The man standing at the door looked like he had reverted to how he was before Wade had ever met him—tired and haggard, wearing dirty, tattered clothes with a patch on the elbow.
Remus Lupin had only heard about the attack on the Hogwarts Express that very morning, and he had rushed over in a hurry.
"Sirius actually really wanted to come see you too, but he hasn't finished the task Dumbledore assigned him," Lupin explained on his friend's behalf.
"What kind of task did Dumbledore give him?" Harry asked curiously. "What have you guys been so busy with lately that you don't even have time to check the Book of Friends?"
Truth be told, when Harry had woken up from unconsciousness, he'd felt a twinge of disappointment seeing no messages from Remus or Sirius in the book, and no familiar faces on the platform either.
Now that Lupin was here, Harry had wanted to complain a little—but the words stuck in his throat and never came out.
He didn't want to spoil the joy of this moment.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said apologetically. "It's classified. Until I get Dumbledore's permission… I can't… well, I can't say anything."
"Oh… alright."
Harry pouted slightly but still went up to hug Lupin. "I'm really happy to see you, Remus."
"Me too," Lupin replied, ruffling Harry's hair. Measuring him up, he said with a smile, "Only a month or so apart, and you've already grown taller, Harry."
Then he noticed Wade and Michael coming down the stairs and greeted them with a smile, "Long time no see, Wade, Michael. How have you two been?"
Only then did Harry remember that there were two other friends in the house, and he sheepishly let go of Lupin.
"Don't worry, you can hug a bit longer," Michael teased with a grin. "I'll mock you either way."
"We've been doing fine, but it looks like you haven't," Wade said. "What happened to you? How'd you end up looking like that?"
"Oh… this?"
Lupin lifted his arm and looked at the patch with a wry smile, then said with some exasperation, "Just been too busy to buy new clothes. Tonks… I mean, a kind companion helped patch it up."
"Oh… a companion, huh…" Michael raised an eyebrow and drew out the word suggestively.
For some reason, Lupin actually felt a bit flustered under the boy's knowing look. He quickly changed the subject: "Anyway, I'm just relieved to see you're all okay… Uh, if it's alright, I'd like to freshen up a bit first."
…
When Lupin came back out, cleaned up, the table was already covered in food.
There were no little magic dolls around to do chores here, of course—but being in the center of London meant ordering takeout was a breeze. There was a Chinese restaurant just around the corner, and the food was authentic.
After dinner, Harry couldn't wait to bring up the time he fainted in front of the Dementors. He said in frustration, "I've already learned the Patronus Charm, but at that moment my whole body just went weak, and I couldn't summon it properly."
Lupin looked at him gently and said:
"Dementors affect you more strongly than they do others, Harry. That's because others haven't experienced the kind of terror that you have.
There's nothing to be ashamed of. Anyone who had gone through what you did would faint when facing a Dementor."
"That's what Wade said too. But I…" Harry gritted his teeth. "I don't want to feel that helpless again… If I face a Dementor next time, I want to be able to fight it! Remus, is there anything I can do?"
Lupin thought for a moment, then said, "There is one method… Harry, do you know what a Boggart is?"
"Yes!" Harry nodded. "Professor Abigail taught us about them in class."
"That saves me the explanation, then… I'll try to find a Boggart. When it sees you, it should take the form of a Dementor," Lupin said.
"Will a Boggart-turned-Dementor feel just as terrifying?" Harry asked with concern.
"Yes," Lupin confirmed. "It will turn into the thing you fear most—its appearance and aura will be almost identical… Of course, it won't actually have the same powers."
"Got it." Harry took a deep breath, feeling both nervous and determined. "I will master the Patronus Charm properly."
Lupin smiled warmly at his determined expression.
"A castle as ancient as Hogwarts usually has a few Boggarts lurking around. I'll write to Hagrid and see if he can help me find one."
"Um… Can Hagrid catch a Boggart?" Harry asked skeptically.
Of course, Hagrid was a great Care of Magical Creatures teacher—but when it came to spellwork… Well, Harry could only say Hagrid usually relied on his fists when it came to fights.
And Boggarts aren't the kind of creature you could defeat with brute strength.
Lupin chuckled and said, "Hagrid's kindness and simplicity actually give him an edge when dealing with Boggarts."
Harry didn't fully understand, but the idea of facing a knock-off Dementor soon was enough to make him a little anxious.
After Lupin went to write the letter, Harry began practicing the Patronus Charm in the empty living room.
Having just finished a solo game upstairs, Michael noticed that Harry hadn't come back to the attic. Feeling bored playing alone, he came down to check.
Leaning against the stair rail, he saw the silvery stag galloping through the air. For a moment, he could almost hear the sound of hooves. As it passed by, it radiated a wave of warmth.
Any creature turned into a Patronus has an otherworldly beauty—perhaps even more sacred than a unicorn.
As Michael watched the stag nuzzle close to Harry, he felt a surge of envy.
He wrestled with himself for a moment. In the end, the desire not to be a burden won over his natural laziness.
"Teach me the Patronus Charm, Harry." Michael shut his eyes and said determinedly, "Once school starts, I'll even help you practice Potions every day!"
Although Snape always liked to target Harry, if Harry performed well in Potions class, even Professor Snape couldn't deduct points unfairly every lesson.
Harry blinked, then smiled and said, "Sure! If you want to learn, I'll teach you even without any conditions… But why didn't you ask Wade? He's better at it than I am."
Michael sighed and said, "He's too busy… you know what I mean? Sometimes it feels like even breathing has to be squeezed into the cracks of his schedule."
"Yeah… true…"
Harry and Michael exchanged a look and suddenly let out a synchronized sigh.
Having an overachiever among your friends was not exactly a pleasant experience—but neither of them could bring themselves to blame Wade for working so hard.
Even someone as oblivious as Harry could tell that Wade always seemed to be chased by something, pushing himself relentlessly. He was already so outstanding, yet still carried himself as if under immense pressure.
Maybe it's because Voldemort is not truly dead, Harry guessed, and that's what makes Wade feel so on edge all the time?
That thought made Harry feel an odd sense of guilt, like he was the one who had failed to complete his own mission.
…
"Although I think this kind of information probably shouldn't be told to a child, Dumbledore believes you have the right to know," Lupin said to Wade.
"The owner of that island was a Muggle businessman named Roger Milton. When our people found him, he had already been dead for half an hour."
Wade frowned and asked, "Suicide?"
"That's how it appeared," Lupin replied. "The Aurors from the Ministry didn't find any signs that he'd been murdered."
Wade was silent for a moment, then asked, "Remus, do you think the Ministry's conclusion is reliable?"
Lupin smiled and said:
"Some Ministry officials might've left a bad impression on you, but there are also many skilled witches and wizards among them—especially the Aurors.
Incompetent ones don't last long in this line of work. Aurors are always top of their class, highly capable. Kingsley Shacklebolt, for example, is the best of the best."
Wade nodded slightly.
Kingsley Shacklebolt—of course he remembered the name. Though he didn't appear much in the original books, he was indeed a sharp and capable guy, and later even became Minister of Magic.
"Something like this couldn't have been done by a single faction, especially that kind of machine targeting wizards," Wade said.
"Did you check Roger Milton's correspondence? And things like his computer or phone?"
"Shacklebolt is well-versed in that area. He brought in a Muggle expert—someone who supposedly works for the British Prime Minister. But…"
Lupin's tone grew heavy: "I think you can guess—we didn't find anything useful."
Not finding anything was a kind of discovery. It was enough to prove that something even darker was lurking behind the scenes.
But apart from deepening people's worries and unease, that kind of knowledge wasn't much help.
Lupin pulled himself together and smiled. "By the way, I haven't thanked you yet—those Communication Beans are incredibly useful. They've helped us a lot. I heard they're going on sale in Diagon Alley tomorrow?"
"Yeah, Marchionne plans to make a killing during the Christmas season!" Wade said. "The public version has a lot of features removed—not as refined as the one I gave you guys. The focus was on improving the calling function."
"I think it's already amazing—maybe even more convenient than a Muggle mobile phone. At least you don't charge for calls, and it's immune to magical interference," Lupin said. "You should get some rest tonight. Tomorrow, I'll take you all to Diagon Alley."
…
Marchionne's advertisement campaign this time was massive—everyone who should see it, and even those who shouldn't, had seen it.
"Communication Bean? A magical version of a mobile phone?"
Baird flipped through the newspaper ad and muttered:
"Those useless people at the research institute—still haven't figured out how Book of Friends works, and now there's an even more advanced product on the market!
Not that it matters much to us. You're probably the only one who might use it—Sierra, didn't you hear anything about this Bean while you were at school?"
"No," Abigail said expressionlessly. "I'm his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, not his Alchemy teacher."
In front of them, a troll-like magical doll was sitting lazily on the ground, yawning and picking its nose. Its small, shifty eyes were sneakily scanning its surroundings.
It looked annoyed, but under command, it obediently remained seated. A massive wooden club, taller than a person, rested by its side.
The troll doll reeked with an awful stench, no different from a real troll, yet right beside it was a man pressing up against it like he couldn't smell a thing.
His face was pale with heavy dark circles under his eyes, and he wore a ridiculously mismatched outfit bursting with clashing colors. He circled the troll doll repeatedly, showering it with praise—
"My god! It's perfect! An absolute masterpiece! Just look at those muscle lines! Look at those thick arms, those nimble little eyes!"
He climbed up the troll puppet's arm and reached out to poke at its eyes, only to be grabbed and flung aside by the annoyed creature, which let out a furious roar.
Crack. The man's arm was dislocated.
"Aaaagh—!"
He screamed in pain, but once someone helped him back to his feet, he looked even more excited.
"Ohhh... Did you see that? It even has a temper! Hahaha... I'm starting to love it even more!"
He spun around the troll twice more before throwing himself toward Abigail, pleading:
"Please, let me see the werewolf and vampire you have! It would be such a huge help to my research! Just give me one of each! Just one, I swear…"
"No." Abigail looked down at him and coldly refused. "They're nothing like the troll. They're not nearly as obedient. You could get torn to pieces."
"But you'll be there, right?" the man persisted, clinging to her. "You could order them to behave, couldn't you?"
"Why don't you get it?" Abigail said icily.
"What makes these magical dolls so valuable is that they have their own will and personalities—and even significant growth potential! Yes, they'll obey commands, but if you anger them, there's a real chance they might defy you!"
"Illary, these dolls were designed for combat," Baird added. "They're inherently aggressive. Maybe they're safe around most wizards, but your body is barely at an average human level."
Their research had long confirmed that even without the use of magic or potions, a wizard's physical attributes—cell vitality, resilience, recovery speed—were all far superior to those of an ordinary person.
But someone like Illary, who barely moved, was obsessed with alchemy, and didn't even study magic seriously—he'd lost whatever natural advantage he may have had.
"Fine…" Illary backed off from pestering Abigail, though clearly reluctant. "But you must bring me that Wade Grey. This project needs him!"
Abigail's brow twitched slightly, but by the time Baird looked her way, her expression was back to normal.
"Can't you replicate it just by looking at the final product?" Baird asked with a frown. "Weren't you a student of Nicolas Flamel?"
"Ugh, I only studied alchemy under that old man for a few days back when I was at Beauxbatons. That hardly makes me a 'student.' Murray personally brought Grey into the world of alchemy—that's what a true disciple looks like."
Illary muttered bitterly, his tone laced with jealousy:
"And that kind of doll… tch, I doubt even Flamel could make one… Damn that genius…"
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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- +235 Chapters
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