Hogwarts’ John Wick

The fundamental principle of alchemy: equivalent exchange.

To gain something, a price must be paid.

Credence survived, and John kept his promise.

As the cost, however, Credence had nearly been drained dry.

The glowing wand was like an intensely bright glow stick; in John's hand, it shone so strongly that his face was almost impossible to see clearly.

Credence curled up in a corner, looking like someone who had been worked to the bone, with not a drop left to give.

"Do you remember that feeling?" John casually tossed the wand in his hand before slipping it into his pocket.

"That's magic flowing through your body. If an ordinary wizard's control is like a faucet, then you're a ruptured opening."

He walked over, grabbed Credence with one hand, and Apparated.

When they reappeared, they were inside an empty church.

The exhausted Credence was tossed aside by John.

"You need to learn control. For your own sake, and for your family's, too. I can't be by your side to supervise you every time."

A cauldron sat nearby. John walked over, drew his wand, and tapped it against the cauldron.

The magic stored within the wand was released, and the previously calm cauldron instantly began to boil. The churning liquid splashed violently; a single drop was enough to trigger a massive explosion.

He took out a Runic Serpent egg and tossed it in. The crude, forceful method caused a foul stench to rise from the cauldron.

As the magic was absorbed, the glowing wand gradually returned to normal.

"What exactly are you trying to do?" Credence pushed himself up, looking at John, who was brewing a potion. "You've already absorbed magic three times."

"Yes, and it also prevents you from going out of control. That's good, isn't it?" John didn't even turn his head as he stirred the cauldron, speaking casually. "If your magic isn't released, you'll die. If you release too much, you'll die. You're destined for death."

Credence's expression dimmed. "Isn't there a third option?"

"Control yourself. Keep your emotions within a threshold, and you might live a little longer." John chanted an incomprehensible incantation toward the cauldron, something like an elven song, ethereal and melodic.

The boiling cauldron gradually calmed, and the potion inside began to solidify.

The congealed potion resembled a crystal, with a single drop of transparent liquid gently trembling at its center.

Only after finishing did John turn back to face the dejected Credence.

"You're going to France. We can leave tomorrow."

Credence's birthplace was written on his birth record, which was why he wanted to go to France.

He wanted to understand his identity and find his family.

To John, this held little meaning.

After all, he hadn't been found and taken in. He had been sent away.

His family had already abandoned him.

Seeing Credence's despondency, strands of black mist began to seep from his body. John walked over and handed him his wand.

"Is it worth it?"

Yes. Giving up might let him live longer, but Credence chose his family.

Given Credence's current condition, the excitement of seeing his family might very well cost him his life.

After multiple emotional outbursts, Credence had gradually shed his earlier timid and submissive nature.

Hearing John's words, he lowered his gaze and took the wand.

The moment it touched his hand, the wand began absorbing his power, the black mist shifting direction and flowing into it.

He was like a massive power bank, and the wand was the battery.

John had made a slight modification to the wand, allowing it to store magical energy.

During the days they stayed here, whenever the Obscurus within Credence threatened to go out of control, John used this method to suppress it.

Not every Obscurial was John Wick.

Their fates were usually far more tragic.

"I knew a girl."

John sat beside Credence, looking up at the colorful image of the Madonna holding an infant.

"She was hurt when she was six, and it turned her into an Obscurial."

"Her mother was killed by her power, and she could only rely on her two brothers."

"Her eldest brother was very intelligent, a highly gifted wizard. Her second brother was slightly inferior, hot-tempered."

"In the end, she died as well, caught in her brothers' childish dispute," John said calmly. "The elder brother wanted to take her away and hide her, like hiding a secret, a shameful secret."

"This way, her elder brother wouldn't have to live in constant fear of when his sister might lose control and kill innocent people around her. He could truly be free, freed from those restraints."

Hearing this, Credence slowly raised his head and looked at John. "Did her brother not love her?"

"He did, but she was a burden, a shackle," John shook his head slightly. "Her very existence was like a bomb, and her elder brother was a saint. He loved her, but he loved the world even more."

"His love for her came from a brother's duty, from moral restraint."

As he spoke, a complicated expression flickered across John's face.

"To wizards, an Obscurial is something to fear. Even family members tremble at that uncertainty."

"What about you?" Credence stared at John. This wizard was even younger than him. "You're an Obscurial too."

"Me? I'm different." John let out a quiet laugh, his tone carrying both pride and an undeniable sense of certainty. "I'm stronger than all of them."

"Wizards are outliers among No-Majs, and Obscurials are outliers among wizards, Credence." John turned to meet his gaze and said softly, "You can be strong and cruel, but you cannot be weak and kind."

Because that kindness would often become the very thing that tormented you.

His words tore apart Credence's illusions about his family, forcing him to think.

If his family truly loved him, why had they abandoned him?

Why had they sent him to that hell—the Second Salem?

A wizard had sent his own child into a place that hunted witches.

Half of Credence's life had been spent under his adoptive mother's abuse, a cruelty that never changed until he finally snapped and killed her.

Toward his family, he felt both longing and uncertainty, along with fear.

He was a fragile child. When he encountered Grindelwald disguised as Graves, that kind of warmth, even with its hidden purpose, was enough to make him fall.

A person starved of love, suddenly touched by a flicker of light.

But it wasn't light. It was exploitation, a far crueler punishment.

"What was her name?" Credence asked about the girl who was like him.

"Ariana. Ariana Dumbledore."

John stood up. Credence suddenly spoke, "Are you going to use me too?"

"Yes." John nodded honestly. "I need your power. The power within you is incredibly strong, Credence."

Credence looked like a child afraid of being abandoned. In a small voice, he asked, "If you find me useless, will you abandon me too?"

He feared that John might become another Grindelwald. The joy of finding someone like himself was overshadowed by fear.

He lacked love. Whether it was family or friendship, he didn't want to lose it.

By John's side, he felt something like having an older brother.

Although John looked younger than him, his maturity made Credence see him as one.

Over these past days, John's use of him had all been to help suppress the Obscurus.

John glanced at him and said calmly, "Then become strong enough that I can't abandon you. The choice is yours, not mine, Credence."

"I will keep my promise. After we reach France, I'll need to leave for a while."

The wand in Credence's hand lit up instantly. His emotions were too intense.

"Don't worry," John shrugged. "I'm just going to find something."

His words steadied Credence's emotions, and the wand in his hand dimmed to half its glow.

Thinking of what John had said, he tried to push himself further, to prove his worth.

His face turned pale as he forced more magic into the wand, but John stepped forward and snatched it away.

"I need your power, not your life." After reprimanding him, John turned and left.

Credence watched his back. His curled-up body slowly relaxed on the bench.

A gentle yet powerful king.

…

To board the ocean liner, John had practically emptied the Niffler's entire stash.

Yes, that's right.

Newt's Niffler stared at its half-empty nest and broke down in tears, the kind that even Newt couldn't soothe.

A hunter who spends all day catching geese will one day be pecked by one.

Who would have thought that even a Niffler could be robbed?

It was said that afterward, Newt replaced the Niffler's nest with a safe, and the Niffler's main duty became guarding against Bowtruckles.

After all, among all magical creatures, only Bowtruckles could pick locks.

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