Hogwarts' John Wick

The Longbottoms had awakened. Their eyes held a trace of confusion, as if unsure how they had ended up here.

"N-Neville?"

Mr. Longbottom spotted Neville. Although, on the year of the incident, Neville had still been very young…

In his mind, however, he retained the blurry images of Neville visiting him year after year. That hazy state of mind faded away.

He called out softly, cautiously.

Afraid that if he spoke too loudly, this dream would shatter.

Neville stared at them in disbelief.

He had imagined this moment countless times—his parents waking up and calling his name just as they did now.

Tears streamed down his face. "..Dad, ...Mom."

Mrs. Longbottom had also fully regained consciousness. They rose from the collapsed bed.

A hand, which had been gripping Mr. Longbottom's wrist tightly, slipped away powerlessly.

Thud!

The sight of it made Neville freeze in place.

"John!"

Percy rushed forward, trying to wake John up.

The Longbottoms looked at the young man collapsed on the ground, and in their minds, his image began to take shape.

"It was him?"

Mr. Longbottom exchanged a glance with his wife. During their long period of confusion, they had heard a voice guiding them.

And the owner of that voice—was John.

Mrs. Longbottom's heart tightened. She asked worriedly, "What happened to him?"

Neville's face was deathly pale as he replied, "John is the one who cured you."

But… something had happened to John.

Mr. Longbottom didn't fully understand what had transpired, but he knew that if he had been cured, then his son and his friends must have put in an immense effort.

In his fragmented memories, he recalled how countless doctors and scholars had come to the hospital, all unable to do anything about their condition.

Even Dumbledore had been powerless.

Now, seeing John unconscious, the joy of their family's reunion felt muted.

Neville took after his father in appearance but was much more like his mother in temperament.

Mrs. Longbottom, overcome with guilt, began to weep. They were unable to do anything to help.

Percy, in a panic, fumbled through various potions. His hands trembled, and a vial slipped from his grasp, shattering on the ground.

"Damn it! Damn it! Fuck! What the fuck are we supposed to do!!!"

Percy cursed repeatedly, a stark contrast to his usual composed image.

Frantically kneeling on the ground, he fumbled around, picking up one potion bottle after another.

"John, wake up!"

One by one, he poured the potions down John's throat—potions John had prepared in anticipation of something going wrong.

But even after the last bottle was emptied, John still didn't wake up.

"No... this can't be.."

Percy's heart sank. He collapsed onto the floor, completely devastated.

Neville couldn't hold it in anymore—he broke down into loud sobs, his cries echoing through the Shrieking Shack, filling the space with sorrow.

Mr. Longbottom, however, remained relatively calm. He gripped his wife's hand and said, "This is Hogwarts, isn't it? We can ask Dumbledore for help."

That sentence was like a ray of hope. Percy immediately moved to call for assistance.

"Wait..."

A weak voice spoke up.

Percy froze, thinking he was hallucinating.

He turned back to see John, eyes open, struggling to speak. "Don't ..call Dumbledore. T.. take me back."

"John, you're awake!"

Neville lunged forward, gripping John's shoulders tightly, his voice choked with guilt. "It's all my fault. It's all my fault."

"It's not your fault, Neville."

John sucked in a sharp breath—when did Neville get so strong?

Still, he managed a weak smile. "We're friends, aren't we?"

John took a deep breath and looked at Percy. "Percy, take the Longbottoms to Hogsmeade. There's someone there who will escort them away. Don't alert anyone."

Though worry still clouded Percy's face, he nodded at John's words.

He then helped the newly awakened Longbottom couple leave, explaining the situation to them as they went.

John had no intention of meeting Dumbledore—especially not in his current condition.

"Neville, take me to the secret chamber. Be careful."

Neville nodded vigorously and carefully lifted John onto his back.

The passage under the Whomping Willow was narrow, forcing Neville to stoop as he carried John through.

When they returned to the castle, Neville avoided drawing any attention.

He entered the Chamber and gently set John down.

"Go back," John said.

Seeing that Neville had no intention of leaving, John waved him off. "Don't attract suspicion."

"I'll wait here for you." Neville's expression was firm, afraid that something might happen to John if he left.

John couldn't help but chuckle. He reassured Neville that he was fine—besides, if Gryffindor students noticed Neville missing, that would cause real trouble.

After several rounds of urging, Neville finally relented and left.

As the door to the Chamber closed, John braced himself against a table and struggled to stand.

"Ugh.. Neville really didn't hold back."

The lingering pain made John inhale sharply. There was no physical injury, but the sensation was far from pleasant.

"I almost got lost in there… good thing I left a marker."

John glanced at the silver ring on his right hand.

A tiny barb on the ring had embedded itself into his finger, sending continuous jolts of pain.

It was thanks to this connection that John managed to find his way out of that blinding white light.

Checking his own condition, he frowned. There was no damage to his soul this time, but a period of physical weakness was inevitable.

He tapped the armrest of a chair. The entire chair immediately tipped backward and transformed into a comfortable bed.

Mental magic was more terrifying than the Imperius Curse—it could subtly influence people's habits without them even realizing it.

Lying down, John's mind was suddenly flooded with memories.

They were of the Longbottoms being tortured—of that madwoman of a Death Eater. A name surfaced in his mind.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

"They tortured the Longbottoms… but it looks like Barty Jr. wasn't there."

That agonizing memory was the reason the Longbottoms had ended up in such a state. And because John had been in contact with the memories, he had inherited those memories as well.

Barty Crouch Jr. had been convicted, one of the charges being his role in the torture of the Auror couple, Frank and Alice Longbottom.

Although Barty Jr. had pleaded his case, Barty Sr. refused to believe him.

"Maybe he was just an unlucky scapegoat—but who cares?"

Rubbing his sore temples, John processed the memories flooding his mind.

The Lestrange family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but their bloodline was dwindling.

They hadn't met a good end—those who remained were all rotting in Azkaban.

"Death Eaters, huh? Since they're so unwavering in their loyalty, eliminating this problem ahead of time seems like a necessary move."

From Frank Longbottom's memories, John could see just how fanatically devoted the Lestranges were to Voldemort.

Even after his downfall, they had recklessly kidnapped the Longbottoms, desperate to extract information about their master's whereabouts.

John knew Voldemort would eventually return, and if these diehard followers were freed, they would become a major threat.

Since that was the case, he might as well strike first.

"Once Barty Sr. rises to power, I'll have him issue an order for the immediate execution of all Death Eaters."

A cold glint flashed in John's eyes. Then, he recalled the Sacred Twenty-Eight records he had gathered, particularly those on the Lestrange family.

This family had originated in France, but only the British branch remained.

Some families kept their wealth hidden in their homes, but most stored it in Gringotts.

The Lestranges were probably no different—letting all that accumulated wealth gather dust in Gringotts was a waste.

Heh~

It would be better off in his hands.

"Even if you lot manage to get out, how do you plan to survive without money?"

Before that, John needed to find a way to get something from the Lestrange family's descendants.

That wouldn't be too difficult for him—after all, Piers was the head of the Auror Office. Arranging a visit to Azkaban wouldn't be much of a hassle.

With his mind set on the Lestranges, John found himself unable to sleep, kept awake by the pain.

He endured it for an entire night.

...

Bang!

The next day, the door to the Constellation Society's Chamber swung open.

Daphne was the first to rush in, followed by Heinrich, then Cedric and the others.

A whole crowd flooded inside, and John forced a smile onto his pale face.

Tears welled up in Daphne's eyes as she clung tightly to the hem of John's robe.

"I'm not dying."

After offering Daphne a few words of reassurance, John looked up.

Neville was there too.

Daphne shot him a furious glare.

"Alright." John tried to stand but stumbled slightly. He chuckled and said, "Neville, you do realize your actions come with a price, don't you?"

Neville's body trembled. He lifted his head and said seriously, "John, no matter what the price is, I'm willing to accept it."

"Good."

John picked up the two wands Heinrich had brought back and walked toward Neville.

Neville had already made up his mind—not even if John wanted to kill him would he avoid it.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, John placed the two wands into Neville's hands.

"Make sure to take good care of these wands."

Then, he patted Neville on the shoulder.

…That was it?

Neville couldn't believe it. He raised his voice. "John, I made a mistake!"

John chuckled. "Then your price is that from now on, you have to clean the Constellation Society's rooms every month."

He said lightly, "That's already a heavy enough price, my friend."

The moment John said "my friend," Neville's eyes turned red.

He tried his best not to lose composure, but his body trembled slightly.

The other members of the Constellation Society, seeing that John was alright, walked toward Neville as well.

They patted him on the shoulder—yet not a single one of them blamed him.

As Malfoy passed by, he let out a dramatic shriek. "Neville, you're not crying, are you?"

Neville turned his head away and mumbled, "Thank you, all of you."

Malfoy grinned and said, "Did you forget what John always says? The Constellation Society helps its members no matter what. No need to say thanks—because we're friends!"

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