, then relaxed. A faint tingling ran through him, like static electricity. His magic felt like a whisper of current—subtle, but enough to cause slight muscle tremors.
It was barely noticeable.
But what about the people on the island?
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
