Regardless of how Old Barty confird things, John received so good news.
Basil delivered a letter bearing the Belby family crest, and almost imdiately after, another letter arrived—this one from the Wizengamot.
"The preliminary review of the Blood Curse thesis has passed."
John opened the letter from Damocles Belby. The letter was written with great formality and even bore the Belby family crest.
Damocles rarely did this, since his relationship with his brother wasn't good.
Normally, he barely used the family crest.
Only when he deed an occasion sufficiently formal would he use it.
After opening the letter, John understood why he'd done so this ti.
The Blood Curse thesis had passed preliminary review—the Wizengamot couldn't find any flaws in the paper itself.
So, they were forced to look for issues elsewhere.
The Wizengamot mbers expressed doubts about certain aspects of the thesis—for example, the fact that a student still attending Hogwarts had co-authored it with one of the top potion masters of the ti.
In their eyes, that student probably contributed only a negligible amount.
And yet, co-authorship ant the credit was split equally.
This was a serious issue. Setting aside the suspicion of possible "academic power abuse," the implications were significant.
It also involved the rlin dal issued by the Wizengamot.
For Damocles Belby, who had already been awarded the First-Class rlin dal, another one was rely the cherry on top.
But for John Wick, who had not yet received one, it would be an imnse honor.
The rlin dal had to uphold its integrity. They didn't want to see a student who supposedly "rode on" soone else's work being granted such glory.
"So that's why a debate is necessary, huh." John opened the other letter sent by the Wizengamot.
His expression was calm, though the tone of the writer was full of arrogance—completely different from how they'd address Johnny Silverhand.
It was as if they had already decided this kid was just a fraud trying to steal a dal.
"Attend the final review debate at the Wizengamot before December 31st."
The letter listed John Wick's na—but not Damocles Belby's.
This was a defense session specifically targeting John Wick.
Casually tossing the envelope aside, John watched as flas consud the letter.
Just as he was about to return to his book, an unfamiliar owl flew in.
It dropped a letter and flew away imdiately.
John picked up the envelope, scanned it briefly, and instantly understood who it was from.
"He's still as cautious as ever."
John opened the envelope. Inside was Slughorn's reply.
After half a year, he had finally responded.
John had been full of hope, wondering if he would finally get an answer—but the mont he opened the letter, he realized he'd been mistaken.
"John, thank you for the ad. Over the years I've received many bottles of ad, but the one you sent is the best I've ever tasted. I really ought to let my friends try so too…"
It was a reply, yes—but not to John's question.
John could tell: Slughorn was dodging the question.
The bottle of ad sent at Christmas hadn't been enough to make the forr Head of Slytherin speak.
Expressionless, John lit the letter on fire.
"Looks like I'll have to find the answer myself."
He stepped out onto the balcony, narrowing his eyes as he caught a falling snowflake.
The snowflake didn't lt in his palm for a long ti. He cupped it carefully and returned to his study.
On the table sat a misty gray crystal ball.
He brushed a finger over the surface, and within the foggy depths, the vague silhouettes of three people appeared.
He withdrew his hand—the snowflake still resting in his palm, faintly cold.
"The snow is heavy this year."
...
It had been snowing for several days straight over Christmas, and even the inverted garden had been dusted with snowflakes.
John returned to Hogwarts. During his absence, the castle had been unusually quiet.
Since Tom hadn't gone out with John, she had temporarily been left in Draco Malfoy's care.
No one knew exactly how many tis Malfoy had fallen asleep while walking the dog. When John found him, his head was buried in a snowbank.
Beside him, a music box played a graceful tune, and the dog lay nearby, belly-up, sleeping soundly.
"..."
John stood in silence for a mont. He was starting to feel he really needed to do sothing about Tom's habit of collapsing asleep wherever she pleased.
Young dogs could handle it—but young wizards? Not so much.
He switched off the music box, gave Malfoy a kick, and hoisted Tom into his arms.
"Aw—eh..?"
Malfoy blinked in confusion, two frozen snot trails dangling from beneath his nose.
Tom opened hir eyes and, upon seeing John, happily reached out with her tongue—only for John to hold her farther away.
"You're back, John," Malfoy said, shivering as he stood up. John, feeling a bit guilty, said, "Sorry to trouble you with dog-walking, Draco."
"When you get back, have Daphne make you so mulled wine."
Malfoy replied, "Now that you ntion it, I'm suddenly not cold anymore."
You sincerely try to help, and they sincerely try to kill you, huh?
Malfoy gave a full-body shiver and brushed the snow off his clothes.
"Neville ca back early, and after Daphne got a letter, she turned really irritable."
Malfoy spoke with lingering fear, recalling the man-eating look on Daphne's face yesterday. Anyone who didn't know better would've thought she'd just been dumped.
So, with a suspicious look, Malfoy asked, "Did you say sothing to Daphne?"
"Nope," John thought for a mont. He hadn't written to Daphne at all.
Malfoy grew even more puzzled. If it wasn't John, then what could've made Daphne so furious?
The two of them chatted as they walked back.
As they stepped into the castle, they heard Peeves' cackling voice.
That mischievous ghost apparently never took a day off—he was still causing trouble during the holidays.
Because of Umbridge, most students had left the school.
Only a few Slytherins remained, which ant Peeves had fewer people to pester.
As they passed by, Peeves was busy wrecking a disused classroom.
When John walked by and made eye contact, Peeves imdiately put the chair down obediently.
Suddenly thinking of sothing, Peeves rubbed his hands together and approached with a flattering smile. "Mr. Wick, if you could give so dungbombs, I'd be happy to teach that annoying Inquisitor a lesson on your behalf."
John raised an amused eyebrow and said with a smirk, "I don't recall ever saying I disliked that person."
Peeves' face froze, but he quickly forced a grin. "Everyone hates that pink toad."
"That's true," John nodded in agreent. "I'm willing to fund you. Let see... would ten be enough?"
"More than enough!" Peeves was overjoyed.
John told him to go find the Weasley twins after the holidays to collect them. Peeves took off his hat and gave John a deep bow.
When John returned to the Slytherin common room, he saw the "irritable Daphne" Malfoy had ntioned.
Her golden hair was loose, and Daphne was furiously scribbling on a piece of parchnt.
John swore he really only accidentally caught a glimpse.
On the page were lines like: "You little bitch, if you've got the guts to do it, then co back and face !"
"Don't think you can dodge just by not writing back. I know you're at ho."
"I'm going to stuff a sock down your throat!""You'd better sleep with one eye open!"
The letter was practically dripping with venom. Just standing nearby made one feel like they were sitting on a bed of nails.
Only after she finished writing the entire page did Daphne realize John had returned.
She glanced at him, then looked at the letter…
"Um.. ehm.. AAAAAAAH!!"
She let out a scream, covered her face, and ran back to her dormitory.
A mont later, the door opened again, and Daphne dashed out, snatched the letter away, and bolted back inside.
Throughout the entire process, both John and Malfoy remained completely silent.
John asked, "How long has she been like this?"
Malfoy replied, "Since yesterday."
After saying that, the two fell silent again.
Who would've thought that the proud heiress of the Greengrass family turned out to be a certified trash talker?
John was quiet for a long while, then said earnestly, "For your own safety, I recomnd you forget everything you just saw. Otherwise, I can't guarantee Daphne won't physically erase your mory."
Malfoy swallowed hard. He had a strong feeling that the chances of getting his mory erased the hard way were... pretty high.
To preserve his life, for the remaining few days of the holiday, he kept his mouth shut.
...
December 31st.
There was one day left before the end of the holidays, and John was heading to the Wizengamot.
It wasn't his first ti going there—the last ti had been for Harry's hearing over the Dentor incident.
John wasn't wearing his mask this ti, and he found it a bit uncomfortable.
Walking through the access corridor, he noticed that the atmosphere of the Ministry had improved significantly.
The most obvious change was the morial statue — it could now make a second facial expression to greet visitors.
Damocles ca over with his cane and stepped into the lift at the sa ti as John.
Today, he was dressed in purple robes that made him look far more solemn. He said earnestly, "If you're afraid, I can do the defense for you."
John chuckled. "Wouldn't that be playing right into their hands?"
"They're always so self-righteous," Damocles Belby also laughed. "They never realize the difference between a genius and the common folk."
The lift arrived, and the two stepped out.
Unlike last ti, this wasn't being held in the courtroom.
There weren't many Wizengamot mbers present either—mostly it was academic authorities and scholars.
When they saw John's young face, the previously skeptical crowd gasped and even scoffed in amusent.
As if they had already seen through the laughable little act of this "child."
Damocles Belby stepped to the side, raising his brows and making faces at him.
John Wick.
It was ti for the magical world to witness the brilliance of this dazzling star from Hogwarts.
Under all their watchful gazes, John stepped forward.
_________
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