John had severely underestimated the consequences of meddling with forbidden magic; he had begun to sprout feathers. Yes, feathers. It started with a golden feather on his arm, which he initially mistook for something accidentally stuck to him. After attempting to brush it off to no avail, he tried pulling it out, only to wince in pain as it came free. This confirmed his fears; the transformation was real. Within a day, feathers proliferated across his body. Despite concocting a potion for himself, it proved ineffective. John surmised that the transformation was due to the immense magical power infused into his body through his wand, considering the core of his wand was a Thunderbird feather. The thought made him grimace. "Am I turning into a bird?" he muttered, a hint of dismay in his voice. However, this peculiar change wasn't entirely without its perks. He discovered he could control the weather within a small radius. Just moments ago, he had summoned a lightning strike near Malfoy's feet, causing him to leap in surprise. With a lazy lift of his eyelids, John remarked in a flat tone, "You still have two laps to go."
Malfoy, already on the brink of exhaustion, glanced at Neville, who seemed to leave a blur in his wake, and a stubborn resolve took hold. Gritting his teeth, he dragged his weary legs forward, carrying a stone the size of a human head as if it threatened to snap his spine at any moment. His heavy footsteps left distinct marks along the edge of the Black Lake.
John observed his hands, noting how they had become thinner, his slender fingers generating sparks as they moved. "It's not all bad, is it?" he pondered aloud, uncertain whether this transformation was a blessing or a curse. This newfound ability felt like undergoing a magical blood ritual for free, albeit with significant drawbacks. John had no desire to fully transform into a Thunderbird. Rolling up his sleeves, he saw golden feathers sprouting beneath his clothes. With a blank expression, he considered two potential remedies: undergoing Animagus Transformation to reconfigure his body with advanced Transfiguration, or waiting until the semester's end to cleanse his body with a potent magical blood ritual. Either option required patience.
Once the Thunderbird Blood Pulse was eradicated, he might lose this ability, but John preferred that to bearing a bird's visage. After all, not everyone had the audacity to become a figure without a nose, a jest aimed at Voldemort. "Imagine if Voldemort had turned his nose into a Horcrux; I'd never find it," John joked to himself, picturing Voldemort touching his nonexistent nose.
Valentine's Day arrived, devoid of Lockhart's flamboyant celebrations, sparing everyone from the embarrassment of being accosted by dwarves dressed as Cupid. In the Great Hall, some Slytherins, more acquainted with John, teased him with whistles, recalling the previous year's events. It seemed they all anticipated this day to see John humbled.
Malfoy, ever the instigator, stood up and proclaimed, "If anyone wishes to send John a letter, I'll gladly deliver it." His declaration elicited laughter across the hall, while the Weasley twins seemed to be concocting their own jest for the occasion.
John took the teasing in stride, amused by the spectacle. Suddenly, a swarm of a thousand paper cranes flew in, landing neatly before him. Malfoy led the laughter, implying the cranes bore love letters for the "Slytherin Daredevil." John, playing along, began to unfold the cranes, revealing a letter written in emerald green ink. Recognizing the handwriting, he realized it was from the same person as last year. The previous love letter still lay hidden in his drawer, a secret he hoped his father would never discover. This time, the letter didn't compare his eyes to salamanders or his hair to... John swiftly tucked the letter into his pocket with a practiced ease just as Malfoy approached, leaving the latter with no choice but to return to his seat, visibly irked. He glanced towards Harry, his eyebrows arching in a taunt. "Potter, didn't your little lover from last year send you any letters?" Harry bristled at the comment, his irritation palpable. The notion was absurd; it had been nothing more than a harmless prank. Hermione, ever the peacemaker, quickly intervened to calm him down. Their friendship, though occasionally strained, always managed to mend itself, much like pieces of plasticine that, when separated, can be kneaded back into a cohesive whole.
Ron's eyes were wide with disbelief, as if his shocked expression alone could ward off Malfoy's provocations. The day had been challenging enough with Snape's unjust criticisms of Harry's father and his threat to destroy the Marauder's Map, only for Professor Lupin to intervene at the last moment. The gloom only deepened with the arrival of Hagrid's letter, announcing Buckbeak's unfortunate fate. The news brought Hagrid to tears, a sight that weighed heavily on their hearts.
Malfoy's return to the common room, still smarting from a recent encounter with Harry and his invisibility cloak, escalated tensions further. Words were exchanged, and wands were drawn between him and Ron, but Harry, sensing the brewing conflict and the readiness of Malfoy's cronies, Goyle and Crabbe, managed to de-escalate the situation before any spells were cast. Hermione, lost in thought, seemed barely aware of the confrontation.
...
Valentine's Day brought its own set of challenges. John, having received a chocolate laced with a love potion among his many gifts, discarded it with a casual disdain. His expertise in alchemy allowed him to detect the potion immediately, and he warned Goyle against consuming anything of dubious origin. Having lost his sense of taste, John found little joy in chocolates, likening their texture to tasteless wax. He stored the chocolates away, perhaps for a day when his sense of taste might return, and he could appreciate the craftsmanship of the young witches at Hogwarts.
Tom's recent punishment had subdued him significantly, prompting John to lament his lack of wisdom. "Foolish pursuits never end well," he remarked, reflecting on the naivety that had led Tom into trouble. John possessed three wands, each with a different core, but it was the one with the unicorn hair core that he wielded in his reprimand. Tom, looking dejected yet somehow still hopeful, received a stern lecture on the value of discernment in companionship.
Sirius's encounter with John had been fortunate; in another wizard's hands, the outcome might have been far grimmer. John ignored Tom's sorrowful expression, leaving him under Basil's watchful eye. The snowy owl perched atop a cabinet, ready to enforce discipline should Tom step out of line.
Upon entering the lounge, John was immediately confronted by Daphne, who assertively grabbed his sleeve. Her expression was one of pride and possessiveness, a clear challenge to any who might vie for John's attention. This display of dominance caused a stir among the other young witches, but Pansy, in particular, seemed intrigued by the unfolding drama. Her best friend had finally mustered the courage to stand up for herself. She rose to her feet, scanning the room with a defiant gaze that seemed to challenge anyone to dare cross her friend. The source of the commotion? None other than Slytherin's own Daphne Greengrass.
John observed the timid group of young witches before his eyes settled on Daphne, whose expression was a mix of pride and defiance. He was taken aback by her audacity. Standing slightly taller than Daphne, he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "Have you been experimenting in the kitchen again?"
The sensation made Daphne's cheeks flush with a blush she struggled to contain. John couldn't help but smile at her reaction; it was clear she had concocted another unique dish.
With a resigned sigh, he said, "I'm open to trying anything, as long as it doesn't involve fruit." His previous encounters with her strawberry-infused savory dishes, like strawberry mapo tofu and strawberry dumplings, had left him wary of her culinary experiments.
Daphne, mistaking his hesitance for enthusiasm, replied brightly, "How did you guess? Today, I made Wellington steak with a chocolate twist."
John was momentarily speechless. "Do you even listen to yourself?" he asked incredulously. "Steak and chocolate? How could those possibly go together?"
Her innovative, albeit unconventional, approach to cooking never ceased to amaze—and sometimes alarm—him.
_________
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