Reckless, Crazy, and Irrational Thoughts

Sugar is truly a great friend to the brain when it comes to thinking.

This was Dewey's first time using Apparition. He had intended to go to London, but clearly, for a Level 2 Apparition, the distance from Privet Drive to London was a bit beyond his reach.

Dewey fell out of the magical transit halfway there.

He appeared on the banks of the River Thames.

There were a few unlucky anglers here who hadn't caught a single fish.

They stared, dumbfounded, at Dewey's miraculous appearance, and they also saw his face.

"Well, brothers, you are truly out of luck."

Dewey pulled out his wand.

These anglers didn't recognize the wand; they thought Dewey was joking.

One poor soul stood up.

"It might be better for you to stay seated."

Dewey said, looking at these anglers, and with a flick of his wrist, he cast Stupefy.

"Because when you're standing, falling down hurts much more."

Dewey said.

He didn't need to chant; casting silently, he unleashed Stupefy as he walked. These anglers were no match for him at all. In the span of a few breaths, six or seven people were sprawled on the ground.

Only one person remained standing, trembling in place.

Dewey considerately gathered the unconscious people together, commenting as he dragged them.

"Nice jacket."

"Nice trousers."

"Hmm, and a bucket hat."

"Yes, a scarf, I quite like this thing."

"Sunglasses."

"Uh-huh, boots, what kind of boots are these?"

Dewey stripped the clothes off them without a hint of hesitation and put them on himself.

"Thanks for the gifts of nature."

He thanked these unconscious people before turning his gaze to the bespectacled angler who was still standing. The man was shaking like a leaf, unable to comprehend what he had just witnessed.

"Alright, it's fine, it's fine. I just want to get some information. Where is this? Where is the nearest supermarket?"

Dewey asked. After the man stammered out the answers, Dewey knocked him to the ground with a Stupefy.

He even gently supported the man, letting him sink to the ground slowly.

"Thank you."

He said to the person who had passed out.

After resting for a moment, Dewey cast Obliviate on them, making them forget the clothes they had been wearing and the person they had met.

"I hope this spell works."

Having scavenged some currency from them and fiddling with the wand in his hand, Dewey hummed a tune and left the scene.

The wand in his hand belonged to that wizard—oak, dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches long—and it felt quite powerful to use.

But this was not the wand Dewey wanted.

"Walker, Walker, my little darling, where are you?"

Dewey could not stop thinking about Walker.

Whenever he slept, he would always have nightmares. He dreamed that the Hit Wizard named Walker would use a dark curse to bewitch his ribs, forcing them to pierce through his skin and jump out to torture him.

He would wake up from these nightmares every single day, and he hated that feeling.

If he wanted to end his fear, he had to face it head-on.

He wanted Walker's wand; it would be the trophy of his victory over fear.

Dewey walked into a supermarket. His outfit was a strange mix: boots, trousers that were a bit too baggy for him, a scarf wrapped around half his face, a bucket hat on his head, sunglasses on his face, and a khaki trench coat.

He looked quite bizarre.

He picked up a map, bought over thirty bars of chocolate, stuffed them into his clothes, and paid.

"Keep the change."

He said to the cashier, turned, and left. Unfolding the map, Dewey took a careful look.

This city was still over seventy kilometers away from London.

That wasn't actually very far.

The place he was heading to was, naturally, the Leaky Cauldron.

He was not heading there to walk into a trap, but simply because he knew that to find Sirius, he had to get close to Harry Potter.

A lone man is always at a disadvantage.

While sleeping in a deserted corner, a dangerous idea took root in his mind.

This notion was so wild and reckless that even he felt it was sheer madness just by thinking about it.

Yet, the crazier it felt, the more his heart raced, and Dewey found himself drawn to it.

"Let's do it this way."

Dewey said to himself.

The more complex a plan, the more likely it is to fail; to pull off a world-shaking scheme, one needs a reckless start, a muddled process, and a bizarre ending.

Regardless of whether the outcome is good or bad, you only know the result once you try.

"Do it, Dewey, do it."

Dewey told himself, "If you don't do these things, you will never know how they turn out."

He set off for London on foot, following the highway, hoping to hitch a ride from some kind soul on a road devoid of security cameras once night fell.

Then, he could head to the Leaky Cauldron and meet Sirius.

He wanted a partner.

He knew what Sirius wanted.

This was perhaps the best news he had heard so far.

He could easily find an accomplice to join him in these dangerous endeavors.

August 20, 1993.

Diagon Alley.

Harry Potter tore his gaze away from the Firebolt with great reluctance.

As a Quidditch Seeker, his love for a Flying Broomstick was etched into his very bones.

But seeing the "Price on Request" sign, he extinguished all such thoughts.

He was only in his third year, with five years of schooling left, and he needed to save for his future.

The mere thought of having no money and having to reach out to the Dursley Family for it made his stomach churn with discomfort.

Returning to the outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Harry sat down in his usual spot. In the wizarding world, he didn't have to suffer the Dursleys' torment; he could openly do his homework in front of the parlour.

Florean would even provide Harry with free ice cream and guidance on his studies.

With ten days left until he had to be at King's Cross Station on September 1st, Harry needed to catch up on his homework as soon as possible.

As he worked, two wizards approached—a couple radiating a sour, cloying scent of romance. They sat nearby, whispering intimately to one another.

As they talked, they eventually brought up Dewey.

"Have you heard?"

The wizard said to the witch, "The Death Eater—I mean, the Death Eater who escaped from Azkaban, Dewey—he has started a bloody campaign of revenge against the Ministry of Magic.

Do you know, just a few days ago, he subjected two wizards from the Ministry's Committee on Experimental Charms to inhumane torture.

The wizarding world is truly dangerous now."

In their version of the story, Dewey had become a monster of twisted, evil proportions, beating and kicking the two wizards until they suffered severe psychological trauma that refused to heal.

"The Death Eater, Dewey."

Hearing this, Harry Potter felt a subconscious flicker of worry. In recent days, he had constantly thought of the large black dog he saw when he tripped on Magnolia Street—he didn't know what it was, but he felt it was an omen.

It might be a sign of misfortune.

And then there was Dewey.

Two wizards from the Ministry's Committee on Experimental Charms... subconsciously, his mind drifted to the incident where he had inflated Aunt Marge.

He shook his head, casting away the terrifying thought that Dewey's victims might have been the very wizards sent to deal with Aunt Marge.

"It couldn't be that coincidental."

Harry told himself.

He was trying to convince himself.

Not far away, several Hit Wizards were watching Harry Potter. They were the backbone of the force under the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, tasked with watching Harry twenty-four hours a day to ensure his safety.

As for why it wasn't Aurors guarding Harry, one would have to ask Fudge about that.

Even Scrimgeour, the current Head of the Auror Office, was scouring the countryside for Dewey's whereabouts; the Aurors simply had no time or energy to guard Harry.

How could there be any spare manpower in the wizarding world to watch over Harry Potter?

The task of guarding Harry Potter had fallen squarely onto the shoulders of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

They were worked to the point of madness!