章節 161: 161: Saitama Training!
The celebratory mood over the victory lasted into the next morning, though the tasks in class began to temper the excitement a bit.
In the Slytherin common room, John was still mulling over how his wand had managed to disappear.
Malfoy shuffled over awkwardly. Under John's gaze, he finally spoke up, looking embarrassed. "John, I have to tell you something."
John tilted his head, signaling for him to continue.
Taking a deep breath, Malfoy nervously admitted, "Actually… I was the one who lost your wand."
"…?"
A question mark practically popped over John's head as he stared, dumbfounded.
"You're saying you took my wand from my room?"
John looked at him, trying to piece together how Malfoy might be connected to Sirius.
Malfoy scratched his head, then fiddled with his fingers. Unable to hold back anymore, he confessed, "That day, you asked me to walk your dog, so I thought I'd bring Tom a toy to play with. You know she only has one… the.. the chew toy wand..."
The more he talked, the quieter his voice became.
"So I played fetch with Tom, and I… sort of used your ... actual wand as a chew toy. I might have thrown it a little too hard."
After he finished, he looked up and saw John's murderous glare. Shivering, he quickly added, "It's not entirely my fault! You only said the chew toy was in the drawer. How was I supposed to know it was an actual wand?"
John raised his voice, gritting his teeth, "I said it was in the lower drawer!"
The truth had come to light.
Malfoy had taken the real wand out, mistaking it for a chew toy, and thrown it too hard, launching it near the Whomping Willow and failing to retrieve it when he couldn't find it.
No wonder Tom had looked so aggrieved—it was all Malfoy's doing.
This kid was clearly taking advantage of a dog's inability to speak, wasn't he?
John's gaze turned dangerous as he glared at Malfoy.
Malfoy shuddered, swallowing nervously and chuckling, "Could you, uh, maybe forgive me? You know, for helping Slytherin win the championship?"
John smiled. "Didn't you fail to catch the Golden Snitch, though?"
Malfoy: "???"
John: "Now, there is no hope. Tsk Tsk"
"What do you mean..?" Malfoy gulped.
John: "Kekeke~"
"J-John?"
In the end, Malfoy's training workload rose significantly, with John assigning Heinrich to supervise him.
"Heinrich! He's not allowed to go to the dormitory unless he does 100 squats, 100 situps, 100 pushups, and 10 km run!"
"For how many days he'll follow that?" Heinrich asked with a crazy smile while Malfoy was on the verge of collapsing.
"Until he goes bald!"
...
Back in his dorm, John saw Tom lying in her dog bed, tail tucked and eyes full of pure, silent misery.
John crouched down and, for the first time in days, patted Tom's head, sighing, "You really went through a lot, didn't you, buddy?"
Tom perked up as his owner finally petted her again, her tail wagging once more.
His eyes brightened, and he licked John's hand in a show of affection.
John chuckled, looking over at the bag of dog food. "You didn't take my wand, but cutting Fang's dog food to give it to Black—well, I haven't forgotten that."
Tom's wagging tail froze, and she immediately flopped back down, once again assuming the appearance of a dog with no hope left in life.
"Aww~ Poor baby~ I'm just messing with you. You're free to play, but only within the common room," John said while petting Tom, deciding to lift her confinement.
After all, Sirius had used human-level intelligence to befriend her, which was a bit unfair to the dog.
John had gained a lot of information from Sirius, including tidbits about both a cat and a dog.
Crookshanks had dutifully chased rats, while Tom was simply captivated by the big black dog's charm.
In fact, Tom's only "contribution" had been offering dog food to keep the big black dog around; aside from that, he hadn't done anything useful.
What's more, from what Sirius claimed, he was innocent, so this whole situation hardly seemed to matter.
With that in mind, John rubbed his chin, thinking aloud, "If Sirius Black is really innocent… and from what Hagrid said, he's Harry's godfather… should I tell Harry?"
After a moment's consideration, John decided against it for now.
Setting aside everything else, there was Ron, that stubborn asshole. Without any concrete proof, he'd probably refuse to believe it.
He might even think John had taken money from Sirius and was intentionally luring him in to harm Harry.
After all, in Ron's eyes, his Scabbers was dead, and he certainly wouldn't want to shoulder that blame.
"But the fucker isn't even showing on the map anymore!! Did Crookshanks really ate—Nope!"
There was no way John believed Peter Pettigrew was dead.
An Animagus, dead from a cat bite? No way—he was definitely hiding.
According to what Sirius had spilled under Veritaserum, Peter had faked his death by cutting off a finger years ago. No doubt he'd just pulled the same trick again.
"If Sirius Black didn't catch him, and he's not in the castle… who knows, maybe he'll try to get back to Ron."
After working it all out, John felt a pang of exhaustion.
Ron was the type who constantly felt like dead weight.
For now, John was tentatively aligned with Professor Snape. Snape hadn't mentioned that they'd captured Sirius, suggesting he was waiting to see how John handled things.
With this in mind, John decided to write a letter to Rufus Scrimgeour.
Heading to the Chamber of Secrets, he drank the final vial of soul potion.
Just as he'd hoped, his right hand was finally healed.
Moving his fingers, John picked up a quill with his right hand.
If he was going to test Rufus Scrimgeour's stance, he needed a reason to reach out.
An idea struck him—Buckbeak.
Hagrid had taken Buckbeak to London, where his appeal had failed. This matter wasn't particularly big, but it wasn't small either.
The case had already been decided. Whether or not Scrimgeour would step in on this issue would reveal his stance.
With a plan in mind, John wrote a letter with his newly-healed right hand, stamping it with the Johnny Silverhand insignia.
Since owls couldn't enter the Chamber of Secrets, John left to return to his dormitory.
Turning a corner, he accidentally bumped into someone, and the letter almost slipped from his pocket.
John quickly reached out to catch it, looking up to see who it was.
"Ah, Mr. Wick, are you alright?"
The gentle voice belonged to Lupin, who was watching him with concern.
John assured him he was fine, shoved the letter back into his pocket, and continued on his way.
Lupin smiled, his eyes holding a glint of something deeper.
…
Near the end of term, in Divination class, John stared at a crystal ball, speaking out predictions.
Professor Trelawney was thrilled, and as class was about to end, John glanced over at the trio's corner.
Hermione hadn't attended; she'd likely given up on Divination after getting frustrated last time.
With all the academic pressure, even John was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.
John had thinned out considerably. He used to have a bit of flesh on his cheeks—not quite a round face, but certainly nothing like this gaunt look now.
Daphne felt a pang of sympathy and promptly made him a bowl of colorful creamy fried rice.
"..."
John wanted to say it wasn't necessary, but seeing her eager expression, he forced himself to finish it, despite not tasting a thing.
"So? How was it!?"
"..."
"John?"
"..Your cooking is .. improving"
"Really!!? Thankyou! I'll try to improve more!"
'Not like I have any taste left anyway,' he thought.
Complimenting Daphne's improving cooking skills was not a bad decision, right?
He couldn't taste it, but just from the look of it, her skills were indeed getting better. Girls probably liked the bright red and green colors, though the ingredients were still somewhat questionable.
...
The members of the Astronomy Club were each busy with their own tasks: Percy was preparing for his N.E.W.T.s, the Weasley twins were sitting for their O.W.L.s, and Heinrich hadn't had his usual garlic extract lately.
Since he was an exchange student, Heinrich would take his O.W.L.s at Hogwarts. Judging by his demeanor, he wasn't the least bit worried.
His confidence came from his own strength and John's guidance, so he didn't fear the exams at all.
Hagrid, sensing the pressure of exam season, had shifted his class content to Puffskeins—gentle, fluffy creatures meant to soothe the students' stress.
John was grateful. Puffskeins had an incredibly soft, squishy feel.
But Hagrid was quite down; his Buckbeak was still facing execution.
John reassured Hagrid, "It'll be okay."
Yet, a heaviness settled in his heart—his letter had sunk without a trace.
It seemed Rufus Scrimgeour truly didn't appreciate being restrained.
John was willing to offer equality, but equality required respect for Johnny Silverhand. Being Acting Minister of Magic didn't mean Scrimgeour could disregard his words.
After comforting Hagrid, John, expressionless, headed to the Room of Requirement.
In the training area, a flash of silver swept through.
Human-shaped targets split apart like paper as John wielded the Silver Wicksword with his fully healed right hand.
"Ego Sum Draco," he whispered.
Flames erupted along the blade, fueled by the supercharged magic crystal.
Then the flames transformed into a sea of fire, spreading instantly across the entire training area.
Targets disintegrated into ashes the moment they touched the flames.
The scorching fire gathered into the shape of a dragon, and with a swing of his sword, silver light glinted within the fire as he slashed downward.
The unfortunate targets couldn't last three seconds; they all vanished.
Lowering the silver sword, John drew the flames back into the blade as the surrounding fire gradually dissipated.
"The power is even stronger than a Fire Charm. So, this is the strength infused by a soul, huh."
John was pleased—almost turning into a Thunderbird hadn't been in vain.
He glanced at the super magic crystal at the end of the sword, where purple energy pulsed and jumped, with cracks appearing dangerously close to breaking.
"I still have to be careful with this."
After all, it was an enhanced boost from the magic crystal.
The super magic crystal couldn't handle such a surge for long. Unleashing this force was like detonating a massive bomb in a confined space—who knew if his hand would survive it.
___________
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