Hogwarts' John Wick

Library.

Daphne pretended to calmly flip through her book, but the way she kept sneaking glances at John betrayed her nervousness.

Malfoy coughed twice, using his book to shield his face as he whispered to John, "John, aren't you being a bit too direct?"

John looked away from Daphne and turned to Malfoy in surprise. "What?"

"I mean," Malfoy said tactfully, "this is a public place. You could… maybe save that kind of thing for private?"

He really wanted to say, "Daphne's glancing in your direction once every 2 seconds, and you are intently looking at her."

But considering how many times he'd been beaten up already, he decided it was best to be tactful.

The moment he finished speaking, he saw John shift his gaze and look toward Astoria instead.

Malfoy's internal alarm went off like mad. He warned, "John, I think it's important not to be too greedy as a person."

"I think you're unusually energetic today," John glanced at Malfoy—was this kid just looking for trouble or what?

"You finished all your homework? Or did your Defense Against the Dark Arts grade finally beat Harry's?"

Malfoy: "…" That's just stabbing straight into someone's heart, isn't it?

Staring at the mountain of assignments before him, Malfoy let out a long, sorrowful sigh, the perfect image of someone lamenting life's suffering and how fleeting joy is.

Astoria poked her older sister and quietly asked with a complicated expression, "Sister, did you… succeed?"

"Don't talk nonsense!" Daphne slapped a hand over her younger sister's mouth.

That last embarrassing misunderstanding had kept her from daring to walk next to John for several days.

Astoria couldn't break free—ever since her sister started cooking, her strength had gone way up.

Left with no choice, she gave up struggling and let her hands fall in despair, her mind flashing with the kindly image of their great-grandmother.

Because Daphne had also covered her nose.

Luckily, she realized just in time, avoiding a tragic case of sororicide.

John's fingers tapped rhythmically on the table—thunk, thunk—each tap drawing attention.

"The Greengrass family," he murmured, deep in thought.

His mind drifted to the letter he'd received the previous day—Mr. Greengrass had read about him in the paper.

He'd asked John to keep an eye on his two daughters.

Even though the reluctant tone came through clearly in the wording and the puncture marks on the letter, it did pique John's curiosity about the sisters.

Mr. Greengrass had mentioned a curse passed down in the Greengrass maternal line.

It was a type of bloodline curse, one that lay dormant in the body and was passed on to the female descendants.

Though neither of the sisters had shown any symptoms yet, Mr. Greengrass feared it might one day awaken in them.

Coincidentally, Mr. Greengrass had just read about John receiving the Order of Merlin, Second Class—he could even break blood curses, so this kind of hereditary curse should be within his ability too.

"He commissioned me to protect them, to prevent anything before it happens."

John narrowed his eyes, his scrutinizing gaze sweeping over the sisters.

Honestly, if Mr. Greengrass hadn't mentioned it, he wouldn't have even known the curse existed.

This particular curse drastically shortened one's lifespan—those afflicted would die before the age of thirty.

Daphne was fifteen now, which meant… half her life was already over.

A more thorough examination is needed.

He was deep in thought, completely unaware that the look in his eyes was making Daphne squirm.

Just as she was reaching her limit, John's badge gave a slight tremble.

He snapped out of it and tapped the badge.

His expression changed instantly. He stood up and quickly left the library.

This sudden move made both Daphne and Malfoy frown. Malfoy also tapped his badge and asked Daphne, "Did you get a message?"

Daphne shook her head. "No."

"Could it be Percy?" These days, most of their communication was done through the group chat.

And the only one who would send a private message like that was Percy.

Fleur, though she was outside the school, mostly used the group chat to complain about Silverhand Angel investments.

Completely unaware that her boss was right there in the group chat.

"It could be the other one," Daphne reminded him.

Besides Percy, they had another teammate outside the school.

Kim Ladislay.

Although Kim rarely spoke, they all knew—he was working on something.

Something John had forbidden them from getting involved in.

...

In the Constellation Society's secret chamber, John stared at a map, deep in thought.

Several locations were marked, but none of them had what he was looking for.

"The only one left is that place."

His eyes landed on a spot on the map—Voldemort's ancestral home, and also the closest point to that graveyard.

He rubbed his brow and sent a message to Kim.

"Do your best."

The badge fell silent again, and John let out a sigh.

Voldemort was an ambitious man—but at the same time, he was incredibly sentimental.

This much was clear from where he'd hidden the locket—it was a place he'd visited as a child.

To find the remaining Horcruxes, John's best approach was to search every place Voldemort had once been.

And this mission had to be kept quiet—absolutely no word could reach Voldemort.

Horcruxes held extraordinary power, and only a will strong enough could resist their influence.

Kim was a good candidate for the task.

John had split the search into internal and external efforts.

The internal search referred to Hogwarts—if there was any place that had the greatest influence on Voldemort, it was undoubtedly Hogwarts.

Looking at the Horcruxes Voldemort had prepared, he had chosen the relics of the four founders as their vessels, which meant Hogwarts held extraordinary significance to him.

The diary had been placed with the Malfoys, the cup in the Lestrange vault, the locket in the cave from his childhood.

It was highly likely that one Horcrux was hidden within Hogwarts. John just didn't know where it might be.

Hogwarts was too mysterious—a place filled with all kinds of magic and hidden secrets.

"Neville, I hope you can find it," John muttered. He chose Neville for the task.

Because he, too, was a child who fit the prophecy—and the one fated to destroy Horcruxes.

If the Horcrux was hidden within Hogwarts, then only two people would be capable of finding it.

Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom.

Both were children of prophecy, and prophecies in the wizarding world carried a mysterious weight of fate.

In John's eyes, prophecies were essentially magical determinism.

No matter how you tried to escape, in the end, you would always be drawn back into the prophecy.

John knew this all too well.

He himself possessed the gift of prophecy.

As for the outside search, John had assigned Kim to trace Voldemort's past whereabouts.

Given Voldemort's mindset, he would never put all his eggs in one basket.

John's gaze swept across the table. With a wave of his hand, everything on it neatly packed itself away.

The map folded and sank into the desk, and in its place, a cauldron rose before him.

Inside, a metallic, shimmering liquid was boiling and bubbling. John tossed in a handful of unicorn powder.

Then he uncorked a vial containing a faintly glowing leaf and carefully placed it into the mixture.

The liquid in the cauldron roiled violently—John furrowed his brow. The surging magic inside was nearly overflowing.

Under John's tense gaze, the churning liquid gradually began to stabilize.

"There's immense magical power in here."

Leaving that cauldron to continue simmering, John took out another one.

He opened a hidden shelf behind the display cabinet—inside, rows upon rows of vials were neatly arranged, each one containing a pure, white soul.

He selected one, added a unicorn horn, and began the fusion process.

A vial of soul potion was successfully brewed.

"Next, I need to find out the exact nature of the Greengrass family's curse."

He had to prepare soul protection measures in advance before he could safely approach the curse in his friend's bloodline.

Bloodline curses were notoriously troublesome—similar to lycanthropy and the blood curse, they were practically death sentences.

The Greengrass curse didn't cause physical mutation, but it drastically shortened lifespan.

Rather than a curse, it was more like a chronic poison slowly corroding the body from within.

As a pure-blood family, the Greengrasses had surely sought help from renowned wizards—none of whom could break it.

"Though it's called a bloodline curse, it's more deeply hidden within the soul."

The soul potion swirled gently in John's hand. He couldn't yet decide if a soul surgery would be necessary.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be necessary—even now, the mysteries of the soul were far from fully understood, even for him.

Mr. Greengrass had also mentioned that it was only a possibility.

If the curse wasn't present, that would naturally be for the best. But if it was, then John needed to be fully prepared.

Every bloodline curse required long-term, meticulous study.

"I need to talk to Daphne."

John walked out of the chamber. From Mr. Greengrass's letter, it seemed the Greengrass sisters weren't even aware of the bloodline curse yet.

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