Hogwarts’ John Wick 141: Firebolt and Meteor Shoes

141: Firebolt and teor Shoes

For the ti being, John couldn't use his alias. His handwriting with his left and right hands was different, a precaution to avoid anyone linking Johnny Silverhand with John Wick.

John Wick had connections that could resolve this, but Damocles Alex wouldn't bother with the Ministry of Magic for a re Hippogriff—that was beneath his pride.

Tommy, the head of security at Johnny Silverhand's Specialty Store, had the strength for it, but it would take soone with more pull to make the Ministry give face.

"Forget it, there's still ti. No rush."

Buckbeak's trial date wasn't until April 24th, so there were still a few months left.

John left Hagrid's hut; Hagrid's crying was simply too loud.

Outside in the snow, three little ones—one big and two small—were buried in a snowbank, with only their butts sticking out.

Fang got up first and pulled the other two out one by one, like pulling up carrots.

John had no idea what kind of ga involved burying your head in the snow.

Brushing the snow off his clothes, John looked up at the sky and said, "It seems I won't be able to complete the Animagus transformation in these two months."

As expected, John left a trail of footprints in the snow.

The next day...

The trio enthusiastically threw themselves into gathering defense materials. They were practically living in the library.

Just like back in their first year, when they were searching for Nicholas Flal, they were full of energy.

John didn't go out either.

He managed to get two unicorn horns from Hagrid, which were part of Hagrid's old stock. Hagrid wasn't in the mood to venture into the Forbidden Forest.

John had considered going to the Forbidden Forest himself to find a unicorn, but unicorns are extrely sensitive creatures. According to many legends, unicorns only allow pure maidens to touch them.

Any hint of malice would alert the unicorns. They are holy and delicate creatures, and wands made from unicorn hair are the least compatible with Dark Magic.

John ground the unicorn horns into powder and added them to a cauldron. The bubbling liquid shifted from green to a milky white.

He took a sip, swallowing without expression.

On the table sat a pair of shoes—John's flying shoes.

He had grown quickly, and the shoes, which he had deliberately made a bit bigger, were now uncomfortable.

He also wanted to upgrade the flying shoes, so he decided to retire the old pair altogether.

The upgraded flying shoes were nad "teor Shoes," enhanced from the original to go faster, higher, and to be stronger.

He put the shoes on, noticing they were now much bigger. John clicked his heels together, and the shoes shrunk to fit snugly against his skin.

It was as if he wasn't wearing shoes at all—soft yet tough.

Even a standard Blasting Curse wouldn't be able to destroy them, and John was very satisfied with his craftsmanship.

He had also inscribed the shoes with runes, including the rune Ehwaz, which symbolized the horse of transportation.

This allowed John to traverse even the most rugged terrain with complete ease.

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

The scene inside the Room of Requirent quickly shifted, and a racing track appeared.

John bounced in place twice, preparing himself.

With one powerful step, he launched forward like an arrow from a bowstring.

His speed was incredible. As his steps increased, the teor patterns on the surface of the shoes gradually lit up. When all of them were glowing, he reached his maximum speed, making it look like he was gliding across the ground.

Out in the open, it would have been comparable to the speed of a supercar!

After completing one lap, John was slightly out of breath.

"Let's test the flight."

Small fluttering wings appeared on the sides of the shoes, and with a gentle leap, John flew into the air.

Adjusting his body's direction, he accelerated in flight. After completing a lap, he tidied his wind-tossed hair.

Based on his estimation, the speed of the teor Shoes was already faster than most flying brooms on the market—probably only the Firebolt could compare.

"I wonder just how fast the Firebolt is."

After landing, the cute little wings on the shoes disappeared, and John snapped his fingers again.

The racetrack lted away like snow, revealing the Chamber of Gryffindor.

After becoming Gryffindor's heir, John had also learned the magic to alter the Room of Requirent.

Although he didn't have the Sword of Gryffindor, the Room of Requirent was more than enough to satisfy John.

If you were to na the greatest magic within Hogwarts, it would undoubtedly be the Room of Requirent.

It was the masterpiece of the four founders.

...

Christmas.

Tom playfully struggled as she was nearly buried under a pile of gifts, barely managing to crawl out.

The presents were stacked like a small mountain, and that was just for John Wick. There were even more for Johnny Silverhand.

A bunch of Slytherin students had sent gifts to John, and there were also packages from his uncle.

His parents sent him gifts too.

Watson Wick had sent a chirping toy bird, while Mrs. Wick gifted him a finely crafted pocket watch.

After reading through his father's thousand-word letter—mostly filled with day-to-day chatter—there was a clear ssage: he wanted John to make him a wand, even if it didn't have a core.

John rolled his eyes.

His dad was always asking for sothing.

Then there were the gifts from his uncle's side.

On his mother's side, including Mrs. Wick, there were twelve children in total.

You could only say that being physically strong pays off—still so full of energy in old age, it just doesn't make sense.

Three daughters, nine sons, which ans John has nine uncles and two aunts.

Last ti, it was his eldest uncle who sent gifts, but this ti, all nine uncles and two aunts had sent sothing.

Luckily, none of it was dangerous.

At most, there were things like nesting dolls, and, well, a few knives and brass knuckles.

But compared to guns, those seed pretty normal.

The most practical gift ca from Uncle Andre, the one who took John hunting.

He sent a big box of at, and it was fortunate the weather was cold, so John didn't have to worry about it spoiling.

After opening his uncles' gifts, the aunts' gifts were much less wild.

They sent gloves and scarves.

Dressed warmly, John continued opening the remaining presents.

The Slytherin students were pretty practical. Most of their gifts were sweets or small tokens.

Malfoy sent so fancy pastries, which happened to overlap with Daphne's gift.

Heinrich sent a book about dark magic of the Edgar family, which John quietly tucked away and hid.

Since word had gotten around that John loved food, most of the gifts he received were edible.

If it were last year, John would have been thrilled, but now these things didn't bring him any joy.

...

Noon.

John saw the trio—Harry and Ron were laughing foolishly, leaving Hermione neglected on her own.

No need to guess—they'd had a fight.

Due to the smaller crowd, Dumbledore suggested everyone dine together.

Aside from Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and a few other professors, there was also Filch.

A fifth-year Slytherin student and two first-years.

Adding in the trio, there were exactly twelve people.

John didn't dare go over, afraid that Dumbledore might notice sothing.

That was the White Dark Lord after all! Voldemort knew ancient magic, so who's to say Dumbledore wouldn't as well?

With his soul still injured, getting found out would be a disaster.

So, he made up an excuse and avoided staying.

Dumbledore noticed John's absence and turned to Filch.

For once, Filch had shed his usual brown coat and was wearing a brand-new tailcoat.

Noticing Filch's wide grin, Dumbledore asked, "Filch, did you buy new clothes?"

Filch puffed out his chest, trying to sound casual but clearly wanting to boast, "It was a Christmas gift."

"Oh?"

This surprised Dumbledore—Filch, with his reputation, had actually received a Christmas present from soone?

"It was from John Wick, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Ahh~" At the ntion of John, a smile spread across Dumbledore's face. He asked curiously, "Where has John gone?"

A fifth-year Slytherin student replied, "He and Edgar stepped out. They had sothing to attend to."

"Alright then."

Trelawney had co out, breaking her usual routine, but she had sothing ominous to say.

She told everyone about the curse of thirteen people dining together—that the first one to stand would die.

Naturally, no one took her seriously.

After lunch, Harry couldn't wait to get back to the common room.

He had received a Firebolt, and both he and Ron were ecstatic, not caring at all who had sent it.

Hermione, however, was concerned that this mysterious gift might be dangerous, but the two boys completely ignored her.

All they cared about was the Firebolt. And when Crookshanks tried to catch Scabbers again, Ron, irritated, snapped at Hermione.

Harry felt that Ron's behavior was a bit out of line, but with his mind consud by the Firebolt, he didn't say anything.

When they returned to the Gryffindor common room and were admiring the Firebolt from every possible angle, the portrait hole opened.

Hermione ca in—along with Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Granger just inford that soone has sent you a broomstick, Potter," Professor McGonagall said, her sharp eyes instantly spotting the Firebolt.

Harry instinctively wanted to hide it, but unfortunately, Professor McGonagall was already there, and there was no way to conceal it.

After questioning, it was clear that the gift ca with no note, no sender—completely untraceable.

Professor McGonagall said she would have to take it for inspection. Harry's voice trembled as he said, "There's nothing wrong with it! Really, Professor."

"You can't be sure, Potter," McGonagall replied, her tone kind but slightly resigned.

With Sirius Black still at large, during such a sensitive ti, Harry wanted to ride a mysterious Firebolt? Even if it was a Firebolt, this was not acceptable.

"I'll let you know as soon as we find anything," she assured him.

She then prepared to take the Firebolt to be thoroughly checked, of course, by the professionals.

Harry stood there, staring blankly as she took the Firebolt away.

Ron, furious, vented his anger at Hermione, shouting, "Why did you go to Professor McGonagall?"

Hermione was upset too, her face flushed, either from sha or anger.

Defiantly, she said to Ron, "Because I thought—and Professor McGonagall thought so too—that the broomstick might have been sent by Sirius Black for Harry!"

Her intentions were good, but even Harry couldn't help feeling a little angry.

Hermione was deeply hurt.

She had only been trying to help both of them, but now she was being blad. Fighting back tears, she turned and walked out of the portrait hole.

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