Hogwarts’ John Wick 244: Drinking and Inferi

244: Drinking and Inferi

Tommy was just about to take the bowl when he saw John remove his mask and bring it to his own lips.

With one gulp, John felt as if soone had struck his head with a heavy blow.

He steadied himself, his fingers gripping the stone basin so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"..My lord?" Tommy was stunned, and then imdiately panicked.

He didn't even care that his earplugs had fallen out.

John raised a hand to stop him from trying to snatch the bowl away. His voice was slightly hoarse as he said, "Tommy, rember what you just said."

Tommy didn't understand and roared, "My lord, let drink it! You should have let drink it!"

He was extrely agitated, even losing his composure as he bellowed, "What if sothing happens to you?"

"Tommy, if it were anyone else, I wouldn't hesitate to do exactly what you said." John held the bowl and looked at Tommy, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"I am ordering you—stay alert to our surroundings." His tone was firm as he gave the command.

John took a deep breath.

As he had said, if soone else were here, he wouldn't have hesitated to let the other person drink it.

Unfortunately, the person here was Tommy.

In the magical world, Tommy was not just a subordinate in John's eyes—he was more than that.

He was a friend.

And when making decisions, he had to consider the possibility of losing Tommy's life.

John had only taken a small sip earlier, but even that much of the erald-green liquid had begun to wear down his mind.

If it had been Tommy drinking instead, he probably wouldn't have lasted until the end—he would have gone completely insane before even finishing.

There was no doubt that Voldemort was a genius.

To be able to create such a potion… it was almost a waste that he wasn't working as a Minister of ..Justice.

John gulped down the rest of the erald-green liquid in his bowl, his throat moving as he swallowed. His steps wavered slightly, and he had to brace himself against the stone basin to stay upright.

Tommy's face was filled with distress as he moved to help, but John imdiately barked, "Do your job. I'm not going to die—Voldemort isn't kind enough to let go that easily."

He knew exactly what kind of person Voldemort was.

Rather than granting people death, he preferred to see them suffer.

Bending over, John felt a sharp, splitting pain in his head, his mind flooded with countless mories.

It was as if soone had shattered his brain and then haphazardly pieced it back together.

The agony twisted his expression, but he forcibly suppressed it.

He scooped up another bowl of the liquid.

This ti, he didn't pause—he simply poured it straight into his mouth.

Not a single drop was spilled. The liquid in the stone basin had visibly decreased.

Just as he had expected—there was no other way to get rid of this thing besides drinking it.

And it had to be finished completely. Even if John had wanted to pass the task to Tommy halfway through, it wouldn't have worked.

Having figured everything out, John gave Tommy a firm instruction: "No matter what happens, you must make sure I finish drinking every last drop. Even if I beg you for rcy, you are not allowed to hold back."

"My Lord."

Tommy clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white. In the end, he still nodded in agreent.

John scooped up the third bowl and drank it down.

His fingers began to cramp—he nearly lost his grip on the bowl.

This potion didn't just attack the mind; it damaged the body as well.

Before his eyes, countless images flickered past. Painful mories surged up like a relentless tide.

He couldn't stop himself from letting out a low groan, his fingers digging into the stone basin.

If the basin weren't a magical construct, he might have crushed it by now.

John gritted his teeth through the pain and forced himself to scoop up a fourth bowl.

His grip was unsteady.

So he simply shut his eyes, blocking out all the unpleasantness.

Bringing the bowl to his lips, he realized sothing disturbing—His own hand refused to obey him.

It wouldn't let him drink.

At that mont, John turned to look at Tommy.

Despite the unbearable pain he was enduring, his eyes were filled not with a plea for help—But a plea for Tommy to fulfill his promise.

Tommy's eyes turned red.

His breath ca in ragged gasps, his arms trembling.

But he reached out, took hold of John's hand, and brought the bowl to his lips.

John wanted to smile—but his body wouldn't allow it.

As John swallowed this bowl, he closed his eyes.

The expression on his face gradually twisted into terror.

This ti, he didn't even have the strength to steady himself—he collapsed, nearly rolling into the lake.

"My Lord!"

Tommy lunged forward, catching John just in ti. His eyes were bloodshot, terrifying to behold.

John suddenly clutched Tommy with a death grip, his voice slurred and unconscious: "...Drink."

Tommy trembled all over.

Holding back his sorrow, he forced himself to scoop another bowl from the stone basin.

For soone with such a strong will... By the ti John swallowed the fifth bowl, he had practically lost all ability to speak.

His body convulsed violently.

His fingers scraped against the stone, splitting open, but he didn't even seem to feel it.

It was as if a hundred Dentors were circling him, stripping away everything he had.

He could beg for rcy—but for so reason, no words ca out.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

He had bitten through his own cheek.

"My Lord… this really can't go on. Stop this."

Tommy's voice trembled, his expression desperate.

He longed to hear John utter even a single plea for rcy.

Just one word.

If John would just beg, even once, Tommy could convince himself to take him away from here.

Scooping out the sixth bowl from the stone basin, he saw that more than half of the liquid was now gone.

John's tightly clenched lips barely parted, allowing the liquid to trickle into his mouth.

This bowl was swallowed painfully slowly—every second was sheer tornt.

Tommy pleaded, "My Lord, let's leave. You can't drink anymore."

There was no response.

Tommy's heart twisted in agony.

He had no way to vent his anger, no target to lash out at.

All he could do was scoop the seventh bowl.

Truthfully, John had already reached his limit by the fourth bowl.

But before drinking it, he had cast a mind magic spell on himself.

A hypnotic suggestion—telling himself to keep drinking, no matter what.

And at the sa ti, another absolute command—no matter what happened, he must not speak.

His consciousness had shrunk to a single point.

The only things left in his mind were these two suggestions.

The seventh bowl!

John's body twisted violently, as if so invisible force was torturing him.

His mind was dragged back to Azkaban, inside the cave, the dragon holand, the Gate of matter and so on...

Endless tornt magnified his pain a hundredfold, making life itself worse than death.

Tommy struggled to hold John down, preventing him from smashing his head against the stone basin.

For the first ti in his life, he spoke in a tone so gentle it felt like he was soothing a child.

"My Lord, just a little more… Just hold on a little longer… just one more ti."

Struggling to keep himself from breaking down, Tommy knew—he could die, but he must never let John's efforts go to waste.

Easier said than done.

No matter how many tis he raised his hand, it wouldn't stop trembling.

He cursed himself furiously, "Stop shaking, you coward!"

Opening his mouth, he bit down hard on his own arm.

The sharp pain and taste of blood finally steadied his grip.

Scooping up the eighth bowl, he saw that the erald-green liquid in the stone basin was almost gone.

He brought the bowl to John's lips, but John refused to open his mouth.

Was everything going to fail at the last mont?

Panicked, Tommy forcibly pried John's mouth open, shoving his fingers between John's teeth to keep them apart.

The liquid trickled down his throat.

John instinctively clenched his jaw—Tommy felt a sharp burst of pain as his fingers were caught between his teeth.

Sweat dripped down his face, but he didn't pull his fingers away.

Instead, he reached for the ninth bowl.

The liquid in the stone basin had almost disappeared.

The ninth bowl was poured into John's mouth.

This ti, John finally made a sound.

He scread.

A terrible, piercing wail.

"Let … go…"

His last shred of ntal defense was torn apart.

Tommy endured the overwhelming sorrow and continued.

As he scooped up the liquid, the bowl scraped against the bottom of the basin—only a thin layer remained.

"Almost there… almost there, my Lord."

Using all his strength, Tommy held down the screaming John and forced the liquid down his throat.

John felt like he was dying. His mind was consud by this single thought.

Slowly, he stopped struggling.

His life force was rapidly fading.

Tommy fed him the tenth bowl and imdiately scooped up the final one.

Looking at John, who had completely stopped moving, he poured the last bowl into his mouth.

John's Adam's apple moved slightly.

Not a single drop was left.

And then—he fell completely still.

"My Lord, wake up!"

Tommy threw the bowl aside, frantically calling out to John.

Pulling out his wand, he cast a spell over him.

"Ennervate!"

John didn't move.

Fear gripped Tommy's heart.

"Ennervate!"

"Renervate!"

"Ennervate!"

"Renervate!"

He kept casting healing spells, but John still showed no response.

"My Lord—!"

Tommy finally broke down, screaming in anguish.

Just then—

A pale, lifeless hand erged from the Black Lake, latching onto John's leg, attempting to drag him under.

Tommy spotted it and went berserk, wildly swinging his wand.

Spells rained down upon the Inferi in the lake, his fury blinding him.

More and more Inferi surfaced—it seed endless.

As Tommy battled the undead, a rat that had been hiding on the island scurried toward the stone basin.

The once-glowing green liquid had vanished, revealing a golden locket at the bottom.

The rat snatched up the locket, its beady eyes gleaming with triumph.

It glanced at John, lying motionless, its gaze filled with hatred.

Just as it signaled for the Inferi to drag both of them into the depths—It looked back!

John, who had been completely still, had opened his eyes.

!!!

In that instant.. The rat's fur bristled in terror.

________

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