Chương 34: 34
Chapter 34: Professor Murray
"Thump-thump-thump-"
His heart pounded violently, his soaked clothes clinging uncomfortably to his body, the cold wind cutting through to his bones.
This was the closest Wade had come to death since his reincarnation.
In the storyline, first-year Harry Potter could easily handle the weakened version of Voldemort, almost as if it were child's play, protected by the magic left by his mother. But for Wade now, even if he mastered ten times as many spells as Harry, encountering Voldemort would likely mean certain death.
As someone reborn into this world, Wade wasn't particularly afraid of death. He could accept dying for a noble cause or to protect loved ones, but not for something as absurd as overhearing a villain's secret and being silenced like cannon fodder.
Fearful of encountering Quirrell again outside, Wade lingered on the concealed platform for hours, eventually dozing off against the wall. When he awoke abruptly, he realized it was nearing dawn—the sky still shrouded in darkness.
The Quidditch pitch lay deserted now. Amidst the vast Hogwarts grounds, only one figure, a silver-haired wizard, strolled along the edge of the Black Lake—a professor, though not Dumbledore, as Dumbledore's beard was much longer.
Wade didn't get a clear look at the man's face, but he didn't care; all that mattered was that it wasn't Quirrell. Using the wall for support, he rose to his feet. Dizziness overwhelmed him, his body trembling involuntarily, nearly losing balance.
Shattered.
Wade thought to himself, touching his forehead—no fever, just an unusual heat, as if he could boil an egg if one were nearby, using only his body heat.
Climbing back through the window into the empty classroom, Wade dragged his exhausted body towards the school nurse's office. Most portraits in the corridors slept, except for a young red-headed wizard idly lounging in his frame, his eyes lighting up upon seeing Wade, curious. "What's wrong with you? Are you sick?"
"Why aren't you in the common room tonight?"
"Madam Pomfrey probably hasn't awakened yet! Should I wake her up for you?"
"Haha, just kidding! There's no portrait of me in her chambers."
"Why so silent? Just pay me some attention! It's boring being alone and awake."
Wade had no energy to spare for him, but the red-headed wizard persisted across several frames, chattering incessantly, unperturbed by Wade's lack of response—a testament to the original body's loquacious nature.
Only when the long corridor ahead revealed no more portraits did the red-headed wizard reluctantly give up, shouting from a distance, "You must have no friends with that attitude, right? Come find me when you feel better! I'm always up for a chat!"
With a throbbing headache, Wade almost wanted to pry his own head open. The wizard's rambling only worsened his irritation, diverting most of his attention. It was then, as Wade noticed another presence in the corridor besides himself, footsteps drawing near—nearly around the corner!
—Just a corner away! ! !
Wade froze.
Instinctively, he moved to evade, but his sluggish body failed to react in time.
"Thumping!"
Footsteps approached...
"Thumping!"
The world seemed to shrink before his eyes, vision blurring while hearing remained sharp.
"Thumping!"
A figure emerged from around the corner.
"What's wrong, young man?" a voice asked.
But Wade's mind, like a rusty gear, offered no reply.
"Oh, you've got a bad fever." The man gently nudged him. "Come with me, lad—this way to my office, it's nearby."
Silver-white hair bobbed before his eyes, vaguely resembling Dumbledore's, and Wade let down his guard.
…
Minutes later, Wade sat holding an empty cup, steam wafting from his ears, staring vacantly at the wizard before him, appearing rather foolish.
Not the Quirrell he dreaded, nor the Dumbledore he imagined, but a stranger—a wizard. At least eighty years old, wearing dark blue robes over a Muggle shirt and trousers, impeccably tied tie—a rare sight among wizards. A pair of peculiar gold-rimmed glasses dangled from his breast pocket.
The wizard had found Wade in distress, guiding him to his office and offering a restorative draught, far more effective than the potions in the school nurse's office. After drinking it, Wade's foggy mind cleared significantly, except for his ears, still emitting steam, allowing him to see his surroundings clearly.
It was a circular room, brilliantly lit by a dozen magical lamps, as bright as daylight. Shelves and tables adorned with oddities and curiosities—a slowly rotating golden hourglass; a dozen small crystal spheres strung on silver threads, glowing with pulsating colors as if alive. A miniature manor on a cabinet housed figures no larger than a thumb, with an even tinier dog that fetched water and cooked.
Among these marvels were Muggle inventions—a refrigerator, stove, television, computer, washing machine, and even a dismantled car engine.
Truly, the most peculiar room Wade had ever encountered.
The wizard toyed with a radio, soon a woman's lively voice filled the air—
"Dear listeners, busy wizards, good morning! The 'Magic Hour' begins another wonderful day. Today, your favorite Glenda Chittock hosts the show. First up, enjoy Celestina Warbeck's latest release, 'You Stole My Cauldron but You Can't Have My Heart'..."
"Oh, I'm glad I didn't miss this. It's my favorite program," the wizard muttered, turning with a warm smile. "Feeling better, lad?"
"Yes, much better. Thank you for your help, sir." Wade asked cautiously, "May I ask—are you—"
"I'm Professor Terence Murray, Professor of Alchemy," he smiled kindly. "If you score 'Outstanding' in Charms, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes during your fifth-year O.W.L.s, and perform well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Potions, you can join my class in sixth year. You have an interest in alchemy, don't you?"
Glancing down, Murray noticed "On the Diversity of Species" peeking from Wade's bag. He gently pushed it back. "Yes, Professor, I've been studying alchemy on my own."
"That might be a bit advanced for you. Start with the basics, like the Magical Phonetic Chart."
"I've already memorized the Magical Phonetic Chart, sir. And I've read the 'Rune Dictionary,' 'A Simple Introduction to Ancient Magical Texts,' and even Nicholas Flamel's 'Preludes to Alchemy' and 'Analytical Alchemy'."
Professor Murray was taken aback.
While Hogwarts offered alchemy as an elective for sixth years and beyond, the author didn't name the alchemy professor. Terence Murray's unique elective criteria and personality were set by the author.
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