Time was a taboo.
Its power, in a single moment, in a single instant, was enough to destroy the entire future.
Time was also, to this day, the hardest force to control.
The Time-Turner was one of the few tools capable of manipulating it.
The sand inside was the key to its function.
John raised his left hand. Golden grains of sand shimmered, condensing into magic upon his palm.
After turning the Time-Turner to go back, he had laid out his plans.
Now that he had returned, he could feel the time his body had briefly ceased to exist.
"Time and soul."
John set down the newspaper. The headline announced that Barty Crouch Sr. had been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class.
The battle at the Ministry had pushed the Minister's approval ratings higher, and the Wizengamot had honored him with the medal.
It wasn't hard to see why.
The Death Eaters had been nearly annihilated during the fight at the Ministry. More than thirty of them had been captured.
The trials had lasted three days, and once again, Barty Crouch had sent them all back to Azkaban.
Voldemort was now completely alone. Aside from Bellatrix, whose fate was uncertain, he had no followers left.
"This puts him on the same starting line as Grindelwald," John muttered.
The first Dark Lord had resurfaced, and Grindelwald had fled his homeland.
Ministries of Magic across the world tightened their guard against foreign wizards entering their borders.
Compared to Voldemort, Grindelwald was far more dangerous.
Not because his raw power was greater, but because of his ability to sway hearts and minds.
Grindelwald had once swept across the magical world of Europe. If not for Dumbledore, the Statute of Secrecy itself might have been overturned.
Before such a dangerous figure, Voldemort was nothing more than a man trapped in his own country.
Of course, that was also because the enemies they faced were different.
Grindelwald had gone up against a young Dumbledore, while Voldemort had faced him wielding the Elder Wand.
Two generations of Dark Lords, both bound by the same White Wizard.
"Dumbledore, you'll be busy from here on out."
When John saw the report of Slughorn becoming Headmaster of Hogwarts, he wasn't surprised.
With the joint invitation of the four Heads of House, and Dumbledore's grievous mistake, Slughorn's appointment as Headmaster was already set in stone.
Umbridge's matter wasn't recorded anywhere, quietly handled by the Ministry.
She had always been nothing more than a pawn to be discarded. During her tenure at Hogwarts, she had earned the hatred of nearly everyone.
The Ministry dismissed her, and out of "humanitarian concern," sent the Umbridge found in the Forbidden Forest to St. Mungo's for treatment.
Oz Hield had performed outstandingly during her time teaching, and the Ministry reassigned her back to the Auror Office with a promotion to Director.
To facilitate Auror training, the Ministry also opened an Auror training program.
Lippy was successfully promoted, becoming Oz's colleague and head of the training program.
Pierce managed to enter the Wizengamot, becoming a high-ranking Ministry official.
Percy, however, couldn't be promoted yet, having only just received one not long ago.
Slughorn's appointment as Headmaster had also been backed by the Ministry.
Unlike Dumbledore, Slughorn was personable, and his Slytherin connections made his appointment widely welcomed.
For the Ministry, as long as the man in that seat wasn't Dumbledore, everything was negotiable.
...
"A Second-Class Medal? My father at least deserves a First-Class," Draco grumbled.
Lucius was among those decorated this time, along with Lippy and Barty Jr.—all three awarded Second-Class Medals.
Johnny Silverhand, however, received a First-Class Order of Merlin!
Draco knew full well that his father had merely endured humiliation, waiting for the crucial moment to strike—helping bring down the Death Eaters in one sweep.
Even though he was grumbling, the upward curl at the corner of his lips was impossible to hide.
Especially with Dumbledore completely losing his chance at being Headmaster again, Draco clapped his hands in delight. "I've always thought we needed a new Headmaster."
John handed a letter to Basil.
Basil tilted his head after taking it.
John opened the window for him, and he flew out.
The Hogwarts Great Hall had been badly damaged. Though it could be repaired, it would take time.
As compensation, John invested a large sum of Galleons into Hogwarts.
Right now, they were at Silverhand Manor.
It was Draco's first time visiting, and he realized this place was no less magnificent than his own family estate.
Cedric's jaw also dropped. He'd known John, as Johnny Silverhand, had to be incredibly wealthy..
But seeing it firsthand was still overwhelming!
And why were the two of them here?
Because Cedric had graduated, and now needed to find a job.
"You're not going pro?" Draco asked, puzzled. "With your skills, a few years of training at a club and you might actually make it onto the field."
That mouth of his made Cedric really want to punch him.
What did he mean by "a few years of training"? Was his technique really that bad?
"Quidditch isn't my goal," Cedric said. "I want to pursue advanced research in Transfiguration."
Draco blinked in surprise. "You're interested in that?"
"His Transfiguration is the best in seventh year," John said, flipping through a heavy book. "Professor McGonagall praised him for it."
"Alright then." Draco shrugged.
Although Cedric's father thought his son would have a brighter future at the Ministry or in Quidditch, he still chose to respect his wishes.
Because his son had found an investor, Mr. Diggory knew Cedric wouldn't have to worry about making a living.
"So, you want to go to Uganda?" Draco asked.
Cedric planned to go there to study Transfiguration in depth. Their branch of Transfiguration was far more diverse than the one taught locally.
He intended to stay for a few months.
That was why he had come to John first.
At the same time, he could also keep an eye on international developments.
The wizarding world at home was calm for now, but no one could say when either of the two Dark Lords might return.
Cedric knew he had to strengthen himself as quickly as possible, and Draco shared the same thought.
That was why Draco had come seeking John as well.
Unfortunately, John didn't have the time to help Draco train.
"I can recommend someone to you," John said. "He's absolutely the best teacher you could ask for."
As he spoke, his gaze drifted through the window to the gardener below.
Barty Crouch Jr.
Though he had been cleared of his past, Barty Jr. seemed to genuinely enjoy the work.
And anyone who had earned twelve certificates was not to be underestimated.
Draco reluctantly accepted the suggestion.
Once everything was settled, John handed a silver mask to Kim. "While I'm gone, you'll oversee all affairs."
Kim was silent for a moment before asking, "Placing the Holy Grail in Hogwarts—will it really be safe?"
It was a reasonable concern. After all, something like the Grail, capable of producing the Elixir of Life endlessly, was a prize both Voldemort and Grindelwald would covet.
"Hogwarts may not be the safest place," John replied, "but it is the best choice."
John said meaningfully, "Besides us, there are others who also won't want anything to happen to the Grail."
Kim nodded.
John left Silverhand Manor.
Before departing, he made a stop at the hidden room within the garden.
When he left, he carried a new wand.
With a flick of it, he vanished from the garden.
...
That summer, John returned home.
Privet Drive. Mafia Zone.
The moment he walked in, he saw Watson packing luggage.
"Where are you going?" John asked in surprise as he stepped inside.
The question startled Watson so much he clutched his chest.
Mrs. Wick came out, and upon seeing her son, stepped forward to embrace him.
After a brief hug, she smiled and pulled out a letter.
"Your uncle has invited us to his house for a holiday."
John opened the letter. His uncle was inviting them to his grandfather's house—and apparently, it was also his grandfather's idea.
"How come I didn't get one?" John asked, puzzled.
Watson said bitterly, "Not receiving one is still better than what I got."
Under John's questioning look, Watson pulled out his own letter.
The words didn't need much explanation. The meaning was clear enough: Either you come over, or we'll bring people to drag you here.
John fell silent. Looked like his father's status in the family hadn't changed at all.
Neither letter mentioned him, which made John think again of that vial.
The red potion was still tucked inside his satchel.
He could sense there was something unusual about his grandfather's household. Maybe it was time to pay them a visit—to find some answers.
When Watson heard that he was going too, his eyes lit up at once, his face caught between excitement and hesitation.
"Why don't you just use magic to take us there?" Watson leaned close to his son, clearly eager. He'd been wanting to try magic for a long time.
That enchanted car from last time still lingered in his mind.
John gave his father a sidelong glance. You really think too much.
He said tactfully, "Even in the wizarding world, illegal entry lands you in prison."
The meaning was clear—don't even think about it. Overthinking would do him no good.
Watson looked at his son with a face full of regret, opened his mouth twice as if to speak, but held back.
At last he sighed. "Can't you use your magic just once?"
His expression practically said: you're really useless, kid.
"Heh~"
John thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. His father's neatly packed luggage instantly scattered all over the floor.
Making you repack it—that, at least, I can do~
________
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