Hogwarts' John Wick

"You look as if you'd never been hurt at all."

The Longbottoms needed a follow-up check.

They went to St. Mungo's for the examination. The healer inspected their bodies and exclaimed, "This is nothing short of a miracle, Longbottom. No one has ever recovered from that kind of condition before."

Even permanent magical damage could be healed—this made the healer want to take that person as their teacher.

Mr. Longbottom was incredibly grateful that he could live to see the day when he and his wife returned to normal.

Even now, they still felt like it was all a dream. And if it was a dream, then it had to be a truly beautiful one.

Mr. Longbottom held his wife's hand tightly. His wife smiled sweetly.

"Neville?"

Neville had come along to accompany his parents. There, he ran into Harry and the others, who were visiting the injured Mr. Weasley.

Hermione stared in surprise at the Longbottoms. Neville introduced them, "These are my mum and dad."

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom," Hermione quickly greeted them.

Ron and Harry looked at the couple—especially Harry.

He had learned about the Longbottoms' tragic fate from Moody.

But now, the two of them looked no different from ordinary people.

There wasn't even the slightest hint of having been tortured.

Neville was beaming with happiness, and Harry couldn't help but feel envious.

Just then, Harry felt a slight pain on his forehead. He touched the scar and frowned.

Hermione noticed and quickly asked, "What's wrong, Harry? Is your scar hurting again?"

"Harry Potter," Mr. Longbottom looked at Harry with a complex expression.

They had once been members of the Order of the Phoenix—key members, in fact.

After Voldemort's downfall, they had been tortured into that state by Death Eaters. Even before that, they had already heard about Harry.

"You look a lot like your father," Mr. Longbottom said with emotion.

Harry looked toward a bundle wrapped in cloth off to the side. He saw a faint glow coming from it.

"What's that?" he asked, enduring the pain.

Neville was stunned. Following Harry's gaze, his expression changed.

He quickly stepped forward and unwrapped the cloth, revealing something that shocked everyone.

"The Sword of Gryffindor," Harry recognized it instantly.

At this moment, the red gemstones on the sword were glowing brightly.

Harry cried out in surprise, and his scar throbbed with even more pain.

"Get that thing away!" Ron shouted.

Neville hurriedly took the sword outside.

Strangely, after a short while, the red glow on the sword dimmed.

Neville looked around, and when he brought it back in, Harry's scar stopped hurting—and the sword stopped glowing.

"What's going on?"

Even Neville was confused. He tried it back and forth several times, and the result was always the same.

He didn't notice that when he first brought out the sword, a pair of eyes had been staring at them intensely.

And then, the owner of those eyes turned and hurried away in a fluster.

Harry was deeply puzzled. Why would the Sword of Gryffindor make his scar hurt?

After hesitating for a while, he asked, "Neville, can I have a look at that sword?"

Neville thought for a moment, then handed the sword to Harry.

Under Neville's watchful gaze, Harry took the sword in hand—his scar didn't hurt, and the gems didn't light up.

Both of them were filled with doubt.

Harry held the sword in his hand, and a strange thought arose in his mind.

"This isn't the Sword of Gryffindor."

Although it looked identical on the surface, he just had a feeling—it wasn't the real one.

Neville confirmed his suspicion and said, "This sword is called the Sword of Marvolo."

"Marvolo?" The name sounded familiar to Harry.

He couldn't quite recall where he'd heard it. After handing the sword back to Neville, the two of them started chatting about recent events.

Mr. Longbottom expressed concern over Mr. Weasley being attacked. Harry asked, "Mr. Longbottom, aren't you planning to return as an Auror?"

Mr. Longbottom had once been an Auror—one of the best, in fact, admired by many in the department.

But after his treatment, Mr. Longbottom hadn't shown any intention of returning to duty.

What Harry really wanted to ask was whether he'd go back to the Order of the Phoenix, but seeing as none of the other members had brought it up either, he kept the question to himself.

Mr. Longbottom was silent for a moment. Recalling how his son had told him repeatedly not to return to the Order, he said, "We're not what we used to be."

They'd been unwell for too long—their physical condition wasn't what it had once been.

Harry felt it was a pity. From what Moody had told him, the Longbottom couple had been incredibly powerful.

He didn't know whether the other members of the Order of the Phoenix were aware that the Longbottoms had recovered.

After completing their check-up, the Longbottom family prepared to leave.

As they walked out of the hospital, Neville didn't notice that the sword flashed briefly with a glow.

The Longbottoms needed to reacquaint themselves with the world, so Neville took them to Knockturn Alley.

Mr. Longbottom said in disbelief, "Even after Voldemort's fall, this place was still crawling with Death Eaters and dark wizards. I never thought it could turn out so well."

"It's a pity the Inverted Garden is closed for renovations today—you really should've seen it," Neville said regretfully.

…

The good thing about magic was that no matter how badly something was destroyed, it could be repaired quickly.

In less than half a day, the Inverted Garden had already been restored.

John was at Silverhand Manor, about to face the stern questioning of old Barty.

"Lord Johnny Silverhand, you should have informed me."

Old Barty had received reports at the Ministry about what had happened at the Inverted Garden—the chaos and devastation left in the aftermath of the battle.

He had not sent any Aurors but had come personally to Silverhand Manor to find Johnny Silverhand.

Given that it involved Death Eaters, he felt it was too reckless to act alone.

At the very least, with the Ministry's involvement, they might have captured them all in one go.

John, wearing his silver mask, looked at the angry old Barty. He walked over and chuckled lightly. "Old Barty, I think we should be celebrating."

"Celebrating?" Old Barty let out a scoffing laugh. "Celebrating the fact that you just had a brawl with Death Eaters?"

"No, no, no," John pressed down on Barty's shoulder, making him sit, and snapped his fingers. Two wine glasses flew over. "We should be celebrating what this incident has brought us."

"Brought us?" A thought flickered in Barty's mind—could Johnny Silverhand have captured more Death Eaters?

Fragrant wine poured into the glasses. John handed one to Barty and said meaningfully, "Because of this event, your son might stop being so rebellious."

Old Barty's expression shifted. "W-What does this have to do with him?"

"The Death Eaters came targeting your son," John said, sitting down in his chair. He swirled the wine glass, and through the shifting red liquid, he observed the changes in Barty's expression.

Like the swirling wine, his emotions fluctuated.

"My son.. How is.." Old Barty said in a low voice, "How is he?"

Since taking office, he had tried hard not to think about that son.

In his eyes, it was enough that his son could live quietly in some corner of the world. He had never dared hope to repair their father-son relationship.

He had seen with his own eyes the hatred in young Barty's eyes—there was almost no room for reconciliation.

If there really was a chance to restore their bond…

Barty didn't dare to hope. He snorted coldly, "That disgraceful son of mine is still guilty of torturing the Auror Longbottom!"

Seeing that old Barty was still being stubborn, John sat up straight and said meaningfully, "Have you ever considered that maybe your son wasn't lying?"

"What?" Old Barty was startled.

John set down his wine glass. "The Longbottoms weren't tortured by him. He was just an unfortunate passerby. Just… a pitiful soul begging his father to believe him."

Old Barty's wine glass slipped from his hand, shattering on the ground. The spilled wine splashed onto his trouser leg.

His expression turned vacant as he murmured, "Impossible… He was right there. They caught him right there."

"Maybe you don't believe me," John said, looking directly at Barty. "But you need to believe two other people."

"Who?" Barty asked.

John answered with a single name.

"The Longbottoms."

"No way, they've already…" Old Barty instinctively began to refute.

"They've recovered," John said to the disbelieving old Barty, "and they've already been discharged. You can go check with St. Mungo's."

The news hit like a bolt from the blue.

Old Barty completely lost control of his expression. He stood up, then sat back down, overwhelmed.

After repeating it a few times, John finally said, "Old Barty, today isn't the right time to talk. You should go check with St. Mungo's."

He could tell that old Barty was deeply unsettled.

As soon as John spoke, Barty immediately left the study.

He needed to clarify one thing—whether the Longbottoms had truly recovered, and whether, that night… his son had actually been involved in the case at all.

If it was really as Johnny Silverhand claimed, that Barty Jr. had been wrongly accused, then how was he supposed to face the child who had been subjected to the Dementor's Kiss for over a decade?

Should he tell him that distancing himself in a hurry back then was for the sake of his own career? Or tell him that rescuing him was out of fatherly love?

He didn't dare to imagine it. At least, not now.

He left in such a hurry that he almost missed a step while getting onto the carriage.

In his disheveled state, he looked nothing like the dignified Minister for Magic.

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