John shook his head helplessly. "Honestly—once would've been one thing, but you just had to go for a second time."
Malfoy's lips were swollen top and bottom like sausages, his speech completely slurred.
"Oow gas eh suppuused u now Waknee aas owwtside? (How was I supposed to know Daphne was outside?)"
He looked ready to cry. He'd been stung by a Yellowjacket Jinx.
No matter how hard he tried, he'd never imagined Daphne would be squatting outside.
In despair, he wailed, "John, does this mean I'll never be able to be with Astoria in this life?"
John shot Malfoy a glance. At this point, the idiot wasn't even pretending anymore.
"Relax. Daphne's already agreed," John said casually, handing a letter to Basil.
Malfoy froze, then asked in confusion, "How did I not know? If she agreed, why did she still hit me with a Yellowjacket Jinx?"
"She was already about to leave. Who knew you'd push your luck."
As someone who had witnessed the entire process of Daphne going from gritting her teeth to kicking the door open, John could only say this was entirely Malfoy's own doing.
Ever since the last incident where Malfoy had nearly broken his neck, Daphne hadn't laid a hand on him for quite some time.
She had begun to accept Malfoy—as her sister's boyfriend.
Annoying as he was, whether as a friend or in terms of status, Malfoy was still a very suitable choice.
After speaking with Astoria and understanding her feelings, Daphne no longer intended to dwell on the matter.
As long as Malfoy was sincere with Astoria—and kept his hands to himself until graduation—that was enough.
"The way you stuck your tongue out that day, it was practically halfway across the room," John said with open disdain. "You really brought it on yourself."
Malfoy suffered instant social death. He hadn't expected his behavior to have been witnessed so thoroughly.
"Then—could you at least help me change my lips back?" Malfoy asked hopefully, looking at John.
John thought about it for a moment, then sneered. "Get lost."
And so Malfoy was forced to return to Malfoy Manor with those scandalously sexy lips intact.
Christmas break arrived, and John chose not to remain at the school.
There was an old gatekeeper next door who could watch things, so there was no reason not to take advantage of it.
He left Hogwarts directly.
…
"Romanian Fire Dragons Escape Once Again, Multiple Dragon Keepers Injured"
"Dark Figure Strikes Again: Gilderoy Lockhart Attacked, Suffers Minor Injuries While Driving Off Assailant"
"Gilderoy Lockhart to Guard Knockturn Alley During Christmas"
"Ministry of Magic Commends Gilderoy Lockhart, Awards Him the Medal of Bravery"
"Werewolves to Gain Equal Status? Renowned Scholar Voices Opinion"
Johnny Silverhand Specialty Store.
John flipped through the newspaper casually.
"Lockhart is in a VIP ward at the Silverhand Hospital," Tommy said. "Do we need to arrange a press interview?"
"Don't let Rita go anywhere near him. She's shown her face far too often lately." John's gaze lingered on the report about the Romanian fire dragons before he said calmly, "Increase security and activate the Christmas event."
Tommy nodded and went out to make the arrangements.
With Christmas approaching, John planned a joint event linking Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley.
"Quidditch might be a good option," he mused for a moment, deciding that hosting a Quidditch match spanning both areas would be a fine idea.
The amusement park project was also underway. Because it required an enormous amount of space, even with magic assisting, it still needed time.
Still, it was nearly finished and would open no later than Easter.
Out of five news items, three were related to John.
Lockhart's attack had naturally also been arranged by him.
After all, a hero had to put on a show.
With this hospitalization alone, sales of Lockhart's endorsed products had risen by thirty percent.
Lockhart staying in Knockturn Alley was itself a publicity stunt, meant to show people that Knockturn Alley was safe.
As for the Ministry of Magic's Medal for Bravery, that wasn't John's doing.
The Ministry likely needed to boost public morale and shape a figure who could offer a sense of security.
Lockhart's actions just happened to be noticed by them.
"The dragon handlers dealt with it. We shouldn't underestimate those wizards."
Looking at the first piece of news, John's fingers repeatedly creased the newspaper.
What he'd heard at Slughorn's party about the dragon handlers' understanding of dragons had caught him off guard.
"Of course," John lowered his eyes. "As a place dedicated to studying dragons, how could they not know? Still, as long as it's resolved."
The dragon handlers had followed the dragons and were unfortunately discovered, coming under attack by a black dragon. Three handlers were injured, and one was severely burned.
Beneath prosperity, there were always corpses.
John tapped his fingers against the tabletop, the sound coming in steady beats.
He closed his eyes to think for a moment. When he opened them again, a trace of helplessness flickered in his gaze.
"Forget it. Let someone handle it."
He had Kim take care of the Romanian fire dragon burn incident. It didn't need to be complicated—making a donation would suffice.
Standing on the balcony, John glanced at the now-bustling Knockturn Alley. Many families had come with their children.
Ice lamps lined the streets, and various magical creatures sculpted from snow were set up along the way.
In the Inverted Garden, there was even a stage play being performed—an adaptation of Lockhart's masterpiece Wandering with Werewolves.
"My lord, Old Jack is here to see you."
Tommy broke his train of thought. Old Jack had arrived with the youngest child, Taro.
As a council member whose status had risen, his greatest wish was for werewolves to no longer face discrimination.
"Lord Silverhand," Old Jack said respectfully.
Taro did the same. Old Jack always tirelessly told his children that the werewolves' current life was all thanks to Lord Johnny Silverhand.
"I'm very glad to see you before Christmas, Old Jack," John said, wearing his silver mask as he smiled and invited him to sit.
Taro looked at Johnny Silverhand with open admiration; she hadn't yet reached school age.
"Is this about the school?" John asked.
Opening a school within the werewolf community wasn't difficult.
The real challenge lay in teachers and students.
Teaching at a werewolf school required sufficient educational experience.
These teachers had never had enough candidates.
John planned to have Old Jack's children, after graduating from Hogwarts, enter the werewolf school as teachers.
Old Jack laughed. "Everything at the school is going very well. The community is steadily taking in werewolf families from all over the world."
John glanced at the newspaper on the table and understood at once. "Because of that report?"
Caught out, Old Jack nodded a little awkwardly. "There are still many doubts from the outside world about the werewolf community."
As he said this, Old Jack let out a sigh. "Child, let my lord see."
Taro stepped forward obediently. Under John's puzzled gaze, she turned her back to him and removed her clothes.
!!!
John's pupils contracted.
On that young body, the blackened wounds were hideously obvious.
Old Jack said through tears, "Several wizards attacked the child. They believe werewolves shouldn't be here."
"Prejudice can't be erased overnight, Old Jack," John said in a low voice, "but I can promise you this—those pieces of trash will disappear from this world."
"Thank you so much, my lord," Old Jack said, wiping his tears.
John walked over and looked at Taro, who stubbornly refused to let her tears fall. He asked, "Do you trust me?"
Taro said, "Grandfather said you're the best person in the world. I believe you."
John took a handful of Galleons, raised his hand, and brushed it across the hideous wound. One by one, the Galleons vanished in his palm.
That terrifying injury gradually faded until, in the end, the skin was smooth and unmarked.
Old Jack thanked him repeatedly. John said, "Old Jack, go back now. I'll have Christmas gift boxes sent to you."
"Yes, my lord," Old Jack replied. Then he seemed to recall something and added, "My lord, I've heard some news that might be of use to you."
Before entering the werewolf community, Old Jack had wandered for a long time. After learning that he had become a council member, some old acquaintances had begun reaching out again, hoping to curry favor with him.
Old Jack said, "The giants in the mountains seem to be in contact with someone."
"Giants?" John nodded, indicating that he had taken note.
After seeing Old Jack off, John summoned Tommy and instructed him to investigate the attack on the werewolf community.
A day later, Tommy came back with his report.
It was a group of people who truly hated werewolves from the bottom of their hearts. They had been incited and had attacked a lone werewolf kid.
John frowned. Incited?
"Do we know by whom?" he asked.
"It's unclear; those who were incited don't even know each other's identities."
"I see." John murmured, thoughtfully rubbing the ring on his finger.
It seemed this was not a simple case of discrimination.
Voldemort's old followers?
Or Grindelwald's devotees?
Inciting hatred against werewolves—John thought of yesterday's report.
Perhaps he had found a breakthrough for his investigation.
During the Christmas holidays, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was bustling with activity.
But its owners, George and Fred, had gone home.
________
o(*￣▽￣*)ブSupport and Read 12 Chapters ahead: Patreon/Dragonel