Hogwarts’ John Wick 177: Banquet and Big Shots

177: Banquet and Big Shots

With the wealth John now possessed, purchasing an estate was an easy feat.

The forr Shafiq estate had been renad Silverhand Manor.

So rarely seen "important figures" were arriving at the manor, each holding an invitation in hand.

Stationed at the entrance were mbers of the Silverhand Security Team—so retired Aurors, others professional Dark Wizard hunters.

Without exception, all of them were elites.

The guests attending were inwardly astonished; this force alone could rival any pure-blood family.

It was no wonder the Shafiqs had been ousted so miserably. Among those present were pure-blood families, Ministry officials, and even wizards from foreign countries.

Damocles Alex, the Potions Master, arrived dressed regally in a sapphire-blue robe, carrying an elegantly adorned staff. The rlin First-Class Order hanging on his chest glead prominently.

Lucius Malfoy had arrived alongside John, dressed in a black velvet suit with a pigeon-egg-sized gemstone ring on his left hand.

Witnessing this, many began reevaluating their opinions of Lucius Malfoy.

Yet most eyes followed the figure wearing the silver mask. Smiles of flattery appeared on countless faces, filled with obvious sycophancy and reverence.

"I'm delighted to have you all here at my banquet," Johnny Silverhand said, the silver ring and erald on his left hand gleaming under the light.

The room fell into a unified silence as everyone instinctively ceased their chatter.

Barty Crouch was among the crowd, his gaze fixed on Lucius.

"In this gathering, we have officials, individuals who once erred, academics, and essential cogs in the machine that keeps the magical world turning."

Under the glow of the chandeliers, his gaze swept across Ministry officials, Potions Masters, forr Death Eaters... all gathered harmoniously within the manor.

Pure-bloods, half-bloods, Muggle-borns, and werewolves—

Groups that might otherwise have been in opposition had co together here, drawn by the reputation of the King of Knockturn Alley and the generosity of Johnny Silverhand.

John concluded his impassioned speech with a final toast:

"So, let us raise our glasses to this world, which has brought us together.

To our friends, who stand by us in tis of need.

And to the challenges ahead. They may be daunting, and they may even kill us, but if they don't, they'll only make us stronger."

He raised his glass high, the liquid within radiating a rich, inviting aroma.

With a single drink, John gracefully stepped down from the platform.

This banquet was not only a ans to consolidate his power but also to create opportunities for deeper connections among these people.

Ministry officials discussed matters with scholars, Dark wizards clinked glasses with forr adversaries, and Potions Masters negotiated with materials suppliers.

Every clink of glasses, every burst of laughter, forged stronger ties within this network of mutual interests.

And at the very center of it all was the man known as Johnny Silverhand.

As long as Johnny Silverhand existed, these connections would remain unbreakable.

Only Johnny Silver-Hand could bring such a diverse group of people together.

The newly appointed head of the Auror Office, Pius Thicknesse, approached John with a glass of wine in hand.

"Your Excellency, may I have the honor of toasting with you?"

Pius, well-versed in the art of diplomacy—sothing John himself had once praised—knew exactly how he had climbed to his position of power. Bowing respectfully, he clinked glasses with John.

"We'll need to allocate the Auror defense funds for acquiring a batch of specialized combat gear," he added smoothly.

A true pragmatist, huh~?

Pius knew how to play the ga. The funds he had secured thanks to John's influence were now being funneled back to him as a gesture of loyalty.

John, impressed by this savvy maneuver, nodded in approval.

"You'll get a discount," he replied with a aningful smile. "And only you."

Pius's face lit up with delight, and he eagerly poured himself another drink.

However, in his enthusiasm, he downed it too quickly, his face flushing unnaturally. As he reached for yet another glass, John placed a hand over his, stopping him.

"Good wine is ant to be savored," John said calmly. "With so many important figures present, you shouldn't let yourself lose control."

"Ah—True..."

The reminder jolted Pius into realization. He thanked John profusely, adjusted his posture, and moved on to mingle with other guests, still holding his glass but now with more restraint.

At that mont, Tommy approached John and spoke in a low voice. "My lord, Mr. Bartemius Crouch Sr. is waiting for you in the study."

Setting his wine glass down, John politely declined an academic's request to converse and made his way to what was once Sean Shafiq's study.

Inside, Bartemius Crouch Sr. was already seated on the sofa. His impeccably combed gray hair and neat attire gave off an air of discipline, though his expression betrayed a hint of unease.

When John entered the room, Bartemius instinctively stood up, but John gestured for him to sit back down.

"Bartemius, my friend." John settled into the chair behind the desk, his right hand absently rubbing the ring on his left. "You don't look well. Is sothing troubling you?"

Bartemius Crouch Sr.'s expression was conflicted.

Yet, after witnessing everything that had unfolded today, a surge of bitter regret once buried deep within him rose to the surface.

He stood and approached the desk, his emotions unclear. With a bitter tone, he said, "Sir Silverhand, I made a mistake—a grave mistake."

"I was once so close to that position, but because of my son..."

He closed his eyes in anguish, the mories of Voldemort's downfall flooding back to him.

At that ti, as Head of the Departnt of Magical Law Enforcent, Bartemius had been tasked with prosecuting the cris of the Death Eaters.

And it was on that day that he learned his own son was among them.

The son he had once been so proud of beca the source of his deepest sha, dragging him into an abyss of despair.

Even though Bartemius had been firm and unyielding, sending his own son to Azkaban, it wasn't enough to quell public criticism. The scandal shattered his reputation and cost him his chance at becoming Minister for Magic.

That single mistake led to a cascade of others.

"Sigh.." Lowering his head, Bartemius spoke in a hoarse and sorrowful voice. "I made a terrible decision. My wife... she begged to save our son. She was willing to give up her life for it, and so I..."

Under the guise of a visit, his wife had used Polyjuice Potion to swap identities with their son, Barty Crouch Jr.

Not long after, she passed away in Azkaban. Everyone believed it was Barty Crouch Jr. who had died, completely unaware that he had successfully escaped.

Bartemius confessed everything, and John listened intently, his gaze deep and thoughtful.

Motherfucker—ehm...

"My friend, your honesty humbles . As a reward for your candor, what is it you wish for to do?"

Bartemius wasn't revealing all this without a reason. There had to be a motive behind his confession, and John could already guess what it was.

"I want to fight for it again, Sir Silverhand," Bartemius said, lifting his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and lingering regret.

The position he had once lost out on—Minister for Magic—was now back within his reach thanks to his involvent in the Peter Pettigrew case.

This ti, Bartemius didn't want to miss his chance.

He wanted to fight for it, and the key to his success was none other than John, the powerful Johnny Silverhand himself.

To secure John's support, Bartemius resolved to present himself with utmost sincerity.

John, upon hearing Bartemius's ambition, chuckled softly.

"I'm glad, Bartemius. I've been waiting for you."

John stood, stepping forward to clasp Bartemius's hand firmly.

Inside John's mind: Another reputable character I can use hehehe—Don't break character, don't break character.

"Ehm," With a serious expression, he said, "My friend, I will provide you with the space you need to make your mark."

Bartemius was deeply moved. He knew there were others in the running for the position, but John's words were unequivocal. They were a declaration of support.

"The Triwizard Tournant presents an excellent turning point, Bartemius," John continued. "I will help you, because we are friends—friends who may not share blood but are bonded by sothing just as strong."

Leaning closer to Bartemius's ear, John added in a low voice, "I know you love your son, but at this critical mont, he is also the most important factor."

Bartemius stiffened slightly.

He knew exactly what John ant. It was his son who had caused him to lose his footing in the past, and now his son was the key to regaining it.

If it were to be discovered that Bartemius was harboring his Death Eater son, it would undoubtedly spark yet another scandal.

Bartemius's expression was complicated.

Though he resented his son, the boy had once been his pride. To Bartemius, his son's downfall was a reflection of his own failure as a father.

John could see the conflict written plainly on Bartemius's face. Understanding his inability to be ruthless, John patted him on the shoulder and said, "My friend, if trouble finds you, co to ."

After Bartemius left the office, John watched his retreating figure thoughtfully.

Poor guy, indeed...

"If it were , I'd hide his son sowhere," a voice remarked.

Turning toward the sound, John saw soone entering through the side door of the study.

Golden eyes filled with uncontainable fervor t his gaze.

"Heinrich, your idea isn't bad," John said with a light laugh. "But it's far from a perfect solution."

The man was none other than Heinrich Edgar.

Since John had confird the mbers of the Constellation Society, Heinrich was the first one he revealed himself to.

As one of John's most loyal followers, Heinrich understood that being entrusted with this secret ant he had been fully accepted.

Heinrich Edgar had always aligned himself with power, just as his uncle had once followed the Dark Lord. This ti, however, the person Heinrich had chosen was destined to be the strongest.

Looking at Heinrich's pale face, which seed out of place in the grand manor, John smiled.

"I'm about to go on a trip," John said. "Care to join ? Perhaps I could even introduce you to a new friend."

Kim Leddisley eting Heinrich would surely be entertaining.

Heinrich nodded subtly. His loyalty wasn't to Johnny Silverhand but to John Wick alone.

...

Amid the clinking glasses and lively chatter of the banquet, Lucius encountered several others who, like him, were forr Death Eaters.

They gathered together, quietly discussing the recent stirrings of the Dark Mark.

By Lucius's side stood a wizard with half a nose and a pronounced limp, listening attentively with an air of deference. Lucius seed intent on introducing this man to the other Death Eaters.

________

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