Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God Chapter 478: The Endless Corridor

Novel: Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God Author: Lightreaper Updated: Jun 03, 2026

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Now reading: Chapter 478: The Endless Corridor from Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God, a Action novel by Lightreaper.

Wade was silent for a mont, and felt a strange sense of amusent.

None of the magic dolls in front of him—except Mikael—had faces. Cube could extend a pair of eyes, but nothing else in terms of facial features.

And yet, at that mont, he could sohow read guilt and unease from Broom, Cloak, and the firebird. They looked shifty, almost like they didn't dare "look him in the eye."

anwhile, Cube stood off to the side with its head held high, silently projecting two clear ssages: "I'm not with them" and "I already scolded them."

Wade rubbed his forehead and asked,

"What happened? Did you blow up the alchemy lab, or smash so priceless potion?"

"No, no!" Broom swayed from side to side and quickly pointed at Cloak. "It was Cloak! He took your stone necklace and started playing with it."

"I just wore it for a mont! Broom was the one who tried to hit , and that's why it fell!"

"If you hadn't taken it out without permission, it wouldn't have fallen!"

"If you hadn't swatted at , it wouldn't have fallen either!"

"But—but it didn't break when it fell, right? It was Mikael who pecked at it!"

"Exactly! Mikael, don't you know how hot your beak is?"

The two magic dolls quickly shifted the bla to the firebird. Mikael tilted its head and let out an innocent little "coo", looking adorably guiltless.

Cloak was overwheld by guilt and stamred, "Actually… it didn't break at that ti… No, no, the necklace is still perfectly fine! The thing that broke was… sothing else."

"What was it?" Wade asked as he walked into the storage room—and then he saw the real victim of this little mishap.

A stone.

"I… I was trying to put the necklace back," Cloak muttered. "But sohow, when I gently bumped it… that stone just shattered…"

Of course, Wade wouldn't bother storing a normal stone on the shelf.

This was a Christmas giftfrom Professor Murray—an inscribed stone from Uagadou, the African school of magic, traditionally gifted by Dream ssengers to their students.

Wade had been especially intrigued by how Dream ssengers could send this kind of gift across vast distances.

However, the stone's inscription was in Ancient Egyptian, a script Wade hadn't yet had ti to study from scratch, so the stone had simply been shelved for now.

A stone that every Uagadou student receives may not be considered rare—but since it ca from Professor Murray, it carried far more weight.

Wade didn't say a word. He simply reached out and quietly gathered the shattered fragnts.

Broom and Cloak huddled together nervously as they constantly shifted and nudged one another, visibly unsure of what was about to happen.

Cube sighed and ca over.

"Actually, you can't entirely bla them... Of course, ssing with your collection was wrong. But the reason the stone broke might've been the stone itself."

Wade glanced at Cube.

He'd always considered Cube the most mature and level-headed of the group—but even it was making such unreasonable excuses?

It sounded oddly familiar... like when a child falls and the grandmother yells at the ground: "Bad floor! Bad floor! How dare you trip my precious baby!"

"I'm not just defending them," Cube explained, pointing to the rack where the inscribed stone had originally been placed.

"Look here—this part of the stand fell outward, not inward."

"Uh…" Broom said hesitantly, swaying side to side. "I didn't move it like that."

" neither!" Cloak jumped in.

"Chirp chirp chirp!" said Mikael.

"Alright, don't be so quick to shift the bla," Cube waved a hand.

"I'm still analyzing."

It turned to Wade and continued:

"If the necklace's impact had been strong enough to break the inscribed stone, the stand should've collapsed inward, and the shards would be scattered inside the shelf."

"But in reality, the stand toppled outward, and the stone fragnts were found at the edge—so it's likely the reverse happened."

"The stone didn't get hit by the necklace—it might've moved toward the necklace, knocked the stand over in the process, and the collision between the two caused the stone to shatter."

There was a mont of silence.

Then Cloak burst into applause and shouted: "Cube, you're practically Sherlock Hols!"

"Sherlock Hols! Poirot! Detective Conan!" Broom started banging its broomhead on the floor, and its branches rustled with enthusiasm.

Wade gave both magic dolls a sidelong glance and said in a chilly tone, "You two seem quite pleased with yourselves?"

Instant silence.

They both bowed in unison.

"Sorry! We were wrong!"

"Good. As long as you know." Wade replied calmly. "You're both on ti-out. Face the wall for one hour. Mikael, you supervise."

Even if they might have accidentally stumbled upon sothing useful, Professor Murray's gift was still broken—that fact didn't change.

Once the magical dolls had left, Wade took Cube to the lab, pulled out all his research from the past few days, and placed the necklace back on the table.

Then, he cast the spell again:

"Oumai-gun, Fata, Teia-Mogen, Layuta, Nyups-lang Ayuta…"

The necklace emitted a noticeably brighter red glow. In Wade's magic vision, the runes surrounding it flickered—so brightly, so dimly—and he could faintly make out silver streaks zipping rapidly through them.

It suddenly reminded him of an animated simulation of neurons transmitting signals—and the resemblance struck him as more than a coincidence.

Wade steadied himself, then began marking the glowing runes he saw onto the research schematics. Cube quickly started computing and simulating possibilities. Within minutes, it had listed several new spell arrangents and incantation thods.

Wade tried again: "Semiyara–Sami–Esno–Omai…"

The necklace showed no response.

He tried a third set of incantations: "Hummano–Delipiron–Ayuta–Nipu…"

This ti, the necklace's glow grew slightly brighter, and the location of the glowing runes shifted.

Wade recorded everything. The two of them—human and magic doll—sat side by side at the table, deriving formulas, calculating, analyzing incantations. Before long, the table was completely buried in sheets of notes and equations.

The magical dolls who had just finished their ti-out were now lying outside the window, watching the intense work inside with awe and trepidation.

Cloak said, "We're all magical dolls—why is Cube so much smarter than us?"

"Yeah," Broom sighed, "Poor thing. I'm glad I'm dumb."

Cloak wordlessly swept it aside.

"Chirp chirp!" said Mikael.

Broom propped itself up and circled the firebird, asking, "I've always wondered—Mikael, I don't even have a mouth and I can talk. You do have a mouth—so why can you only chirp?"

Cloak interjected, "Says who? It can also coo-coo!"

"Shut it! You know that's not what I an!" Broom snapped.

Mikael spread its wings and preened its feathers with its beak, looking as if to say: "I'm just a bird. What do I know?"

Broom stared at it, then suddenly declared, "Mikael is an idiot!"

The firebird instantly lifted its head, eyes narrowing.

Broom backed up a little, but loudly continued: "Mikael looks all smug, but every day it flashes its red butt!"

With a sudden whoosh, the firebird's wings spread wide, and its entire body swelled to two or three tis its usual size.

Cloak flattened itself against the wall in fear, suddenly filled with awe—how could this wooden lump have the courage to provoke Mikael, the very embodint of fla?

Broom backed all the way to the doorway and shouted, "Co on, argue with if you dare! You dumb bird who can't even argue! Mikael has to go to the lake every morning to wash its brain because—"

Before it could finish, Mikael lunged at it. The searing heat warped the air around them.

With a scream, Broom shot into the sky, and Mikael chased closely behind with a long trail of flas, it was clearly out for revenge.

Cloak rushed out the door, looked up at the two streaks darting across the air, and couldn't help but let out a loud "Woooow."

Luckily, the wardrobe space was large enough that Broom wasn't cornered by Mikael too quickly.

And thankfully, despite their antics, both had enough self-control not to actually damage the space.

—But if they are goofing off, and I go to do actual work, then when the master notices, he'd have to realize who the real good doll is. Maybe even overlook the little mistakes I had made before.

Cloak rubbed its nonexistent chin, feeling very clever. Silently, it floated into the lab to help organize Wade's manuscripts and even fetched a few reference books from the library.

After a while, Broom's miserable shrieking ca from outside: "Aaaah— I was wrong, I was wrong— I'm the real idiot— I need to wash my brain—!"

Even Wade, deeply absorbed in his research, couldn't help but lift his head.

"What are those two doing out there?"

"Broom's probably provoking Mikael again," Cube replied, unfazed. "Always picking fights even though it never wins. Master, you really should've given it more intelligence."

"To be honest, I didn't make any distinctions when I was injecting thought," Wade said helplessly.

"But human thoughts are constantly shifting. Before you were even born, I couldn't possibly predict what kind of beings you'd turn out to be."

Cloak nodded (in its own way) and added, "It's Broom's fault— its brain is way too small… Oh, wait, it doesn't have a brain. No wonder it's dumb."

Cube gave Cloak a complicated look, thinking, "And you think you're smart?"

It wisely chose not to say this out loud. Instead, it pulled over several sheets of blank parchnt and quickly began scribbling lines of equations.

In the wizarding world, spells don't co from nowhere. Most of the spells taught at Hogwarts originate from Latin, with a few exceptions from Aramaic, Egyptian, or Greek.

Take the Disarming Charm, Expelliarmus: In Latin, expello ans "to drive away," and arma ans "weapons"—thus the spell literally ans "expel your weapon."

The first witches and wizards to create spells likely stumbled upon the effects by chanting words—intentionally or not—while channeling strong intent and triggering their inner magic. That's how various spells were ford.

In Charms class, Professor Flitwick didn't just teach spells—he also broke them down, taught students how to understand their components, and even gave howork assignnts asking them to invent counter-spells based on the structure of curses.

Smart students could even create new spells by analyzing word roots and grammar—though this practice was risky.

Wizards in other countries used different linguistic roots, but the principles were the sa. To decode a completely unfamiliar spell, the key is to first understand its roots and structure, then determine how to cast or counter it.

Thanks to the shifting glow-points Wade had discovered, this daunting task had beco far more manageable. The combinations now followed so traceable patterns. Cube continued jotting down interpretations, until suddenly it noticed it had run out of parchnt.

Only then did it realize how unusually quiet the room had beco.

Looking around, it saw Wade had collapsed on the floor, still holding a sheet of parchnt—fast asleep. Cloak was quietly covering him with a blanket.

"He's asleep?" Cube was surprised.

Wade always cleaned up ticulously before bed. Cube had never seen him simply lie down like this—it was almost like he'd fainted.

"Master must be exhausted," Cloak whispered. "Don't wake him. Take the stuff into the next room—I'm turning off the lights."

"Wait, are you seriously going to let him sleep on the floor?" Cube exclaid. "He's not like us! If he wakes up tomorrow like this, he's going to be so sore… Hold on."

It flew out of the wardrobe space, hovered in the middle of the dorm room, and called out:

"Zoe? Zoe?"

With a soft pop, the house-elf appeared in a corner of the room.

"I'm here—what's the matter?" she asked, glancing around. "Mr. Grey isn't in the dorm?"

"Master has fallen asleep. I'd like to ask if you could help move him to the bed," said Cube.

"Of course!" Zoe replied cheerfully. "Zoe is happy to help!"

Not long after, Wade was gently floated out of the wardrobe space and laid comfortably on his bed, tucked under a soft, fluffy quilt.

Seeing that their master hadn't woken up at all, Cube silently praised itself for its wise decision. It grabbed Cloak—who had been trying to sneak back into the wardrobe—and, along with Zoe, helped pack Wade's belongings for the trip ho.

…

Wade, now "asleep," had no idea he'd just been moved around by a house-elf and a couple of magical dolls.

At this mont, he stood in a long corridor, surrounded by countless doors on either side, completely dazed.

He only rembered chanting one of the incantations Cube had pieced together… He'd already tried so many tis before that, repeating the experint over and over, until casting the spells had beco purely chanical.

Then, in what felt like a montary daze, he suddenly found himself here—in this endless-feeling corridor.

The walls on both sides were milky white, devoid of decoration. From ti to ti, white streams of light darted across them like little fish.

Wade looked up and saw that the ceiling above him was a vast, shimring night sky—an entire galaxy stretched overhead, and it looked dazzlingly beautiful and breathtaking.

——Am I dreaming?

The thought crossed Wade's mind, and he pinched himself hard. The sharp pain made him suck in a breath.

No. Not a dream.

Is this the necklace's effect?

They had analyzed the runes on the necklace again and again. Even the Unspeakables from the Departnt of Mysteries had interpreted it from every angle, confirming that there were no harmful or aggressive spells on it—certainly nothing that would cause injury.

Wade steadied himself, not too worried, and casually began walking forward.

The doors on either side looked identical at first glance, but as he walked past them, he noticed each had different symbols or patterns. So even shifted colors.

He randomly chose a door with a symbol resembling a windmill—it looked a bit like a four-leaf clover. He gave it a gentle push, and it opened easily.

Beyond the door stretched a long street. The buildings on either side looked aged, and the edges of the brick-paved road were slightly raised.

A mother and child were walking from the other side of the street. The child was holding a colorful plastic windmill, puffing his cheeks and blowing at it non-stop. The mother held his hand and smiled as she watched.

The child exclaid, "Mom, look! It's spinning so fast!"

"That's right, because you're blowing it so hard." she replied gently.

"Will it get tired? Will it want to take a break?" the child asked with innocent curiosity.

The mother chuckled and pointed to his cheek. "When your cheeks start to feel sore, that's when the windmill wants to rest too."

"Then I'm not tired yet," the child declared. "I can go on a little longer!"

The colorful windmill spun wildly again as the pair laughed and chatted. They walked right past Wade—as if they couldn't see him at all.

But Wade stared at the woman with his eyes shining in disbelief. Everything else around him faded into a blur—except for that familiar, smiling face.

His lips parted slightly, and in a barely audible whisper, he said: "Mom…"

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