Harry Potter: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me from Studying

"So you mean—your parchment—" Ferdinand said, his face pale.

"The Book of Friends, darling, it's the Book—of—Friends!" Fiona corrected him, displeased. How could her son's brilliant and great invention be simply called "parchment"?

"Alright—the Book of Friends—" Ferdinand corrected, staring blankly at Wade. "You sold the patent—and they gave you fifty thousand Galleons—with a continuous stream of—patent royalties to follow?"

His demeanor was off, making the usually joyful Wade feel a bit apprehensive. His expression instinctively turned serious as he earnestly said, "Yes, Father."

"And someone even—wanted to buy it out for two hundred thousand Galleons—but your professor didn't agree?"

"Yes."

Ferdinand looked like he was struggling to breathe. "You also went with your professor—"

"—Professor Moray."

"Right, Professor Moray—and a businessman—went to Diagon Alley—"

"—Mr. Marco Marchionne," Wade deliberated before saying. "They both took great care of me."

"And then, right before your—and a goblin's eyes, he transferred all fifty thousand Galleons?"

"Yes, Father."

Ferdinand's expression was too peculiar, not simply proud or happy. Wade felt a little uneasy.

It was only then that he realized he should have consulted his parents first. But with Marchionne's urging, everything today felt fast-forwarded, and he had subconsciously overlooked it.

Logically, Professor Moray and Marchionne weren't so careless. But considering his parents weren't magical, perhaps in their eyes, despite Wade being only eleven, he was the only one in the Gray family who could communicate equally and make decisions.

Realizing this made Wade feel slightly uncomfortable. He suppressed these emotions and tried to speak in a relaxed tone, "Because it's almost time for school, Mr. Marchionne was very anxious, afraid of missing this money-making opportunity, so everything seemed very rushed—I'm sorry, Dad, I forgot I should have come back to discuss it with you first."

"Oh, come on! Wade is only eleven, do you expect him to be perfectly thorough in everything he does?" Fiona pretended to be unhappy, pushing Ferdinand away, then hugged her son and kissed his forehead forcefully. "That's wonderful, darling! Mama is so proud of you! How many eleven-year-olds can achieve financial freedom on their own? And it's your exclusive patent! It's truly astonishing! I can't believe I gave birth to such an outstanding son!"

She showered him with kisses, then pulled Wade off the sofa, urging, "What are you waiting for? Let's eat dinner, I made a feast! Ferdi—you go wash your hands too!"

"—Alright."

Pushed towards the dining table, Wade turned back to see Ferdinand standing up, leaning on the sofa backrest. He even stumbled slightly on his way to the bathroom, almost falling.

Fiona didn't notice. She hummed a tune, cheerfully lifting the lid, and the aroma of food instantly awakened their appetites. But Ferdinand couldn't swallow a bite throughout the meal. He almost poked his nose with a tomato, and after his steak fell off his fork, he chewed on the fork a few times before realizing it.

"Your dad's too shocked!" Fiona whispered to Wade, worried that he might feel frustrated or disappointed. "When he was eleven, he still couldn't figure out addition and subtraction within a hundred!"

That was too exaggerated.

Wade couldn't help but smile, both for the nonexistent, clumsy father his mother described and for the shining love in his mother's eyes.

"Dad—" After dinner, Wade tentatively asked, "Professor Moray helped me a lot today. Although he said it wasn't necessary, I still want to thank him, but I don't know how—"

According to some "workplace unwritten rules" he learned in his previous life, giving two or three tens of thousands of Galleons to a "benefactor" like Professor Moray at this point would be appropriate, otherwise it would be "unthoughtful." But Wade hesitated for a long time, still feeling that if he said that, Professor Moray would probably instantly get angry.

Past experiences didn't apply now, at least not to Professor Moray. Otherwise, it might be an "insult" rather than "thanks." As an eleven-year-old child, Wade knew he didn't need to be too sophisticated or smooth. But accepting Professor Moray's kindness as if nothing had happened also felt wrong to Wade.

"Oh—" Ferdinand was a little dazed. After a while, he said, "Write a thank-you letter, Wade—"

"Write a letter?"

Wade hadn't expected that the advice he gave Steven during the day—to write a letter—would be returned to him by his father in the evening.

"Yes, write a letter, one that's sincere and thoughtful—" Ferdinand thought for a moment and said, "Remember to send a small gift on Professor Moray's birthday or during holidays—most importantly, repay him with even better grades…"

"I understand." Wade nodded.

"Mm, go write the letter, Wade. And—" Ferdinand forced a difficult smile. "I'm very proud of you, son."

Watching his son return to his bedroom, Ferdinand slumped onto the sofa, running his hands through his hair, looking utterly deflated.

"What's wrong with you today?" Fiona hugged him from behind, resting her head on his neck, her long hair sliding down his shoulders. She grumbled discontentedly, "Wade's little invention sold for a huge sum, his school professor is so kind to him, and the businessman he met is honest and enthusiastic… Everything is going so well, why do you look like that? Wade didn't even smile when he went back to his room… Ferdi, no matter why, please don't be a buzzkill parent, okay…"

She babbled on, feeling her husband's tense muscles gradually relax.

"Yes, you're right." Ferdinand held his wife's hand, trying to force a smile. "Their professor is a good person… Everything is good… I was just too shocked, I'm sorry…"

"I'm fine, just remember to apologize properly to Wade tomorrow morning… He happily shared his achievements with you, but you didn't even give him a good look…"

"—Got it."

Late at night, after his wife was fast asleep, Ferdinand put on his clothes and went out to the balcony. He wanted to light a cigarette, but his hands were trembling too much, and he failed several times.

Finally, he managed to light it and took a deep drag. The smoke blurred his eyes and blurred the lonely London night.

Only then did the overwhelming fear completely engulf Ferdinand.

His Wade… his smart, sensible, obedient, and kind son… his mind was worth at least a million pounds, possessing immense wealth that could be realized at any time… went with strangers, to completely unfamiliar places… If Wade encountered danger… if he was harmed… what could he, as a father, do…?

Wizards came and went without a trace. Ferdinand didn't even know where to look for him…

He smoked one cigarette after another, his body trembling from his fingers to his toes.

The night was chillingly cold.

Upstairs, Wade watched the smoke curl and dissipate, and saw the faint flickers of light ignite repeatedly.

He leaned on the railing, tilting his head slightly, and saw the waning moon, like a silver hook, hanging on the spire of a tall building.