The Christmas holidays at Hogwarts were proving to be less interesting than usual. Apart from his daily observations of the Marauder's Map, John found amusement in making Draco Malfoy experience a fraction of Neville Longbottom's frequent discomforts.
"You can give up anytime; I never force anyone," John said nonchalantly. He stood outside the Whomping Willow, watching as Malfoy tried to evade the violently swinging branches. "Shut up, John," Malfoy retorted, already nursing a few bruises. Initially, he had been perplexed by the notion that wizards needed to train their physical dodging abilities. However, after witnessing John effortlessly dodge three of his curses in succession, Malfoy began to understand the importance of physical agility.
John's voice dripped with sarcasm, "You were wise not to let Goyle and the others come. Your current state is quite embarrassing." He continued, "A Malfoy, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, unable to outmaneuver a tree? Perhaps your father is correct. With your family's wealth, you can afford to live a life devoid of purpose." His taunts were sharp, cutting deep into Malfoy's pride. "Look at you, scampering like a rat chased by a broom. How much did your family donate to Hogwarts to secure your admission?" John mused aloud, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich, his demeanor exuding disdain.
Malfoy, seething with resentment, questioned internally why he should endure such humiliation while watching John, a Muggle-born wizard, revel in his discomfort. The noble pure-blood within him revolted. Overcome with rage and unable to withstand further humiliation, Malfoy aimed his wand at the Whomping Willow, casting a spell in a fit of anger. Just as the spell neared its target, an Iron Armour Charm materialized, absorbing the impact. The first layer of the charm shattered, but the second layer held firm, protecting the tree. Enraged, the Whomping Willow lashed out with even greater ferocity. Malfoy, caught off guard, was moments away from a painful strike when John intervened, casting a Levitation Charm to pull Malfoy to safety.
"Your spell's power has increased since the last attempt. Remember this feeling," John commended, intrigued by the correlation between emotional intensity and spell potency. Malfoy's anger had inadvertently boosted his spell's strength by a significant margin, though at the cost of precision. John made a note of this observation, pondering the implications.
Malfoy, still fuming, realized that John's training sessions were not just about improving his magical prowess but also about controlling his emotions. Typically, John would conclude these sessions with a Sleeping Charm, allowing Malfoy to rest and recover from the day's exertions.
"Time for another rest," John declared, casting the Sleeping Charm before Malfoy could protest. Goyle and Crabbe, accustomed to their friend's frequent bouts of exhaustion, carried him back to the castle.
John reflected on the day's events, recognizing the potential dangers of unchecked anger. He considered pausing their sessions, unaware that his actions were being closely monitored.
In the shadows, Severus Snape observed with a growing sense of unease. He sought out Albus Dumbledore, his expression devoid of its usual disdain, replaced by a palpable anger.
"Dumbledore, it's time you intervened with John Wick," Snape insisted upon entering the headmaster's office. Dumbledore, surprised by Snape's tone, looked up from his work. "What seems to be the problem, Severus?"
"He's amassing power, slowly but surely. You cannot be oblivious to this," Snape argued, his past as a Death Eater allowing him to recognize the signs. John Wick, with his exceptional talent, charisma, and influence, reminded Snape of another dark figure from the past. "Aside from his blood status, this boy is a perfect echo of him," Snape concluded, his concern evident. There was a hint of madness in his voice, as if it were dredged from the depths of a dark, watery abyss. "He's emulating the Dark Lord. He refuses to be just another face in the crowd. His takeover of Slytherin House in just one school year is proof enough," Snape argued, his voice laced with a mix of excitement and concern.
Dumbledore responded with his characteristic calm, "Calm down, Severus. He's only a child."
"Voldemort was once 'just a child'!" Snape countered, emphasizing each word, daring even to utter the name of the feared Dark Lord. His concern was palpable. "John Wick," he sneered, his voice taking on a mocking tone, "Don't pretend you're unaware of his actions. He dabbled in dark magic in his first year, demonstrated patience and ambition, and now even Draco Malfoy, in his pride, bows to him."
"Dumbledore, we both know what this signifies—the Heir of Slytherin. How can you be so sure he isn't?" Snape pressed, his frustration evident.
"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice grew stern, bringing a momentary calm to Snape. "That's a grave accusation."
Gazing thoughtfully at the Sword of Gryffindor, Dumbledore spoke softly, "I believe John Wick is different. He has family, friends, and... love."
Snape's demeanor had cooled, but his gaze remained icy as he looked at Dumbledore. "I hope you're right. The wizarding world cannot afford to lose another Dumbledore."
With those final words, Snape departed, leaving Dumbledore alone with his thoughts. The specter of Voldemort haunted Snape, having claimed the life of his beloved. Dumbledore was acutely aware of this, as well as the fact that Voldemort, in his second year, had not been as remarkable as John. John's companions were drawn to him not by blood, but by strength—a stark contrast to the past.
Dumbledore sighed, looking at the sword. "I hope it's you, John." He reflected on the time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, acknowledging that if not for Harry, he couldn't imagine anyone more suitable than John to face such challenges. "If it's John, then he won't become the next Dark Lord."
Snape was correct; the wizarding world lacked a second Dumbledore. The emergence of a third Dark Lord was something they could ill afford.
...
Unbeknownst to John, his actions had sparked a heated debate between Snape and Dumbledore. He was preoccupied with opening an envelope delivered by an owl that seemed on the brink of collapse. The seal was unfamiliar to John, depicting a bat clutching a sword, and the letter bore the address of Durmstrang.
Inside, he found a letter and what appeared to be a scale. "Fire dragon scales?" he wondered aloud. The letter, written in elegant script, was cryptic: "I'm here to find you."
John was puzzled. "Feels like a threat, doesn't it?" He considered the possibility of a prank by the Weasley twins but dismissed it upon seeing the sender's name: Heydrich Edgar. Memories of a summer duel in the forest with the Durmstrang student flashed through his mind.
"Why 'find me'?" John pondered. He couldn't recall any actions on his part that might have provoked such a message. Deciding not to dwell on it, he set the matter aside and headed to the Room of Requirement.
John's current project was an attempt to recreate the Marauder's Map. Given that the original was the work of students, he reasoned that with his Level 3 alchemy skills, he should be able to replicate it. His goal wasn't just to duplicate the map but to understand and apply its underlying magic, which allowed it to track individuals within Hogwarts.
Inside the Room of Requirement, John began by adding ingredients to the Felicity Elixir. The potion was nearing completion, and he anticipated finishing it by the start of the next term, which was also when he planned to explore the Slytherin Chamber.
_________
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