Hogwarts’ John Wick 273: Entering the Door and Destroying the Painting

273: Entering the Door and Destroying the Painting

Apparating into Grimmauld Place, John brushed the strands of hair that had drifted across his cheek.

"Maybe it's ti for a haircut?"

His black hair had grown down to the corners of his eyes, and John found it a bit botherso.

Maybe a new hairstyle would feel more comfortable.

Glancing around, Grimmauld Place was a street located in London.

Most of the surrounding buildings were old residential flats, with weathered walls that bore heavy marks of ti.

John walked past them one by one, stopping when he reached Number 11.

"The Fidelius Charm really is an excellent spell."

The traces were perfectly hidden—without the Secret Keeper revealing the location, finding the Order of the Phoenix would be extrely difficult.

Just as he was thinking that, John spotted an owl appearing out of thin air.

The owl wobbled in the sky for a mont, then flew straight toward John.

"Hermione?"

John extended his hand for the owl to land on, and was surprised to see that the letter was indeed from Hermione.

He looked up toward the spot where the owl had just appeared.

He tried to ignore it, but a strange sense of wrongness welled up inside him—like soone eating a al inside a bathroom, a feeling both bizarre and unsettling.

Walking forward again, he spotted the door number: 13.

"Mistake? No."

John paced back and forth several tis, then read the letter in his hand.

It ntioned that soone had been bitten by Tom and had now contracted a kind of "mad dog disease." They were hoping John could help resolve the situation.

It was also specifically noted that the person wasn't a bad guy.

"So it's the wizard who got bitten that day," John thought, a aningful smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"This letter really ca at just the right ti."

He raised his hand and pressed it against the envelope. Since the letter had been sent not long ago from inside the house, it still carried a faint connection.

This was the wonder of soul-based inception magic.

John closed his eyes, grabbed the owl—Pigwidgeon, who was trying to flutter away—and drew a drop of blood from the little owl's claw.

Black threads of energy spread from his right fingertips, wrapping around Pigwidgeon, causing the owl to flap about frantically in alarm.

Owls had a special ability—they could find the person they sought.

Using this ability, combined with the lingering trace from the letter, John ran countless deductions in his mind, repeating one address over and over:

Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

His eyes snapped open, black, lightning-like arcs flashing across his gaze.

Standing between numbers 11 and 13, a house suddenly seed to squeeze itself into existence.

A black door and a snake-shaped door knocker appeared.

John let go of the struggling Pigwidgeon, who fled in panic toward the newly materialized house.

A misty, smoke-like black aura was radiating from John's body.

The letter in his hand abruptly ignited, and before it finished burning, he walked up to the door and pressed the doorbell.

A sizzling, electric buzz echoed out. John looked the house over.

"If it weren't for Dad and the owl, even if I turned all of London upside down, I probably still wouldn't have found this place."

He waited for a mont, the letter almost completely burned away.

There was a clattering sound from behind the door, and a young red-haired witch poked her head out, complaining, "Could you please not use the doorbell? You know what's going to happen—"

Her words cut off abruptly. Tonks froze, staring at him, and asked, "You are...?"

"I think," John said, smiling, "you should let in first."

He stepped forward smoothly, and Tonks instinctively moved aside.

Just before the letter finished burning, John stepped inside, and the scene looked very cool.

Honestly, he had already been thinking that if no one opened the door, he'd just break in.

"Tonks, which idiot used the doorbell?!"

They were in the middle of a eting when the sound of the doorbell woke up the portrait of Sirius's mother.

Just after dealing with his mother's mad screeching portrait, Sirius stord over, furious.

But when he saw John, his angry expression froze.

"John Wick?" he asked in confusion.

His voice was a bit loud, causing the noise in the eting room to quiet down.

...

Pigwidgeon flew back and landed on Ron's shoulder, as if complaining about sothing.

"Pig, why are you back so fast?" Ron asked, puzzled by how quickly the owl had returned.

Hermione asked uncertainly, "Did you deliver my letter to John?"

The mont John's na was ntioned, Pig stuck out his foot, indignantly showing his grievance.

At that mont, Sirius's voice ca from outside.

Harry hesitated. "Did I hear that right?"

Ron had the sa stunned expression.

Hermione let out a small scream of excitent and exclaid, "John's here!"

"B-but there's a Fidelius Charm here, he shouldn't be able to co," Harry muttered to himself.

Hermione had already run outside.

Harry and Ron had no choice but to follow, while Pigwidgeon, seeing that his own master didn't care about his injuries, flew around the room furiously venting his anger.

Passing by the staircase wall lined with house-elf heads, they saw the boy standing in the entryway.

John Wick.

It was only then that Sirius realized sothing was wrong, his face changing as he asked, "Who told you the address?"

The Secret-Keeper here was Dumbledore. Could it be that Dumbledore had told John?

"Sirius, we haven't seen each other for a while," John said with a smile. "Do you rember chasing a Muggle so ti ago?"

"Hmm?" Sirius frowned, recalling the Muggle he had failed to catch, and asked in surprise, "How do you know about that?"

John's smile vanished, and he said coldly, "My father received quite a bit of your 'care.'"

"!!!" At these words, Sirius's face changed drastically.

John suddenly raised his left hand, and a surge of force struck Sirius's chest, sending him flying backward.

"Ugh—!"

Light blood from the soles of John's shoes, and with a grasp of his right hand in the air, the Silver Wick Sword appeared.

His speed was incredibly fast—even Tonks, who was the closest, only reacted after it happened.

"Stop!"

Shouts rang out. Even without lifting his head, John could tell that at least three wands were pointed at him.

By now, the sharp blade had already sliced across Sirius's cheek and stabbed into the wall behind him.

Looking up, a trace of mockery flashed through John's eyes.

"Professor, I didn't expect you to be here too."

The people from the eting room ca out—Moody, Lupin, Snape, Mr. Weasley, and a dark-skinned wizard in purple robes.

Snape didn't raise his wand; he asked in a deep voice, "John, why are you here?"

"Quite the coincidence," John said casually, stepping on Sirius's left ribs and shrugging, "A while ago, my father was attacked here by two wizards. I was just wondering who the reckless idiots were."

"The Muggle who ran away that day... was your father?" Snape was stunned.

It was a ridiculous coincidence—they had indeed been seen by a Muggle that day.

Tonks, who had co out to clean up the blood, hadn't recognized Watson Wick.

Sirius should have recognized him, but back in his third year, he had been too focused on living like a dog and looking at his godson and completely missed Watson Wick's presence.

It was... quite awkward.

Snape also seed a bit at a loss as to what to do.

John's father had almost been hit with an Obliviate.

John's angry reaction seed... sowhat understandable.

Lupin said, "Sorry, we didn't know he was your father."

"My father was so terrified he didn't dare leave the house for days. He even thought he'd been cursed and was about to die," John said casually, spewing nonsense as the Silver Wick Sword in his hand glead with a cold light.

John's dangerous gaze swept over the group as he said coolly, "This isn't sothing an apology can fix."

Sirius, still aggrieved, said, "I'm the one who got hurt—your dad shot at !"

"Oh?" John sneered. "Then I guess that's really my bad."

"Alright, John Wick, we're all on the sa side here," Moody said gruffly. "The fact that you made it here ans Dumbledore trusts you. He must've sent you to cure Podmore's mad dog curse, right?"

John's expression turned strange. "That might not be exactly what you think."

He hadn't co on Dumbledore's invitation—he had tracked his way here by himself.

Hermione's letter had helped a lot. It was practically a roundabout invitation.

"John! Ah! What happened to Sirius!?" Hermione ca running downstairs, only to see John stepping on Sirius.

Harry was about to rush over, but Ron desperately held him back.

"Calm down! Do you see what he's holding? Your head's definitely not harder than that thing," Ron said, sweating all over.

That was the guy who split the Black Lake with a single sword strike, for rlin's sake—bro, don't do anything stupid.

"I'm fine, Harry!" Sirius roared, which ended up waking the portrait of his mother behind the curtains.

"Filthy scum, bringing all sorts of vermin into my house, filthy, low-born Mudbloods!"

Everyone who had been living here for a while had experienced firsthand how vicious that portrait was.

John frowned, raised his hand, and used a Summoning Charm on the portrait.

"It's no use, that thing's stuck with a Permanent Sticking Charm," Sirius said.

John glanced over without a word, pulled out his wand, and before Sirius could react, cast a Blasting Curse.

Boom!

A flash of white light hit the endlessly jabbering portrait, blowing a giant hole in the wall along with it.

Everyone froze, stunned that John would just do that.

Glancing at the dumbfounded Sirius, John casually turned to Hermione and greeted, "Hermione, long ti no see."

"Long ti no see, John," Hermione replied, though it felt like she was sleepwalking.

In the end, it was the old house-elf Kreacher who let out a shrill scream.

___________

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