In many stories passed down in the West, the three most frequently appearing figures are witches, werewolves, and vampires.
While most of these portrayals aren't exactly friendly, they nonetheless reflect the influence and prevalence of the three within the Muggle world.
"Blood Brothers: My Life Among the Vampires—I've read it," John said. "In a literary field where vampire-related works are rather sparse, this book presents a lesser-known social side of vampires."
The benefits of extensive reading showed themselves immediately. The moment John spoke, Eldred's eyes lit up.
For a writer, being praised for their work is easily the happiest thing imaginable.
If you don't believe it, try praising one yourself.
Besides, John wasn't offering empty flattery—he had genuinely read the book.
"Compared to Voyages with Vampires, which is written from a wizard's perspective, this one stays much closer to how vampires actually live."
John didn't forget to pull out his old acquaintance Lockhart for comparison.
A smile spread across Eldred's face as he offered a modest, clearly performative humility. "I read Gilderoy Lockhart's books quite often as well. There's plenty in his work that's worth learning from."
Next to Lockhart, a wizarding celebrity at the very top of the charts, Eldred was at best a niche literary author.
Just being mentioned in the same breath already felt flattering enough.
Slughorn watched as John established rapport with Eldred in just a few sentences. This was hardly the work of a student—he was better at networking than Slughorn himself.
When John took out the honeyed mead he'd brought for Slughorn, Slughorn immediately brightened.
Bloodny wore a bored expression. As a vampire, the food on offer held little appeal for him.
Instead, his gaze kept drifting to the pale necks of passing girls.
Once the topic turned to vampires, it was inevitable that another equally well-known subject would come up.
Werewolves.
"I've always felt that werewolves are just like wizards," John said.
At that, Bloodny turned his head to look at him.
John smiled faintly. "Just like in Muggle stories—witches, werewolves, vampires—we're all special beings, and all equal."
"The first werewolves were born from an extremely malevolent curse. Over time, as that curse spread, their numbers increased."
His words drew not only Bloodny's attention, but also that of many other guests nearby.
Some sniffed dismissively, but more paused to consider what John was saying.
"Most werewolf transformations are completely involuntary," John continued calmly. "So why should we demean or harm the victims?"
The fault lay not with the werewolves themselves, but with the curse bound to them.
It was a curse that could not be eradicated. Since it could not be removed, it could only be suppressed.
And compared to the many, the interests of the few gradually came to matter less.
"You're absolutely right—why should it be this way?" Eldred all but treated John as a kindred spirit, declaring loudly. "The creation of the Wolfsbane Potion makes it so werewolves no longer lose control during the full moon, reducing the danger they pose to almost nothing."
That single remark struck a chord with many present.
Sympathy for the weak had always been a part of human nature.
In recent years, the status of werewolves had begun to change, yet they still faced discrimination in many places.
Through the topic of werewolves, John quickly became the center of attention among that circle.
Once they learned he was the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin ever awarded, their enthusiasm only grew.
By the time Harry arrived, John was already the focal point of the room.
He chatted easily with witches and wizards from the wider world, discussing the Potions Association and the Ministry of Magic's recent reforms regarding werewolves.
Slughorn stood to the side in a daze, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be the host.
"Oh, Harry, my boy," Slughorn said when he spotted him.
His gaze fell on Luna beside Harry, and his expression became… complicated.
Luna was wearing a dress covered entirely in sequins.
...
It had to be said—if Slughorn were truly ambitious, he could have rapidly gathered a powerful faction.
Among his students were figures like Lucius, prosperous tycoons from old pure-blood families.
John, for example, had come to know the editor-in-chief of Practical Potions Master and made the acquaintance of many people from all walks of life.
Even if, compared to his Silverhand identity, those people might benefit more from the connection...
it was still far from useless.
Building good relationships was leverage for future meetings and negotiations.
A dragon keeper from Romania sighed as he spoke about recent events, his brow deeply furrowed. "It's been a disaster. Nearly half of the Romanian fire dragons have escaped."
"You didn't find a way to stop them, Werner?" someone asked.
Werner Hall was a former student of Slughorn's who had later chosen to raise dragons.
Werner launched into his complaints. "We can't keep dragons locked in cages long-term unless there's a space big enough to contain them all, and that's simply not possible."
Dragon keepers had been having a hard time lately. Most fire-dragon materials on the market came from Romania.
Now that the fire dragons had escaped and couldn't be contained again, shortages were inevitable.
Even Slughorn joined the conversation, grumbling about how outrageously the price of dragon blood had risen lately.
As a result, all sorts of products that relied on dragon materials had gone up in price.
Even Hogwarts had been affected. In the past, Herbology classes provided each student with their own pair of dragon-hide gloves; now, they had to take turns using them.
Those suffering the most were the potions masters—dragon materials were essential to their work, and the situation left them utterly miserable.
"You've had it rough as well," Slughorn said, offering comfort to his former student.
"That's not even the biggest concern," Werner said worriedly. "An elderly dragon keeper in Romania told us that if this situation isn't due to a mating season, then it's very bad news."
"Why?" Slughorn's interest was immediately piqued.
Hearing inside information through personal connections was one of his favorite things.
Werner's expression grew grave. "A Dragon King."
"What?" Slughorn froze.
"The old keeper told us that the dragons have a leader now. They've given birth to their own king, which caused this large-scale escape."
"Something like this hasn't happened in a thousand years, and we can't confirm it yet," Werner said. "Luckily, we've sent wizards to stake out the escaped fire dragons at night so they can follow them and see what's really going on."
Slughorn took a sip of his drink. "That's astonishing. I've never heard of dragons having their own king. It does remind me of Merlin, though—he was a dragon speaker who could understand the language of dragons."
John was there as well. As he listened to Werner, his gaze darkened slightly.
"What is it, John?" Slughorn asked.
John smiled faintly. "Oh? I just realized that my friend stepped outside a moment ago."
Slughorn had no suspicion and laughed heartily. "Draco Malfoy, yes. I saw him—he even took Miss Greengrass with him."
"What?"
Hearing that, Daphne—who had been unable to find her sister—had a flash of murderous fury in her eyes.
Slughorn realized he might have said something he shouldn't have.
Daphne ran out, and John murmured an excuse before heading outside as well.
"What exactly are you trying to do, John Wick?" a mocking, oily voice rang out.
John stopped and saw Snape standing there.
"Your remarks," Snape said, slowly approaching.
He stared at John, as if trying to peer through his skull and into his thoughts, dragging out his words. "What do you intend to accomplish by leveraging this kind of influence?"
"You misunderstand, Professor, or do you not know I possess far more influence than everyone here combined?" John replied calmly. "I'm merely engaging in normal social interaction."
Glancing casually toward Harry, who stood not far from Snape, John added, "Have you ever considered that Sirius becoming the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor might have had Dumbledore's backing?"
At the mention of that name, Snape's face twisted as if he'd just smelled something foul.
"Everyone at Hogwarts knows you want that position," John said with a faint curl of his lips. "Do you really think Dumbledore doesn't know it too?"
"That's enough," Snape said coldly. "Mr. Wick."
"Heh~" John shrugged and left the party.
As he passed by a classroom, he spotted Daphne.
She was peeking through the crack in the door.
The sheer impropriety of it left John feeling helplessly amused.
Leaning closer, he finally understood why Daphne was gripping her wand so tightly.
Inside the classroom.
Malfoy and Astoria each held a small plate of cream cake.
At first glance, nothing seemed out of line.
"You've got a bit here," Malfoy said, reaching out with his index finger to wipe the cream from the corner of Astoria's lips.
The sudden intimacy made Astoria murmur a very soft thank-you.
They were sitting on the windowsill. Malfoy froze after his own action, staring at the girl beneath the cool, pale moonlight.
His heart pounded as if it were about to leap from his chest.
An empty classroom with only the two of them, the cloyingly sweet scent of cream in the air, mingled with a hint of pear-blossom fragrance drifting from the girl's hair.
Astoria was nervous as well. She stole a glance at Malfoy—
—and their eyes met.
Flustered, secretly delighted, feverish…
Both of them quickly looked away.
An unknowing urge sprouted in the most unguarded moment.
Malfoy lifted his head, gazing at the moonlight outside, and blurted out, "The moon looks beautiful tonight."
Yes, the moon is beautiful—yet having you here is enough.
Moonlight stretched their shadows long.
Astoria looked up, falling without reservation into eyes that saw only her.
Two hearts, their heartbeats drawing steadily closer.
Their reflections beneath the windowsill touched.
Malfoy thought to himself that there really was something softer than cotton.
A brief touch, then separation.
Y still lingering, a trace of cream lingered on Malfoy's lips.
He licked them, smiled at Astoria, and leaned in again.
________
I somehow managed to fix my sleep cycle... Sry for not posting yesterday, here's your chapter!♥
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