The ball ended at midnight.
With the start of the Christmas holiday, John's life became dull.
He had only one task—to recover from his injuries.
The aftereffects of using mind magic were worse than he had expected.
For example, at this very moment, he was sitting there, tears streaming down his face, looking utterly dejected.
"This damn empathy is making me overly sentimental."
Like some kind of tear incontinence, John would start crying at the slightest provocation.
If his emotions got even a little intense, the tears would flow uncontrollably.
Thankfully, it was the holidays, so he didn't have to go out and see people.
Only the members of the Constellation Society knew about this.
Malfoy wanted to laugh but didn't dare, nearly giving himself internal injuries from holding it in.
Daphne, on the other hand, was in an excellent mood, practically radiating happiness.
She carefully cut the fruit into small pieces, picked one up with her slender fingers, and held it to John's lips.
"Uwuuwu, Daphne, you're so good to me."
Damn empathy.
John wished he could just get rid of this ability.
Overcome with emotion, he hugged Daphne and started crying.
Daphne patted his back gently, as if comforting a child, her smile blooming like a flower.
"There, there, be good," she said soothingly.
With her patient consoling, the happiness radiating from Daphne became even more dazzling.
Malfoy found the whole thing amusing. He crept closer, hoping to provoke John a little.
Seeing through Malfoy's mischief, John landed a punch on him, sending him straight into baby-like sleep.
When Fleur arrived at the Constellation Society and saw Malfoy lying motionless on the floor while John clung to Daphne, sobbing uncontrollably, she paused.
"...Should I not have come?" Fleur fell into deep thought. Fortunately, Cedric arrived right after her.
Both of them were stunned by John's current state.
Trying to pull himself together, John looked up at them, his eyes still red at the corners.
For the first time, Fleur felt that the phrase "pitifully beautiful" could be used for a man.
Fleur admitted that she had been hurt by what she saw—so from this moment on, she was quitting alcohol!
"I've already found the clue."
Doing her best to ignore the pitiful sight of John, Fleur cleared her throat twice, raised an eyebrow, and said to Cedric, "Do you want me to tell you the clue?"
Cedric smiled helplessly and replied, "I already know."
Fleur's proud expression froze.
"Cedric was actually thinking about whether he should remind you… Honestly, seeing him like this, I could cry."
In fact, John really did cry.
"This friendship is amazing."
"Hey, don't cry!"
Fleur wanted to help, but Daphne shot her a glare, making her back off.
After a bit of chaos, John finally managed to steady himself again.
He took deep breaths to regulate his emotions, then, returning to his usual calm tone, said, "Sorry, it's a side effect from overusing magic last time."
"It'll be fine in a few days."
"Alright then."
Still struggling to accept that the usually composed and strategic John had turned into a crybaby, Fleur and Cedric nodded hesitantly.
Just then, Heinrich returned and silently took a seat.
John glanced at him, and Heinrich nodded subtly.
"Fleur, have you decided on your method?" John crossed his hands under his chin.
Fleur shot a wary glance at Cedric and said, "I'm planning to use the Bubble-Head Charm, but I'm not very skilled with it yet."
"Looks like you and Cedric have the same idea." John nodded. "Perhaps you both should learn how to communicate with underwater creatures."
Cedric and Fleur fell into thought—this was something they had overlooked.
They had forgotten that in this treasure hunt, there were underwater creatures acting as NPCs.
John's reminder made them realize their mistake, and the two left to prepare accordingly.
Once they were gone, John continued to lie there in utter despair.
He had already started brewing potions—he needed something similar to a sedative.
...
Before the start of the second term, John finally managed to suppress his overwhelming empathy ability.
Daphne became unhappy about this, much to John's confusion.
A large flock of owls flew into the Great Hall.
One of them carried a copy of the Daily Prophet and dropped it in front of him.
John picked up the newspaper and saw Hagrid's name mentioned in a short article.
"If Hagrid saw the title 'Magizoologist,' he'd probably wake up laughing."
Chuckling, John could sense Rita Skeeter's desperate survival instincts through the article.
She had probably lost a few strands of hair trying to write this. The article claimed that Hagrid was beloved by the school, that he was the Savior Harry Potter's favorite professor, and that he enjoyed a thrilling teaching style.
It even introduced Hagrid's creation—the Blast-Ended Skrewt—calling it a groundbreaking milestone in the field of Magizoology.
"Too exaggerated."
Turning the page, John saw that the Triwizard Tournament column was still being reported on.
The local wizarding community had been swept up in a betting frenzy. Whether young witches and wizards or old ones, everyone was placing a few Sickles or Galleons.
Even though most bets weren't for large amounts, everyone was eager to see if they could strike it rich.
Foreign countries were also accepting bets, and though the amounts were small individually, they were accumulating to a total that rivaled the World Cup.
John did some calculations—at this rate, he might make more money than he had during the World Cup.
Viktor Krum's stellar performance at the Quidditch World Cup, combined with the presence of the "Savior" Harry Potter, had turned the Triwizard Tournament into a massive sensation.
Of course, good management played a role as well.
With The Daily Prophet aggressively promoting the event, it was nearly impossible not to know about it.
The rankings for the tournament favorites had shifted.
Originally the top contender, Krum had dropped to third place, while Cedric had risen to second.
Harry, who had been in second place, was now ranked first.
"If it weren't for Krum's massive fanbase, he'd probably be in fourth place by now."
John shook his head—Fleur was at a disadvantage simply because she wasn't well-known.
And despite Cedric having earned the highest score, the newspapers still put Harry ahead of him.
Speaking of which, was it really allowed to use a Firebolt in the first task?
Wasn't the whole point to rely on their wands?
It was like being told to write an essay without the help of your teacher and someone's mother wrote it saying the teacher didn't help him after all.
This competition seemed a bit unfair to rule-abiding participants.
John wasn't sure if this counted as exploiting a loophole.
As he pondered this, a sleek black owl flashed by and dropped an envelope.
Without any change in expression, he picked it up and decided to open it later that night.
That day, they had a Care of Magical Creatures class, and Hagrid was grinning from ear to ear the entire time.
Looking at the Blast-Ended Skrewts, John suspected that Hagrid had only noticed the praise in Rita's article and completely overlooked the small criticisms about the dangers of his lessons.
By the end of the day, John finally opened the envelope and quickly scanned its contents.
His expression quickly darkened.
"An attack… and they haven't caught the culprit."
He stared at the handwriting on the letter—it was sent from Silverhand Manor.
Someone had attempted to attack the manor's guards but had been driven away.
The fact that they had managed to find Silverhand Manor in the first place meant they were definitely not ordinary.
"Could it be Voldemort?"
John considered the possibility but wasn't entirely convinced. If it had been Voldemort, the attacker wouldn't have just been chased off.
Silverhand Manor was holding Barty Crouch Jr., so it was highly likely that Death Eaters had come looking for him.
"I already cut off his Dark Mark, yet they still managed to track him down… This isn't simple."
He had somewhat underestimated the Death Eaters who had once thrown the wizarding world into chaos.
After Voldemort's fall, most of the Death Eaters had been imprisoned in Azkaban.
But most of those were just small fry—the true elites were people like the Lestrange family.
Besides them, there were still some Death Eaters who had managed to escape, lying low as they awaited Voldemort's return.
"If the Death Eaters were able to locate Barty Jr. at the manor, that means… there might be a traitor on the inside."
John's eyes turned cold. Silverhand Manor was protected by enchantments—aside from the security team, it was nearly impossible for anyone else to get inside.
The possibility of an internal betrayal immediately put him on high alert.
Without hesitation, he wrote to Tommy, instructing him to conduct a thorough investigation.
If the security team had been compromised, the situation would be extremely dangerous.
Of course, John couldn't let Tommy investigate openly. Instead, he told him to find someone trustworthy to infiltrate the security team at Silverhand Manor.
The next day, Tommy replied.
He assured John that he would conduct a full investigation and had already sent in someone highly skilled in disguise to infiltrate the team.
John could rest easy.
In response, John sent Tommy a special ring. When worn, it would temporarily disable the restraints on Barty Crouch Jr.
The moment it was removed, the restraints John had placed would automatically reactivate.
Barty Crouch Jr. was secretly transferred to another prison.
…
Ludo Bagman had been locked up for over ten days.
During this time, aside from the single meal delivered to him each day, he had no one to talk to.
It was driving him insane.
That day, Ludo woke up and was shocked to find another person in the room.
Overjoyed, he didn't care much about who it was, though the person did look somewhat familiar.
Grinning, he leaned in closer.
Barty Crouch Jr. opened his eyes—only to see a large face looming over him.
Smack!
Without hesitation, he threw a punch.
Ludo was completely caught off guard and took the hit head-on. Stunned for a moment, he quickly became furious and struck back.
Smack! Bang! Smack!
The two of them began trading blows.
Ludo couldn't understand—how was someone missing a hand still fighting so aggressively?
In the end, he curled up in the corner, looking like a bullied housewife, full of fear.
Barty's eyes darkened with uncertainty. He had no idea how he had ended up here.
At the same time, Lippi Cobell, who was smoking a cigarette, had become friends with the security team.
As a veteran Auror, Lippi's greatest strength wasn't magic—it was the ability to get along with just about anyone.
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