Hogwarts’ John Wick 249: Seeking Help and Rejection

249: Seeking Help and Rejection

"Heinrich!!!" Cedric shouted as he practically jumped into the blazing fire but was held back by the newly arrived Kim Ledislay.

Fiendfyre.

Thick smoke.

Death.

A life fading away, accompanied by roars and despair.

Harry couldn't hear it—he was locked in a standoff with Voldemort.

His parents urged him not to let go, to hold his ground in this struggle.

"So he really was a wizard?" An old man erged from Voldemort's wand. "This guy took my life. You fight him, kid."

Then a woman appeared. Seeing Harry, she shouted loudly, "Don't let go! Don't let him hurt you, Harry! Don't let go!"

"When the connection breaks, we can only stay for a short while, but we'll buy you ti—hurry and leave."

"No, I can't." Floating in midair, Harry clenched his teeth.

He had no way to escape. He couldn't Apparate, and the Portkey was single-use—there was no way for him to leave.

If he let go, there was only one outco—death.

But then his mother said, "Dumbledore is coming, Harry."

That single sentence filled him with strength. He chose to believe her.

With a firm flick of his wand, he broke the connection.

The images did not disappear—they flew around Voldemort.

Harry crashed into an embrace—it was Dumbledore.

He really had co.

A flicker of wariness crossed Voldemort's face. His Death Eaters, for so unknown reason, had not arrived.

Ardolph Edgar was dead. Even for Voldemort, in the current situation, direct confrontation was impossible.

The effect of the Authority atrifact had faded, and Voldemort's wand glead with green light.

The Killing Curse shot forward like a bolt of thunder, heading straight for Dumbledore.

At that mont, a celestial lody rang out.

A phoenix swooped in, swallowing the green light in one gulp.

Then, it fell, reduced to a pile of ashes.

From within the ashes, an ugly newborn chick erged.

A phoenix reborn in fire.

Voldemort sensed another presence approaching.

This ti, he was in a truly sorry state. The eerie atmosphere he had originally crafted vanished completely, swept away by the raging fire and Dumbledore's arrival.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another person descending from the sky.

A surge of murderous intent descended in an instant.

"Confringo!"

A blast of white light obliterated the spot where Voldemort had just stood. The imnse force reduced both the ground and the gravestones behind it to dust.

"Voldemort—!" John had arrived.

And he had lost it.

Spells shot out like they cost nothing, magic pouring out endlessly. His right hand clenched the air. The Silver Wick Sword materialized out of thin air, instantly engulfed in flas.

Wings spread from his back, and with a powerful flap, he swung his sword at Voldemort from twenty feet away.

The flaming blade carved a deep trench into the ground, splitting every gravestone in its path clean in half.

Voldemort cast a long, deep look at John. Without giving him a second chance to strike, he vanished with Apparition.

John didn't waste a second chasing after him. Instead, he turned and charged straight toward the Fiendfyre.

There, another silver-masked man stood with his wand raised high, his hoarse voice roaring desperately— "Finite Incantatem!"

Even Kim, a master of Dark Arts defense, could not extinguish this raging inferno.

All flas should have been within his power to extinguish—just like before.

But now, Kim's golden light seed insignificant before the raging fire.

John arrived and saw the figure burning within the flas.

His eyes turned bloodshot, and his magic flared uncontrollably.

Dumbledore, about to step in, suddenly paused as he witnessed an overwhelming surge of magic explode from John.

The raging Fiendfyre—Woosh!

—was suddenly gripped, as if seized by an invisible hand.

Scarlet eyes filled with boundless fury, John raised his sword and slashed.

Fiendfyre, forcibly crushed by magic, split apart, carving out a path.

"Magic overload..." Dumbledore watched intently.

Another figure dashed into the fire and pulled out the charred corpse.

The mont the body left the flas, John saw tightly clenched hands loosen—

A silver ring and an emblem fell to the ground.

His knees buckled, but just as he was about to collapse, he forced himself to stand again, murmuring, "Right. Use magic. This is a world of magic."

He looked at the big guy who had removed his mask and was now sobbing uncontrollably. Forcing himself to calm down, he ordered, "Kim, put him down. Let do it!"

He emptied his small pouch, spilling out thousands of Galleons.

With a flick of his wand, he cast the Coin Spell.

The golden coins visibly dwindled, vanishing one by one—until they were all gone.

Yet, the corpse remained unchanged.

John clenched his teeth, then thought of his ti magic.

A golden magic circle appeared on John's left hand as he spun ti backward.

The body, charred by Fiendfyre, was gradually restoring itself—A glimr of hope sparked in John's eyes.

"Heinrich, I'm here. Everything will be fixed." He murmured.

Black, smoke-like wisps continuously swirled around his body, shifting unpredictably.

Golden sand in his left hand rapidly depleted, but John ignored it, pushing forward until the burned corpse beca nothing more than a dried husk.

Then—

The last grain of golden sand vanished.

John shouted, "No, no, no! Keep restoring!"

"Right—I still have soul magic."

Muttering to himself, John extended his right hand, black threads wrapping tightly around the withered corpse.

But—

There was no life left. How could it be healed?

Cedric collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

Kim Ledislay, his mask discarded, stared blankly ahead, unable to process what had happened.

John's mind raced.

Suddenly, he whipped his head toward Harry.

Harry shivered under the weight of John's gaze.

But John wasn't looking at him.

Striding toward Dumbledore, John said urgently, "Professor Dumbledore, the Ti-Turner! We can use the Ti-Turner!"

He even forgot his usual pretense, looking at Dumbledore with desperate hope and pleading, "I know you have one. You still have one. Give the Ti-Turner—let save him."

Dumbledore was silent for a long mont.

He could not stand by and watch John defy death itself.

And, more than anyone, he understood—the Ti-Turner could not change a fate already sealed.

Shaking his head, Dumbledore said, "I'm sorry, but I cannot give it to you."

The light in John's eyes, filled with hope and even a touch of pleading, gradually dimd.

Under Dumbledore's gaze, black magic surged from John's body, spreading outward in waves.

A deep, chilling voice rang out—

"Professor Dumbledore, I want you to hand over the Ti-Turner. It was mine to begin with, wasn't it?"

The voice was so cold, so unlike before, suffocating in its intensity.

Dumbledore could see it clearly—John was now in an extrely dangerous state.

But still, he shook his head and said solemnly, "Ti is a taboo, child."

"A taboo?"

A low chuckle sounded.

John, who had been hanging his head, suddenly lifted it.

In his eyes—hatred, mixed with fury.

"Dumbledore, you're as hypocritical as ever. You had the chance to save him just now. But in the end—you chose Harry."

"It's you. It's all because of you!"

John's sanity was slipping away.

Black magic spread like a swamp, dragging everyone down with it.

With a voice filled with resentnt, John spat, "You were the first to arrive here. You didn't choose Heinrich—was it because of his family? Because he wasn't from Hogwarts? Or was it simply because he wasn't Harry fucking Potter?"

Favoritism.

This wasn't the first ti John had realized it.

But he never expected that when Heinrich was surrounded by Fiendfyre, while Harry and Voldemort faced off—

Dumbledore would, without hesitation, choose Harry.

Even though, if Dumbledore had acted, Heinrich might have survived.

He didn't.

He cared more about Harry Potter's life than Heinrich's.

To hell with the so-called "Savior."

John only wanted his best friend to live.

Now, his voice was steady, but each word carried the weight of his fury.

"Give it to , Dumbledore."

John knew.

He knew everything.

Just like he knew Mundungus Fletcher was still secretly working for Dumbledore.

He thought showing goodwill, letting the old man see he was a good person, might an sothing.

He knew that two Ti-Turners had been approved for third-year use—one of them was in Dumbledore's drawer.

He knew that Dumbledore had so apprehensions about him and was blatantly biased toward Harry.

But—

But he was a Hogwarts student too.

Wasn't he?

All he wanted was fairness.

He was even willing to give up future fairness—if it ant bringing Heinrich back.

John took a deep breath. His face was devoid of emotion as he pointed his sword at Dumbledore once more and said, "Give it to ."

As long as he had the Ti-Turner, everything could still be fixed.. right?

"I'm sorry."

Dumbledore gently set Harry down and looked at John.

His answer remained the sa.

"I cannot."

Harry's heart pounded in his chest, but he had no idea what to say.

Facing the greatest wizard of the century—John was on the verge of collapse.

"I cannot stand by and watch you take an irreversible path," Dumbledore said, his expression complicated. He tried to make John reconsider. "Do not tamper with the forbidden, John. Death cannot be undone. A Ti-Turner cannot do what you wish."

John knew he might have exposed himself.

So what?

He let out a cold laugh and turned away.

Tampering with the forbidden?

Who was the real one tampering with the forbidden?

Who was the one pretending to uphold fairness while standing high above everyone else?

"You have exhausted the last shred of goodwill I had for you, Dumbledore."

John's footsteps paused for a mont. Underneath the mask, his expression was utterly indifferent.

"Perhaps you believe yourself untouchable," he said, voice icy. "But don't forget—there are deadly dangers lurking in the depths of the swamp."

Crack! Snap! Crack!

A series of loud cracks echoed around them. The security squad had arrived.

Tommy appeared, dragging along a bound and battered Peter Pettigrew.

He silently stood behind John.

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