They hadn't seen John much lately, so when they met again, Hermione greeted him with practiced familiarity.
"Hello, John," Hermione said, her face slightly flushed—not from embarrassment, mind you, but from running.
Seeing her like that, John asked with concern, "Are you all right, Hermione? Do you need a moment to rest?"
"No—uh, I mean thank you, but I'm fine." Hermione couldn't help but silently curse the twins.
They had completely backed her into a corner, and now she didn't even know how to bring it up.
Noticing her hesitation, John looked even more puzzled.
He didn't know what this was about, so he said, "George said you had something important to discuss. If it's something I can help with…"
As long as it was within his ability, John didn't mind lending a hand.
Hermione knew this well. Thinking of Harry, she said, "It's not for me—it's for Harry."
"Harry?" John asked.
"Harry wants to use the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. I thought maybe…" Hermione wanted to borrow it too.
John offered an apologetic smile. "If it's the fireplace… I'm afraid that's not possible."
"Huh?" Hermione was stunned.
John continued, "There's been a problem with the Slytherin fireplace."
The Slytherin fireplace had a problem?
Well, that didn't sound like a lie—John had only found out not long ago himself.
The fireplace had been tampered with—specifically, someone had added a monitoring charm.
Very discreetly.
John instantly knew who was behind it. Most likely, it was Pansy's little boyfriend.
That kid had been using the fireplace to communicate with the outside world.
And now, lending it to Harry? John didn't see the need to take that risk.
Hermione also felt it was unfortunate timing. Since there was a problem, they'd just have to find another way.
"All right then," she said, not suspecting John was lying to her. She changed the topic to career counseling. "John, what did you choose?"
"Heh~" John leaned against the balustrade of the covered bridge, the wind brushing through his hair as he replied casually, "What did you choose?"
"I'm still undecided," Hermione said, feeling like she didn't need to be so guarded when she was with John. After a moment's thought, she added, "I want to join the Ministry of Magic."
"That's a solid choice," John said with a teasing smile. "Maybe you'll become the Minister for Magic."
Hermione felt like he was joking, yet somehow, his words carried a conviction that made it sound believable.
"Never say you can't, Hermione Granger." John looked into the distance.
Hermione heard those words and turned to look at John again.
The wind lifted his black hair, revealing a handsome yet delicate face. His gaze stretched far away, lips pale like a soft wash of blood—as if he wasn't meant to walk the earth but fly in the sky.
At that moment, John seemed to become distant and ethereal.
"I should go now, Hermione," John looked down at the dazed girl and chuckled softly, "Good luck on your O.W.L.s."
By the time Hermione snapped out of it, she realized she'd been staring for a while. A little embarrassed, but when it came to grades, she perked up with determination. "This time, I'm going to beat you."
"Haha, then go for it, Hermione."
John walked toward the castle, waving behind him without turning around.
Hermione stood there watching his retreating back. Almost without thinking, she called out, "John, we'll always be good friends, right?"
John paused mid-step, glanced back with that handsome face of his, and the corners of his mouth lifted. "I suppose so."
Hermione stood there, watching him leave.
Draco Malfoy spotted John and came over, holding up a book as he complained, "This thing really isn't something normal people can get through."
"If you don't want Snape to drag you in for remedial lessons," John gave him a sidelong glance and said carelessly, "you might want to think about Harry."
Draco had heard that Harry was getting one-on-one tutoring because his Potions grades were terrible. Even if Snape was his Head of House, Malfoy had no desire to go through that.
"Alright, I guess I can still work a bit harder. You'll have to tutor me in Transfiguration, though." Malfoy had always been a bit weak in certain subjects.
As they walked, John spoke in a casual, indifferent tone, "Draco, if I died, what would you do?"
He looked back and saw Malfoy's face frozen in shock and horror.
Malfoy forced out a grin, swallowing hard, and said, "You're joking, right?"
John was silent for a moment, then suddenly chuckled, "Of course I am. Do you really think I'd die?"
Malfoy let out a sigh of relief and quickly caught up, complaining, "Even if you don't want to tutor me, there's no need to curse yourself like that."
"If you don't start working harder on Transfiguration, I really will die of frustration," John replied lightly.
Neither of them brought up that earlier question again.
…
John was called in for a meeting—career counseling.
When he entered Snape's office, he noticed that the Pensieve had been moved.
"Sit down, Mr. Wick," Snape said, having just finished speaking with Goyle. Judging by his expression, Goyle's plans weren't particularly impressive.
But when he saw John, Snape seemed significantly more focused.
He adjusted his posture slightly, settling in so he could better observe John.
"Wick, I'd like to understand your thoughts on future employment. That way, I can help you decide which subjects you should continue with in sixth and seventh year…" Snape's usual slow, deliberate tone returned as he studied John closely.
"Compared to Mr. Goyle, I assume you're not someone with the brain of a hairy mountain troll," Snape said, apparently trying to make a joke—but not a very good one.
He continued to fix John with that scrutinizing stare, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Go on, Wick."
"Maybe I'll become someone… different," John shrugged. "Settling down in some fixed position somewhere—that's not really for me."
"So," Snape's eyes gleamed sharply, "you want to accomplish something on your own? Let's dig a bit deeper, Wick."
Snape uncrossed his legs and leaned forward slightly, fingers interlaced on the desk directly in front of John. "What kind of person do you want to be, Wick?"
"That doesn't sound like career counseling," John met his probing gaze and replied coolly, "What word are you hoping to hear from me, Professor?"
The office was quiet. Their eyes locked, an unspoken tension thrumming in the silence.
Then John let out a short, dry laugh, breaking the stillness. He looked at Snape, shook his head, and gave a wry smile.
"What's so funny, Wick?" Snape asked with a frown of displeasure.
John's gaze drifted upward to the ceiling, where the light cast faint glimmers. He said with a small laugh, "I just remembered an old dream."
"A dream?"
"To become the next… Dumbledore." John smiled—though whether at himself or at Snape was unclear.
"That.. means—"
"Unfortunately, that dream didn't last long." His eyes shifted back to Snape's briefly stunned expression. He added lightly, "Now, I don't want to become anyone else. John Wick is just John Wick."
"Not the next Albus Dumbledore, and not the next… Tom Riddle either."
Leaning back in his chair with a relaxed and unbothered posture, he said, "Professor, are you satisfied with that answer?"
Snape was silent for a moment before replying in a vague tone, "You may leave, Wick."
John stood up and walked to the door. He stopped without turning around and asked, "What have you lived for, all your life, Professor?"
Snape looked up, but John didn't turn back.
"If you don't want to say, forget it."
With a shrug, John walked out.
In the corridor, John's body swayed. He caught himself against the wall.
A fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and all the color had drained from his face.
He leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to steady himself.
Pulling out a silver vial, he took a sip of the potion inside. Slowly, the color returned to his face.
"Really went all out on this one..."
His expression was cold as he tucked the delicate silver bottle back into his pocket and staggered toward the Great Hall.
By the time he reached it, he had regained his usual composure.
He accidentally bumped into someone.
Looking down, he saw it was Pansy's ex-boyfriend.
A third-year Slytherin student, the boy looked flustered as he hurried to pick up the silver vial John had dropped.
"I'm sorry, I—I didn't mean to." Handing the bottle back to John, Pansy's ex-boyfriend couldn't help asking curiously, "Senior Wick, what's in this?"
"None of your business," John replied coldly. "You should be thinking about how to please the big shot you've latched onto. Maybe your tricks for coaxing older girls will work."
Pansy's ex-boyfriend's face darkened. After John passed by, a hint of hostility flickered in his eyes.
Not long after John entered the Great Hall, he heard a commotion coming from the entrance hall.
"Oh? You think turning the school into a swamp is funny?" came Umbridge's shrill, self-satisfied voice.
To cover for Harry using Umbridge's fireplace, the Weasley twins had created chaos in the entrance hall. Around them were students who had witnessed the whole thing.
The twins, it seemed, were fully prepared for this.
They were surrounded in the middle, looking as if they had no way out.
"It was very funny, actually," Fred said, staring Umbridge down without a hint of fear.
"Excellent," Umbridge said through gritted teeth, her smile strained with anger. "You two are about to learn exactly what kind of punishment awaits those who break the rules in my school."
Her school?
So, she really thought the Ministry was going to hand the school over to her.
"You know what," said Fred, "I don't think we'll be sticking around to find out."
He looked over at George. "George, I think full-time education just isn't for us anymore."
"Fred, I couldn't agree more," George replied, flashing that signature mischievous grin the twins were known for.
Fred said, "We ought to go out into the real world and put our talents to better use. Don't you think?"
"Absolutely," George said with a heartfelt nod.
Before Umbridge could even open her mouth, the two cast Summoning Charms—Accio!—calling their broomsticks to them.
Two brooms with iron chains came soaring into their hands. In one swift motion, they swung their legs over and mounted them.
Fred: "We won't be seeing you again."
George: "Don't bother trying to contact us."
Fred looked around at the crowd of students watching and exchanged one last signature grin with George.
The two of them soared into the air, their magpie-like laughter echoing through the entrance hall, bright and full of mirth.
The twins had always been full of wild ideas.
"If any of you are interested in buying a portable swamp like the one upstairs—" Fred shouted.
George finished the pitch at the top of his lungs, "—come to 93 Diagon Alley, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!"
"Stop them!" Umbridge shrieked in fury.
"Peeves! Give her hell for us!"
The twins shouted in perfect unison as Peeves burst down from the ceiling, doffing his bell-shaped hat for the second time and giving the two Hogwarts prank kings a dramatic bow.
Their broomsticks carried away the joy of Hogwarts—two magpies chattering as they soared off, leaving behind laughter as their final gift to the castle.
That unrestrained spirit—that was the true essence of Gryffindor.
The crowd erupted into thunderous cheers.
A smile crept onto John's face as he looked toward the swamp, muttering quietly, "So they still had something this good up their sleeves, huh? Tell Tommy to boost their funding—get more of those wild ideas out of those mischievous brains."
He thought the one thing the magical world should never be without… was a pair of twins like the Weasleys.
_________
o(*￣▽￣*)ブSupport and Read 12 Chapters ahead: Patreon/Dragonel