Hogwarts' John Wick

The feast.

The kitchen bustled noisily, filled with clattering sounds.

The Hufflepuffs came out through the kitchen entrance, and the food-loving badgers were already swallowing at the sight of all the different potato dishes.

Hufflepuff had two major advantages. They were always the first to know what was being served, and they could get late-night snacks.

For that alone, they would never have traded places with Gryffindor Tower.

One particularly greedy student secretly grabbed a potato and slipped it into their pocket.

They followed the corridor to the Great Hall, where the students of Hogwarts had gathered.

Students from every House freely discussed their holiday plans, while the seventh-years talked about where they would go after graduation.

Some were reluctant to say goodbye.

And, of course, there were always those determined to court disaster.

After Malfoy was hung upside down yet again, John could not help shaking his head.

"Draco, you need to rein yourself in."

That temper would not do once he entered wizarding society.

But after casting Liberacorpus on himself and dropping back to the floor, Malfoy said arrogantly, "Rein myself in? They should learn not to provoke me in the first place!"

What a joke. He was the eldest son of the Malfoy family, the foremost ancient family of the Ancient Alliance made by Silverhand.

At Hogwarts, where there were still rules to follow, it made sense for him to restrain himself somewhat. But once he entered society, wouldn’t he be the one bullying everyone else?

John thought about it and realised Malfoy actually had a point.

At school, differences in status were not especially obvious. Out in society, however, status and identity truly mattered.

For once, John agreed with Malfoy.

Slughorn tapped his glass.

He stood and announced to all the students, "Eat!"

He was growing increasingly fond of this simple, direct style.

This was John’s final meal at Hogwarts. He cut into a roast chicken and sliced the meat from the bones.

The table knife moved through his fingers with dazzling dexterity, flipping and spinning between them without even scraping against the bone.

The display left Malfoy staring.

"Why are you, a wizard, so good with things like that?" Malfoy could not understand.

The two large boys nearby shuddered. They still remembered the time John had pinned a young wizard’s hand to the table with a fork.

John ate the chicken unhurriedly and glanced at the colours decorating the Great Hall.

Silver and green, just as they had been on the day he first entered the school.

For seven years, he had defended Slytherin’s glory, and that glory now bore the name John Wick.

The meal passed slowly. The seventh-years all seemed to be looking back on everything they had experienced over the years.

Perhaps they were not the most outstanding group of students, but what they had gone through had undoubtedly been the most thrilling seven years in Hogwarts history.

Malfoy was going into professional Quidditch.

Neville was heading to the forests of Albania.

Daphne was preparing to take over her family’s business.

One by one, his companions had found their own paths.

They talked and laughed, freely imagining their futures.

Once they entered society, perhaps things would not go as they wished. Perhaps they would face suppression and setbacks.

But these seven years would remain the strength that carried them through countless nights and gave them the will to wake again the next morning.

The meal ended before half past eight.

Just like their seven years at Hogwarts, it had finally reached its end.

John held a half-finished glass of iced lemonade and looked up at the staff table.

Snape met his gaze across the hall.

John silently raised his glass, and Snape raised his as well.

What John had once admired now felt distant.

What he had once longed for had already become part of the past.

Their silent toast was almost like a return gesture for the small amount of camaraderie they had shared over the past seven years.

Snape was not a good Head of House, at least not as far as John was concerned. He was not a good *** either.

He should have been ambitious, yet love had bound him to Hogwarts.

Nor was he a good teacher. His standard of teaching was something only geniuses could truly benefit from.

But there had been times when he had spoken up for John.

When suspicion fell on Slytherin, he would defend the House.

"He is suited to working alone on experiments, not being imprisoned inside an ivory tower."

John felt some pity for the man trapped by love.

His gaze shifted towards Gryffindor.

There had once been a time when he resented the Sorting Hat’s decision.

That House held the first friends he had made and the companions who had gone on adventures with him.

Yet in the end, they had gradually drifted apart.

Harry would be going into Auror training.

Hermione wanted to join the Ministry of Magic.

Ron, apparently, wanted to open a shop like the twins.

Ginny and Luna still had more years left at Hogwarts.

Everything had changed, and yet somehow nothing had.

As John’s glass disappeared, the feast came to an end.

Malfoy and Daphne organised the younger students one final time and led them back to their respective common rooms.

John, meanwhile, headed for the Headmaster’s office.

Slughorn opened a bottle of oak-matured mead for his arrival.

Before drinking, he carefully sniffed it and said, "Ever since that poisoning incident, I haven’t been able to break this habit."

"Being cautious isn’t a bad thing." John accepted the glass. Unlike Slughorn, he did not smell it first and simply drank without any hesitation. "This isn’t the bottle I gave you."

"I’m saving that one." Slughorn laughed heartily. "Mead gifted by the great Second King deserves to be opened only on a grand occasion."

"I don’t believe you. Three Galleons says you’ll drink it one night when no one’s looking." John laughed as well.

Given Slughorn’s love of good food and drink, he would definitely choose to store anything valuable in his stomach.

"You’re on, John. You’re going to lose." Slughorn sounded very determined.

Because that bottle was not merely a gift acquired through privilege to satisfy his vanity.

It was a gift from someone he genuinely respected.

The two of them did not seem like a student and a Headmaster.

They were more like two old friends.

Sitting on the sofa, Slughorn began talking about John’s future.

"The international wizarding community is currently abuzz over the election," Slughorn said, taking a sip of his drink and smacking his lips. "I saw the Silver Hand’s gift in the papers. International wizards have been full of praise for you."

"But there are other matters as well." Slughorn picked up a piece of crystallised pineapple and popped it into his mouth. "With the strength you possess now, I suspect there are people who would rather not see it grow any further."

As a Slytherin, Slughorn might have preferred collecting talented students, but there was no doubting his intelligence.

The growth of the Silver Hand meant taking a share from an already limited pie.

Back when it operated only within Britain, it had already faced pressure from all sides. Now that it was stepping onto the international stage, the various interest groups entrenched across different countries would not simply sit by and watch.

Germany in particular was still embroiled in bitter disputes over the position of Minister for Magic.

John raised an eyebrow and gently swirled the wine in his glass.

"That’s exactly what makes it interesting. Challenges are what keep things from becoming dull."

"Otherwise, maybe I should stay and teach for two years?" John was not joking.

Hogwarts was, in effect, a massive educational institution that monopolised much of the magical talent from the surrounding countries.

If John became a professor, he could continue instilling his own ideas in talented students.

Wasn’t the reason Dumbledore had so many supporters partly because he had spent so many years teaching at Hogwarts?

Voldemort himself had repeatedly tried to return to Hogwarts as a teacher and had applied several times.

Clearly, even to the Dark Lord, the position held extraordinary appeal.

So when John said it, he was genuinely tempted.

"You, stay?" Slughorn shook his head. "You won’t."

And he was right.

With an entire Second Dynasty waiting outside, their king was going to come back and teach children?

John was not Voldemort. He had industries and assets of his own.

Back then, aside from a group of followers, Voldemort had possessed almost nothing.

Even many of his treasures had been obtained through murder and theft.

John had wealth, influence, and businesses of his own. Staying at Hogwarts would have advantages, but it would also come with drawbacks.

"I think my friends will probably need my help too." John shrugged. "Still, donating some money to Hogwarts wouldn’t be a bad idea."

His Young Wizards Foundation had more money than it knew what to do with.

As a fund created specifically to support young witches and wizards, there was hardly a better place for that money than Hogwarts.

"Not a bad idea at all." Slughorn beamed.

John had given him an Order of Merlin, and Slughorn had given John a platform to meet talented people from every field.

Their relationship was one of give and take, and that kind of cooperation was comfortable for both sides.

If he could polish his reputation a little more before retirement, Slughorn was more than happy to accept.

As the sky brightened, the school year at Hogwarts came to an end.

Students streamed out of the castle.

Their luggage had already been sent to the train. In that regard, the wizarding world was far more convenient than the Muggle one.

Overhead, a black owl and a white owl swept across the sky.

Tom wagged her tail as she followed behind John, while Hagrid came over with Fang to say goodbye.

Behind him, Grawp also waved clumsily.

Luna walked past with the Crumple-Horned Snorkack and waved to John.

"Bye, John."

[Ding...]

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