The hillside looked familiar, with tender green grass just sprouting across the meadow. The farm resembled others she had seen—cattle and sheep grazing on the pasture, chickens and ducks of all sizes turning over the softening soil, searching for bugs and seeds to eat.
Arriving in this unfamiliar place, Annie Johnson had initially been nervous, but the familiar scenery gradually helped her relax.
She sat on the wooden floor surrounding the house, holding a chubby, half-asleep cat in her arms, with her gray and white hair hanging down and glowing in the sunlight.
The memory charm had severely affected her mind, but it seemed to have granted her a different kind of peace.
Wade looked at her, and a tangle of emotions stirred in his heart.
Nearby, the farm couple took the potion that Dumbledore handed them and smiled as they nodded.
"Please don't worry, Professor Dumbledore," the man said. "We'll take good care of her like she's family and make sure she takes her medication on time."
"From now on, she'll be called Annie Bole," said Dumbledore. "Nominally, she's your cousin. As for the rest—since she no longer remembers, there's no need to bring it back."
The couple nodded with a smile. On the grassy field not far off, their two young children were playing, chasing each other in the sun.
"Annie Bole" slowly turned her vacant gaze toward the children. She watched them intently, her eyes softened, and a single tear slipped silently down her cheek.
…
"The Boles are both Squibs—kind and decent people. The Bole family has run this farm since the time of Nicholas Bole's great-great-grandfather,"
On the way back to Hogwarts, Dumbledore explained to Wade, "Hogwarts gets half of its regular meat supply from the Bole farm."
"There's a dedicated farm for that?" Wade asked. "I always assumed it came from Muggle suppliers."
"Sometimes it does, but we usually avoid that," Dumbledore replied.
"Because it increases the risk of exposing the school's location?" Wade asked.
"That's one reason," Dumbledore said with a smile.
"And when we buy from here, all we need is a single enchanted bag to carry everything back. But if we used a Muggle farm, we'd need several trucks. Otherwise, how would you explain the food disappearing in the blink of an eye?"
"Even with trucks, you'd need a warehouse for transfers. The drivers would get suspicious too," Wade said.
"Exactly," Dumbledore sighed. "Wizards often overlook these small details—especially now that some places have started installing security cameras... If we're exposed, it means packing up and moving fast."
Wade nodded. "But you can't exactly move the whole castle."
Thinking about a future where every phone comes with a camera and satellites constantly scan the Earth from above, Wade felt a chill down his spine for those wizards still clinging to the Statute of Secrecy.
He shifted the topic and finally voiced the thought that had been on his mind:
"Professor... Although Mrs. Johnson can manage her basic daily needs, her intelligence is about the level of a child. It probably won't be easy for the Bole family to take care of her, so I was thinking of giving them a monthly care allowance... Do you think that's appropriate?"
Dumbledore looked at him kindly and said, "Of course you can. That's very considerate of you... but I'm curious—why do you want to do this? Is it because of your friendship with young Mr. Johnson, or... guilt?"
Wade thought for a long moment before replying, "...Maybe out of sympathy? And also... a kind of emotional resonance? Everything that happened to Caryll could very well have happened to me too. I was just a bit luckier than him..."
Even as someone who had transmigrated into this world, it wasn't guaranteed that he could see the truth of it.
He was fortunate that the people in this world were largely similar to how they were portrayed in the original story. That made it easier for Wade to discern right from wrong, to understand people's positions, and to take control of his own fate.
But before he crossed over, he had read some fanfiction, and though he couldn't recall the plots in detail, he vaguely remembered impressions—
Like those conspiracy theories where Dumbledore was actually the calculating mastermind behind everything; or ones where Voldemort wasn't killed by Harry, and Hogwarts under his rule became as "pure and honest" as Gotham City.
Dumbledore, unaware that Wade was currently constructing an image of him as a "sinister and ruthless white Dark Lord" in his head, smiled in relief and said:
"I'm glad you're not consumed by anger and hatred, Wade... But if the roles were reversed, I believe you would have handled it more appropriately."
Wade smiled, but in his heart, he wondered—does a "more appropriate" solution really exist?
If I had been in Caryll's shoes, perhaps the only options would have been either-or, with no middle ground.
Either I would be driven by overwhelming guilt to make a desperate gamble to keep my mother alive, or I could accept the tragedy rationally, bear the pain of losing a loved one, and keep moving forward.
…
"Aicoto Aerocher—"
In the forest, Lockhart waved his wand, and an invisible pulse burst out with a "boom," making the dead leaves and shrubs on the ground shake.
"There, now the Aurors won't be able to track us easily."
Lockhart lowered his wand, beaming.
Gale said nothing. He sighed tiredly and walked to the stream, where he washed his hands and face in the cold water and instantly felt much more awake.
Lockhart followed and crouched beside him, and said with emotion: "I really didn't think you'd come back to save me, Gale. When those vampires caught me, I thought I was done for..."
—I thought you were done for too.
Gale thought silently.
The only reason he hadn't left Lockhart behind during the escape, and had even helped him steal a wand, was because Gale had assumed that the wooden cabin was already surrounded by Aurors—maybe even Dumbledore himself was outside.
As a weak vampire, he had absolutely no power to resist those violent and powerful wizards. So Gale's original plan was that if they ran into any trouble, he'd throw Lockhart out as bait.
After all, he had only smuggled a small amount of goods banned by the Ministry of Magic—not nearly as serious as Lockhart, who had manually wiped the memories of over a dozen wizards.
Unexpectedly, the two of them had managed to escape quite smoothly. Now, seeing Lockhart full of gratitude, Gale naturally had no intention of exposing his own devious plan.
He simply nodded and accepted the gratitude, then asked, "How does that wand feel?"
"Definitely not as good as my original one, but it's alright," Lockhart said, giving the wand a wave. "It doesn't seem to resist me too much."
"That's good." Gale stood up and said, "We're not completely out of danger yet. The Dementors might be summoned any moment. We'd better keep running for now."
"Got it," Lockhart agreed without hesitation.
Ever since narrowly escaping death at the hands of vampires, Lockhart had felt a constant sense of urgency. What's more, Gale had carried him on his back for quite a while—though his ribs hurt like crazy, he didn't actually feel too exhausted.
After a quick sip of water, the two of them continued running deeper into the forest.
A few minutes later, a large black dog followed behind them. It sniffed at the bushes and grass, then broke into a light trot, silently padding along with barely a sound on the ground.
Not long after, Locke, wearing a tattered cloak, walked the same path. A small gray rat darted over a tree root and ran quickly, occasionally stopping to look back and wait for him.
"No rush," Locke murmured—perhaps to himself, perhaps to the rat.
"If those two happen to know that Peter Pettigrew is dead, then the moment I show up, I could be exposed. So I need to wait for the right moment… a situation where they can't explain it away."
"Squeak squeak—" The rat stood upright on a branch like a person with its front paws tucked to its chest, and said in a thin, squeaky voice, "Are we letting Sirius Black make contact with them?"
"Hm? Of course not," Locke replied. "If he tries anything like that, just lure him away."
"Understood!" the gray rat answered and darted into the bushes, disappearing like lightning.
Locke glanced back in the direction of Hogwarts, then slowly followed.
He remembered that when he was first created, his master had crafted a plan—one that would establish the 'death' of Peter Pettigrew as a fact, while also dealing a massive blow to Voldemort.
But for some reason, that plan was never brought up again… Perhaps because Voldemort hadn't resurfaced in a long time, and the master had to change course.
Before leaving this time, Locke hadn't received any detailed new instructions. He could only figure out his actions on his own.
Fortunately, this wasn't unfamiliar territory. All he needed was a bit of time… and patience was never something he lacked.
Locke touched his eye with a calm expression as ever.
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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- +235 Chapters
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