"Good morning, Kick." As John reached down to pick up the cat that was rubbing against his feet, he couldn't help but feel content with Fluffy's company. Kick, the cat, meowed in response, and three more cats scampered out to gather around John's feet. He then took out the canned cat food he had brought along. Tom, his dog, wagged his tail in dissatisfaction, circling around John. He had been promised a walk, yet here they were, feeding cats instead.
An elderly lady, leaning on a cane, was making her way slowly towards them. John looked up and greeted her warmly, "Mrs. Figg, good morning." Arabella Figg, with a smile that lit up her face upon seeing John, was no ordinary old lady. Unknown to many, she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a Squib under Dumbledore's request to keep an eye on Harry. Six months ago, Dumbledore had added another name to Mrs. Figg's watch list: John Wick. Dumbledore had personally visited to get to know the student. Mrs. Figg had taken a liking to John, especially because of his fondness for cats, a trait that reminded her of Dumbledore's love for sweets. This fondness had convinced Dumbledore to entrust John with the temporary guardianship of the Philosopher's Stone, a fact John was unaware of.
After giving each of the kittens some attention, John joked, "It's better to be a cat outside; it won't suddenly turn into an older cat girl." Once he had satisfied his affection for the cats, he was about to leave when he sensed someone watching him. "Spying on me?" His first thought was the Death Eaters, but he quickly dismissed it. The Death Eater he had encountered previously was after Nicolas Flamel, not him. He wasn't Harry Potter, the savior, and held no value for the Death Eaters to monitor.
Shrugging off the feeling, John continued as usual. After bidding Mrs. Figg goodbye, he took Tom for their jog. "Gone?" Once he left Privet Drive, the sensation of being watched vanished. This puzzled John, and the feeling returned the next day during his morning run. This time, John caught a glimpse of the observer: a person wrapped up as if suffering from a skin disease. The mysterious figure did not follow once John jogged out of Privet Drive.
"Could they be spying on Harry?" John pondered, considering Harry had already left. The thought seemed unlikely. On the third day, while running, John accidentally dropped something from his pocket. The item sparkled in the sunlight, catching the eye of the mysterious figure, who suddenly showed a glint of greed. Rushing over, the figure picked up the dropped item—a gold Galleon—and smiled, "Good luck never fails." With the Galleon safely tucked away, the figure no longer pursued John.
That night, under the cover of a disillusionment spell, John stepped out with a piece of parchment in hand. This wasn't the Marauder's Map but a simpler navigation tool with an arrow that changed direction as John moved. He followed the arrow until it led him to a modest house, empty except for a fireplace connected to the Floo network and a tent set up inside.
"Let me guess, head to Diagon Alley," John mused, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and calling out the destination. A green fire enveloped him, and in the next moment, he emerged in a shop within Diagon Alley. Dusting off the chimney ash from his nose, he reapplied the disillusionment spell and ventured out into the night.
Diagon Alley was quiet at night, with only a few cloaked figures moving about, some engaging in what appeared to be illicit transactions. "Knockturn Alley?" John realized where he had ended up before he knew it. In the shadowy confines of Knockturn Alley, nestled just a stone's throw away from the bustling Diagon Alley, the air was thick with the scent of clandestine dealings. Here, Mundungus Fletcher, a figure shrouded in a cloak, found himself embroiled in a heated exchange with a shopkeeper. "Your greed knows no bounds. Do you have any idea of the effort it took to procure this?" Mundungus protested, his voice laced with frustration.
The shopkeeper, unimpressed, retorted with a sneer, "Effort? This is nothing more than a simple looking glass. Mundungus, the quality of your stolen goods has been on a steady decline." Defeated and seething, Mundungus stormed out of the Le Bo Jinbok antique shop, his plans of robbery thwarted by his own reluctance to escalate the confrontation.
As he wandered the streets, Mundungus's thoughts turned to the Leaky Cauldron, a place where he could drown his sorrows and perhaps find an unsuspecting mark to swindle. "What a wretched day. Dumbledore has me tailing this kid, leaving me no time for my own ventures. Forget Harry Potter; why should I bother with this kid?" he grumbled to himself, lamenting the missed opportunities to enrich himself.
His scheming was abruptly interrupted when he felt the cold press of a wand against his lower back. A voice, menacing and low, warned, "Don't move, unless you fancy a hole in your stomach." Trembling with fear, Mundungus offered up his few remaining Galleons in a bid to appease his assailant. Before he could attempt any magical escape, his wand was expertly confiscated, leaving him utterly defenseless.
John, the mysterious figure behind the wand, led Mundungus into a secluded corner. "It seems you're not as honest as you claim," John observed, his voice dripping with skepticism. Mundungus, trying to mask his fear with bravado, insisted on his innocence. John, however, was not easily fooled.
It was then that John revealed his awareness of Dumbledore's directive, surmising that it was likely a protective measure in light of his past encounters with Death Eaters in France. John, now the custodian of Nicolas Flamel's vast knowledge and experimental manuscripts, understood the potential dangers that lurked. Yet, realizing Mundungus was not a threat, John saw an opportunity to exploit.
As Mundungus braced himself for the worst, John proposed an unexpected offer. "Do you want to make some money, Mundungus Fletcher?" he asked, presenting a chance for Mundungus to engage in a lucrative venture. Confused but intrigued, Mundungus agreed, sensing that refusal was not an option.
John outlined his plan: Mundungus was to assist in selling several magical artifacts, creations of John's own foray into the darker aspects of magic, unsuitable for the likes of Diagon Alley but perfect for the clientele of Knockturn Alley. "All you need to do is agree, and we'll split the profits," John stated, his wand still pressing ominously against Mundungus.
Eager to escape his precarious situation, Mundungus nodded fervently, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of easy gold. John, satisfied with the agreement, showcased the dangerous artifacts, setting a three-day deadline for Mundungus to deliver the profits.
With the wand finally removed from his back, Mundungus collected his wand from the ground, his gaze fixed on the artifacts before him, a glint of greed flickering in his eyes. The fear that had momentarily gripped Mundungus Fletcher vanished as he admired the object in his hands. "This is such a rare find; old Borgin will definitely take an interest in it," he mused, glancing around before carefully stowing the item away. Unbeknownst to him, his actions were being closely observed by John, who had chosen not to leave the scene just yet. Instead, John watched as Mundungus made his way back to Borgin and Burkes, the notorious antique shop. When Mundungus emerged, his pockets were noticeably heavier with a substantial amount of Galleons.
After a moment of contemplation, Mundungus decided to split his earnings, perhaps thinking he could conceal a portion for himself. However, the instant this thought crossed his mind, he experienced a sharp, tingling pain in his waist, a sensation that filled him with dread. In a panic, he quickly relinquished the money, taking out only a fraction of the total amount. It was then that John's voice broke the silence, "As I mentioned, you're entitled to a percentage of the earnings. If you wish to continue our arrangement, use this to contact me." With that, John tossed a piece of parchment towards Mundungus, who, after a brief hesitation, picked it up.
Mundungus stood frozen in place for a long while, not daring to make a move until he was certain John had departed. It was only then that he allowed himself a sigh of relief, grateful for the unexpected turn of events that had spared him. As he looked down at the Galleons—his share of the loot, which ironically exceeded what he would have made through theft alone—he found himself lost in thought, pondering the peculiar and risky partnership he had unwittingly entered into.
_________
If you are tired of reading I also have this converted to an audio novel on my youtube
https://www.youtube.com/@NovelAudioForge/featured
Direct Link to playlist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_Hg-qsW4rM&list=PLKskshYG-OcPTR4-Nw7IWFEBZm07D8pBV&ab_channel=NovelAudioForge