Hogwarts’ John Wick

Chapter 589: 589: The Polish Lightning, Dumbledore's Letter

Poland, Warsaw.

Once, this had been a beautiful ancient city, but a great war that swept across Europe had destroyed it.

The magnificent classical buildings had vanished without a trace, and Poland rebuilt its city upon scorched earth.

After decades of recovery and reconstruction, those former palaces and churches had returned to the world once more.

Castle Square, Warsaw.

Dark clouds covered the sky.

Within the heavy black cloud cover, the violent flashes of lightning and rumbling thunder caused pedestrians to quicken their pace.

Anyone could tell that a torrential downpour was not far away.

Tourists and passersby left the area.

A group of people appeared in the center of the square, completely indifferent to the ominous weather.

As a wand was waved, the statue atop the memorial tower in the center of the square raised its weapon and slid it downward.

The leader curled his lips into a faint smile and walked toward the base of the memorial tower.

The group passed inside and rapidly descended.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, sir."

A Ministry employee with a narrow moustache asked, "May I see your identification, please?"

"No, you should take a closer look at who I am."

The leader shushed him and placed a finger against the employee's lips.

The employee's eyes became unfocused, as though he had suddenly remembered who the man was. He immediately said enthusiastically, "I'll take you inside right away."

He led the group toward the Minister's office.

The Polish Minister for Magic was reviewing instructions issued by the International Confederation of Wizards.

He stood up and tossed the letter into the fireplace.

Then the door to the Polish Minister for Magic's office opened.

The group walked in.

There was a man among them.

The Polish Minister for Magic did not seem surprised by this at all. He casually waved a hand, indicating for them to put the man down.

The man's face was filled with terror. He tried to speak, but no sound came out.

"Give him back his voice."

The leader let out a cold laugh and waved his wand, restoring the man's ability to speak.

"Who are you?"

The man, who had been forced to drink Polyjuice Potion, looked at the Polish Minister for Magic and said fearfully, "What are you going to do with me?"

"Shh. I believe this is not our first meeting, Minister Schmidt."

Schmidt, the missing German Minister for Magic.

The Polyjuice Potion began to wear off.

Minister Schmidt let out a scream as a beard grew across his face and his body became taller.

The young man from moments ago transformed into a middle-aged man.

Schmidt stared at the Polish Minister for Magic. "You're not the Polish Minister for Magic. I know him. He doesn't have this kind of courage."

"You're right," the Polish Minister for Magic said with a smile as the colour of his hair changed.

White hair appeared, and that face filled with a sinister aura wore a carefree smile.

When he opened his eyes again, the mismatched colours of his irises made Schmidt's eyes widen.

"You... Grindelwald?" Schmidt never could have imagined it. Cold sweat streamed down his face as he asked, "When did you replace the Polish Minister for Magic?"

"You knew about my plan, yet you chose to conceal it because you wanted to see the British Ministry of Magic make a fool of itself." Grindelwald clasped his hands behind his back and ignored the question.

"Arrogance, stupidity, pride." Grindelwald paced around the Minister's office. "These things will plunge the Wizarding World into danger, Minister Schmidt."

"Listen to me, Grindelwald," Schmidt said frantically. "I am loyal to you. You need me. My uncle, do you remember him? He was one of your followers as well."

"Old Schmidt? Of course I remember him. I remember every one of my loyal followers." Grindelwald stopped walking.

"But you had him executed, didn't you?"

"You traded him away for the first stepping stone of your political career."

Grindelwald walked over to Schmidt and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Your existence does not make magic greater, Schmidt."

"No! No! No! Lord Grindelwald, I can be useful to you. I can help you with many things!"

The incessant noise grated on Grindelwald's ears.

He waved his wand, and Schmidt's tongue vanished.

Grindelwald plucked a strand of hair and dropped it into the bottle held by the leader.

He returned to the Minister's desk, his appearance slowly changing back into that of the Polish Minister for Magic. Drawing out his words, he said, "Now, you are Grindelwald."

The others pinned Schmidt down while the leader forced the Polyjuice Potion from the bottle down Schmidt's throat.

Schmidt's appearance began to change as he threw back his head in a silent scream.

Grindelwald watched quietly and said, "Just as you did."

That was his answer to Schmidt's second question.

...

A phoenix flew down and landed in front of John. Basil had never won a fight against it.

Basil flapped its wings and landed beside John, glaring viciously at Fawkes.

It spread its wings wide, revealing feathers scorched black by fire, as though lodging a complaint.

"Alright, I get it," John said helplessly. "You're always bullying other birds. Now you've finally run into someone tougher than you."

"Coo!"

Basil flapped its wings indignantly.

John looked at Fawkes and asked, "Dumbledore sent you?"

Fawkes nodded and set down a letter.

John opened the letter and casually said, "Tell him I received it."

Fawkes took flight, preparing to leave.

At that moment, Basil launched a sneak attack and slammed into Fawkes.

Feathers flew everywhere as the two birds tussled. In the end, Basil returned looking immensely pleased with himself, a phoenix feather clenched in his beak.

John held out his arm, allowing Basil to land on it.

He then turned his attention to the contents of the letter.

"Still trying to bring Grindelwald back?" John let out a mocking laugh. "You're too naive, Dumbledore."

During the years when Grindelwald had fallen from power and been imprisoned in Nurmengard, Dumbledore had occasionally exchanged letters with his old friend.

From those letters, it had seemed as though Grindelwald had let everything go.

That was precisely why Dumbledore found Grindelwald's departure so incomprehensible.

"People change."

Expressionless, John set the parchment ablaze.

The main subject of the letter had been Grindelwald.

Grindelwald had vanished in Poland and was also suspected of being connected to the disappearance of the German Minister for Magic.

It was worth noting that although the Grindelwald of old had attacked Ministry officials before, he had always shown restraint when dealing with government figures.

Even when he had been captured by the Magical Congress of the United States of America, he had not killed the escorts transporting him back to Europe.

"That is a little strange."

John stroked his chin thoughtfully.

The Grindelwald who had left Nurmengard seemed different.

Was he planning to gather the Acolytes once again and launch another wave of reforms across Europe?

This was no longer the past. Grindelwald should be able to see clearly that modern Muggles were not something wizards could afford to provoke.

"His behavior has become strange." John shook his head.

Taking the phoenix feather from Basil's beak, John let it roll between his fingers.

...

Tomorrow was the Slytherin Quidditch match.

For once, Malfoy behaved like a decent human being and gave everyone a chance to rest.

John was in the Headmaster's office, researching improvements to the restorative liquid.

"The effects aren't strong enough?" Slughorn's eyes widened. "That stuff could bring a dying fire dragon back from the brink."

When they had designed the restorative liquid, they had used fire dragons as the benchmark.

"The Bloodborne Curse is far more terrifying than you think, Professor."

As John stirred the emerald-green liquid, he said, "It's a curse with a secondary dormant stage. If it isn't deliberately drawn out, a successful treatment could easily make people lower their guard."

"Wait, a secondary dormant stage?" Slughorn reacted immediately. "You've already attempted a treatment?"

"It was dangerous, but the result was good."

John turned and saw Slughorn's eyes shining brightly.

As Headmaster, Slughorn excitedly walked over. "You succeeded?"

"Yes."

"Merlin's beard."

Slughorn needed a moment to calm himself.

What had he just heard?

The Bloodborne Curse had been cured.

He walked over to a table, grabbed a bottle of mead, and poured it down his throat. Gulp after gulp, he finished the entire bottle.

The smell of alcohol lingered around him as he said, "Do you know what that means, John?"

"It means we've solved one of the Wizarding World's great problems. And based on that result, we can pursue even deeper research."

The skin on Slughorn's face trembled.

"Vampires and werewolves."

"Some scholars believe they originated from ancient curses spread through bites."

Slughorn took a deep breath and said to John, "You could change the world, John."

"One step at a time," John said casually. "Right now, I just want to cure my friends."

An achievement of such enormous significance lay right in front of him, yet even Slughorn could not remain calm.

Seeing John's indifferent reaction, Slughorn smiled bitterly.

"You always manage to surprise me, John."

"Compared to things we haven't even begun to explore, I'm more interested in tomorrow's match."

John bottled up the restorative liquid one container at a time and smiled.

"The Quidditch match. You should come watch it."

"I think I will."

The alcohol finally caught up with Slughorn, and he collapsed onto the sofa, snoring loudly.

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