Blood merged with blood, forming an inseparable bond.
His magic resonated with the Grail, waves of murmurs echoing from it.
It was an ancient language, so old that no one could understand it.
The king's blood flowed, the blood of an old friend boiled, magic lingered within the Grail, and the stars silently chanted blessings.
Daphne removed the Ravenclaw diadem, and John tapped it lightly with his wand.
A pure, silver-white soul flew out from the diadem.
At John's soft murmur, those souls turned into strands of silver thread, drawing the soul contained within the Grail out.
"Come back, Heinrich."
John was bound to everyone's longing. Their feelings turned into strength, into connections, tightly binding the Constellation Society together.
Before dawn arrived, longing was infused into the blood, using yearning to pour the soul into it.
This was an ancient form of magic, an emotional power akin to love itself.
Blood, soul, and longing were forged together into a single gem.
"Redi ad me, o anima."
Light bloomed from within the gem as John placed it into Heinrich's body.
Golden liquid reshaped the cursed flesh, and the flowing sands of time caused everything to reverse.
All eyes were fixed on that body.
Golden flames ignited the body. Within the eternal blaze, soul and flesh fused once more.
The body steadily shrank, returning to that of a newborn infant.
The naked form was wrapped in golden liquid.
The baby suddenly opened its mouth.
The sun rose above the horizon.
The infant's cry shattered the darkness before dawn.
Dark-golden eyes opened, confusion visible on the baby's face.
Everyone stared at the infant in stunned silence.
Malfoy said dumbly, "So… does he have to grow up from a kid? Who's going to be his dad?"
Daphne heard that and immediately slapped the back of Malfoy's head.
Even John couldn't help shooting Malfoy a glare. Did he really look like someone who would make Heinrich grow up from infancy?
Speechless, he said, "This is because of time."
Raising his left hand, a golden magic array appeared in his palm.
John looked at the infant and said, "Good morning, my adjutant."
As golden time flowed—right before everyone's eyes—the baby rapidly grew, changing from an infant to a child, then to a youth, finally stopping at sixteen years old.
This was the age Heinrich had been back then. After two years had passed, he returned to it.
Those dark-golden eyes reflected the light of dawn.
"Welcome back, Heinrich."
John extended his hand toward him.
Heinrich still seemed a little hazy in his memories, yet instinctively reached out and touched that hand.
Clothes formed over his body.
As he was pulled upright, clarity gradually returned to Heinrich's expression.
Looking at the figure standing beneath the newborn dawn, a smile surfaced on his face, and his grip tightened.
It felt like grasping hold of light.
"I'm back, my king."
A familiar voice. A familiar person.
He had truly returned.
Heinrich Edgar.
The one who chased the light.
For a heartbeat, the dawn air was deathly still. Then, the silence didn't just break; it shattered.
"Heinrich, you absolute idiot!" Draco Malfoy was the first to move. He didn't care about his robes or the presence of the Ministry; he threw an arm around Heinrich's neck, nearly knocking the newly-sixteen-year-old over.
"Easy, Draco," Heinrich rasped.
"Easy? You've been dead for two years!" Cedric stepped forward, his face glowing with a relief so profound it looked like he'd shed a decade of stress.
He gripped Heinrich's shoulder firmly, his hand shaking slightly. "Welcome back. Truly."
Neville didn't say a word at first. He just stepped into the fray, his eyes red-rimmed, and pulled both Draco and Heinrich into a crushing hug. The boy who had faced down Voldemort was now sobbing unashamedly into Heinrich's new robes.
"Urg! Your muscles are crushing us!" Draco shouted making them laugh.
"Don't ever make us do that again," Daphne whispered, her voice trembling. Then, she pulled him into a brief hug. "We missed you, Heinrich. And he missed you more than anyone. Don't make your king go through all that ever again.."
Then everyone looked at John, who was standing there with tearful eyes and a wide smile. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and gave them all a big hug.
The people present looked at the scene that was more magical than magic itself.
And that Grail…
John broke the hug first, cast a glance over the crowd, and raised his wand.
"Reducto."
A fully charged beam of white light struck the Grail.
The sacred Grail that had been radiating holiness trembled violently, releasing a blinding white glow.
The next second—the Grail dimmed and fell from the air.
The magical core within it turned to ash.
John casually lifted Hufflepuff's golden cup with magic.
"This thing is useless now. Still, it counts as a keepsake with some historical value."
He tossed Hufflepuff's cup to the dazed Harry and said offhandedly, "Consider it my personal donation to the school's display collection."
Harry caught the cup, but he felt no joy in his heart.
Because Dumbledore was going to die. The old man had reached the end of his strength.
In contrast to the Constellation Society's joy, the Order of the Phoenix was about to witness the final chapter of the old phoenix.
John walked up to Barty Crouch Sr. and smiled. "I believe you'll become the most successful Minister for Magic in a hundred years."
Barty Crouch Sr. glanced at the Hufflepuff Cup in Harry's hands and sighed. "You really are clever. You put on a miracle for everyone to see—then took it back with your own hands."
Destroying the Grail in public was to leave no room for lingering thoughts.
An object capable of bringing the dead back to life was far more real than the Resurrection Stone.
Everyone had witnessed Heinrich's revival.
After today, the Grail would become an object pursued by the entire world.
And John, as its holder, would naturally become the target of all arrows.
But John destroying the Grail with his own hand was a clear message to everyone—stop dreaming.
The Grail was destroyed. This battle was over.
…
The new Headmaster of Durmstrang, Ludwisi Edgar.
After a long, exhausting day, Ludwisi finally returned home. His appointment to this position had been the result of many board members' decisions, as well as the will of others.
An ancient Edgar. The king's adjutant.
Whether it was the resurgence of Grindelwald or the rise of Voldemort,
this family had been pushed to the forefront once more, dragged back into the public eye.
It was utterly exhausting.
The Ministry of Magic had been monitoring him, suspecting that he might have ties to the Dark Lord.
That surveillance was filled with malice and prejudice.
Only at home could Ludwisi finally relax.
As he passed by one of the rooms, his steps, which should have carried him onward, came to a halt.
The butler behind him nearly bumped into his back and looked up in confusion.
He saw Ludwisi, Headmaster of Durmstrang and head of the Edgar family, staring fixedly in one direction.
The butler knew this room. It was the Edgar family chamber, its walls painted with portraits belonging to every Edgar.
Most of those paintings were shrouded in a layer of gloom.
Only one—Ludwisi's own portrait—was free of that shadow.
There had once been three portraits that retained their vitality. Now only one remained, which filled the butler with sorrow.
Since Heinrich's death, Ludwisi had never entered this room again.
Yet this time, he stepped inside without hesitation.
The butler hesitated, wanting to speak, but saw Ludwisi stop before a painting.
Looking at the portrait that had regained its vitality, Ludwisi—who had always remained unshaken even if the Amazon river dried before him—showed loss of composure for the first time.
"Y-you… you're back." His trembling hand brushed over the youthful portrait, his voice thick with emotion.
The butler stared blankly at the painting.
Heinrich Edgar.
In the portrait, his smile was radiant.
Light glowed at his side.
The light the Edgar family had searched for so long finally shone into the Edgar household.
…
"Misunderstanding! Minister Crouch Personally Enters the Battlefield, Annihilates Voldemort's Followers in One Sweep!"
"Barty Crouch's Approval Ratings Soar, Becomes the Greatest Minister for Magic in a Century"
"A Tense and Thrilling Game: Hogwarts Invaded, the Ministry of Magic Reveals Its True Face"
"Shocking! Voldemort Actually…"
"Voldemort Dead, Panic Comes to an End"
"John Wick—Who Is He?"
"The Grail Brings the Dead Back to Life"
"The Iron Law of the Magical World Has Been Broken"
"Johnny Silverhand Commits Heinous Crimes!"
"Magical Institute Destroyed, Johnny Silverhand's Brutality Shocks the World"
Newspapers erupted like a flood, appearing one after another.
Just as John had said, Barty Crouch Sr. became the most supported and greatest Minister for Magic in nearly a hundred years.
His earlier incompetence had merely been part of a larger gambit, a deliberate act to lull Voldemort into complacency and draw him into the Ministry of Magic's trap.
On the final day at Hogwarts, countless reporters tried to secure interviews.
Outside the damaged castle gates, Filch cursed nonstop as he chased them away.
What struck everyone as the strangest thing about this earth-shaking battle was that Hogwarts' death toll was actually zero.
It was simply unbelievable.
Especially in the case of one of the students involved—a Hufflepuff who had been swallowed whole by a vampiric bird. He had been dug out afterward.
Inside the creature's stomach, he had merely been unconscious.
It was as if some unseen force had been protecting Hogwarts all along.
As for the source of that power, Dumbledore had his suspicions.
"Was it you, John?"
The only one capable of doing this was John—more precisely, John's Grail.
That Grail had encompassed all of Hogwarts within its range.
A Grail capable of rejuvenation and immortality, healing and protecting every student.
"In truth, that Grail could no longer sustain itself," Dumbledore sighed. "Its power had been drained dry."
At Hogwarts, there were two things: the Book of Admittance, and the Quill of Acceptance.
That was a wondrous artifact, kept in the Headmaster's office.
Every Hogwarts student's name would be written into it—this was how admissions worked.
By relying on those two objects, John had layered a protective enchantment over every student.
To protect the entire school—one could imagine just how immense the magical consumption was.
Aside from the Grail, no one else could have accomplished it.
When John frequently went to the Headmaster's office during his sixth year, that had been his true purpose—using magic without Slughorn's knowledge.
In truth, even if John had not destroyed the Grail, it would not have been able to continue sustaining itself.
But destroying the Grail in public and having it naturally fail would lead to very different outcomes.
Take Barty Crouch Sr., for example—having personally witnessed John destroy immortality that was within his grasp, his trust in John would only deepen.
Dumbledore coughed, spitting out a mouthful of black blood.
He did not have much time left.
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