Brolin's voice was heavy with sorrow and disappointnt. Abigail clenched her teeth without replying and her eyes turned red.
She didn't believe she had forgotten. She had only… found a brief mont to breathe while spending ti with the children…
But the Patronus had indeed changed, and even she couldn't explain it.
Baird averted his gaze slightly, and stared at the bottles on the shelf reflecting the dim light.
A wizard who had received formal education and held a legitimate identity wouldn't join their anti-wizard organization without a reason—
Either they had grown up in the organization, with parents and family who were mbers, and whose loyalty to the cause surpassed any attachnt to wizarding schools and classmates…
Or they were like Abigail—soone filled with hatred for the wizarding world, with a heart that longed for destruction, both of herself and the world around her.
After a long silence, Brolin sighed and softened his tone.
"Sierra, you're tired. Go back and rest for a while," he said. "You don't need to return to that school."
"My mission isn't over yet," Abigail said sharply, raising her head. "I'm willing to prove myself through action!"
"I rember you wrote in your letter that Wade Grey already handed over the magic dolls to you?" Brolin asked.
"…Yes."
"Then your mission is over," Brolin said calmly.
The faint smile on his face had completely disappeared, replaced by veiled suspicion and doubt in his eyes.
A chill ran through Abigail's heart. She clenched her fists and lowered her gaze. "Understood."
…
Watching his companion leave in a daze, Baird finally said, "Sierra just saved the students on the train. Her prestige is at its peak, and the students trust her deeply… If she leaves now, it'll seriously impact our mission."
Brolin let out a long sigh.
The gray-haired bartender nearby was the one to speak up. As he wiped a glass, he said, "Better to risk a failed mission than a comrade turning traitor."
"Abigail knows too many classified secrets. If she were to betray us, the damage to the organization would be incalculable."
"And soone like her—well-versed in the magical system and an excellent student—there aren't many like that in the organization. Even if she's never sent out again, having her stay at base to teach the next generation is far better than risking her ideological loyalty."
"Understood," Baird nodded.
"How about the kid you brought in?" Brolin asked. "Doesn't seem like the mission's going well?"
"Yes," Baird said with sha. "Even at school, Wade Grey is elusive and hard to approach. Caryll was also sorted into a different house, so there's been very little opportunity to spend ti together."
"It seems I chose the wrong person," Brolin said with a soft shake of his head.
"I had hoped that that child's natural charm would make it easier to build a connection and exert influence. But I forgot—if the other side is an iceberg, a re torch isn't enough to lt it."
"I've heard that even Ravenclaws find it hard to get a word in with Grey."
Baird frowned. "He has very few friends, and then he gathered all of them into a small club just to focus on studying and research."
"No gas, no dating, no parties, no interest in Quidditch matches—not even spending much ti in the common room. When he's not in class, even his best friends often don't know where he is."
Baird looked incredulous, unable to understand how any teenager could live like that. What's the point of life like this?
He hadn't been entirely idle during the past six months, either. Baird had opened a sweets shop in Hogsade, and during the Hogsade weekends, plenty of students ca by. Even without trying to pry, he often overheard plenty of gossip from the school.
After hearing enough of it, he'd co to forgive Caryll's slow progress—because really, how do you approach soone you can't even find?
"For Wade Grey to surpass most adult wizards and achieve so much in just two or three years, it's impossible without a heart that embraces solitude and endures loneliness," Brolin said with a tone of admiration.
"Our organization has grown to what it is today because of that very spirit. From another angle, soone that is devoted purely to scholarship might be even easier to make use of."
—A pure scholar?
Baird recalled so of the rumors he'd heard—like turning a cockroach into a cockroach-cow and scaring classmates into wetting themselves—and sohow, he felt this so-called scholar wasn't quite so pure.
Still, he bowed and said, "Yes, you're right."
"As for the mission, don't worry too much—you'll have a new assistant," Brolin said.
Baird hesitated for a mont and asked, "Is it… the next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"
Since Sierra would be leaving, soone else would naturally need to take up the post.
At Hogwarts, the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was the most frequently rotated—it was the easiest to plant soone in.
Brolin shook his head. "We can't keep circling around the sa job… Go back and wait patiently."
"Understood."
…
Considering that having parents around might make the children feel restricted, Fred had arranged for one of his properties in Westminster to be cleaned and readied for the holidays.
On the third day of the break, Wade, Harry, and Michael moved in.
This ti, each of them had their own bedroom and didn't have to wake up early just to catch breakfast. On the second day after moving in, Michael slept straight through until noon.
Westminster is located in the heart of London, far livelier than the remote little town where the Greys used to live. The boys went to the movies early in the morning when the crowds were thin, and in the evening, they listened to operas.
The place was also close to King's Cross Station, so it wasn't unusual to see oddly dressed wizards passing by on the streets. Employees from the Ministry of Magic often ca and went in this area as well.
There was even an amusent park nearby, brightly lit and bustling with voices even at night.
They tried out all the amusent rides, and as the rollercoaster plunged downward, Harry and Michael scread so loudly that Wade suspected they were about to have a magical outburst.
The park was already getting ready for the upcoming Christmas market—so vendors were pushing carts and had already begun selling, while others carried bags or stuffed trinkets into their coat pockets and started hawking them along the streets.
Of course, the most popular attraction remained the video gas. The thrill of leveling up and collecting points could easily hook even adults—let alone two thirteen-year-old boys who had never experienced anything like it before.
After dinner, as they sat in front of the ga console, Michael waved at Wade and said, "This ga's two-player too, you don't always have to keep us company. If you've got things to do, go do them!"
Harry blinked. "Wade, you don't like these gas? Or do you want to play sothing else?"
His eyes drifted toward the pile of ga boxes in the corner, hoping to find one that looked more appealing—though to Harry, every ga seed irresistible.
Wade waved it off. "It's not about the gas. I just prefer studying magic."
"Oh…" Harry couldn't quite understand but still replied, "Well… then go study…"
Watching Wade leave with a cheerful expression—as if heading off on a date—Harry sat quietly for a mont, then turned to Michael and asked:
"Michael, have you finished your howork?"
"Are you kidding? It's just the start of the holidays, of course I haven't."
Michael hit the power button, quickly returned to Harry's side, sat cross-legged, and picked up the controller.
"Should we… maybe start writing our essays?" Harry shifted a bit, sounding a little anxious.
"Don't compare yourself to Wade!" Michael said nonchalantly.
"I figured it out a long ti ago—if you always asure yourself against Wade, you'll drive yourself crazy! Don't worry, we'll get the howork done eventually. The break's short—if we don't enjoy it now, we'll regret it later!"
"Hmm… you're probably right."
Harry settled in comfortably too, silently making a resolution—
After this round… I'll play tonight, but tomorrow morning, I'll definitely start on my howork…
…
A black fortress lood on an island, where sea winds swept up waves and crashed them angrily against the dark rocks.
A layer of ice had ford around the island, only to be shattered by the surf and dragged into the sea—then pushed back again in an endless cycle.
The crashing ice and stone made a clattering sound, like so monster chewing and swallowing its prey.
Inside a narrow prison cell, the cold was bone-deep—like being trapped in a giant block of ice. Thick frost coated the walls and floor. A ragged old man lay beneath a thin blanket, holding several newspapers in his hands.
Not far ahead, a huge mirror leaned against the wall. But instead of reflecting the old man's image, the surface showed a scene of a group of people searching across a nearly leveled island.
"The British Ministry of Magic rescued dozens of children abducted by a Muggle organization. The Hogwarts Express was attacked by the Ministry's Dentors… and Muggles have developed weapons that can restrain wizards?"
The old man asked hoarsely, his tone was full of mockery.
"That's what the news says," The man outside the cell, cloaked in black, said respectfully.
"By the ti our people got to the island, there was nothing useful left… but it's said that Dumbledore once encountered that kind of weapon directly."
"And what was the result?" the old man asked with great interest.
"As you can see… the island is now a ruin," the man replied. "The island's owner committed suicide before the Aurors even arrived."
"Hahahahaha…"
Inside the cell, Grindelwald burst into laughter, coughing a few tis from the effort.
"Poor Dumbledore… I bet the British Ministry didn't take his so-called 'weapon' seriously at all."
"Indeed," the man agreed. "Fudge is busy preparing for the Quidditch World Cup in six months. He considers the incident over and believes the 'weapon' is just Dumbledore's fearmongering."
Grindelwald couldn't help but laugh again.
"I'd love to see Dumbledore's face at that mont—watching the fool he chose constantly break his expectations… I bet Dumbledore's expression was priceless."
The man outside the window remained silent. He knew it was best not to speak right now—whether agreeing or disagreeing, either might provoke the old man inside.
Once the laughter died down, the man spoke:
"Just as you once prophesied, Muggles are advancing rapidly, and the threat to the wizarding world grows by the day… Sir, we need you to lead us once again."
"Lead?" Grindelwald curled his lips. "Do you think I'm still the sa Grindelwald from back then? Look at , boy. These days, even a kid who hasn't graduated could defeat —and you want to lead you?"
"The wizarding world still fears you, sir. We are still waiting for you," the man said with a rising passion in his voice. "The signs of danger are already erging, yet the wizards remain numb and indifferent!"
"This world is dull, foolish, bloated, and lazy! Only when death stares them in the face do they begin to struggle—but by then it's already too late!"
"Sir, what the wizarding world needs now is not an invincible warrior, but a visionary—soone who can see the future and lead us forward! Your magic may not be as strong as before, but your wisdom has never faded with ti!"
"Please lead us once more, Mr. Grindelwald—for the greater good! For the survival of the wizarding world! For the ideal nation we dread of! We need you—we beg you, sir…"
The man's face turned red with excitent, his body trembled. He gripped the small window of the cell, shouting his plea, as if he would tear out his own heart to offer it.
After a long pause, a voice from within finally said:
"Stop yelling… you're giving a headache."
The man's fervent expression froze instantly. His face turned pale, and his strong body swayed in the cold wind—as if he might fall from the high tower at any mont.
Then, he heard Grindelwald say—
"Give your wand."
…
Bournemouth, Suburbs, Hospital.
The wheels of a small trolley squeaked loudly. At the sound, a small figure quickly darted behind a nearby door, hiding with only one calm eye peeking out to observe what was happening outside.
Two n dressed as orderlies pushed the trolley down the corridor. They were engrossed in conversation and didn't pay attention to their surroundings.
Hiding behind the door, Mabel let out a quiet sigh of relief. She pulled out the apple she had just stolen from a patient's room and chomped it down in a few big bites.
Crunch, crunch…
A faint noise echoed. One of the orderlies couldn't help but glance back.
"What is it?" asked the other man, a blond.
"Thought I heard a rat or sothing…"
The blond man paused to listen, frowning.
"Where? You probably imagined it."
"No, I really heard it…" the first insisted, trying to pull the blond man back to check.
"Forget it, don't stick your nose in things! The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go rest!"
The blond man gulped nervously and glanced at the gloomy sky outside. He added fearfully, "If we're late and run into a Dentor… we're screwed…"
"Yeah…" the other shivered and said in a trembling voice, "If we get caught… we're escaped prisoners—what if they give us the Dentor's Kiss?"
"They might. I rember the paper saying that was being considered… Sending over a hundred Dentors—has the Ministry gone insane?"
"Those monsters could be nearby… Haven't you noticed? It hasn't been sunny once lately!"
"Of course I noticed! Maybe… maybe we should escape from here—get out of the city…"
"Are you nuts? Did you forget? Even the Hogwarts Express got searched by those things! What if we run into them on the way?"
These two were none other than Gilderoy Lockhart and Gale Troka, who had escaped from Azkaban and remained on the run.
After so back-and-forth threats and panic, they continued their work with gloomy faces and heavy sighs.
Not far behind them, a wisp of black mist shot silently to the rooftop, then slowly trailed behind the two n, gliding in their shadow—
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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- 235 Chapters
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