The new semester's timetable was as packed as always, but Wade was now able to allocate his time with ease.
The most important part—he no longer felt a desperate urge to make use of every single minute that the Time-Turner could reverse, but treated it simply as a handy tool.
Handy, but not something he absolutely had to use.
Sometimes, he could go an entire day without touching the Time-Turner, and he didn't feel regretful about "missed opportunity."
Sometimes, even if he did rewind time, he might spend half of it attending the Spell Study Group's classes or chatting with friends, and he didn't feel that this was a "waste" either.
As for the second task of the competition, it didn't take up much of a place on Wade's schedule.
After learning the general level of the other schools, Wade was confident that the knowledge and skills he had accumulated were already enough to handle that level of challenge with ease.
What concerned him more, however, were some issues that arose from not going home for Christmas.
While everyone else was busy with classes, Wade sat on the windowsill of the Umbrella room, unpacking the parcels his parents had sent him.
Fiona's latest batch of sweets, pastries, clothes, along with trendy toys and books… She had always been the type to buy anything she thought was fun or imagined Wade would enjoy, without a second thought.
What Fred sent, however, was a thick stack of research reports.
[Cornelius's research has already produced some preliminary results. He's been using theories involving energy fields, neuroscience, and quantum entanglement to deconstruct magic. I can't make sense of his reports myself, so I'm sending everything over to you.]
[He has also been studying the werewolves you told him about. Using the reagents you sent earlier, he confirmed that the transformation of werewolves is directly linked to the endocrine system…]
[He's also been experimenting with a few potions. Perhaps because he himself has no magical power, there haven't been any significant results yet…]
[But according to his calculations, there may be a way to increase the success rate of potion-making several times over. The key lies in whether the amount of magic can be quantified, and whether the stability of magical output can be improved…]
Fred had jotted down snippets of the Muggle scientist's recent findings in his letter, but in Cornelius's report, things were explained in much more detail.
Cornelius was aware that this report was written for Wade—"a wizard who had only studied in a Muggle primary school." Taking into account his employer's semi-illiterate level of education, he had tried to make his explanations as simple and accessible as possible.
Even so, it was obvious that the scientist had a very different idea of what "basic knowledge every primary school student should know" meant. Even with the academic foundation from his past life, Wade still found the report extremely difficult to digest.
The biggest challenge was that all the scientific terms were specialized jargon, many of them full of abbreviations and aliases. Wade had four dictionaries piled at his side, and could only just barely piece together an understanding.
For instance, in the study of werewolves, Cornelius had isolated an unknown protein complex from werewolf blood. Its structure was similar to adrenocorticotropic hormone (ACTH).
In its dormant state, it remained inactive, but during the full moon it was triggered by some substance in moonlight, suddenly becoming active—though the underlying mechanism remained unclear.
This protein complex would then stimulate the pineal gland to abnormally secrete HGH (which promotes growth of bones, organs, and cells), DMT (which numbs pain and heightens aggression), while suppressing MSTN (myostatin, which inhibits muscle growth).
At the same time, adrenaline, cortisol, melatonin, thyroid hormones, insulin-like growth factors, and twenty or thirty other hormones would all undergo violent changes simultaneously.
By Cornelius's reasoning—or indeed by the reasoning of any normal human scientist—such drastic changes inside the body could only lead to one outcome: instant death.
But not only did werewolves not die, they actually transformed into another species and, after a whole night, returned completely unharmed—something utterly beyond comprehension.
All the more so because this deadly transformation happens every month.
Werewolves were essentially placed on the verge of death once a month—half a foot already stepping into the underworld—yet each time, some inexplicable force pulled them back.
And afterward, there were no side effects at all.
As for the weakness caused by transformation, most of it stemmed from the moral guilt in a werewolf's heart, or from losing reason after transforming and causing destruction that indirectly damaged their body.
In truth, the transformation process itself brought no harm to a werewolf. On the contrary, it actually prolonged their lifespan compared to ordinary people.
Cornelius's inner shock and curiosity could never be fully expressed on a few sheets of paper. After learning that Wade wasn't returning home for Christmas, he was even more regretful and anxious than Wade's own parents.
In his report, every few paragraphs, the old man hinted—more or less directly—that he hoped to personally observe and monitor the process of a werewolf's transformation.
If he could have such firsthand experience, it would be of immense help to his research.
But since the Grey couple neither knew magic nor had the confidence to restrain a transformed werewolf, for safety reasons all correspondence with werewolves had to be passed around several times. Bringing one directly before Cornelius was out of the question.
In the end, Cornelius also shared his vision for the future of his research—
If the origin and mechanism of lycanthropic hormones could be clarified, it might be possible not only to trigger transformation on nights without a full moon, but also to suppress—or even completely eliminate—the effects of lycanthropy with a single injection.
If the side effects of transformation and loss of reason could be resolved, and the longevity factors within werewolf physiology could be isolated, then perhaps the lifespan of ordinary humans could be extended to around 150 years.
Moreover, before true death arrived, their metabolic efficiency, antioxidant systems, and DNA repair abilities could be enhanced, allowing the human body to maintain its peak state for a far longer time.
…
Wade put away the report and opened the window. The cold wind rushed in, cooling his fevered head.
His fingers tapped lightly on his leg, while the thrilling data and hypotheses from the report flashed once more through his mind. A long-lost heat welled up in his chest.
If Cornelius's descriptions could truly be realized, it would be one of the greatest breakthroughs in human history: curing lycanthropy while simultaneously extending human lifespan—even breaking through the very limits of human physiology…
But at the same time, his reason and knowledge poured cold water on him, forcing Wade to recognize clearly that Cornelius was, in essence, drawing a pie in the sky.
That pie was vast and round, but to take a bite out of it would require immense funding, manpower, and technological support. Most importantly, it would take an extraordinary amount of time and extreme luck.
Muggle organizations that coveted magic had spent centuries without achieving such breakthroughs.
Could his ragtag little team, with its handful of people, really leap over the limits of the era, ignore countless unknown variables, and kick human society into a new epoch in one stride?
Unless Cornelius wasn't a dying scientist at all, but rather an alien, a time traveler, a higher-dimensional being, or a system-blessed chosen one…
Otherwise, research that was theoretically feasible would ultimately remain empty talk—sweet bait in the games of capital, or at best a cornerstone for some achievement hundreds or even thousands of years later.
And yet…
Wade's eyes once more settled on the section about lycanthropic hormones.
At the very least, Cornelius was not wrong about one thing—since hormonal changes could force a werewolf to transform passively, then it should also be possible to inhibit transformation, to cure lycanthropy. This was a research project with clearly foreseeable prospects.
Moreover, this approach, combining scientific methods, would surely be more effective, simpler, and more stable than the wolfsbane potion—delivering longer-lasting effects at a fraction of the cost.
There were far more werewolves hidden in the wizarding world than most people realized. Only the "wizard-supremacist" Ministry of Magic arrogantly believed that the existence of these marginalized individuals could be ignored.
Damocles Belby, the potioneer who invented the Wolfsbane Potion, made a fortune and was even awarded the Order of Merlin.
If someone could completely cure lycanthropy—turning it into a treatable disease—what immense prestige would that bring?
Such a contribution would surely surpass even the famed "discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood."
Looking at it from another angle—if werewolves could freely control their transformations, like vampires—then they would become a formidable power no one could afford to overlook.
With these thoughts in mind, Wade picked up his quill and began to write his reply, word by word.
As for Cornelius's wish to have a real werewolf participate in the experiments, that would have to remain just a wish for now.
A transformed werewolf was simply too dangerous. Even if one built a reinforced cage out of steel and concrete, if that werewolf happened to know spells like Lupin, there would still be a risk of escape.
Cornelius was the only reliable scientist on Wade's side—there was no way he could put him in such danger.
All the more so since the Greys often visited Cornelius's lab; they would stand no chance if faced with a werewolf.
Remus Lupin would have been a suitable candidate, but Wade dismissed the thought almost instantly.
To him, Lupin was not just a simple collaborator or tutor; he was a trustworthy elder, and more importantly, a considerate and kind friend.
Selfish as it might be… Wade could never make Lupin into a test subject.
The tip of his quill paused for a moment. After thinking carefully, Wade resumed writing:
[Please be patient for a while. Before long, I will bring you a suitable research subject…]
…
When Harry finally managed to keep a bubble around his head for a full hour, he was shocked to realize there were only a few days left before the second task.
That day, exhausted, Harry sneaked back from Hogsmeade to the castle. Just as the Fat Lady opened the entrance to the common room for him, Fred and George came bursting out of the portrait hole.
"Hey, Harry! Come and see our latest research results!"
The twins blocked the weary Harry with mischievous grins, and their eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Sorry," Harry said tiredly, "right now I just want to go back and get some rest…"
Half-dazed, he thought it must be some quick-acting Skiving Snackbox product finally perfected. Nosebleed Nougat? Blood Blisterpod? Or maybe another new trick from their joke wands?
Whatever it was, none of it seemed more appealing than his warm bed in the dormitory.
But George clapped a hand onto his shoulder insistently. "Don't be like that, Harry! This is too good not to share with you!"
Fred grabbed his other arm. "Come on, Harry! If you hear about our great achievement from someone else tomorrow, it won't be nearly as fun!"
"Wait—I don't want to…"
Harry's weak protest was completely ignored. The twins flanked him, dragging him between them toward the Umbrella Room.
The moment the door opened, a wave of laughter washed over him. Everyone inside was clapping, stomping, and cheering—and even Wade wore an unusually bright smile.
But Harry's eyes immediately locked on the creature in the center of the room: a pale violet octopus, over a meter tall, with a plump, round body, enormous sapphire-like eyes, and several soft, springy tentacles that shuffled awkwardly across the floor—one of which tripped over another, sending it stumbling clumsily.
The room erupted into laughter.
Harry gaped in astonishment. This octopus didn't look like any species that could possibly exist in the real world—it looked more like a cute character out of a cartoon.
Then he thought he understood.
"This is a new magical puppet Wade made?"
Harry glanced at the big creature. Seeing it trying to wrap one of its round, suction-cupped tentacles around his leg, he quickly stepped back and asked, "What can this octopus do?"
"Haha! I knew you'd think that!"
Fred clapped Harry hard on the shoulder and laughed loudly again.
All of a sudden, the octopus's body began twisting and reshaping, gradually elongating—until it finally turned into a tall, handsome Michael.
"Amazing!" Michael waved his arms excitedly. "I could feel every single tentacle! But trying to control eight legs at once was way too hard!"
"Who's next?"
Wade smiled and raised a glass jar filled with marble-like candies.
"It's Hermione!" Padma called out, giving her a push causing Hermione to stumble forward a few steps.
"Ohhh…"
Fred and George slapped the table in unison.
"Pick one, Hermione." Wade grinned, holding out the jar.
Biting her lip, Hermione chose a white candy and, with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, popped it into her mouth.
The very next second—whoosh—a pair of white wings spread from her back. Her nose lengthened, her ears stood upright, and a long tail sprouted behind her.
Hermione had turned into a Pegasus!
But not any Pegasus Harry had ever seen—her mane and tail were bright pink, a unicorn-like horn jutted from her forehead, and her eyes were ridiculously huge.
"Oh, Merlin's beard!"
The pink Pegasus let out a startled whinny and instinctively flapped her wings. Her entire body—no, her entire horse-self—lifted off the ground!
Hermione shrieked as she flapped about, then bang!—she slammed into the ceiling before tumbling hooves-over-head into a couch.
Neville, closest to her, rushed forward to help but froze, not knowing where to grab. Just then—poof!—the Pegasus reverted back into Hermione.
She lay sprawled in a heap of cushions, hair wild, struggling until Neville and Padma finally helped her up.
"I hate flying!"
Hermione huffed angrily, while the entire Umbrella Room roared with laughter.
"What is this?" Harry asked in shock. "Octopus biscuits? Pegasus biscuits?"
"Not bad, Harry—you've got a sharp eye," George said proudly, patting his back. "But you got the name wrong!"
"Allow me to present—our new co-invention with Wade—Morphing Gummies!"
Fred grabbed the glass jar, jumped onto a table, and declared loudly:
"An improved version of the Canary biscuits, with a far richer range of transformations! Each piece hides an unexpected change—surprises like Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans!"
"Come on, Harry, try one!" George urged. "Let's see what you'll turn into!"
Under everyone's encouragement, Harry hesitantly swallowed a blue gummy.
He had chosen the color unconsciously, secretly hoping to turn into some creature that could move freely underwater.
The gummy wasn't bad at all—it was sweet, with a strange fruity fragrance. He swallowed it quickly. Suddenly, Harry realized his perspective had dropped, his limbs were no longer under control, and his body had stretched out!
Neville and Hermione jumped back in shock, while Padma yelped and rubbed her arms.
"Whoa!" Michael's eyes went wide, and he pointed at Harry, laughing. "Harry—you've turned into a snake!"
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