The Wheelchair War God Is Speedrunning Hogwarts: Chapter 2

Was this the basic healing ability brought by the Magic Circuit...

"Miss?" Kreacher's voice came through the door. "Are you all right? Kreacher brought the chocolate cake you like..."

Vera quickly composed herself and pulled down her sleeve to cover the skin on her wrist. "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Kreacher entered carrying a small silver tray with an exquisite slice of chocolate cake on it.

In fact, the habit of eating a piece of chocolate cake after taking medicine to wash away the taste was one the original Vera had.

And she... in the mere three days since she had arrived in this world, aside from basic meals that could barely sustain her vital functions, had had no interest in trying sweets like this.

So, over the past few days, whenever the chocolate cake was left until the end, Kreacher had taken it away and eaten it himself.

But now...

Vera's gaze fell on the cake. As the scent of chocolate spread through the air, her stomach involuntarily tightened.

She actually had the urge to try it.

Kreacher carefully set the silver tray on the bedside table, his cloudy eyes anxiously studying Vera's pale face.

Vera picked up the silver fork and gently cut off a small piece of cake. The instant the silky chocolate melted on her tongue, she nearly let out a sigh.

This body's memories of taste had been completely awakened, as though every cell in her body were cheering.

"Miss... do you like it?" Kreacher nervously rubbed the edge of his tea towel. "Kreacher has made quite a few improvements these past few days."

Vera gently set down the fork, a sincere smile appearing at the corner of her lips. "It's delicious. Thank you, Kreacher."

Kreacher's eyes instantly grew moist. He bowed deeply, his tea towel nearly dragging on the floor. "It is what Kreacher should do! So long as Miss likes it!"

Vera did not interrupt Kreacher's muttering. She took another two bites of cake before softly saying, "Kreacher, prepare clothes for me to go out tomorrow. I... want to make a trip to Diagon Alley."

Author's Note: All right, this is actually a republished old book. I won't delete it again this time. Thank you all for your support.

P.S. The author isn't talking nonsense. The author has read the original novels many times and watched the films many times as well. Some settings follow the novels, some follow the films, and some are fan-created. The Magic Gauge setting will be explained later. It is a variation of a stamina bar, roughly equivalent to physical strength, but not entirely. The female lead's wheelchair setting is also foreshadowing and will be explained in the future!

Diagon Alley

Early the next morning, despite the minor changes she had gone through, Vera still woke from her sleep on time.

Of course, it might also have been because after what happened last night, she had been excited all night and had barely managed to sleep.

Vera changed into a casual outfit by herself early in the morning. Sitting before her dressing table, she looked at the girl in the mirror. Her pale complexion contrasted sharply with the dark green fabric she wore, giving her a sickly sort of beauty.

Kreacher was carefully combing her long hair, his movements as gentle as though he were handling fragile porcelain.

"Miss looks much better today," Kreacher muttered as he tied her silver-gray hair with a dark green ribbon. "Much better than yesterday."

Vera lowered her lashes and unconsciously stroked her fully healed wrist, a faint smile curling her lips.

Last night had also been the first good night's sleep she had had since coming to this world.

Her fingertips unconsciously brushed over the hidden patterns on the wheelchair's armrest—the parts Kreacher had specifically modified. For now, it only had a basic Levitation Charm and Cushioning Charm, as well as some defensive runes for saving her life at critical moments.

If necessary in the future, it could continue to be modified on that foundation.

"Is Miss really going to Diagon Alley alone?" Kreacher asked worriedly. "Old Kreacher still doesn't feel at ease..."

"I want to take a look by myself," Vera said softly. "And besides, Kreacher, you can't follow me around at school forever."

More importantly, Kreacher should have been considered dead in Voldemort's eyes. If he rashly appeared in Diagon Alley and was discovered by Voldemort or Quirrell, she would have trouble later.

Kreacher's ears drooped, but he still nodded. Silently, he pushed her out of the room and to the fireplace in the first-floor sitting room.

Vera grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the flames, then pushed her wheelchair straight inside. "Diagon Alley!"

Green flames instantly swallowed her figure.

Amid the spinning dizziness, Vera gripped the wheelchair's armrests tightly, enduring the discomfort caused by the twisting of space.

When the wheelchair touched solid ground again, she slowly opened her eyes and found herself in the dim fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron.

The noisy sounds of the pub instantly flooded her ears, and the air was thick with the smells of toasted flatbread and beer.

Vera's gaze passed over the crowd of wizards, and the first person she saw was the young man sitting at a long table with his back to her.

Quirinus Quirrell, Voldemort's servant.

It was July 31st. Vera remembered that Quirrell had not yet broken into Gringotts at this point.

In the original story, Quirrell had failed to find the Philosopher's Stone after breaking into Gringotts, and only then had Voldemort possessed him as punishment.

In other words, Quirrell was not quite so dangerous yet.

Vera swiftly swept her gaze around the room. Her eyes paused on Quirrell for an imperceptible moment before immediately moving away.

The Leaky Cauldron was even more run-down than she had imagined. Her wheelchair rolled over its rough wooden floorboards, producing a faint creak.

It was only a short distance, but Vera could already feel gazes coming from all directions—curious ones, pitying ones, and even mocking ones.

Clearly, in this magical world, a disabled wizarding child was a rare sight.

"Look, a disabled little wizard..."

"Poor little thing, sitting in a wheelchair. I wonder whose child that is."

Whispers rose throughout the pub, but Vera completely ignored them.

Tom, the proprietor behind the counter, set down the glass he was polishing and leaned over to ask, "Hey, little miss, did you come to Diagon Alley alone? Need any help?"

Vera shook her head. "Thank you, but I can manage."

She pushed her wheelchair slowly out of the fireplace area, deliberately choosing a route far from Quirrell.

Fortunately, Quirrell merely glanced at her from afar and paid no more attention to her.

He looked as though he were deliberately waiting for someone. An insignificant nobody like her, even if she looked a little unusual, had not interested him in the slightest.

That was a good thing.

Vera remained alert as she pushed her wheelchair into the courtyard at the back. Following Kreacher's instructions, she took out her wand and tapped the wall several times.

As the bricks shifted, sunlight from Diagon Alley spilled down.

Before her lay a bustling crowd, colorful shop signs, and the mixed scents of various potions and sweets drifting through the air.

Sunlight fell across her pale face. Vera narrowed her eyes to adjust, then slowly pushed her wheelchair into the clamor of Diagon Alley.

As she proceeded slowly down the cobbled street, the wheelchair's wheels rolled almost silently under the effect of magic.

Vera keenly noticed that after the Magic Circuit had activated, the flow of magic in the environment around her had become tangible in her eyes—

The protective spells shimmering over shop windows looked like translucent films, while traces of spellcasting lingering at the tips of passersby's wands floated through the air like tiny fireflies...

"Incredible," Vera murmured, her fingertips unconsciously touching the flowing magical patterns on the wheelchair's armrest.

Carefully steering around the crowd, she stopped outside the display window of Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour.

In the reflection on the glass, she noticed that the gold in her eyes had faded. But whenever she concentrated, an extremely faint glow would appear around the edges of her pupils, like amber pierced by sunlight.

Vera let out a soft breath. Just as she was about to push her wheelchair onward, a middle-aged man hurried through the children gathered around the ice-cream parlour and came excitedly up to her.

"Delin... you..." The man's excited expression froze when he saw Vera clearly. Then he forced a smile with some difficulty. "Sorry, I mistook you for someone else."

Vera looked up at the middle-aged wizard who had suddenly appeared before her. His gray-blue eyes brimmed with disappointment, as though it might spill over at any moment.

"It's all right, sir," she replied softly.

The man nodded stiffly, but his gaze lingered on her face. "You look... very much like my sister when she was young."

His voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. Then, as though suddenly jolted awake, he took half a step back. "Oh, right, please wait a moment!"

With that, he quickly turned and entered the ice-cream parlour behind him. Before long, he came back out carrying a raspberry ice cream.

"Please accept this. I'm the owner of this ice-cream parlour." He held the ice cream out to Vera, his voice carrying a certain earnestness. "Consider it an apology for my rudeness."

The pink surface of the ice cream was sprinkled with crushed nuts, gleaming temptingly in the sunlight.

Vera hesitated for a moment before accepting the ice cream and thanking him.

Fortescue's gaze softened. "I hope you enjoy it. If... if you ever meet a witch named Delin Fortescue, please tell her that her brother has always been looking for her."

His voice grew quieter and quieter until it was nearly a murmur to himself. Finally, with his head lowered and a lost look on his face, he returned to the shop.

Author's Note: Promo for "The Villainous Path of the Cucumber Witch."

Ollivanders Wand Shop

Vera watched Fortescue's back disappear behind the ice-cream parlour's door curtain. Condensation from the wrapper around the raspberry ice cream quietly dripped onto her hand, bringing a trace of coolness.

Delin Fortescue—this name had never appeared in the original plot. Even Florean Fortescue had only been mentioned once or twice in the original story as a minor background character.

Did she really resemble his sister?

Considering the population of Britain's magical world and the tradition of intermarriage among pure-blood families, even if they looked somewhat alike, it should have been normal.

Vera did not dwell too much on the small incident and continued onward in her wheelchair.

Before long, she arrived outside the cramped, shabby wand shop.

Vera had already finished her ice cream. She looked up at the sign and was about to enter when she realized that the small step before her had become an obstacle.

She frowned, considering how to get up, when the shop door suddenly creaked open.

"Good morning, Miss Black," a gentle voice called from behind the door.

Mr. Ollivander greeted her warmly, his silvery-white eyes particularly bright within the dim shop.

His tall, thin figure stood at the entrance as he looked down at the girl in the wheelchair. There was neither surprise nor pity on his face, only pure gentleness.

"Do you need help?" he asked.

Vera shook her head and raised a hand to touch the hidden pattern beneath the right armrest.

The next second, a prepared Levitation Charm activated, slowly lifting her up and smoothly carrying her over the step.

A flicker of amazement passed through Ollivander's eyes, but he said nothing. Calmly, he led her into the shop.

Vera looked around—the narrow shop was crammed with dusty wand boxes that stretched all the way to the ceiling, and the air was filled with the scent of wood and magic.

In such a cramped space, her wheelchair could barely turn around.

"Now then," Ollivander said, taking a silver measuring tape from his pocket, "which hand do you usually use?"

"My right hand," Vera replied, noticing at the same time that the measuring tape had already begun taking measurements on its own, from her shoulder to her wrist and then to her fingertips.

Vera sat quietly, feeling the tape's cool touch slide across her skin. Like other magical items, she could see the magic flowing through it as well—tiny spells swimming over the metal surface like tadpoles.

"Every wizard has a unique wand," Ollivander said, setting down the measuring tape and muttering as he moved between the shelves. "Your father's was Vine Wood, Dragon Heartstring, twelve inches, quite an unusual wand..."

As he spoke, he took down a long case from above. "Perhaps we can try this one. Hawthorn Wood, Unicorn Hair, ten inches, quite flexible."

Vera extended her hand. The moment her fingertips touched the wand, a bone-chilling cold suddenly shot up her arm from its tip.

"No, not this one." Ollivander swiftly took back the wand, his brows tightly furrowed.

He turned and searched the shelves again, this time taking out a black box. "Ebony, Dragon Heartstring, twelve inches, extremely rigid."

This time, the instant the wand entered her hand, several dangerous sparks burst from its tip, and Ollivander hurriedly snatched it back.

Vera silently lowered her head to look at her slightly reddened palm. She could feel the Magic Circuit within her producing some kind of conflict with these wands.

Those golden patterns flickered faintly beneath her skin, seeming to issue a silent warning.

Could it be that, because it was ancient magic, it could not be matched with modern wands?

She could not exactly imitate Voldemort and go digging up the graves of ancient wizards, could she?

With a secret worry in her heart, she tried several more wands in succession. But each time, she had only enough time to wave one once before Ollivander quickly took it back and handed her another.

Then he continued climbing up and down.

From beginning to end, Vera could only sit in her wheelchair and watch him bustle about.

She had read quite a few Harry Potter fanfics before. In those stories, if the protagonist did not make Ollivander run up and down at least ten times, they would never find a suitable wand.

She wondered whether that counted as mistreating the elderly.

"I've got it," the old man suddenly said, stopping in place. He muttered to himself, then turned to Vera, his silvery-white eyes shining with an unusual light. "Miss Black, perhaps... we need to try some unconventional combinations."

He turned and walked to the deepest part of the shop, retrieving a dust-covered box from some dusty corner.

"Thestral tail feather core, Yew Wood, eleven and a half inches." He carefully opened the box. Inside lay a completely black wand, its shaft wrapped in spiraling golden patterns.

"This wand was not made by me, but was left in my care by my friend, another renowned wandmaker, Gregorovitch. It is said that it requires... a certain special qualification."

Gregorovitch... the former owner of the Elder Wand?