Chapter 204: The Second Heartbeat

Due to the limited number of bedrooms, the boys had to share rooms in groups of three or four, except for the two girls who had separate accommodations.

Wade naturally shared a room with Michael, Theo, and Ryan. Not one to make himself uncomfortable, he used the Undetectable Extension Charm to expand the space and the Doubling Charm to transform the original single bed into four.

Although these spells wouldn't last long, they would hold for three to five days—enough time for their use.

Before going to sleep, the group began discussing the lifelike portraits.

"I wonder how Mrs. Black is doing," Ryan said worriedly. "Showing her Regulus' body might only traumatize her more."

"She's already known about Regulus' death for a long time," Wade replied. "So... finding his body might actually be a small comfort for her."

After a long pause, Ryan murmured, "How tragic... to die so young... it must have caused his family so much pain."

Not wanting to dwell on such gloomy topics, Michael changed the subject casually. "The Black family portraits are nothing like the ones at school."

He added, "Before coming here, I thought they'd tell us some ancient stories. But when I first saw them, I thought they were all insane. Yet, when Mr. Phineas arrived, they suddenly seemed normal again."

"Maybe it's because we're not pure-bloods, so they don't want to talk to us properly?" Wade speculated. "If Malfoy were a guest here, they'd probably welcome him with open arms."

Everyone laughed.

None of them felt offended or insecure about this; rather, they found it ridiculous that someone's attitude could depend solely on bloodline.

Michael laughed as well and said, "So, as soon as Mr. Phineas left, they all went back to sleep?"

"That might not have anything to do with their attitude; it's just unavoidable." 

Theo explained: "I've heard my grandfather say that the magic in portraits comes from three sources: the subject's own magic, the enchantments placed by the painter, and the magic of the building where the portrait resides."

"Typically, as time passes, the magic in portraits grows weaker. What we see is the portrait's inhabitants falling into longer and longer periods of sleep until one day, they never wake again."

"But if the building is filled with vibrant and active magic, the portrait's magic can be replenished, allowing it to last much longer."

"So that's why the Hogwarts portraits seem so lively," Michael concluded thoughtfully. "Although even some of the older ones there spend most of their time asleep."

"Exactly," Ryan added. "Unless Mrs. Black is yelling, the Black family portraits rarely open their eyes."

Ryan then remarked, "With Sirius imprisoned and Regulus gone, this house has been left abandoned… It's as if the portraits are dying alongside the house itself."

Wade didn't say anything, but his thoughts drifted unexpectedly to Griffith.

That portrait was one of the most animated he'd ever encountered—far more lively than even the former headmasters of Hogwarts. Griffith could casually intrude on other portraits and even physically brawl with them.

Of course, much of this probably came down to personality.

Yet, judging by Griffith's remarks, he'd been alive centuries ago, at the very least.

Is he immune to weakening? Or is he continuously replenishing his magical energy from Hogwarts itself?

Wade had some theories about it... but wasn't entirely sure.

…

That day had been eventful, leaving many tossing and turning through the night. But Wade's internal clock still ensured he fell asleep on time and woke up at his usual hour.

When he opened his eyes, he instinctively reached toward the side of the bed. The next second, the top of the alarm clock on the bedside table cracked open, and a small yellow bird emerged, spreading its wings as if to chirp—

Before it could make a sound, Wade swiftly pressed it back down.

Instead of getting up, he pointed his wand toward his chest and muttered softly, "Amato, Animo, Animato, Animagus!"

Thump!

Wade's eyes widened abruptly, unsure if he'd imagined it.

Thump!

He distinctly felt a second heartbeat in his chest. It was so strong, it seemed as if he could hear it echoing against his ribcage.

Thump!

A surge of exhilaration rushed over Wade, and he almost shouted in excitement.

He turned around to share his joy with the others, but saw Michael and the rest sleeping soundly, oblivious.

Suppressing his voice, Wade grabbed his bag, quickly left the bedroom, and headed to the living room. He sat on the sofa by the fireplace and pulled out his Book of Friends. 

Opening to the first page, he scribbled a line of words in bold strokes by the firelight:

[I felt the second heartbeat!]

A moment later, the book grew warm, and new words began to appear:

[Fiona: That's amazing!]

[Fred: Is it the heartbeat needed to master the Animagus transformation?]

[Fiona: Obviously! What else could it be?]

[Fiona: My wonderful son! Come home soon, and I'll prepare a feast to celebrate!]

[Wade: Sure.]

[Fred: All your hard work has finally paid off. You've earned this! But don't get complacent—remember, many fail right before they succeed.]

[Fiona: Of course Wade knows that! He's the most conscientious child in the world! Wade, the next step is waiting for a stormy day, right?]

[Wade: Yes. Some people have to wait a long time for suitable weather.]

[Fiona: Don't worry, we'll start checking historical weather patterns right away!]

No more messages followed in the book.

Wade could vividly imagine his mother with her hair unkempt, dragging his father out of their cozy bed, hauling out stacks of old newspapers, and sitting by the fireplace, painstakingly flipping through each one to record daily temperatures across regions.

He wanted to tell them not to go through so much trouble. Rainfall last year didn't guarantee rain this year. All he could do was wait patiently.

He also thought about suggesting easier ways to get such information—like asking the weather bureau or searching online.

But every time he picked up his pen, he ended up smiling and putting it down again.

Why disrupt their joy with practicality? Dad probably knew about these modern conveniences but still joined mom in her nostalgic paper hunt.

To do something for someone you love is a happiness in itself.

…

"Chatting with your girlfriend?"

The unexpected voice startled Wade. Only then did he realize someone else was in the living room. He was sitting in a shadowy corner far from the fire and was nearly invisible.

"Sirius?" Wade asked in surprise. Then, recalling Sirius's comment, added, "No, I was writing to my parents."

Leaning back on the sofa, Sirius remarked, "It seems you have a happy family."

Wade was curious. "What makes you say that?"

"You've been smiling this whole time."

Sirius traced an arc near his own lips with a tired hand. "Just like James when he first fell in love. It's infectious—it makes people want to smile with you."

Wade instinctively touched his lips, letting out an unconscious smile. Remembering the tragedies in the Black family, though, he quickly grew serious again. "Did you stay up all night?"

"Yeah." Sirius tilted his head back, and gazed at the ceiling. "I tried talking to my mother, but all she cares about is whether Regulus's funeral is dignified. She doesn't want to say anything else."

After a brief silence, Wade asked, "Regulus didn't leave behind a portrait?"

"No." Sirius's voice carried suppressed pain. "He died so young… Portraits with magical properties aren't the same as photographs. Wizards don't casually create them."

"Maybe you could commission one of Regulus," Wade suggested. "It might not be very… lively. But it could bring some comfort to Mrs. Black."

And to you as well, he thought to himself.

Sirius paused, and looked thoughtful. "That's a good idea… I remember my mother kept Regulus's baby teeth and even locks of his hair. There might be blood, too. With those materials, the portrait could feel more lifelike."

He drifted into contemplation before suddenly saying, "Wade, thank you."

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