Chapter 823
The Sleeping Airplane
Chapter 823 The Sleeping Airplane
"Not...the same?"
Martin repeated blankly, stammering:
"But...but how is that possible? I've inquired, and their symptoms are exactly the same!"
"Oh? Are you sure?"
"Of course, of course! They'll all have dance-like movements, unsteady gait, difficulty swallowing, slurred speech... and they'll... and they'll gradually become demented, their memory will get worse and worse..."
Martin's voice trembled with emotion as he pleaded, "How can they be different? They're all exactly the same!"
“But Cornelius is an old man, and Reina is still a child, that’s a difference, right?”
The young man with the electric drill patiently counted on his fingers and said, "Corneles' illness developed very suddenly, and it only got worse because it wasn't treated in time; while Renina's illness gradually worsened over several years, and the doctor told you that it was incurable. That's the second difference."
His voice became softer, yet it struck Martin's heart like a hammer blow.
“And most importantly… Cornelius’s illness was caused by a blockage and rupture of a blood vessel in his brain, but what about your daughter, Renina?”
Martin's lips trembled as he said in a shaky voice, "Raena is... because of genes... it's hereditary..."
"Look, this is the most fundamental difference."
The young man with the electric drill calmly explained, "One is the sudden necrosis of a part of the body's function; in short, it's a stroke."
"Another one is a system that was loaded with the wrong program from the start, and after running for a while, it began to slowly and continuously crash."
He leaned down and looked directly into the other person's tear-filled eyes, and asked softly, "So... how can these be the same?"
"It's different...if it's different..."
Martin slumped to the ground, as if all his strength had been drained away.
"Then what's the point of all this we've done? Wouldn't it be better... better to stay in our hometown and spend our final moments with her..."
The young man with the electric drill changed the subject: "...It's not necessarily all a waste of effort."
Martin looked up at him blankly and desperately.
The young man with the electric drill looked up at the distance—Wade was pressing his fingers to his ear, as if he were talking to someone—and then smiled slightly.
“You’re lucky,” the young man with the electric drill said meaningfully. “The person who can save you happens to be a soft-hearted one… If magic can heal Renina, he will definitely step in.”
"magic?"
Martin repeated the word, which seemed to possess magical power naturally, his gaze involuntarily following the other person's eyes and landing on the black-haired boy.
The father suddenly remembered—when that dazzling, sun-like light burst forth, there seemed to be a blurry figure standing right in the center.
And after the bright light faded... the boy was standing in that spot.
Like a messenger of God.
Suddenly, an indescribable emotion surged into his heart, and hot tears welled up in his eyes without warning. He covered his face and cried as if he had collapsed, completely unable to speak.
The young man's calm voice rang in my ears:
"However... while your daughter may be saved as a result, you will also have to pay the price for everything you have done today."
"While I can understand your feelings as a father, aren't the other passengers on the plane innocent as well?"
As soon as he finished speaking, a strange, faint fragrance wafted out, Martin's vision went black, and his body slumped forward.
This time, he completely lost consciousness.
The "passenger" holding the bottle of life-or-death water glanced at the young man with the electric drill and said in a slightly low voice, "Vilan, you don't need to say so much to him."
Vilan casually helped Martin up, a relaxed smile spreading across his face covered in soot. He said with a grin, "Oh well, I've got nothing better to do anyway!"
He placed the man in the seat, fastened his seatbelt, turned around and looked around. Seeing that most of the passengers were already asleep, he exclaimed in surprise, "Well done, Vidas!"
"Not everyone is as fond of chatting as you!" Vidas said sullenly. "Slacking off during a mission? I think you need to go back to the drawing board!"
Vilan argued, "I wasn't slacking off; I was just studying."
"What should we learn?" Vidas asked.
"Human hope and despair, family and faith, morality and responsibility...aren't these things quite interesting? If everyone were like you, then we would truly be doomed!"
Vilan glanced at the unconscious Martin, then looked in Wade's direction, and added meaningfully:
"My master didn't stop me, which means that my actions were all within his permission?"
Vidas didn't bother arguing with him, he just shook his head, took the potion, and walked back to the rest of the group.
Without consulting anyone, he quickly waved the bottle around the passengers, squeezing it slightly with his fingers. The atomized "life-and-death water" was absorbed by the passengers, who would fall asleep in less than two seconds.
Ever since Vader unleashed the Sunlight Charm, the cabin interior has become even darker than before—this is not an illusion, but rather the brightness in economy class has been subtly dimmed.
Amidst the various noises made by the passengers and the puppets, Vidas's movements were so swift and inconspicuous that few people noticed them.
By the time some people realized something was wrong, he had already quietly spread the deadly water throughout the cabin.
Seeing that he was doing well on his own, Vilan stretched, casually sat down in an empty seat, neatly fastened his seatbelt, and finally tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes in a flawless sleeping position.
Passengers, flight attendants, robbers... one after another, everyone felt an overwhelming drowsiness. They were controlled by an irresistible force, snoring loudly, and some simply sat on the floor and fell into a deep sleep.
The wizards, having barely managed to repair the bulkhead, were startled by the deathly silence as they caught their breath.
Behind them, Ginny and Mrs. Corner had already fallen asleep in their seats, and the young people were all drowsy.
Mrs. Weasley, sitting next to me, was the most focused when casting her spell; her breathing was even more rapid than the others. In just a short moment, she slumped against the back of her chair, drowsy and unable to keep her eyes open.
"Watch out, another attack!"
Mr. Weasley was immediately alert, and his warning was shouted at the top of his lungs, but it was cut short by a yawn.
A heavy drowsiness, like an invisible shackle, made his limbs weak, and his body uncontrollably slid down the cabin wall.
Something's not right! This is a magic potion! Could there be Purifiers on board the plane?
Mr. Weasley immediately turned his wand toward himself, and just as he was about to cast a spell, a bottle of potion suddenly appeared in front of him. The pungent smell that filled his eyes made him feel clear-headed, and his hair almost stood on end.
The person who handed over the potion was none other than Vader.
“This is the antidote; just drink a sip.” He said simply, “I had the Water of Life and Death released by someone.”
Mr. Weasley took the potion, pinched his nose, and took a sip, instantly dispelling his drowsiness.
He looked around at the unconscious crowd and asked, "What... what exactly is going on?"
“Wouldn’t it be easier to control the situation if everyone was asleep?” Wade explained. “And by doing so, they would just think they had a ridiculous dream, and their mental and psychological recovery would be much easier.”
Mr. Weasley opened his mouth, but ultimately could only let out a silent sigh and nod to Wade. He had to admit that this was indeed the most appropriate arrangement at the moment.
Mr. Weasley slumped down, exhausted. The deathly silence of the cabin enveloped him, with only the steady breathing echoing around him.
They were just facing numerous crises, as if they could face death or countless troubles at any moment.
But at this moment, only the two of them remained conscious on the plane, and the crisis seemed to have come to an end.
Once the tension in your nerves is relaxed, it doesn't bring relief, but rather a sense of utter bewilderment that feels like exhaustion, leaving you feeling lost and disoriented.
"Should we wake Mrs. Weasley and the others?" Wade asked softly.
Mr. Weasley glanced at his sleeping family members, shook his head, and said in a hoarse voice, "Let them all get some sleep... Are you sure there's no other threat on the plane?"
His gaze swept over some of the young passengers who had just been walking around the cabin.
Wade said softly, "Yes, I'm sure."
Mr. Weasley was silent for a moment, then was surprised to find that he believed Wade's judgment without any hindrance, and not a single doubt arose in his mind.
His brow furrowed, then slowly relaxed after a few seconds. He didn't ask anything further, only asking, "How is Sirius?"
Wade said, "I've already taken the antidote. After I get back, I'll probably be staying in St. Mungo for a week or two."
Mr. Weasley nodded: "It's good that you're alive."
The two fell silent; they weren't actually that familiar with each other to begin with.
Arthur Weasley silently observed the scene before him—
The puppets on the ground continued to work tirelessly. After extinguishing the fire, they painstakingly carried the sleeping passengers back to their seats, helped tidy their hair and clothes, and wiped away the bloodstains on the ground.
The giant jellyfish had completely retracted into the wardrobe space. Traces left by the friction of its tentacles remained on the floor and ceiling of the cabin, but only a very observant person could probably notice them.
Vader strolled around as if he were shopping, occasionally waving his wand to make stains disappear, filling in the craters connecting the ground to the cargo hold with magic, and healing the injured.
Whether it's a broken bone or a head injury, a bottle or two of magic potion can basically cure it.
Mr. Weasley even discovered that Vader was quite skilled with healing and restoration spells; with that skill alone, he could easily become a healer's assistant at St. Mungo's.
The boy carried an unknown number of potions with him, with several small golems following behind him carrying potion bottles, replacing them immediately when one was used up. These crystal bottles were passed between Vader and the wardrobe space like a game of musical chairs.
Seeing that Wade had healed the broken legs of two Muggles, Mr. Weasley couldn't help but remind him:
“Wade, some potions can’t be used on Muggles—I suppose you should know that?”
“I understand.” Wade turned around and said calmly, “Don’t worry, these potions are improved versions that can work on Muggles.”
"An improved version? Who modified it?" Mr. Weasley asked. "I've never heard of it."
Wade simply said, "A friend... who is not interested in fame or fortune."
“I see…” Mr. Weasley nodded with some skepticism.
He watched as Vader walked through the middle, and with a wave of his wand, the seats on both sides were neatly arranged, the dirt on people disappeared, and their expressions were dazed but calm. The bent supports, the fallen tables, and the luggage scattered all returned to where they belonged.
Even the disposable cups jumped back onto the table, but the drinks inside had all disappeared.
Witnessing this seemingly understated yet exquisitely crafted scene, Arthur Weasley felt as if he had been transported back decades... to the first time he witnessed Dumbledore casting a spell.
He suddenly realized that even without their help, Wade could repair the hole in the bulkhead by himself.
It may take longer, and it may be much more tiring than it is now, but this young man can definitely do it.
even--
His original plan was probably like this... Asking for help from others was not part of his plan, and he didn't give much consideration to any forces other than himself.
So, in the cabin, the only ones who could truly be considered assistants to Vader were probably those puppets, right?
At that moment, Mr. Weasley suddenly became curious: "Wade, why did you give me the antidote for the Water of Life and Death? Is there anything you need me to do for you?"
Wade thought for a moment before turning to him and saying, "Mr. Weasley, if I hadn't given you the antidote, what kind of spell were you planning to cast on yourself just now?"
Mr. Weasley was speechless.
The Water of Life and Death will bring the user a death-like slumber. Physical pain and ordinary spells cannot counteract the effects of the potion... but it can bring a brief moment of clarity.
If you are facing an enemy, that sliver of clarity might change the situation, but in most cases it is of no use.
But when he realized he had been infected, his first reaction was to take the most decisive self-rescue measures, without thinking too much about it.
Wade didn't press further, only saying, "Besides, once the plane lands, the Ministry of Magic will definitely send someone to investigate. I'm not very good at handling these kinds of situations."
Mr. Weasley gave a wry smile.
He actually wanted to say that, to many Ministry of Magic officials, Wade Grey probably had far more influence than Arthur Weasley. But he swallowed the words back.
"Now that you know the Ministry of Magic will send people, why are you going through all this trouble?" Mr. Weasley asked. "With just a Forget Charm, I guarantee these Muggles won't remember anything."
“I know,” Wade said. “But even without memories, Muggles can deduce what happened on the plane by carefully observing the various signs around them.”
"and……"
—And he didn’t know the new minister’s character. What if the other party or the Ministry of Magic officials sent by him suddenly felt that this was a good opportunity to damage Dumbledore and Vader’s reputation, and were willing to risk violating the Secret Statute to cause them trouble?
After a pause, Wade said, "And rather than letting others clean up the mess, I prefer to keep the situation under my own control as much as possible."
"—What a brilliant idea. I wish I had your awareness when I was young."
Mr. Weasley forced himself to stand up and helped clean up the mess. While casting the spell, he suddenly realized another problem:
"Speaking of which... after the fire was put out, the cabin didn't seem as suffocating as before? Muggle stuff can be pretty good sometimes!"
Wade casually explained, "That's because after the fire, the air circulation system between the cargo hold and the passenger cabin is isolated, which is equivalent to..."
He paused, pondering how to explain the Muggle design to Mr. Weasley, a pure-blood wizard.
"--It's like a one-way breathing mask, where the air is circulated and refreshed every two or three minutes; and the thick smoke and exhaust fumes in the cargo hold are drawn out and won't flow back in."
Mr. Weasley, who had been nodding frequently with curiosity, suddenly stopped, his gaze fixed on Wade's face, and asked incredulously:
"Wade, is the pilot of this plane also... one of yours?"
(End of this chapter)