Professor Murray

"Thump—thump—thump—"

His heart pounded violently. His soaked clothes clung to his body, and as the cold wind blew over him, the chill seeped into his bones.

This was the closest Wade had come to death since his rebirth.

First-year Harry Potter might have dealt with pendant-version Voldemort as easily as playing a game in the story, but that was because his mother's magic protected him. If it had been Wade now, even if he knew ten times as many Spells as Harry Potter, being discovered by Voldemort would probably have meant certain death.

Having been given a second life, Wade was not particularly afraid of death. He could accept dying for some great cause, or dying to protect someone he loved, but he could not accept dying for such a ridiculous reason—being silenced because he had accidentally overheard the villain's Secret, dying as quietly and insignificantly as cannon fodder.

Worried that he might run into Quirrell again after leaving, Wade hid on the concealed platform for a long time. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep against the wall. When he suddenly woke, he realized it was already close to dawn, though the sky was still very dark.

The Quidditch Pitch had long since emptied. In the vast school grounds, only an adult wizard with silver-white hair was strolling by the Black Lake—probably a professor, though not Dumbledore, because Dumbledore also had a long white beard.

Wade had not seen the man's face clearly, but he did not care. As long as it was not Quirrell, it was fine. He pushed himself upright against the wall, only to feel dizzy and weak. His body swayed involuntarily, and he nearly lost his footing.

This was bad.

Wade muttered to himself and reached up to touch his forehead—it did not feel especially hot, but only because his palm was burning hot too. With every breath, the heat scorched his nostrils, giving Wade the strange feeling that if he put an egg beside himself right now, he could cook it with his own body heat.

Wade climbed through a window into an empty classroom and dragged his weak body toward the Hospital Wing. Most of the portraits in the corridor were asleep, but a young red-haired wizard was idly leaning against his frame, staring into space. When he saw Wade, his eyes lit up, and he asked curiously, "What's wrong with you? Are you sick?"

"Why aren't you back in the Common Room at night?"

"Madam Pomfrey probably isn't up yet! Do you need me to wake her for you?"

"Haha, I'm kidding! There isn't a portrait of me in her bedroom."

"Why aren't you saying anything? Talk to me! It's so boring being awake by myself."

Wade had no energy to pay him any attention, but the red-haired wizard was persistent. He followed Wade through several portrait frames, chattering nonstop. He did not seem embarrassed at all by the lack of response; his original self must have been a hopeless chatterbox.

Not until there were no portraits along the long stretch of corridor ahead did the red-haired wizard reluctantly give up. He even shouted from afar, "With a personality like yours, you probably don't have many friends, do you? Come find me when you're better! I can chat with you!"

Wade's fever had given him a splitting headache, and he almost wanted to pry his own skull open. The wizard's endless chatter irritated him even more, distracting most of his attention. By the time Wade noticed another set of footsteps in the corridor besides his own, the sound was already very close!

—Only a corner away!!!

Wade's entire body went stiff.

He instinctively wanted to avoid whoever it was, but his sluggish body failed to react in time.

"Thump!"

The footsteps drew nearer...

"Thump!"

The world seemed to contract before his eyes. His vision blurred, while only his hearing remained sharp.

"Thump!"

A figure emerged from around the corner.

"What's wrong, child?" someone asked him.

But Wade's mind was like a rusted gear, and he did not answer for a long while.

"Oh, your fever is rather severe." The man gently guided him along. "Come with me, child—come this way—fortunately, my office is nearby."

Silver-white hair swayed before his eyes. It looked somewhat like Dumbledore's, and Wade lowered his guard.

A few minutes later, Wade held an empty cup in his hands, steam continuously puffing from his ears. He stared blankly at the wizard before him, making him look rather foolish.

The person who had appeared in the corridor was neither Quirrell, whom Wade had feared, nor Dumbledore, whom he had assumed it was, but an unfamiliar Male Wizard. He looked at least eighty years old, wearing dark blue robes. His short silver-white hair was neatly combed, and he had no beard. Notably, beneath his robes he wore a Muggle shirt and suit trousers, and his tie was tied perfectly straight—something wizards generally found difficult to manage. A pair of strangely styled gold-rimmed glasses hung from the pocket on his chest.

When the wizard had found Wade in poor condition in the corridor, he had brought him to his office and taken out his own Stupefy Potion. It had to be said that it worked far better than the potions in the Hospital Wing. After drinking it, Wade's muddled head immediately cleared considerably. Aside from the steam still pouring from his ears, he felt fine, and he could finally see his surroundings clearly.

This was a circular room, illuminated as brightly as day by more than a dozen Magic Lamps of various sizes. The shelves and tables were covered with many strange yet interesting little objects. A golden hourglass slowly rotated; more than a dozen small crystal balls were strung together on silver Metal Wire, the colored light within them brightening and dimming as though breathing. On a cabinet nearby sat an extremely lifelike Manor, where thumb-sized Little People and an even smaller dog lived. They could even fetch water and cook meals.

There were also some Muggle technological creations in the room—a refrigerator, an oven, a television, a computer, a washing machine, and even a disassembled car engine.

This was truly the strangest room Wade had ever seen.

The wizard who had brought him here was fiddling with a radio. A moment later, a woman's enthusiastic voice came from it—

"Dear listeners, busy wizards, good morning! A wonderful day begins with Magic Time. Once again, your beloved Glenda Chittock is here to host the program. First, let us enjoy Celestina Warbeck's newly released song—'You Stole My Cauldron, but You Can't Have My Heart'..."

"Oh, good thing I didn't miss it. This is my favorite radio show." The Male Wizard muttered, then turned and asked with a kindly smile, "Feeling better, child?"

"Yes, I'm much better. Thank you for your help, sir." Wade asked cautiously, "May I ask who you are—?"

"I'm the Alchemy professor, Terence Murray." Professor Murray smiled. "If, in your fifth-year O.W.L.s, you achieve 'Outstanding' in Charms, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes, as well as at least 'Exceeds Expectations' in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Potions, you may take my course in your sixth year. You like Alchemy very much, don't you, child?"

He glanced down, and Wade realized that On the Diversity of Species was sticking halfway out of his Schoolbag. He stuffed the book back in and said, "Yes, Professor. I'm teaching myself Alchemy."

"These materials may be a little too advanced for you. You should begin with the basics, such as Magical Phonetic Chart."

"I've already memorized all of Magical Phonetic Chart, sir. As well as Collection of Magical Glyphs, Runic Dictionary, and Basic Introduction to Ancient Runes. I've also read Basic Alchemy and Analyzing Alchemy, written by Mr. Nicolas Flamel."

Professor Murray froze.

Hogwarts has Alchemy courses from sixth year onward, but the author could not find the name of the Alchemy professor. Terence Murray and the elective requirements for Alchemy are the author's own additions.