Dumbledore sat with his hands clasped over his abdomen, his eyes downcast in thought.
Wade continued, "I don't know if my suspicions about Professor Abigail are correct, but I do know... those people are coveting the Magic Golem technology, and so far, among those who've shown unusual interest in the Magic Golem, she is the most suspicious."
Is it absolutely necessary to use Magic Golems for Defense Against the Dark Arts?
Of course not. Many creatures can be found in the Forbidden Forest or Black Lake, and if all else fails, a request to Hagrid would also suffice. Moreover, real creatures allow students to learn more.
Even if Professor Abigail's teaching style is unique, given her personality, she should be going into the Forbidden Forest to catch a few Red Caps to "surprise" the students, not asking Wade to help create teaching aids.
Of course, the main reason Wade became suspicious was because she was the professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
This cursed course has a strong magnetic pull for all sorts of problematic individuals, and no one has ever managed to stay in the position for a full year.
Naturally, Abigail is neither a Vampire nor a Werewolf, and there's no evidence linking her to either, which is why Wade and Dumbledore are still uncertain.
...
The wind howled, and thunder rumbled. Inside the room, large raindrops could be seen pelting against the glass windows.
This made Michael very troubled when he woke up. He sat in the common room, messy-haired, staring blankly at the terrible weather outside.
Hearing footsteps on the spiral staircase, Michael turned his head and saw Wade.
"Morning, Wade," Michael said. "Look, the weather's so bad today. Quidditch practice shouldn't be happening, right?"
"Hm?" Wade asked, confused. "Has there ever been a precedent for school matches being canceled due to weather?"
He genuinely didn't understand the detailed rules regarding this.
Michael sighed. "No... I don't want to miss the match, and I don't want to get drenched."
"Bring an umbrella," Wade said curtly.
Michael pouted, saying, "With rain this heavy, an umbrella won't do much good."
Wade spread his hands. "Then there's nothing I can do. Either you get soaked watching the match, or you give up on the match and stay comfortably in the common room. You have to choose one."
He knew Michael was just complaining and would ultimately choose to watch the match, as he was a devoted Quidditch fan, even if his own playing skills weren't great.
And sure enough, though Michael groaned as if he wanted to meld into the sofa in front of the fireplace, when Wade was ready to leave, he followed along, still grumbling.
"Wade, can a Weather Charm change this awful weather?"
"Yes."
"Then can you..."
"No. A Weather Charm can change the weather, but my spell isn't powerful enough to make such a large-scale change."
"Ugh... Wade, did you forget your umbrella?"
"I don't need one—I'm not planning to watch the match."
Michael grew even more depressed.
The two soon arrived at the Great Hall, and then Michael's spirits suddenly lifted—because he saw someone even more unlucky than himself.
The Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams were already there for breakfast, trying to "kill" each other with their eyes across the long tables.
And the thought that these people would soon be playing in the wind and rain made Michael feel that getting a little wet himself wasn't so bad after all.
Carlyle was also at the Gryffindor table, sitting next to Harry, excitedly gesticulating as he spoke to him.
"Hey, if you can't see properly, others definitely can't either. It'll be a test of vision then..."
"Thanks, Carlyle," Harry said with a bitter look. "My eyesight is probably the worst on both teams."
As he spoke, he pushed up his glasses.
"That's what I'm talking about! Why don't you turn your glasses into waterproof binoculars? It'd be even better if they could auto-track the Golden Snitch! Lock onto the game directly!"
Harry stared at him blankly, shamefully tempted.
But quickly, he came back to his senses, shook his head, and said, "No, that would definitely be against the rules!"
"Oh come on, with rain this heavy, who's going to notice your glasses are different from usual? Everyone knows you normally wear glasses..."
Carlyle was halfway through persuading him when he saw Wade and Michael enter. He cheerfully raised an arm to wave, then, without a hint of awkwardness, directly sat down at the Ravenclaw table and shared his idea with Wade.
"Right? Doesn't that make sense? Equipment is part of the game too!" Carlyle said emphatically.
Michael nodded along repeatedly but then hesitated, "Although... but... if a professor finds out, we might be disqualified..."
"Eh, we'll see if they can even tell!" Carlyle eagerly asked, "Wade, can you make binoculars that look like ordinary glasses?"
After swallowing his toast, Wade said, "Yes, but there's no need... Hand me that plate of boiled peas next to you."
"This?" Carlyle handed over the boiled peas.
Wade tapped them with his Wand, and the peas lined up and popped out, leaving only empty pods.
Then, he transformed a pile of pea pods into the shape of wind-proof goggles and added a waterproof and moisture-resistant charm.
"Here you go," Wade said. "These goggles will last at least until tomorrow morning."
Carlyle cheered, "Amazing, Wade, you're our savior!"
He ran back to the Gryffindor table with the goggles, and after telling Wood and the others, the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team was thrilled, giving Wade a grateful gesture.
"Put them away! Put them all away!" Just as the Weasley Twins were about to put on the goggles, Wood quickly said, "This is our secret weapon for winning, don't let the Slytherins find out!"
The Gryffindor students solemnly nodded, stuffing the goggles into their pockets, and looked at the Slytherin table with knowing smiles.
There were two extra pairs of goggles left, so Carlyle kept one for himself and gave the other to Michael, happily saying, "Now I won't have to worry about rain getting in my eyes while watching the match!"
Seeing Carlyle return to the Gryffindor table, blending in perfectly with the team members, Michael whispered to Wade:
"I can see why this transfer student is so popular in Gryffindor… He's as enthusiastic about other people's problems as his own. Of course, everyone wants to be friends with him."
"Hm."
Wade nodded. He remembered that Carlyle had many friends when they were kids, certainly more than Wade did.
A waft of fragrance drifted by—Padma walked past them without a glance, then sat at the far end of the long table.
The smile on Michael's face vanished. He poked at the steak on his plate, as if he hadn't seen anything.
Wade sighed and tapped Michael's umbrella with his Wand.
"I cast a spell on your umbrella. When opened, it's large enough to shield two people and won't be affected by strong winds."
Wade said, "You should take this chance to make up with Padma sooner… The way you two are, it's making everyone else uncomfortable too."
Michael silently nodded.
...
After breakfast, students streamed towards the Quidditch Pitch. The wind and rain were still fierce, and many umbrellas were swept away by the gusts.
But even so, students preferred to brave the wind and get soaked rather than return to the warm, dry common rooms.
Wade, however, walked alone towards the Room of Requirement.
Although he already had the communication earpieces, Wade hadn't stopped improving the Book of Friends and had been continuously working on it. It was almost ready for completion.
In fact, by this point, the profits from the Book of Friends were already very slim. The emergence of numerous counterfeits had also squeezed the already small market.
However, Wade believed that no matter how convenient the communication earpieces were, the Book of Friends would always have its place.
Even if a product similar to a mobile phone appeared in the Wizarding World in the future, and the Book of Friends had to withdraw from history, Wade hoped its exit would be graceful, not like a botched project, forgotten amidst scorn.
*Thump!*
An object suddenly struck the nearby glass with a heavy sound. Wade was startled and looked up to see a disheveled Owl perched outside the window, staring at him with wide, round eyes.
Wade raised his hand, and the tightly shut window swung open. The Owl, accompanied by the sound of wind and heavy rain, burst inside!
The cold wind instantly billowed Wade's robes. He waved his hand to close the window while catching the messenger that had fallen from the sky.
The Owl was very thin and freezing cold. It shivered uncontrollably and was completely exhausted, but still managed to lift its leg and hand him the small cylinder tied to its claw.
Wade took the cylinder, quietly recited a spell, and swept his hand over the Owl.
The icy rain disappeared, and its body became warm again.
The Owl looked around in surprise, then noticed a small pile of Owl feed in front of it and immediately lowered its head to eat.
Only then did Wade take the letter from the cylinder.
Inside was a thin, rolled-up piece of white paper. He rubbed it with his fingers; the paper had a rough texture, similar to parchment, but lacked that unique, smooth warmth.
A vague realization dawned on Wade.
This must be a counterfeit version of the Book of Friends.
Wade, with the Owl, found an empty classroom and sat down. After repeatedly testing it with his Wand several times, he finally picked up a quill and wrote a "?" on it.
He didn't recklessly write his name.
After nearly half a minute, a line of messy text finally appeared:
Help! Help me! He
Wade stared at the abruptly ending "He," unsure if the plea for help was unfinished or referred to some "he."
He picked up the quill and wrote: Calm down, who are you? What kind of help do you need? Why are you looking for me?
After another long while, new, crooked words appeared on the paper:
I am the one you gifted the Invisibility Cloak to—I am the bespectacled beetle—please help me—I don't know who else to turn to besides you—
...
I don't know who else to turn to besides you—
The hurried words appeared on the parchment.
This was a clean, bright room with a ceiling over ten meters high and huge translucent glass walls all around. A shark slowly swam past behind the glass wall.
By a curved long table, a woman in red robes interpreted, "The strokes are trembling, disconnected, inconsistent in size, and the layout is chaotic—the writer is very scared, very panicked. It seems that woman didn't escape."
The man with a ponytail next to her revealed a sinister smile.
"Good that she's still on the island! Re-check everything, make sure you find her for me!"
"Yes!"
The black-clad guards behind him responded in unison, then immediately sprang into action.
"It sounds like she's looking for help from her wizard friends. Should we cut off the signal transmission?" another short, stout man with glasses asked.
"Cut it off? No, don't. Let them come!" The man with the ponytail sneered. "I was just worrying I didn't have enough experimental subjects!"
He walked to the wall, pressed a button, and the colossal metal door silently slid open, revealing a metal platform beyond.
The man stepped onto it, gripping the railing and looking down.
Below him was a research lab resembling an assembly line factory, where dozens of researchers in white lab coats busily worked. Everything inside was orderly and progressed rapidly, and everyone's eyes held the same dead, cold expression. Conveyor belts on the ceiling and floor moved silently.
Occasionally, a streak of blood would appear on a conveyor belt, but it was quickly washed away by a thin stream of water, leaving only a faint smell of disinfectant in the room.
A disdainful smile played on the man's lips.
"—Wizards? Under the power of technology, they're nothing more than clowns living in the Middle Ages."
...
"Bzzzzzzzz—"
The strange buzzing sound suddenly started again, and Rita Skeeter curled up in agony, almost unable to stop herself from screaming.
She bit down on the foul-smelling blanket, hugging herself tightly as she trembled uncontrollably on the dilapidated bed. Her muscles and bones felt as if countless ants were gnawing at them, making her feel like she was going mad.
She held on with all her might, not knowing how much time had passed, or even if she was already dead, tears and snot flowing uncontrollably.
After what felt like an eternity, the torment finally stopped.
When Rita Skeeter regained sensation in her body, she found a pair of small hands cupping her face, and someone gently wiping the smudges from her face with a worn handkerchief.
She opened her eyes and saw the person who had saved her once again.
In the cramped cell, more than a dozen children were huddled together, boys and girls, the oldest thirteen, the youngest barely four.
They wore loose white robes, no underwear, no shoes, their bare feet on the ground, their faces pale from prolonged lack of sunlight.
The one wiping her face was the thirteen-year-old girl.
Rita trembled and whispered, "Those people… are they gone?"
The girl nodded vigorously, and as if to comfort her, even offered a small, shallow smile.
Rita's tears almost fell.
She sniffled and said, "Just bear with it a little longer. Someone will come to save us, they will!"
Rita looked down at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand, on which was only one sentence—
[Where are you?]
-----------
Machine Translation by: https:// randomtranslator.com/
Read ***+ original & fanfic translations in English, Español, Português, Deutsch, Français, or Русский
Or Translate for free at : https:// randomtranslator.com/translate
Join our Discord: https:// discord.com/invite/XXUR9nkjwa
-----------