Hogwarts’ John Wick

"The money I got from the Niffler is almost gone."

No matter how much the Niffler had, it couldn't withstand John's spending habits.

Originally, John had planned to carry out his second temporal flash within two months, but the circus tour had delayed things.

He weaved through the hidden district's winding streets before stopping in an alley and slowly turning around.

"You've been following me for quite a while. You should at least explain your purpose."

Not far behind him stood a tall man with a pale face, smiling faintly.

The man lifted his head, revealing dark golden eyes beneath the brim of his hat.

"Let me guess, you didn't take a liking to my flowers, did you?" John said, seeing those eyes reminded him of Heinrich.

"Just a joke, Mr. Yorl." The man bowed slightly, removing his hat to reveal smooth black hair. "Wolfgang Edgar. You may not know me, but among those I follow, you are of great importance."

"That's quite the compliment." John shrugged. "I'm just an ordinary wizard passing by."

"For the great Grindelwald to remember someone as insignificant as me is truly an honor."

When he spoke the word "great," there was neither fear nor reverence in his tone, only a calm indifference.

Wolfgang looked at John deeply. When he had heard this name from Grindelwald, he had been surprised by the light he followed.

He knew Grindelwald too well.

A wizard of immense pride, the only person he truly regarded was the one serving as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts—Dumbledore.

And yet, "Yorl" was a name Grindelwald had mentioned many times after Wolfgang began following him.

That name had always appeared alongside Dumbledore.

Only someone as trusted as Wolfgang was allowed to know.

Grindelwald's fixation on "Yorl" was no less than his fixation on Dumbledore.

It could even be said that it had reached the point where Wolfgang had once considered counting which name appeared more often.

With Grindelwald's arrest, Wolfgang, as his confidant, was not worried at all.

He even knew that after this, new members would join Grindelwald's revolutionary cause.

This was Grindelwald's charisma. Anyone who came into contact with him would, without realizing it, be drawn into his fold.

Wolfgang had assumed his leader would reach out only after expanding his followers.

But unexpectedly, within the first week of his imprisonment, Grindelwald had already found a way to contact him.

Wolfgang learned one piece of information.

The person named "Yorl" had reappeared after more than twenty years.

And Wolfgang's task was to find him.

A fleeting glimpse in Diagon Alley had led Wolfgang to follow John.

"Mr. Yorl, would I have the honor of inviting you for a drink?" Wolfgang extended the invitation.

John smiled faintly. "My appearance fee is quite expensive."

"I believe Edgar can afford it," Wolfgang replied with a confident smile.

As the head of the ancient pure-blood Edgar family, he had the means to back it up.

"Alright, I suppose I need to go, don't I?"

John glanced behind him. A beautiful woman had appeared there at some point, wand in hand.

Bright eyes, red lips—like a black rose in full bloom, proud and cold.

"First time meeting you, Mr. Yorl. Vinda Rozier." Vinda stared at John, her wand ready at any moment to prevent him from escaping.

Grindelwald's right and left hands—John was being treated with no small importance.

Unlike in America, where Grindelwald had been alone, Europe was his true stronghold.

Wolfgang stepped aside, making way and extending his right hand in invitation.

John knew the chances of leaving now were slim. He walked toward Wolfgang, making no move to resist, and accepted the invitation.

They entered a small tavern with only a few patrons.

Wolfgang sat across from John, while behind him, Vinda observed John with a scrutinizing gaze.

"An 1882 Austrian wine." Wolfgang gently swirled the crimson liquid in his glass, speaking with admiration. "Wine is a fascinating thing. With time, it only grows richer and more refined."

"People are the same."

Through the glass of wine, his gaze settled on John.

"And you, Mr. Yorl?"

Wolfgang leaned forward slightly, his hands loosely clasped.

"Your age doesn't seem like that of a man in his forties."

"Grindelwald searched for you many times, yet you never appeared. So why have you suddenly returned now, and at the very moment he's been captured?"

Wolfgang stared at John, his mind full of questions.

These weren't just his questions, but Grindelwald's as well.

This was an interrogation. Facing two wizards, John remained completely composed.

He picked up the wine glass and gently swirled it.

The aroma of the wine spread as it moved, and John let out a soft laugh. "You're asking too many questions, Edgar."

Leaning back against the chair, John looked entirely at ease.

"There are things you should know. But what price can you offer?"

"A price?" Wolfgang echoed, surprised.

John spoke as if it were only natural. "Equivalent exchange."

"I think you're mistaken, Mr. Yorl," Wolfgang said with a quiet chuckle. "Do you perhaps misunderstand your current situation?"

He gestured toward Vinda. "We're the ones who have you under control."

"A misunderstanding? No, you're wrong." John shook his head and said calmly, "It's not you controlling me. It's me controlling you."

John hadn't even drawn his wand, yet his arrogant tone made Wolfgang find it almost laughable.

John returned the smile.

The next second—Badump!

A crushing pressure surged outward from him, rushing straight toward the two in front of him.

Wolfgang's smile vanished instantly.

Vinda shot to her feet, her wand firmly aimed at John.

"No need to be nervous," John said calmly. "Just a demonstration."

Glancing at the wand that hadn't moved, he added flatly, "Your magic can't kill me. You can try."

"Vinda!"

Wolfgang raised his hand, stopping her from making another move.

Staring at John, Wolfgang had a feeling that this man wasn't joking.

As one of Grindelwald's closest aides, Vinda listened to Wolfgang, then looked at John again.

Slowly, she lowered her wand.

John tilted his head slightly. "I've met someone who uses the Killing Curse like popping candies. That guy isn't very bright, but I can guarantee he's stronger than you."

Vinda's expression turned serious. John let out a light chuckle. "No need to be tense. I'm not like you."

"I don't kill easily," John said with a faint smile.

Wolfgang was beginning to understand why Grindelwald couldn't let this man go.

Powerful, confident, elegant.

"So then, what is the price?" Wolfgang wanted to see what this man, who traded in information, was after.

John smiled.

Compromise was the first step toward losing a negotiation.

With a meaningful tone, he said, "Perhaps the Deathly Hallows would be a good choice."

Wolfgang's expression changed. Instinctively, he grabbed the pendant at his collar—the one formed by a line, a circle, and a triangle.

"How did you—"

He stopped mid-sentence, realizing he had revealed something, and closed his mouth, staring at John.

"No need to be so surprised." John shrugged. "Do you still want the answer?"

To trade the Elder Wand…

Wolfgang was not that extravagant.

He looked at John for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.

"Then we can change the terms." John straightened up, lightly tapping the wine glass with one finger.

A layer of frost spread across the glass, faint cold seeping out.

"I'll kill Dumbledore for you. That… should be sincere enough."

The atmosphere froze.

Wolfgang tried to read something from John's face, but all he saw was calm indifference.

Kill Dumbledore?

Leaving aside whether Grindelwald would even want that, Dumbledore's strength was not something anyone could boast about lightly.

"We need time to consider," Wolfgang said cautiously.

John shrugged. The moment his finger left the glass, the frozen wine returned to its normal state.

"I hope you'll think it through carefully."

He stood and walked toward the door.

Vinda moved as if to stop him.

John said flatly, "In a place full of innocent wizards like this, do you really want to start a fight with me?"

Ignoring the wand pointed at him, he walked out.

In the end, Vinda did not make a move.

For now, they were fugitives. Until Grindelwald was freed, they needed to keep a low profile.

If the three of them fought, it would undoubtedly draw the attention of the French Aurors.

And then, they would have no way to answer to Grindelwald.

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