Hogwarts' John Wick

After returning, John essentially stayed holed up in the Constellation Society.

Whenever someone wanted to find him, they couldn't.

Skipping the rest of his classes with complete confidence—only he could pull that off.

Naturally, this had Snape fuming, his temple veins throbbing with rage.

When Snape finally saw John, his expression was far from pleasant.

"Mr. Wick, if your brain isn't entirely made of pumpkin juice, you might recall what you've neglected," Snape said in his usual sarcastic tone.

John, long accustomed to this attitude, shrugged it off. His head of house had always been a professional at passive-aggression.

He thought for a moment, realizing there was indeed one thing he hadn't addressed yet. "The werewolf?"

Snape gave him a cold glance, which was all the confirmation John needed.

Knowing the truth made no difference—Snape was simply bitter about Lupin being allowed to serve as a professor.

John wanted to point out that the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was practically cursed to begin with—why would he need to lift a finger?

But seeing Snape's expression, John could piece together some of the subtext.

From Snape's perspective, the so-called "heroic" Gryffindors must seem unbearably hypocritical and repugnant.

"I understand," John nodded, and as he stepped out of the room, Snape called him back.

"John Wick, you left something here," Snape said coldly.

Following the reminder, John noticed the badge lying on the desk.

His expression flickered momentarily, but he managed a smile. "Almost forgot."

He pocketed the badge and left the room with a blank expression.

Earlier, he had intentionally left the badge behind to gauge Snape's attitude.

Now it was clear—the man genuinely wanted nothing to do with him.

"Tsk.. Is the Constellation Society really so beneath notice?"

John's face twitched slightly. It was impossible not to feel disappointed.

If Snape had joined the Constellation Society, John could have avoided a lot of trouble.

But it seemed Snape was firmly in Dumbledore's camp.

Smoothing out his emotions, John headed toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

He knocked on the door, and Lupin's voice called out, "Come in."

Opening the door, John found Lupin grading assignments.

Lupin's expression sharpened when he noticed John entering.

John sat down without hesitation, his face calm, and said with a pointed tone, "Professor, you seem to be quite wary of me."

From suspicion to cautious probing, Lupin was gradually confirming his assumptions.

Lupin put down his quill, looked at John seriously, and said, "Johnny Silverhand.."

John froze.

What the hell—did I just get exposed?

"John, you're a follower of Johnny Silverhand..."

"...aren't you?"

The rest of the sentence landed, and Lupin saw John's momentarily stiff expression, further solidifying his suspicion.

With a bitter smile, Lupin said, "I knew it. From the first time we met, I noticed there was something different about you."

Lupin took a deep breath, recalling his encounter at Johnny Silverhand specialty shop. He advised earnestly, "John, that person is very dangerous. You shouldn't get too deeply involved. Idolizing someone like that will only lead you down a dark path."

Idolize?

A dark path?

John fell into deep thought. Am I idolizing myself?

Lupin, however, took his silence as contemplation, his expression growing more somber.

From John's subtle mimicking of Johnny Silverhand's gestures, Lupin had long since deduced John's admiration for the man.

If Lupin hadn't witnessed a gruesome and horrifying scene firsthand, he might have admired the all-controlling "Mr. Johnny Silverhand" himself.

But there were no ifs. Playing with souls was a forbidden art, and not even someone like Johnny Silverhand could change that.

John finally realized what was going on—clearly, Lupin thought he was just a diehard fan of Johnny Silverhand.

John was more than happy to let this misunderstanding persist. With a faintly embarrassed look, as though his secret had just been uncovered, he steeled himself and said, "You're a werewolf, aren't you, Professor?"

Lupin nodded, as if he already knew what John was going to say, and preemptively responded, "I know. Werewolves have benefited from Mr. Johnny Silverhand's efforts, and I respect him, but I can't become like him."

Despite being indebted to Johnny Silverhand's actions, Lupin had no intention of exposing the man for breaking taboos.

"A werewolf becoming a professor—isn't that all thanks to him?" John pressed, his tone sharp.

Lupin didn't deny it and nodded.

Only someone like him, who had faced severe discrimination, could truly understand the value of equality.

He said with a conflicted expression, "I admit all of this is true. That's why I've decided I won't continue in this position. I don't want to stay, even though Professor Dumbledore has promised I can."

"John," Lupin said, gazing at Hogwart's brightest student with a sigh, "I sincerely hope you don't become like him."

"I won't."

Because I already am him!

John replied with a straight face while internally rolling his eyes.

Lupin seemed reassured by John's earnest tone, even looking a bit relieved. He then revealed John's scores ahead of schedule: unsurprisingly, they were perfect.

As John left, he glanced at the now neatly packed office, a clear sign that Lupin hadn't been lying about his departure.

Still, Lupin's words left John feeling irked. What do you mean by 'someone like Johnny Silverhand' anyway?

John silently scoffed to himself. I've done nothing but good things for the wizarding world. Aren't I the model citizen?

Judging from Lupin's attitude, the odds of him revisiting the Johnny Silverhand Exclusive Shop anytime soon seemed slim. With a twinge of regret, John decided to let it go.

When he arrived at the Great Hall and had just taken a seat, Hermione pulled him aside in a hurry.

Assuming she wanted the Time-Turner back, John immediately produced the broken hourglass and began reciting the apology he had prepared in advance.

"Sorry, this thing broke—"

"John, I want to apologize to you."

They spoke at the same time and froze mid-sentence.

Hermione was the first to recover. She glanced at the damaged Time-Turner and quickly shook her head.

"It's fine. I'll turn it in to the professor and say I accidentally broke it."

Rushing through her explanation, she then fixed her gaze on John, her expression heavy with guilt.

"I'm sorry, John. I doubted you."

"Eh?"

Doubted me?

When did that happen?

John was baffled. He hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.

But Hermione, still looking deeply apologetic, seemed determined to get her feelings out. She considered her suspicion of a friend a grave insult.

Even though her suspicion had never been voiced, Hermione still chose to apologize.

"That time Sirius Black got into the Gryffindor common room—I suspected it was you who gave him the password."

As she spoke, Hermione's face was tense with worry. She was afraid of losing this friend.

She could have hidden this doubt, kept it to herself, and no one would have known. John would have remained her friend as if nothing had happened.

But Hermione couldn't accept that.

To her, friendship required honesty, not suspicion or concealment.

John listened, silent for a moment.

Hermione's palms grew clammy, and the color drained from her face. Is he angry after all?

Suddenly, John chuckled softly. Seeing Hermione's cheeks regain some color, he said seriously, "Hermione, I accept your apology."

That one sentence made Hermione let out a deep breath of relief, her pale face finally brightening.

"Maybe it's because I have too many secrets, making it hard for me to be completely honest with others," John said, looking directly at Hermione—his very first friend since stepping into Hogwarts.

Their time together had grown shorter and shorter, but their friendship had withstood the test of time.

"But, Hermione, I would never hurt a friend."

When John spoke those words, he meant every one of them.

Hermione nodded; she believed him.

She swallowed back the question lingering on her lips about what had happened by the lake that day. She knew whatever had transpired must have been full of danger.

Seeing John return as if nothing had happened, Hermione chose not to press the matter.

Instead, the two of them focused on the broken Time-Turner. After some discussion, they decided to explain the situation together to Dumbledore.

For this, John put on an extra long-sleeved shirt under his robe.

Although his right hand had healed, he still felt a little tense as they headed to the Headmaster's office.

"Treacle tart."

Having learned the password from Professor McGonagall, the two ascended the spiral staircase.

Upon entering, they were greeted by the familiar sight of the Sorting Hat and an assortment of peculiar silver instruments.

However, this time, there was something new.

John's gaze fell on the wand resting on the desk, and his pupils contracted.

The Elder Wand.

In the office, the kind and benevolent silver-haired old man seemed unsurprised by their visit.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Wick," Dumbledore greeted them warmly.

Two chairs were already placed there. After John sat down, he looked up and met those wise, piercing eyes.

He immediately stiffened, activating Occlumency.

"I'm sorry, Professor, the Time-Turner broke because of me," Hermione was the first to speak.

She was a bold witch, speaking loudly, "It's all because I was so careless."

Dumbledore's reaction was unexpectedly calm. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Miss Granger, it's merely an object, and like all things, it was bound to break one day."

"I'm simply relieved that its damage did not harm you," Dumbledore said, his tone that of a kind, doting grandfather.

Then, Dumbledore shifted his gaze to John and said, "Mr. Wick, I'm glad you chose to accompany Hermione here."

After a brief pause, Dumbledore's expression turned contemplative. "I will explain everything to the Ministry of Magic, though it may take some time. Their interim minister is dealing with a bit of trouble."

John blocked out any attempts at reading his thoughts, focusing his mind and showing no reaction.

Hermione, however, couldn't contain her curiosity. "What happened at the Ministry?"

Dumbledore smiled gently. "It concerns a grave miscarriage of justice from twelve years ago. I believe today's Daily Prophet will provide a detailed report."

He winked, and Hermione, being the clever witch she was, immediately thought of Sirius Black.

She couldn't sit still any longer and quickly stood to excuse herself.

John was about to leave as well when Dumbledore stopped him.

"John, I hope you can let go of certain things. On the path of magic, not everything is just." Dumbledore said, his tone unconsciously carrying a mix of seriousness, gravity, and even a hint of reprimand.

John stopped and turned back to ask doubtfully, "Professor Dumbledore, did you only apply for one time-turner?"

With that, John briskly walked away.

Dumbledore opened the drawer and looked at the intact time-turner lying quietly inside. He sighed.

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