The truck was packed with massive spiders.
Their gray, bristly hairs looked like steel needles, and their gleaming eyes shone with greed. Some had their mouths open, and their sharp mandibles seemed to glint with a cold light.
The freckled driver's face instantly contorted with extreme terror. His mouth gaped open, but no sound came out.
At that moment, his expression suddenly became vacant, and the terror and despair in his eyes turned into a blank stare.
Beside the truck door, a furry leg that was about to touch him paused for a moment, then retreated.
The freckled driver calmly closed the door, turned around, and said dully, "They're all still unconscious. I told you there was no need to check."
Thick Brows' expression softened slightly, though he said, "Those are wizards we're dealing with. Who knows how many dangerous spells they've mastered? Until the reinforcements sent by the boss arrive, we must remain vigilant."
"Got it," the freckled driver replied, this time with a much more agreeable tone, though still somewhat dismissive.
Despite the driver's nonchalant attitude, Thick Brows seemed satisfied.
He then gave the group their next assignments and arranged for Will to leave the ship accompanied by the receptionist lady.
Finally, two people were left to guard the truck while the rest dispersed.
The freckled driver was one of the two guards. The other was a man with fluffy curls and a small mustache and he looked as if he hadn't fully woken up.
"I don't get what's so important about guarding this spot. With the golden dust, there's no way they can wake up. Do you really think someone could sneak onto the truck and steal them?"
The man with the mustache yawned lazily. "I'm going back to the van to get some sleep. Don't go snitching to the boss, alright?"
He opened the van door, just about to climb in, when he suddenly heard the sound of trickling water behind him.
Frowning, the mustache man turned around angrily. "Hey, if you're going to take a leak, at least go farther away…"
His voice cut off abruptly as he turned.
The freckled driver was standing there, pale and dazed.
Looking down, the mustache man saw a large wet patch spreading across the driver's pants, the stain continuing to grow and spread.
The strange sight left the mustache man confused and unsettled, wondering why his companion would stand there and wet himself.
But then, a sudden alertness struck him. He grabbed the whistle hanging around his neck and was about to blow it when a calm voice sounded in his ear:
"Obliviate! Stupefy!"
The mustache man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut and hit the ground with a thud. He was then levitated into the air and gently placed in the passenger seat.
Moments later, a figure emerged from the seemingly empty air.
"Seriously? Wet yourself from fear? The Acromantulas didn't even pounce on you. You're a werewolf—what are you afraid of?"
Wade remarked speechlessly. "Lucky you didn't react like this earlier; otherwise, everyone would have noticed."
The freckled driver's eyes wide opened and his sclera turned bloodshot, giving him a rather unnerving appearance.
Wade didn't wait for him to respond. He pointed his wand at the driver and softly cast, "Obliviate!"
The spell struck the driver, who slumped backward and fell unconscious.
Wade shifted the driver into the truck, positioning him as if he had dozed off while shirking his duties. However, doubt lingered in Wade's mind.
This was his first time using a Memory Charm on a living person.
Experienced Obliviators at the Ministry of Magic could easily erase specific memories, typically targeting Muggles who had witnessed magical events, ensuring the secrecy of the wizarding world.
Gilderoy Lockhart was a master of memory charms. Although such spells were generally mild, Lockhart's reckless use had disastrous potential. He could collapse an entire stone corridor with a Memory Charm, wielding it like a bomb.
However, the incompetent professor cared little about the aftermath for his victims. His Memory Charms often wiped a person's mind entirely, a crude and brutal approach.
While Wade had restrained the power of his spells, he wasn't sure if he had perfectly erased only the parts of their memories that revealed the truth.
And with an unpredictable sea voyage ahead, Wade couldn't stay on watch indefinitely.
I need a partner.
Pondering this, Wade considered several names, only to eliminate them one by one.
Some lacked the necessary skill; others were too idealistic, their high morals likely to conflict with Wade's plans regarding questions of right and wrong, life and death.
The friends who would unquestionably support him didn't possess sufficient magical prowess. Leaving them here to monitor the situation would expose them to significant danger.
Magic constructs were not an option either—the werewolves were aware of them. Streaming Mirrors had size limitations and were too easily noticed. House-elves all had their own tasks.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Wade suddenly had an idea.
Checking the time and location, he gave Mikael a few instructions, then moved to the window. He transformed into a peregrine falcon and glided silently over the sea under the cover of darkness.
…
It was late at night, and three people were sitting in a small bar on a London street.
"Should we keep waiting, Rita?" asked a thin man carrying a camera. "They might have taken a different exit."
"Impossible!" Rita Skeeter said decisively. "Gull would never install a Floo network at the venue, nor would he allow anyone to use Apparition. So, after the exhibition ends, they must come out through the elevators!"
"But—"
"No buts! This is Gull's final exhibition, and there are rumors of a magical mirror that can communicate with the dead! Do you know how valuable this news is?"
Rita Skeeter impatiently interrupted, and seeing the man fall silent, she grabbed her crocodile-skin handbag and casually instructed, "I'm going to the restroom. Keep watch."
"...Alright," the male photographer muttered, lowering his head.
He watched as the polarizing yet undeniably sensational journalist, whose every article caused a stir, clicked away in her high heels, leaving the bar.
Rita Skeeter wasn't actually heading to the restroom. She was puzzled by why no alchemists had emerged yet and suspected that the exhibition's items might be even more extraordinary than she had anticipated.
"I have to see what treasures this Gull has managed to gather."
She muttered as she quickly walked into a deserted alley. Moments later, a beetle flapped its tiny wings and flew out of the alley.
This was Rita Skeeter's secret weapon, the reason she consistently delivered explosive news: she was an Animagus, capable of transforming into a small insect.
The little beetle had barely flown a short distance when it suddenly felt a distinct disturbance in the air.
In an instant, a "giant" descended from the sky—a brown-gray bird with eyes like black gemstones was staring directly at her.
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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- +235 Chapters
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