Chapter 69: 69
Chapter 69, "Gray Eyes":
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Michael had departed.
Wade turned his head to gaze out the windowpane.
Reflected there were a pair of gray eyes—neither as deep as obsidian nor as vibrant as sapphire. They resembled a tranquil lake in autumn and winter, devoid of strong emotions.
Those who looked upon him often felt an inexplicable chill, wondering if his heart was equally cold.
Through the glass, he observed students outside the castle trudging back through the rain-drenched grounds, brooms in hand. They were coated in mud, as if they had wrestled in the quagmire. Despite the obscuring mud, the slightest figure among them stood out conspicuously.
Shortly thereafter, a turbaned figure hurried across the field, seeking shelter from the cold.
Moments later, a bat-like silhouette strode into the castle, its robes billowing in the wind. Rain seemed to shy away from it. Its face was darker than the overcast sky, causing students it encountered to flee in fear.
Wade couldn't help but smile.
Harry Potter.
Voldemort.
Severus Snape.
The Savior, the Dark Lord, and the former Death Eater—individuals with conflicting identities and even murderous intents—coexisted in the same castle as teachers and students, awaiting the inevitable clash.
Recalling Michael's expression as if his soul had been cleansed upon departure, Wade's lips curled faintly.
He cleared his desk of clutter, organized recent assignments and notes, slung his school bag over his shoulder, and made his way to the astronomy tower.
—Of course, Harry Potter should join. He must even help bolster his strength. Otherwise, should Voldemort return, or gain newfound power due to unforeseen circumstances, who would stand against him?
—Would it be Wade, still weak at present? Michael, who spent his days with girls? Or Dumbledore, cursed and fated to fall from the tower as foretold?
Harry Potter, despite his flaws—recklessness, impulsivity, lack of discipline, and proficiency limited to a handful of spells, having excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts alone—undoubtedly served as a potent weapon against ambush.
Since infancy, each school year saw Voldemort bested by Harry Potter. In his final year, with divine aid, Harry swiftly unveiled Voldemort's hidden Horcruxes, sealing the Dark Lord's fate while emerging nearly unscathed himself.
Whether it was the protagonist's aura or a stroke of luck—
Wade lacked the strength presently to face Voldemort. Thus, he would never reject such a friend.
Even should he one day surpass Voldemort in power, Wade would never forsake Harry Potter—fortunes changed, and Harry Potter always stood as a formidable trump card.
Rain drummed on the castle's exterior, lighting streaking across the sky. Illuminated by the brilliance, fleeting shadows played across the windows, vanishing as swiftly as they appeared.
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"Rough weather, isn't it?"
Professor Murray poured a cup of steaming tea, musing for a moment before adding milk and sugar. He settled comfortably into his chair.
"Yes." Wade, too, cradled a warm cup of tea, smiling. "Yet, I find it oddly conducive to sleeping. Muggles refer to this constant sound as 'white noise,' believing it blocks out other frequencies, thus enhancing sleep quality."
Growing more accustomed to Professor Murray, Wade no longer hesitated to discuss Muggle theories and technologies.
"White noise..." Professor Murray pondered briefly, smiling. "They always have fascinating, eccentric studies. I once stumbled upon research into the correlation between ring finger length and intellect."
"Yet, there are equally intriguing inquiries—like the interplay between dreams and reality, time travel, and forms of extraterrestrial life," Wade remarked wistfully. "They're advancing beyond Earth. If interstellar travel becomes feasible, I'd gladly sign up."
"I share your anticipation, though at my age, I doubt I'll live to witness such a day. Unless, of course, I were to brew the Philosopher's Stone like Mr. Nicholas Flamel," Professor Murray chuckled.
Wade recalled portrayals of Nicholas Flamel in films—a spectral figure with brittle bones. He wondered if reality mirrored this depiction.
"Well..." Professor Murray reflected, "The Philosopher's Stone can indeed confer immortality, staving off death. Yet, its cumulative effects over six centuries exact a toll, and the elixir fails to fully counteract this wear—"
"In that case, such immortality seems rather futile," Wade interjected thoughtfully.
Professor Murray smiled knowingly. "Only someone youthful would assert that outright. With age comes a preoccupation with death—fear and attachment to life breed a dread of death and a yearning for prolonged existence."
"Does Professor Murray hold this view?" Wade inquired.
"I'm merely mortal, so naturally," Professor Murray fondly stroked his teacup, "Albus once said—death is but another great adventure. None knows if the afterlife is as dreadful or wondrous as legend claims, or if it's simply nothingness—"
Professor Murray seemed lost in reminiscence, pausing before murmuring, "Thus, I fear death yet anticipate its advent. I continue onward, eager to see what vistas await—"
Wade regarded him in quiet contemplation.
Returning from his reverie, Professor Murray smiled, "It's premature for you to grasp this. By the way, have you resolved the riddle I posed earlier?"
"Yes." Wade retrieved a small box from his pocket and placed it on the table, hesitating. "But Professor, this is too valuable."
"The worth of a gift lies not in its cost but in how you utilize it," Professor Murray reassured gently. "Share your thoughts."
Opening the box, Wade explained, "This is a piece of ocammy skin—Steven introduced this creature to me. Its body can expand at will, from the size of a dragon to fit inside a teapot. It subsists on insects and mice—"
Professor Murray nodded, prompting, "And?"
Taking a deep breath, Wade continued, "—ideal material for the Spacial extension Charm."
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Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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