"So—that parchment of yours—" Ferdinand said, his face pale.
"Book of Friends, dear, it's the Book—of—Friends!"
Fiona corrected him, displeased—how could her son's outstanding and great invention simply be referred to as a "parchment"?
"Alright—the Book of Friends—" Ferdinand corrected, his eyes fixed on Wade. "You sold the patent—and they gave you fifty thousand Galleons—with continuous royalties afterwards?"
His demeanor was a bit off, making the originally joyful Wade feel a little uneasy. His expression unconsciously turned serious as he said earnestly, "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 as he said, "And you went with your professor—"
"—Professor Murray."
"Right, Professor Murray—and a businessman—went to Diagon Alley—"
"—It was Mr. Malcolm Marchioni." Wade considered his words before saying, "They both took very good care of me."
"And then, right in front of you—and a Goblin, he transferred all fifty thousand Galleons?"
"Yes, Father."
Ferdinand's expression was too strange; it didn't seem like simple pride or happiness. Wade felt a slight trepidation.
It was only then that he realized he should have asked his parents for their opinion earlier—but with Marchioni's urging, everything today had felt accelerated, and he had subconsciously overlooked it.
Logically speaking, Professor Murray and Marchioni weren't so careless. But considering that neither of his parents could do magic, perhaps in their eyes, even though Wade was only eleven, he was the only one in House Gray they could communicate with and make decisions with on equal terms.
Realizing this made Wade feel a little uncomfortable. He suppressed these emotions and tried to speak in a relaxed tone: "Because school is starting soon, Mr. Marchioni 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 annoyed, pushing Ferdinand away, then hugging her son and kissing his forehead very hard. "That's amazing, sweetheart! Mom is so proud of you! How many eleven-year-olds can achieve financial independence on their own? And it's your very own patent! It's astonishing! I can't believe I gave birth to such an outstanding son!"
She peppered him with kisses, then pulled Wade off the sofa, urging, "What are you waiting for? Hurry up and eat dinner, I made a feast! Ferdi—you go wash your hands too!"
"—Alright."
Wade, who was being pushed towards the dining table, turned his head and saw Ferdinand standing up, supporting himself on the back of the sofa. He even stumbled a bit as he walked towards the bathroom, almost falling.
Fiona didn't see it; she was humming a tune, cheerfully lifting the lid, and the aroma of the food immediately awakened their appetites. But Ferdinand couldn't eat the entire time; he almost poked his nose with a tomato, and after his steak fell off his fork, he chewed on the fork for a few seconds before realizing it.
"Your dad's just too shocked!" Fiona, worried that Wade might feel frustrated or disappointed, quietly told him, "When he was eleven, he still couldn't figure out addition and subtraction within a hundred!"
That was a bit of an exaggeration.
Wade couldn't help but smile, both at the clumsy, non-existent father his mother described and at the sparkling love in his mother's eyes.
"Dad—" After dinner, Wade tentatively asked, "Professor Murray helped me a lot today. Even though he said it wasn't necessary, I still want to thank him, but I don't know how—"
According to some "unspoken workplace rules" he'd learned in his previous life, it would be appropriate to offer two or three thousand Galleons to a "benefactor" like Professor Murray at this point, otherwise it would be seen as "ignorant." But Wade hesitated for a long time, still feeling that if he said that, Professor Murray would probably get angry on the spot.
Past experiences didn't apply here, at least not to Professor Murray; otherwise, it would be hard to say if it was "gratitude" or "insult."
As an eleven-year-old, Wade knew he didn't need to appear too worldly or slick. But to simply accept Professor Murray's kindness as if nothing had happened, Wade also felt that wasn't right.
"Oh—" Ferdinand seemed a bit out of it. After a long while, he said, "Write a thank-you letter, Wade—"
"Write a letter?"
Wade hadn't expected that the advice he'd given Steven during the day—to write a letter—would be given back to him by his father that night.
"Yes, write a letter, one that's sincere and heartfelt—" Ferdinand thought for a moment and said, "Remember to give Professor Murray a small gift on his birthday or during holidays—most importantly, repay him with better grades…"
"I understand." Wade nodded.
"Good, go write the letter, Wade. And—" Ferdinand managed a difficult smile, "I'm very proud of you, son."
…
Watching his son return to his bedroom, Ferdinand slumped down, burying his hands in his hair, looking utterly dejected.
"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 good to him, and the businessman he met is honest and enthusiastic… Everything is great, so why do you have that expression? Wade didn't even smile when he went back to his room… Ferdi, no matter what it's about, please don't be a buzzkill parent, okay?"
She murmured on, feeling her husband's tense muscles gradually relax.
"Yes, you're right." Ferdinand held his wife's hand, forcing himself to smile. "Their professor is a good man… Everything is good… I was just too shocked, I'm sorry…"
"It's fine, just remember to apologize to Wade properly tomorrow morning… He happily shared his achievement with you, but you didn't even give him a kind look…"
"—I know."
…
Late at night, after his wife was fast asleep, Ferdinand put on his clothes and went to the balcony. He wanted to light a cigarette, but his hands trembled too much, failing several times.
Finally, he managed to light it and took a deep drag. The smoke blurred his eyes, and it also blurred the lonely London night.
Only then did the overwhelming sense of dread completely engulf Ferdinand.
His Wade… his smart, sensible, obedient, and kind son… a mind worth at least a million pounds, possessing immense wealth that could be realized at any time… went with strangers to a completely unfamiliar place… If Wade encountered danger… If he got hurt… 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 chain-smoked, his body trembling from his fingers to his toes.
The night was chillingly cold.
…
Upstairs, Wade watched the wisps of smoke drift away and saw the faint sparks flicker repeatedly.
He leaned against the railing, tilting his head slightly, and saw the Waning Crescent Moon, like a silver hook, hanging from the spire of a tall building.
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