Hogwarts' John Wick

Hermione hadn't expected her House-Elf Rights Promotion Society to be rejected so outright. She couldn't understand why John would refuse such a good cause.

"Don't tell me you're like Ron, thinking house-elves enjoy being enslaved!" Hermione's voice unconsciously rose.

"No, Hermione," John shook his head and replied calmly, "But let me ask you this: Why are you so determined to help house-elves?"

"Why?"

Hermione froze for a moment before responding, "Isn't it obvious? We shouldn't stand by and watch them be enslaved like this. They should be paid for their work, not do it for free."

"Wrong."

John looked at her, his expression tinged with a faint exasperation at her naivety. "Do you know how wizards came to hold their current status?"

Before Hermione could respond, John continued, his tone carrying a faint chill. "Through slaughter. A great deal of slaughter."

As if on cue, a gust of cold wind seemed to sweep through, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine.

"At the beginning, wizards and many magical creatures didn't coexist peacefully. You should know about the goblin rebellions. House-elves were also among the losers of those wars."

"In those wars, countless wizards died. The house-elves were enslaved, and the pact prohibiting them from using wands was established."

John's words caused beads of sweat to form on Hermione's forehead as she began to grasp the weight of what he was saying.

"To the victor goes the spoils. The losers pay the price. House-elves seem pitiful because so many wizards once fell at their hands."

His brown eyes gleamed faintly, exuding a cold light, the persona of Johnny Silverhand was leaking. "Wizards are the beneficiaries. In the Muggle world, similar things have happened. It's not about species—it's about winning and losing."

Indeed, this has happened everywhere at some point.

"This is the wizarding world."

Perhaps there have been kind masters who freed their slaves, but as the saying goes, those who are not of our kind will always have different hearts.

After being enslaved for so long, house-elves are steeped in servility, thoroughly brainwashed by wizards.

But once the first house-elf rises in rebellion, others will gradually awaken.

When that happens, will they coexist peacefully with wizards and their own kind?

"Either domesticate them or drive them away," John said calmly. "The goblins in Gringotts also lost to the wizards, but do you think they've given up their ambitions?"

"They've never let go of their desire for control over the magical world."

The greedy glint of a goblin's eye flashed in Hermione's mind, leaving her momentarily dazed.

John's words were brutally realistic, stripped of fantasy. This wasn't a storybook; for John, this was a real world.

Perhaps, at some point in the past, he might have felt joy when seeing fictional outcasts liberated in a story.

But in reality, if cats and dogs capable of wielding guns were "freed," would they still be humanity's best friends?

House-elves are incredibly powerful. Even without a wand, Dobby had knocked Lucius Malfoy flying. Hogwarts' anti-Apparition spells are ineffective against them.

For John, the current house-elves are the best version of house-elves.

Grant them equal rights with wizards, and sooner or later, wizards will find themselves in another war against house-elves.

Hermione left, her steps somewhat unsteady as she departed. 

John wasn't sure if she would continue to hold onto her beliefs, but regardless, he would still consider her a friend. 

Entering the library, John sifted through a considerable number of books. 

There were few resources on the subject of the mind, but he sat there, reading diligently. 

After going through book after book on mental studies, John had formed a preliminary plan for treating the Longbottoms. 

"Excessive trauma has caused them to shut themselves off." 

He rubbed his chin, finding the Longbottoms' condition particularly tricky. 

After all, it involved the Cruciatus Curse, one of the three Unforgivable Curses. 

"Mental magic requires unlocking the door to their minds, which demands immense empathy. That means I have to be just like them." 

John felt a headache coming on. Did this mean he would need someone to cast the Cruciatus Curse on him? 

He had no masochistic tendencies, and even if the curse was used, it might not work. At the very least, he needed to achieve empathy. 

It was akin to tuning a frequency—he had to align his own mind with that of the Longbottoms to be able to receive their "signal." 

"Going from zero to one is incredibly difficult." 

Then again, if it were easy, Dumbledore wouldn't have spent all these years watching Order of the Phoenix's heroes remain in a state of madness.

John packed up his books and left.

...

Saturday.

The weather was pleasant today, and John got up for his morning exercises.

Just because there was no Quidditch this term didn't mean training wasn't necessary.

Malfoy had gone out early. With Montague now the new Quidditch captain, Malfoy hadn't contested the position.

Flint's graduation had left the team in need of a tactical overhaul.

As a core player, the team's strategies were gradually shifting to center around Malfoy.

Since it was just a routine practice, Malfoy didn't need to use his Firebolt.

The Firebolt that Lucius had ordered for Malfoy was still en route—a reward for helping Slytherin clinch the championship.

Though, it was also partly tied to some winnings from the World Cup.

Malfoy had expressed interest in pursuing professional Quidditch, and John fully supported him.

That particular venture had been especially lucrative for John, allowing him to make a substantial profit. In his enthusiasm, John had distributed bonuses to all his "employees," further solidifying his prestige.

Among this year's incoming students, there was a werewolf.

As for how John discovered this—it was because he had sponsored the student's enrollment.

Secret enrollment, carried out discreetly, had its reasons. 

The situation needed careful observation first. With Lupin as a precedent of the werewolf comunity, Dumbledore had allowed a werewolf to enroll as well. 

However, the student wasn't sorted into Slytherin but Hufflepuff instead. 

This was ultimately a good thing for the young werewolf wizard—Hufflepuff was known to be the most inclusive house. 

Johnny Silverhand would be responsible for supplying Wolfsbane Potion until the young werewolf graduated. 

Oh, by the way, this young wizard was the adopted grandson of Old Jack, named Little Jack. 

After finishing his morning exercise, John headed to Hagrid's hut. 

He had made an appointment with Luna, and he was also going to the Forbidden Forest to look for Weiwei.

At the hut, Hagrid hadn't come out yet, but Fang had already bounded out. 

Fang enthusiastically circled John, who promptly stuffed its mouth with some dog food. 

"John, you're here," Hagrid greeted cheerfully when he emerged. 

He had been busy lately studying the cute snoring beast John had given him. 

The little creature had given him plenty of surprises—it had a talent for something akin to Apparition, and it was impressively powerful. 

It could even move around inside the castle. 

The Snorkack ate all kinds of plants, but its current favorite was dragon fruit. 

When John entered, he saw the Snorkack with its head buried in half a dragon fruit, eating heartily. There was also some dittany placed nearby. 

It had grown slightly larger, but it was still small enough for John to pick up effortlessly with one hand. 

John lifted it and examined it closely. The Snorkack's fur had a waterproof quality—juice simply slid off without soaking in. 

"Hagrid, what are you up to?" 

Noticing Hagrid acting suspiciously, John glanced over and caught sight of him hiding a piece of paper behind his back. 

Hagrid turned his head awkwardly, trying to conceal it, but a portion of the paper was still visible. 

"Madame Maxime?" 

Spotting the words on the paper, John raised his head to look at Hagrid again. 

Hagrid, as if caught red-handed, looked embarrassed and stammered, unable to explain himself. 

Luckily, John just gave it a quick glance before turning his attention back to the Snorkack, whispering to it in a low voice. 

"Moo~"

The Snorkack, whether it understood or not, nodded solemnly as if it did. 

After finalizing their plans, John bid farewell to Hagrid. 

However, just as he walked out the door, he abruptly turned back. 

Hagrid, who had just let out a sigh of relief, jumped in surprise. 

"Oh, right, Madame Maxime likes tulip perfume. You could spray a little on the letter," John said casually. 

Hagrid's face turned beet red, and John turned on his heel to leave. 

Upon arriving at the Forbidden Forest, John immediately spotted Luna wandering dreamily as she stepped inside. 

She was looking upward, as if searching for something. 

"I was thinking, maybe the Crumple-Horned Snorkack might stay in trees," she said. 

Her ethereal voice was as melodious as a song, calming anyone who heard it. 

Hearing this, John found it amusing and replied in a mock-serious tone, "Really? I think I found a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in a tree once, too." 

As his words trailed off, John noticed Luna staring at him. 

He felt as though she had seen through his clumsy lie and quickly added, "It might also be in tree hollows, right?" 

Luna nodded in agreement. 

John beckoned her to follow, and the two of them walked deeper into the forest. 

After some time and distance, they had ventured into a denser part of the forest. 

"Shh." 

John suddenly stopped, causing Luna, who was following closely behind, to accidentally bump into him. 

"Ow.."

Clutching her head, Luna looked in the direction John was staring.

In that part of the forest, there was a very large tree.

It seemed like two trees intertwined, their trunks merging into one. On the trunk, there was a hollow.

"It's there," John whispered, lowering his voice.

Luna spotted a small head poking out of the hollow, struggling to emerge. The curved horns on its head seemed almost too big for it.

Her eyes widened, and John could clearly see an expression of astonishment on Luna's face.

It seemed like this was a first for her.

A slight movement in the bushes caused a rustling sound, startling the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. It quickly retreated into the hollow but soon peeked out again.

This time, it locked eyes with Luna.

The Snorkack couldn't hold back and let out a fart. With a loud pop, the entire creature vanished.

"Where did it go?" Luna asked, starting to look around when she felt something crawling over her shoulder.

She glanced down to see the Crumple-Horned Snorkack clinging to her robes with its tiny paws.

Gently, she cupped it in her hands and, in her ethereal, soft voice, said, "Hello, my name is Luna."

Her earnest self-introduction left the Snorkack stunned. It froze for a moment before finally letting out a soft "moo."

Luna laughed, her smile bright and radiant.

"Thank you, John," she said.

John felt as though she understood everything. Leaning against a tree, he silently watched her, a small smile playing on his lips.

He waved his hand dismissively.

_________

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