Cornelius fell silent for a moment and stared at the strange, talking cloak. He muttered, "Magic trick?"
Cloak: "..."
It spun around twice in place and retorted, "Look at me! Open your eyes and really look at me! Do I have any wires? A speaker? Propellers?"
"I really don't see any… But if technology has come this far, to someone like me who's been left behind by the times, it doesn't seem all that different from magic anymore."
Cornelius sighed and said, "Stop trying so hard to mess with me. Whatever your real purpose is—just say it."
Cloak: "...So, even if I turned invisible right now, took you flying, or played a game of chess with you—you'd still think it was all human technology, wouldn't you, old man?"
Cornelius' eyes widened in shock. "You can do all that?"
But Cloak ignored the question and flew over to Wade, whining pitifully, "Master, look, he doesn't believe me."
Cornelius' gaze shifted to Wade.
Earlier in the car, the Greys had already told him about their son—supposedly a young wizard, brilliant and hardworking, who in just a few short years had achieved more than most could in a lifetime, and had invented numerous powerful alchemical artifacts.
According to the Greys, their son was perfect in both ability and character, almost too good to be real. It was also his decision to cure Cornelius and to hire him for some kind of research project.
To be honest, as a firm materialist, Cornelius didn't believe a word of it.
He thought the poor couple had probably been brainwashed by some cult—or were suffering from a shared delusion.
He followed them home mainly to thank them for curing his illness, figure out what was really going on, and hopefully help them return to reality.
But after stepping into this house, Cornelius felt like his entire worldview was starting to crumble—
Vivid and lifelike little magical dolls, photographs on the walls that moved, a cloak as lively as a person—thin as paper and truly empty inside.
And most importantly, Cornelius had already checked newspapers and TV on the way here. He knew for a fact he hadn't "slept for twenty years."
He also noticed people on the streets had pets like cats or dogs—but no one was walking around with robots as agile and sentient as these.
Cornelius struggled to explain everything he saw with the scientific theories he knew, trying to stabilize his collapsing sense of reality.
He looked up at the boy walking down the stairs and his eyes trembled faintly—with fear, and with a glimmer of hope.
Wade came up to him, smiled, said nothing, and simply drew his wand. He tapped the button on Cornelius' shirt.
The gold-plated button twitched as if it were itchy, and then, right under Cornelius' nose, it suddenly transformed into a golden butterfly. It fluttered its delicate wings and took flight.
Because both of Wade's parents were Squibs, he rarely performed little "tricks" like this at home.
At this moment, even the Greys couldn't help but follow the butterfly with their eyes, and watched it dance gracefully through the air with its wings shimmering like golden gauze.
After a while, the butterfly fluttered back. Cornelius couldn't help but extend a hand.
The golden butterfly landed in his palm, and its black antennae gently trembled, as if sensing the air around it.
Its tiny feet moved lightly across his hand, the touch was delicate and subtle—slightly tingling, like feathers brushing across the skin.
Cornelius didn't dare to breathe too loudly, afraid of disturbing the fragile little life in his hand.
He held the butterfly—which still bore traces of button-like patterns on its wings—and felt as if a storm had swept through his heart.
A towering structure had collapsed, leaving him standing on the ruins in chaos. But beyond the destruction, he saw a broader world, and his heart gradually became calm and clear once again.
"This is magic?" Cornelius whispered.
"Yes," Wade replied.
"Can magic create life?" Cornelius asked.
"Yes. Magic can create life, transform species, even prevent death."
Wade continued, "But this butterfly is just a product of Transfiguration. I can turn non-living things into ordinary living creatures, or transform living beings into various objects."
"Transfiguration?" the old man asked, with a trembling voice.
"Transfiguration, Potions, Spells, Herbology, Divination, Alchemy, Astronomy… These are the main branches of magic," Wade said. "If you're willing, we can study them together—using scientific methods."
Cornelius looked up. The confusion, doubt, and lifelessness in his eyes had all vanished, replaced by a burning fire—a thirst for and reverence toward this new world.
"Of course I'm willing," he said eagerly. "Where do we begin?"
…
Wade entrusted the building and all the equipment for the lab to his father. It took Fred nearly a year to prepare everything bit by bit.
The Grey family had originally been modestly well-off—not truly rich or powerful.
But after Wade entered the magic school, he began using Alchemy to accumulate significant wealth in the wizarding world. At the same time, under Wade's guidance, Fred made some well-timed investments, and their wealth quietly multiplied.
Convincing his father was easy. Wade only had to say, "I have some talent in Divination," and his parents completely trusted his judgment.
Although the world of Harry Potter wasn't exactly the same as the one Wade came from in his previous life, some developments were simply the tide of history. As long as one seized a few perfectly timed opportunities, they could ride the wheel of the era and reap great rewards.
That said, the Grey family didn't become the richest in the world or anything like that, because Fred had a steady and cautious personality. He rarely took risks and would rather watch an opportunity slip by than risk something that might bankrupt the family.
As for Wade, he didn't have any particular obsession with money either. After a certain point, wealth to him was simply a useful tool—enough was enough.
However, thanks to that financial support, the Grey family's laboratory now resembled a castle glowing with the brilliance of science, infused everywhere with the scent of money—so much so that Cornelius's eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Is this heaven? Did I actually die and not realize it?"
The old man lovingly stroked the top-tier experimental equipment, reluctant to take his eyes off it, before finally turning to look at Wade.
"If I'm going to study magic, does that make you my research subject?"
"Thanks, but I don't plan on being anyone's lab rat just yet."
Wade pulled out a vial and said, "Let's start with this sample of werewolf blood."
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