Memory

Chapter 96: Memories

Almost all newborn animals have an innate cuteness, and the bald Norwegian Ridgeback was no exception—when the little creature spread its wings and flailed on the table, it didn't have the intimidating presence of an adult dragon at all. Instead, it seemed to be acting spoiled.

But when it opened its mouth and revealed its slender, sharp fangs, the cuteness quickly vanished, and a quiet threat emerged.

However, in Hagrid's eyes, this little dragon, no bigger than his palm, was simply adorable. He quickly embraced his role as its "dragon mother," caressing the little dragon's head with great affection, touching its wings, and then getting sprayed with an angry fireball by the hatchling.

"Look, it can even breathe fire!" Hagrid said proudly, batting sparks off his beard.

"Hagrid," Hermione said worriedly, "How fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

"Oh, it doesn't grow that fast," Hagrid said tenderly. "But it can reach 50 feet once it's fully grown."

"50 feet!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah—it's truly pitifully small right now, isn't it?"

Hagrid completely missed Hermione's concern. He retrieved a barrel of brandy from a corner, then pulled out some pre-prepared chicken blood, and asked, "Who wants to try feeding it?"

Harry and Ron both raised their hands in unison, while Hermione leaned back, her refusal perfectly clear.

Wade was initially interested too, but seeing the two boys' excitement, he lowered his hand and cautioned, "Be careful—its teeth are poisonous."

Hagrid first demonstrated how to feed it, then handed the glorious task over to the Gryffindor duo.

Wade observed for a while, satisfying his curiosity, then excused himself—mainly because Hagrid had made the hut too hot for hatching the dragon, and he was sweating after just a few minutes inside.

Soon after, Hermione also came out. Wade waited for her and said, "I thought you were going back to the Gryffindor common room with Harry?"

Hermione said, "That's what I intended. But I think... well... they should have some space to talk things through properly."

...

Inside the hut, Harry and Ron avoided eye contact, taking turns to feed the little dragon. They worked together seamlessly, without interfering with each other. Hagrid babbled on about his love for the little creature, racking his brain for a suitable name.

"Maybe I should check a book—there's always an answer in books," Hagrid muttered, pulling an old book from his cabinet overflowing with bottles, jars, and tin pots. He used his thick fingers to flip through the pages, searching for suitable names.

Harry was absentmindedly feeding the dragon, not noticing he was a bit slow, and the little creature bit down without hesitation!

"Watch out!"

Ron forcefully slapped Harry's hand away, spilling a spoonful of brandy onto the table.

The little dragon angrily hissed at its feeder, about to spit a fireball, but Harry quickly pushed the remaining chicken blood and brandy over, letting it drink on its own.

The completely black little dragon tumbled into the liquor, flailing in a panic, but quickly discovered it was surrounded by delicacies and buried its head, drinking intently. Both boys sighed in relief simultaneously, and the deliberately cold atmosphere naturally eased.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then finally spoke the words that had been churning in his chest for days: "Ron, I've been meaning to say... I actually wanted to ask that day, but the club rule is—unless everyone agrees, no one else can be invited to join. I was thinking... it would be better if I privately asked for others' opinions first, and then brought it up..."

Of course, the first person he asked had rebuffed his tentative inquiry, a detail Harry felt no need to mention right now.

Ron exhaled, his tense shoulders relaxing: "Do you know what I was thinking? I thought you'd made some cool new friends and were starting to drift away from us..."

In truth, Ron had been having a rough time lately. Malfoy had even taunted him: "What, has Harry Potter finally realized some people are just not up to par and dumped him? I have to say, even though he's an idiot, he's finally made one correct decision."

Ron had been so enraged he'd gotten into another fight with Malfoy, and his ribs were still aching. But compared to physical pain, a friend drifting away felt far worse.

"No! Of course not! How could I?" Harry was startled, hastily denying it, and added, "You were my very first friend!"

Ron immediately smiled. He asked curiously, "What do you usually do in that club?"

After asking, he also felt a sense of relief—he had finally managed to ask the question openly.

Harry explained to him: "SSC is a study group. We usually just work on essays together. But after dinner, Wade teaches everyone some spells the school hasn't taught yet, mainly Dark Arts defense spells. I recently learned the Disarming Charm and the Shield Charm. They're really hard; it took me many injuries to learn them. Do you want to learn? I can teach you."

"Can you?" Ron asked somewhat nervously. "Won't that violate the club's rules?"

"No, Wade said we can teach others... it's just that my teaching might not be as good..."

...

For Wade, the shifting friendships of elementary schoolers weren't really on his mind. He had more important things to do now.

Early Saturday morning, Wade arrived outside the Room of Requirement. He walked back and forth three times, concentrating his thoughts: I need a room with a Pensieve... I need a room with a Pensieve... I need a room with a Pensieve...

An ancient, narrow mahogany door appeared on the wall. Wade pulled it open and stepped inside.

It looked like the home of an ascetic monk. The room contained only a simple wooden bed and a low stool, next to which stood a half-human-height stone pillar. A shallow, empty stone basin rested on top of it. The rim of the basin was carved with intricate Ancient Runes, surrounded by a circle of thumb-sized gems, their opulence completely at odds with the rest of the room.

This was a Pensieve, a magical item capable of storing memories and thoughts, and even allowing one to enter those memories to relive past events. It contained powerful and complex magic. Even Professor Murray had frankly admitted that he couldn't create a Pensieve.

Wade pointed his Wand at his temple, whispered a spell, and concentrated on recalling those memories long faded by time.

A moment later, he moved his Wand away. A slender silver thread was drawn out, extending from his temple, growing longer and longer. Wade gently twirled his Wand, reeling it in as if gathering thread. After a few turns, the silver thread finally broke.

It floated gently on the tip of the Wand like a spider's silk, one end approaching the Pensieve. Wade lightly tapped his Wand on the Pensieve, and the silver thread fell in, slowly swirling like mist, emitting a faint glow.

This was... a memory almost forgotten... from his previous life.

Wade took a deep breath and plunged into the silver stream of memory.

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