Two hours later.
In London, at the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Escorted by several burly Aurors, a broad-built witch with a square jaw, short gray hair, and a monocle strode into the office. She headed straight for the young visitor.
"Well done, Mr. Hart. Rufus has already told me about your contributions. The Order of Merlin, Third Class, is absolutely guaranteed. As for the Second Class, I'll do everything I can to help you secure it," Minister Amelia Bones said warmly, patting Jon on the shoulder.
"Thank you for your generosity, Minister…" Jon replied, a little distracted. "I'd be deeply honored to receive the Order of Merlin. It's the highest distinction…"
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a portrait on the wall.
The wizard depicted there—pale-faced, with short black bangs—gave him a discreet nod.
Jon quickly smiled back, returning Headmaster Everard's silent greeting.
...
The Giant Hunt operation could only be described as an overwhelming success.
Just as Jon had anticipated, Voldemort was not on British soil at the time, and returning would take him a considerable while.
Although the Death Eaters quickly realized what the Aurors were up to, without Voldemort's direct orders, none of them dared to act rashly.
As for the giants, they were either "efficiently" killed by the Aurors or tightly bound while still asleep.
All the Death Eaters could do was watch helplessly as the Aurors wiped out the giants one by one. Every giant was either slain on the spot or sent to Azkaban to await execution.
As the "informant" behind the operation—and its greatest contributor—Jon naturally couldn't simply break away from the Aurors.
Though he badly wanted to leave, at Rufus Scrimgeour's insistence, he had no choice but to return to the Ministry with them.
After waiting patiently in the office for twenty minutes, Jon finally met the Minister for Magic.
To be honest, Jon wasn't particularly interested in the Order of Merlin—at least not right now.
By regulation, each class of the Order could only be awarded once in a wizard's lifetime. Receiving such a permanent honor for reporting giant activity and taking part in a giant hunt felt… uncomfortable, to say the least.
He could easily end up saddled with an unflattering title like "Giant Slayer."
More importantly, although the fact that Jon Hart was still alive was no longer a closely guarded secret, Jon had no intention of making it fully public.
After listening to Minister Amelia Bones's lengthy speech, Jon declined softly.
"I'm truly honored, Minister, but I really think I'm too young to deserve such a distinction."
Minister Bones froze for a moment, looking at him in surprise, clearly unable to understand why he would refuse an honor like this.
She spent several more minutes trying to persuade him, but Jon remained completely unmoved, refusing no matter what she said.
"But you've rendered the Ministry such an enormous service," Amelia Bones said at last, sounding troubled. "How are we supposed to repay you, Mr. Hart?"
"You don't need to trouble yourself over that, Minister Bones," Jon replied with a smile. "If there ever comes a time when I need your help, I'll be sure to contact you."
"Yes, enough about that, Amelia… He's Dumbledore's man," Rufus Scrimgeour snorted from the side.
From his tone, it was clear he wasn't particularly fond of Dumbledore.
That said, Scrimgeour was clearly interested in Jon Hart. He looked him up and down before asking curiously,
"I've heard the rumors for a long time now—that Jon Hart, supposedly killed by Voldemort during the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, is actually still alive. But I'm very curious. How did you survive the Killing Curse? You do realize that, throughout history, the Killing Curse has only failed once before…"
Yet another question Jon had no desire to answer.
Fortunately, someone entered the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at just that moment, coming to his rescue.
...
"All right, all right!" Alastor Moody strode into the office with long, confident steps, clearly familiar with the place. "Our Mr. Hart probably has somewhere else he needs to be. Rufus, Amelia, I trust you won't object."
Scrimgeour and Bones exchanged a glance, neither of them voicing any opposition.
Although Mad-Eye Moody had been retired for some time, he still carried considerable authority within the Ministry.
Without hesitation, Moody clapped Jon on the shoulder, motioning for him to follow.
Jon followed close behind as they left the noisy office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Thank you for your help, Professor Moody," Jon said quickly as they walked down the Ministry corridors.
"Professor…" Alastor Moody snorted. "I haven't been a professor for quite a while now. And it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience, either."
After a brief pause, he added,
"I really didn't expect you to go to Scrimgeour instead of asking our own people for help."
By "our own people," he was naturally referring to the Order of the Phoenix.
"The Aurors can handle things more professionally, can't they?" Jon replied, pretending not to notice the complaint in Moody's tone.
"Hmph. I suppose that barely counts as a reason," Moody said. "Kingsley told me about it—you actually thought of using the Draught of the Living Dead on those giants. A brilliant idea…"
After taking a few more steps, Moody suddenly stopped.
"By the way, are you heading back to Hogwarts now, or do you have other plans?"
"I'm afraid I can't return to Hogwarts yet," Jon said, shaking his head.
He hadn't forgotten that Astoria was still on the Isle of Man.
After experiencing her first blood curse transformation, she was now extremely dangerous.
On top of that, through Legilimency, he had already grasped the general principles behind precise soul-splitting from the female giant's memories.
"Suit yourself, then. I'll go back and report to Albus," Moody said coldly.
"In that case, Mr. Moody, I'll be on my way," Jon said with a polite smile.
...
After parting ways with Mad-Eye Moody, Jon arrived at the Portkey Office on the sixth underground floor of the Ministry of Magic.
The Portkey Office wasn't large. It contained six counters, each staffed by a wizard. Every counter had someone handling different forms of business. Jon waited for a few minutes before squeezing his way up to one of them.
"Domestic or international…" The Ministry clerk behind the counter asked coldly without lifting his head.
"Domestic, I suppose…" Jon thought for a moment. "Douglas Harbour on the Isle of Man…"
The clerk nodded. He bent down and busied himself with some sort of magical apparatus for a short while, then straightened, apparently having finished creating the "Portkey."
A tattered kilt was tossed onto the counter in front of Jon.
"Simple enough. Just stuff your entire body into that kilt…" Still not looking up, the clerk added coldly, "Hurry up… Next!"
Staring at the battered kilt, Jon froze for a moment.
Before he could say anything, a "robust" wizard behind him shoved him aside.
With a helpless, wry smile, Jon picked up the kilt and left the Portkey Office.
Turning a corner in the corridor, he followed the signs into a Ministry restroom and slipped into a toilet stall.
"Kilt is men's wear… Kilt is men's wear… Kilt is men's wear…"
He silently repeated the mantra several times before stuffing both legs into the skirt…
The world suddenly spun. His balance vanished as something grabbed his legs and dragged him violently downward, deep into the earth.
...
With a thunderous crash, Jon felt his face slam hard against the ground.
Judging by his surroundings, he had landed on a busy commercial street in Douglas Harbour.
Fortunately, it was around two or three in the morning, and there were hardly any people on the street. Otherwise, a young man sprawled across the pavement wearing a tattered kilt would have attracted plenty of attention—perhaps even the media.
He scrambled to his feet and brushed the dust from his clothes.
While grumbling about the unreliability of the Portkey Office clerk, Jon found himself thinking that he really ought to find time for some proper Apparition training.
As he took off the kilt, several Muggle vagrants seemed to notice him. They began to drift closer, their "curiosity" tinged with ill intent.
Jon had no desire to get into any trouble. He raised his hand.
"Confundo!"
After casting the Confundus Charm to draw their attention elsewhere, he slipped away smoothly and left the commercial street behind.
...
Following the road signs, Jon made his way back to the hotel he had previously arranged with Astoria.
At the same time, he continued thinking through his plans.
The giants' method for splitting souls was far simpler—and cruder—than he had imagined.
They merely crushed and mixed several herbs, such as wormwood, kava root, and peyote cactus, then smeared the liquid over the target's entire body.
Once the target lost consciousness, the outline of their soul would become smooth and pliable.
These herbs were rarely used in potion-making. Such a rudimentary process could hardly be called a potion at all. That was why neither Magical Drafts and Potions nor One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi contained any record of it.
Obtaining these materials through the Muggle world, however, would not be difficult.
In that sense, things were even simpler than Jon had expected.
As for crafting a Horcrux, he was still missing a few ingredients—such as yew bark, Moonstone, and lionfish spine powder. Yet none of these were restricted or particularly rare. They could easily be purchased from ingredient shops in Diagon Alley.
The only real difficulty lay in the requirement for a living soul during the creation of a Horcrux.
However, after the recent "giant hunting incident," the Ministry of Magic could be said to owe Jon a favor.
Requesting a giant scheduled for execution should not be too much of a problem. Giants might be innately dull-witted, but given their sheer size, the strength of their souls would certainly be no weaker than that of an ordinary wizard.
From Jon's perspective, everything was now essentially ready.
The only remaining variable was whether the Horcrux would produce the desired effect.
If everything went smoothly, the Horcrux would separate the Blood Curse soul from Astoria's body. At that point, destroying the Horcrux with Fiendfyre and allowing Astoria some time to recuperate would restore her to normal.
But if the Horcrux failed to fully separate the Blood Curse soul and instead damaged Astoria's own soul…
...then the Blood Curse would erupt prematurely, and Astoria would undoubtedly be beyond saving.
This uncertainty was beyond Jon's control.
All he could do was plan as best he could and leave the rest to fate.
...
When he arrived at the hotel where Astoria was staying, Jon stopped at the door.
Carefully taking out his Sneakoscope, he scanned the surroundings. Only after confirming that there were no issues did he gently knock.
A large ear appeared in front of him, followed by the familiar face of a house-elf.
"Mr. Jon Hart!" The house-elf squealed in delight.
"Hello, Klein."
Jon smiled back, glancing into the room and spotting Astoria Greengrass sitting on the bed, smiling at him.
"Is she all right?" Jon asked Klein in a low voice.
"Of course! Miss Astoria Greengrass is perfectly fine. She even told Klein lots of fun stories…" Klein nodded enthusiastically, his face animated. "Miss Astoria Greengrass is a very, very good witch—just as good as Mr. Jon Hart!"
"That's good."
Jon let out a breath of relief and stepped into the room.
Before Astoria could speak, he explained first.
"It's fine. Everything went smoothly… We just need another day or two to gather some easily obtainable ingredients, and then our plan can begin."
"Is that so…" A look of anticipation appeared on Astoria's face, mixed with a trace of fear.
"Yes…" Jon nodded, his voice low and steady. "And… we will succeed."
"I believe in you… Jon…" Astoria murmured softly, as though comforting both him and herself. "I believe in you…"
The fear in her voice vanished abruptly, replaced by an unmistakable trust.
"Mm… you should rest well now…" Jon said with a slightly forced smile. "Only if you recover properly will we have a better chance of defeating the soul inside you."
Astoria shook her head firmly.
She stood by the stance she had taken earlier.
"It won't work, Jon… If I stay with you, you'll have to tie me up or lock me away… Otherwise, I'll never be able to close my eyes… Please…"