An ear hit the ground with a soft thud, severed from its owner. Fenrir, the werewolf, clutched the side of his head in agony. The perpetrator, John, stood coolly with a dagger in his right hand, its blade stained with blood. "I want you to die!" Fenrir roared, lunging at John in a blind rage.
John sidestepped with ease, his dagger dancing through the air to leave seven bloody wounds on Fenrir's body. Fenrir collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. John, with a look of disdain, wiped the werewolf's blood from his dagger onto Fenrir's clothes. "Pick up your ear. I won't have your filthy blood staining my floor," he commanded indifferently.
Fenrir, fueled by pain and rage, let out a howl that was echoed by the four werewolves accompanying him. They charged at John in a frenzied attack. Lupin, witnessing the scene, raised his wand to intervene, but Tang Mi held him back. Despite the danger, Tang Mi's confident demeanor suggested she knew something they didn't.
John, unfazed by the approaching threat, simply stated, "I said, keep my floor clean." With a graceful flick of his wand, he transformed a nearby bench into two large dogs that pounced on the werewolves, while another spell sent one werewolf floating helplessly towards the ceiling. A repelling charm flung another attacker across the room, and just as Fenrir was about to sink his teeth into John, a fireball engulfed him, singeing his fur and skin.
One werewolf managed to regain his footing, only to be met with the pointed end of John's wand. "Crucio," John uttered, and the werewolf writhed in agony under the curse's effect. Lupin and the surrounding wizards watched in horror, realizing the dark capabilities that lurked within Knockturn Alley.
Despite Fenrir's resilience, he was no match for John, who effortlessly subdued all five werewolves, including the formidable Fenrir. John's prowess earned him the moniker "Johnny Silver Hand," a testament to his formidable strength.
With a casual wave of his wand, John conjured chains from the floor, binding Fenrir securely. He then approached Lupin, offering him a choice. "He once bit you. Now, I leave his fate in your hands." Lupin was torn; his hatred for Fenrir was palpable, yet he wished for justice through Azkaban, not death.
John, perceiving Lupin's hesitation, sighed. "Lupin, you are too kind-hearted." He turned back to Fenrir, raising his wand once more. "The soul returns," he whispered, casting a spell unknown to those present.
Fenrir's screams filled the room as his soul, a transparent, silver apparition, was forcibly extracted from his body. The wizards watched in terror as John, with a flick of his wand, inflicted soul-deep wounds on Fenrir, who howled in anguish. The ordeal ended with Fenrir's soul, now missing its arms, being returned to his body, leaving him in a state of deep, unending sleep.
Lupin, speechless and shaken, struggled to comprehend the power John wielded. Even Tang Mi, a veteran of many battles, was astounded by the young wizard's terrifying spell.
"Two arms as the price. I doubt they'll dare to return," John remarked, snapping his fingers to dissipate Fenrir's physical arms into smoke. The remaining werewolves, witnessing the fate of their leader, fled in terror, leaving behind a silence that spoke volumes of the fear and respect John had instilled in them. Kneeling on the ground, the werewolves resembled submissive puppies. John approached one of them and asked in a low voice, "Who sent you here?" The werewolf hesitated before John pressed, "I need a name, unless you prefer to deal with Fenrir." Before the werewolf could further delay, John's wand lightly touched his forehead, causing the werewolf to sweat profusely and panic. "It was Sean, Sean Shafik, he sent us," he confessed.
"Shafik? It seems the purebloods have taken an interest in this place," John mused, putting away his wand. The werewolf mistakenly thought he was off the hook, but John had other plans. Turning to Tang Mi, he instructed, "Lock them up. I'm sure someone will find them... interesting."
Tang Mi nodded in agreement, and the werewolves were soon confined in a dark cell.
In the dead of night, Aurors led by Rufus Scrimgeour, the Chief of the Auror Office, arrived at Johnny Silverhand's door. Scrimgeour, with his imposing presence reminiscent of an aged lion, oversaw the transfer of the notorious werewolves to Azkaban.
"First time meeting, Mr. Johnny Silverhand," Scrimgeour greeted, extending his hand.
John, wearing a mask, responded with a light smile, "Rufus Scrimgeour, I trust you appreciate my gift."
The smile on Scrimgeour's face was unmistakable. "This isn't the first time you've aided me," he acknowledged.
"I won't forget it, and neither will you," John replied, his tone casual yet meaningful. "Perhaps you could inform me of Sean Shafik's whereabouts?"
"Sean Shafik? He's likely to find himself in a predicament," Scrimgeour remarked, his expression turning serious. "Lord Silverhand, I hope you won't put me in a difficult position."
"Of course, the 28 saints are quite the rare breed," John said, his tone suggesting he was speaking of something far less noble.
Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed, then he offered, "I can provide you with the address of the Shafik family estate."
Their exchange made it clear they were using a pure-blood family as leverage. Scrimgeour, recognizing the extent of Johnny Silverhand's influence, saw an opportunity. The protection extended to Hagrid, a half-blood giant, by someone of Johnny's stature, hinted at powerful connections. Scrimgeour, ambitious for advancement, viewed Johnny Silverhand as his ticket upwards.
---
At the Shafik Manor, located in the suburbs far from Muggles, Sean Shafik stewed over his financial losses. With his light eyebrows, slender cheeks, and a beard adorning his wizard robes, Sean did not present an imposing figure. His strength lay in his intellect, with the Bojinbok antique shop in Knockturn Alley being one of his profitable ventures. However, the emergence of Johnny Silverhand's store had rendered his investments futile, much to Sean's frustration.
He had hoped to buy back the shop to recoup his losses, but Mundungus Fletcher had outmaneuvered him, acquiring the store for a hefty sum. This transaction, which included the return of black magic artifacts belonging to the Shafik family, infuriated Sean to the point of wishing harm upon Mundungus.
"The werewolves better have torn Mundungus apart. That damned Johnny, even if he begs for mercy, I won't forgive him," Sean seethed, his face contorted with rage. The house elves, sensing his fury, quietly retreated to avoid his wrath.
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the room, and Sean, in a fit of anger, threatened to punish the clumsy house elf responsible. However, as he stormed out, he realized the room was unusually dark, not because of his stinginess but due to an ominous presence. As this realization dawned on him, the candles in the room flickered to life, revealing an unexpected visitor.
_________
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