261: A Lot Of Letters And Investnts
Harry stood there, dazed, his mind utterly blank and ice-cold.
It felt like his consciousness had been pierced by a paralyzing dart—he had been expelled from Hogwarts!
It was over. Everything was over. He could never go back.
Vernon was still shouting, but Harry couldn't care less.
His thoughts slowly began to function again. He rembered—the Ministry was going to destroy his wand.
He had to run. There was no ti to waste.
He couldn't let them destroy his wand. But where could he go?
Back in third year, he'd been warned too.
Why wasn't there any punishnt that ti?
Oh. Right.
It was because Fudge had intervened. It was Fudge who had protected him.
Harry turned to run, but Vernon was still yelling, demanding an explanation.
"Get out of the way!" Harry didn't have ti for this.
"You need to stay right here and explain what happened to my son—"
"If you don't move, I'll curse you," Harry said, raising his wand.
John, watching the scene unfold, fell into thought. Harry had clearly been pushed to the edge.
John was sitting right there on the sofa, and no one even noticed him.
Harry was still confronting Vernon, threatening to cast a spell.
A loud bang startled everyone.
It wasn't Harry—it was an owl that had slamd into the window.
The owl stubbornly stuck out a leg, a small roll of parchnt tied to it.
Harry quickly untied it, as if clinging to his last hope, and unrolled it to read.
John leaned in to take a glance—it was from Arthur Weasley.
It said that Dumbledore was already on his way to the Ministry to investigate the entire matter, and instructed Harry not to leave the Dursleys', not to use magic, and not to surrender his wand.
'Dumbledore, you really do treat the Ministry as your own playground,' John sneered inwardly.
He claid not to want power, yet used it everywhere.
His attitude was practically one of supremacy over the Ministry.
Harry, as if having grabbed onto a stabilizing anchor, cald himself. He no longer wanted to leave.
But Vernon had completely lost it.
Harry, however, had cald down a lot and began explaining the situation to them.
When he ntioned the Dentors, Aunt Petunia turned pale and said they were the guards of Azkaban prison.
Everyone turned to look at her, and Vernon listened to her explanation.
A mont later, another owl flew in.
This ti, it was from the Ministry of Magic, and it brought good news—they were temporarily not going to break Harry's wand or expel him from school, though he still had to attend a hearing.
Harry let out a sigh of relief. He knew Dumbledore wouldn't just sit back and do nothing.
Vernon, upon hearing that Harry wasn't getting expelled, felt a complicated mix of emotions. On one hand, he feared Harry's retaliation; on the other, he desperately wished Harry would just leave and never co back.
Then another owl ca—this was the fourth.
It ca barreling in through the kitchen fireplace, spewing dust that made everyone cough.
This one was from Sirius Black, once again stressing that Harry must not leave the house.
John was already getting bored with this kind of routine.
The Savior runs into trouble, and suddenly all these protectors pop up—first so Ministry uncle, then Dumbledore himself steps in, and now even the godfather shows up.
"So precious, aren't we?" he muttered from the sofa, half-lidded eyes watching the whole circus unfold.
Harry wasn't too happy with what Sirius had said. He'd single-handedly driven off the Dentors—didn't anyone think to say, "Well done"?
John could see his emotions and found it rather amusing.
If it had been any other wizard, even a pure-blood, they wouldn't be getting this kind of treatnt.
Harry had been pampered too much, to the point of becoming picky.
"Look at that—Dumbledore's painstakingly nurtured Savior," John muttered, propping his cheek up with one hand, watching with great interest.
The Savior was full of himself. When others called him You-Know-Who, he could freely say "Voldemort" aloud. And when he saw Vernon and Petunia too scared to speak at the na, he even looked rather pleased with himself.
Vernon was about to kick him out when—right on cue—the fifth owl flew in.
What a lively day.
But this one wasn't here for Harry. It flew straight over and sought out Petunia Dursley.
It was a red Howler.
Harry told her it was a Howler.
Vernon imdiately panicked and told her to throw it away.
To Vernon, wizards were no different from dangerous criminals.
Petunia saw her na written on the envelope and was visibly shaken.
Before the Howler could even be opened, it started to smoke.
Petunia panicked, and when flas burst from the envelope, she shrieked and threw it away.
By coincidence, the envelope flew straight toward the invisible John.
He caught it.
Just as the voice was about to erupt, John clapped his hands together.
The sound dropped to an inaudible whisper.
"Rember my last, Petunia..."
That voice—It was Dumbledore!
With a snap of his fingers, John reduced the envelope to ashes.
Everyone stared blankly at the scene. From their perspective, the letter had floated in midair.. then crumbled into ash... the fuck was happening?
"Where's the voice? Why wasn't there any voice?" Harry exclaid in surprise, looking at the remains.
He didn't understand why the Howler had made no sound.
Petunia was gripping the back of a chair for support, and Vernon rushed over to hold his wife.
Dudley had woken up, staring blankly in that direction.
As for John—he knew the show was over and left without a word.
…
"Reverto."
In the attic.
Golden light swirled around a pile of ash. Right before his eyes, the ash rapidly reford into a red envelope.
A Howler.
John stared at the envelope, deep in thought. "Dumbledore sent this to Petunia Dursley, telling her to rember his last words?"
Petunia was Harry's aunt, and also Lily Evans's sister.
Lily Evans.
Strictly speaking, Harry wasn't the true savior.
Lily Evans was. She had used an ancient magic spell on Harry—her love had defeated Voldemort.
As Lily's sister, Petunia was a Muggle.
The only connection between Dumbledore and her could be Harry.
John casually flipped the Howler over in his hand. The ring on his right hand slid over two fingers, and he tapped the Howler lightly.
The letter, which had been on the verge of self-igniting again, imdiately froze. John tossed it casually into his satchel.
A book on the table began to flutter its pages in the breeze.
The Tales of Beedle the Bard
The pages stopped at the legend of the three brothers—specifically, the tale of the second brother and the Resurrection Stone.
John stared at the depiction of the Resurrection Stone, a glint of deep light flickering through his eyes.
"Death does indeed exist. And so do the Deathly Hallows."
His fingers brushed lightly over the surface of the book. John muttered thoughtfully, "In the story, the second brother used the Resurrection Stone to bring back the woman he loved. But since she didn't belong to this world, she returned sad and cold."
It seed like a trick—an illusion to lead people astray.
But John didn't see it that way. He believed there was another possibility: perhaps the second brother had used the wrong thod.
The brother had relied solely on the power of the Resurrection Stone, summoning soone who no longer belonged to this world—thus, the world itself rejected her.
But if he infused it with the power of ti and soul—if he clashed these forbidden forces together—perhaps there was a way to truly call back the soul of soone who had passed.
It was only John's theory, and carrying it out would be extrely difficult. At the very least, it would require the force sealed in the Eternal Frost Casket he had exiled —and, of course, the Resurrection Stone itself.
He buried the idea deep in his heart.
The next day.
The Dursleys ultimately didn't kick Harry out, though their attitude had beco noticeably colder.
John only glanced at the situation, but didn't pay it any further attention.
He headed to the Silverhand Johnny specialty store.
Mundungus wasn't there—most likely still keeping an eye on Harry over at Privet Drive.
John casually picked up a financial report—the current quarter's Silverhand Angel Investnt review.
He skimd it. Aside from the Weasley twins' joke shop, there were several other investnt projects.
At the mont, the only one showing short-term returns was the Weasley twins'.
The rest were still in the stage of pouring in money.
As his gaze drifted downward, John spotted a project that had already consud 3,000 Galleons in funding, but had yielded basically zero returns.
He checked the signature—Mundungus Fletcher.
"If I wanted to kill you, you just handed the knife."
John let out a quiet laugh and called for Tommy to co in. Pointing to a project labeled "Chunky's Surfing School," John said, "Look into this project. Then fire Mundungus."
After a pause, John added, "And don't forget—make sure he coughs the money back up."
___________
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