John sat there pondering for a while before getting up and picking up The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
"Maybe I can try a different approach…" he murmured to himself.
His gaze fell on the gardener tending the flowers by the side of the garden. John walked over and said, "The flowers look beautiful."
"No matter how beautiful the flowers, they only cover up the rotting corpses in the soil beneath," the gardener said lifelessly.
"To bloom brightly atop decaying, stinking earth," John chuckled, "perhaps that's the true meaning of sacrifice."
The gardener's hand paused. After a moment of silence, he said, "Maybe you're right."
"Would you mind if I took one?" John asked.
The gardener didn't respond, so John walked through the garden and plucked a rose.
With a slight nod to the gardener, John followed the path and left.
Standing still, the gardener held a trowel in one hand, while the sleeve on the other side hung empty. He lifted his pale face.
Barty Crouch Jr.
…
When John returned home, he noticed that the crowd outside—originally dozens of people—had dwindled to just three.
One of them was the tall man he had seen once before.
Upon seeing John return, they greeted respectfully, "Young master."
When John walked into the house, his parents were in the middle of discussing whether to buy a new home.
"We're living just fine—why move?"
John looked confused. Watson rubbed his hands sheepishly.
Mrs. Wick said, "There's no space to put the wizard's chess set you sent us."
So that was the reason...?
John glanced at his old man—he didn't even have to think to know this was his dad's idea.
Watson said righteously, "What, are we supposed to leave it unused after buying it? That thing cost a fortune!"
"I doubt it cost more than a house big enough to fit it."
John gave his dad a look of disdain. Honestly, he didn't have any special requirements for where they lived.
What mattered more was that this house had been enchanted heavily by John himself. If they moved, he'd have to set everything up again, which would be a huge hassle.
Right in front of his dad, John began shrinking the human-sized golden wizard's chess pieces one by one.
His dad wailed miserably and clung to the king piece for dear life.
The golden king clung right back to Watson.
"..."
Among all the wizard's chess pieces, the king was the most special—crafted in Watson's image, and even capable of walking off the board.
"Wife, look at him!" Watson ran to complain to Mrs. Wick.
Mrs. Wick actually found it all a bit of a hassle, and then you could see the golden Mrs. Wick stepping down from the chessboard.
The golden king, who had just been clinging on for dear life, instantly let go and obediently followed the golden queen away.
Left all alone, Watson looked devastated and wailed, "At least let me keep one!"
As John shrank the chess pieces one by one and packed them into the chess box, he thought for a moment, then pulled out the golden king and silver king, and tossed them toward the ground.
The two kings—one gold and one silver—hit the ground and transformed back into human size, standing right by the doorway.
Watson finally felt better and ran over to admire his own handsome likeness.
The rest of the pieces were treasured by Watson as if they were priceless heirlooms. Judging by the way he looked at them, he seemed ready to toss one just to see if it would grow big again.
But before long, Mrs. Wick took them away.
Back in the attic, John saw Basil flying in.
As a messenger, Basil had been pretty underworked lately.
Tom was chasing his own tail, but when he saw Basil, he pounced after him, only to get smacked dizzy by a flap of Basil's wing.
John opened the letter Basil had brought back and skimmed through it. It was the term start notice and book list.
"Looks like Oz Hild has passed."
He glanced at the textbook for Defense Against the Dark Arts—Dark Arts, Defense, A Guide. It was actually the Auror training manual.
Just as he set the letter down, John's badge gave a light buzz.
He tapped it—it was a message. Or rather, a group chat.
Draco Malfoy: "I've become a prefect!"
Daphne Greengrass: "How is it you?!"
Draco Malfoy: "?"
Daphne Greengrass: "What about John? Why isn't John the prefect?"
Draco Malfoy: "Wait… you too?"
Daphne Greengrass: "Shut up!"
Cedric Diggory: "So Slytherin picked Draco as prefect? I honestly thought it would be John. Draco's not exactly… a people person."
Draco Malfoy: "Hey, Cedric, show some respect to your fellow prefect."
Cedric Diggory: "Sorry—I'm the Head Boy."
Draco Malfoy: "?"
Percy Weasley: "Ah, brings back memories. I used to be Head Boy too."
Draco Malfoy: "..."
Fleur Delacour: "Oh please, it's just a prefect position. I was the Beauxbatons champion, you know."
Neville Longbottom: "I wonder who the Gryffindor prefects are."
Draco Malfoy: "Tch, definitely not you."
The group chat quickly became lively again—everyone had been quite busy during the holidays.
John smiled. It seemed Draco hadn't been affected by Voldemort after all.
Fleur Delacour: "I took a job at Silverhand Angel Investment. They get a drawer full of letters every day—it's a headache."
Percy Weasley: "My office keeps sending me little issues to deal with. I've been running around nonstop."
Neville Longbottom: "Loads of relatives have come to our place to celebrate my parents waking up. Gran's really happy."
Daphne Greengrass: "Astoria's been acting weird lately. Looks like she's dating someone. Owls keep flying into her room."
Draco Malfoy: "Ahem.. well... umm.. girls dating—totally normal."
Daphne Greengrass: "But that owl looks awfully familiar."
Draco Malfoy: "You're imagining things. All owls look pretty much the same—how could you tell?"
Daphne Greengrass: "Alright then."
...
Even though they hadn't seen each other in a while, the Constellation Society's network kept everyone connected.
Haha~
John closed the Constellation Society chat, feeling in a great mood.
His gaze swept across the books on the desk, and his expression dimmed. If everyone were here, it would be even livelier.
Basil suddenly grew restless. John looked up and saw a snowy owl flying in through the window.
It was Hedwig.
Holding back Basil, who looked ready to charge at Hedwig, John picked up a small dried fish and popped it into Hedwig's beak.
Hedwig gave Basil a provocative look, making Basil's wings twitch with irritation.
Hedwig was delivering a letter—not from Harry, but from Hermione.
Opening the letter, John found a long paragraph written out.
Hermione apologized for the situation with Sirius—they hadn't known that the Muggle man was Mr. Wick.
She also mentioned Harry's hearing and how, after he returned, Mrs. Weasley made a feast.
Hermione had become a prefect, along with Ron.
—Everyone thought it would be Harry—even Mrs. Weasley. She was overjoyed and is planning to throw a party to celebrate.
But Harry seems a bit off. I think he's feeling down. He thinks Dumbledore is avoiding him, probably because he blames himself for Dumbledore losing his position, though we've been trying to reassure him that Dumbledore wouldn't see it that way.
By the way, have you looked at the new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook? I've never seen this book before. Tonks said it's used for Auror training. Maybe the new professor will be quite good.—
Hermione had written a long letter, and the matters concerning the Order of the Phoenix hadn't affected their friendship.
John felt touched by such trust. He gave Hedwig another small dried fish and told her to wait a bit.
Dumbledore appointing Hermione as a prefect didn't surprise John in the least.
After all, Hermione had earned the most House Points for Gryffindor.
As for Ron being made a prefect, John thought for a moment and then understood.
Knowing Dumbledore's personality, it was probably to help Ron build some confidence or something along those lines.
Last year, Ron had suffered quite a few blows.
As die-hard Dumbledore supporters, it wasn't surprising the Weasley family would see Ron receive some focused encouragement.
At some point, Basil had already climbed onto the desk. When John turned his head, Basil immediately lunged for Hedwig's dried fish.
Hedwig resisted with all her might, and the two snowy owls started fighting again.
Tom barked from below, cheering them on.
John picked up a quill and began writing a reply.
Brushing away the feathers scattered across the desk, John started his letter to Hermione.
After writing down some trivial matters, John paused for a moment at the tip of his quill.
He could ask Hermione to help search for the Horcrux, but he hesitated.
"Forget it, I'll find it myself."
He didn't want to use Hermione like that. Doing so would place her in a difficult position.
The ownership of the Horcrux would be contested between him and the Order of the Phoenix—better to let Hermione stay out of it.
He handed the letter to Hedwig, gave her another small dried fish, patted her on the head, and said softly, "Give this to Hermione."
As a reward, John packed five small dried fish into a pouch for her.
Hedwig flew off, thoroughly satisfied.
Basil pecked John's finger in protest.
"Awe~ are you jealous of Hedwig? Don't worry, Basil, you are waaaaay beautiful than her!"
John piled up a small mountain of dried fish for Basil.
Tom anxiously paced around the room because he didn't get anything.
Soon enough, she had her dog food—she ate so fast that she accidentally bit through the food bowl.
…
John's reply arrived at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
Hermione received the letter at the celebration party for Ron becoming a prefect.
"See? John would never hurt you," Hermione said to Harry, pointing at the small dried fish brought by Hedwig.
"Maybe he just likes Hedwig," Harry muttered, still brooding over the fact that John had nearly chopped off his godfather's hand.
Missing out on the prefect badge only made Harry feel worse.
Hermione snapped, "John's not as awful as you think!"
With his mouth full of food, Ron chimed in unclearly, "Everyone knows John likes animals."
Hermione glared at Ron, frustrated beyond words. She had worked so hard to keep her two friends from falling out, and this glutton was only making things worse!
"Come on, Hermione, it's not that bad," Ron said after swallowing. "Harry just doesn't understand things clearly right now."
As both best friend and a bit of a mother figure, Hermione could tell something was off about Harry.
He had been like this ever since the hearing, and it worried her a lot.
Harry wasn't John—if it were John, she wouldn't be worried at all.
Under Hermione's worried gaze, Harry forced a smile.
Maybe once school started, things would get better.
Harry glanced at the newspaper on the table—Dumbledore had been stripped of his position by the Wizengamot, and his public statement about Voldemort's return.
The outside world wasn't buying it. Some even thought Dumbledore had lost his mind.
The Ministry of Magic, for reasons of its own, had yet to take a stance.
___________
Read 12 Chaps ahead:
Patreon: Dragonel