Thinking of exams, John suddenly remembered—it had been a month since the O.W.L.s.
His results should have arrived by now.
The next morning, a persistent owl was blocked at the window by Basil.
The poor bird seemed to be pleading for mercy, but Basil stood guard firmly, gesturing for it to hand over the letter.
Left with no choice, the owl finally surrendered.
Riddle sat aloof atop the wardrobe, while Tom tried eagerly to approach him—but she simply wasn't tall enough.
John took the letter from Basil's beak.
It was a report card.
Unfolding the parchment, he gave it a casual glance.
John Wick's O.W.L. Results:
Astronomy: O
Care of Magical Creatures: O
Charms: O
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O
Divination: O
Herbology: O
History of Magic: O
Potions: O
Transfiguration: O
Arithmancy: O
Muggle Studies: O
Ancient Runes: O
"O" stood for Outstanding, "E" for Exceeds Expectations, and "A" for Acceptable.
"P" meant Poor, "D" Dreadful, and "T" Troll.
John looked over his twelve Outstandings. Even though he'd coughed up blood during his final exam and ended up in the hospital wing afterward, he had still managed to finish his History of Magic paper.
He glanced at his badge.
It was vibrating nonstop—everyone must have received their results.
Tapping it with a finger, he opened the message feed.
As expected, Malfoy had earned just one Outstanding.
He really did rank near the top in Charms, though his History of Magic was marked with a "P"—he hadn't even finished half of it that day.
Surprisingly, the subject he'd felt least confident about, Potions, earned him an "E," while Transfiguration came back as merely "A."
Daphne was grumbling about her results—she'd gotten seven Outstandings.
Her Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and History of Magic were all marked "E."
Neville, to everyone's surprise, had received two Outstandings—one in Herbology and one in Charms—and an "E" in Potions.
That comparison, of course, made Malfoy an easy target again.
"How does Neville get two O's?" Malfoy demanded indignantly.
"Because Neville's Herbology was good enough for Professor Sprout to personally praise him," Daphne mocked. "Not like some people who only know how to study spells."
"Oh really? Your Charms is an 'E,' you know."
Malfoy always knew exactly how to get under someone's skin.
John could practically feel Daphne's urge to crawl through her badge and strangle him.
Neville then asked, "John, what about you? Have your results come in?"
Malfoy scoffed. "Neville, why would you humiliate yourself like that?"
John: "Twelve O's."
Malfoy sneered, "See, Neville? You brought that on yourself."
Neville: "…"
He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to punch Malfoy, though he couldn't quite explain why.
Anyone who didn't know better would have thought he was the one who only got a single Outstanding.
Good news: among the current members of the Constellation Society, only one person had failed a subject.
Bad news: that person was Malfoy.
His face twisted in disbelief—there were only four of them, and somehow he was the only one who'd failed.
And he'd failed History of Magic.
A subject anyone could pass just by memorizing! Sure, he'd turned in his paper early, but it still stung.
If the Gryffindors next door—especially Harry Potter—found out, they'd never let him hear the end of it.
Then Fleur sent a message: "Harry failed two subjects—Divination and History of Magic. He got a 'D' in History."
Malfoy, who'd been on the verge of despair, suddenly perked up.
"Stupid Potter! Can't even pass the simplest classes."
But right after sending it, something felt off.
He frowned and asked, "Wait—how do you know that, Fleur?"
Fleur replied matter-of-factly, "I'm at the Burrow. Harry was brought here last night."
"You went to the Weasleys' house?" Malfoy asked in shock.
And it wasn't just him—John was surprised too.
Percy nearly choked. "You've only known Bill for less than a month!"
"It felt right, so I accepted the invitation," Fleur said breezily—unlike a certain someone who'd been pining for years without making any progress.
No one said who that "someone" was, but everyone knew.
Daphne was so stunned by how fast things were moving that her mind went blank.
Astoria could almost see smoke rising from her sister's head—most likely from short-circuiting.
...
A member of the Constellation Society living in the Weasley house?
John suddenly wondered if Fleur might as well use the opportunity to infiltrate the Order of the Phoenix and steal the locket herself.
But that wasn't really feasible.
Something else caught his attention—the Weasley family wasn't staying at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
Had the Order moved their headquarters?
After asking around, John learned a few things.
Dumbledore had uncovered the traitor—someone no one would have ever suspected.
Kreacher.
The old Black family's house-elf. It was because of him that Harry had been led to believe Sirius was captured.
In a fit of rage, Sirius had wanted to dismiss Kreacher on the spot, but was stopped in time.
Kreacher knew far too much—if freed, he would no doubt run straight to someone else.
The only option was to bind him tightly under a house-elf contract.
But that came with a price: Number 12, Grimmauld Place had become a dangerous location.
So the Weasley family was temporarily moved back to the Burrow.
The Order hadn't abandoned Grimmauld Place entirely, though. Sirius locked Kreacher away and forbade him from ever leaving.
Now, they only went there when Order of the Phoenix meetings were held, turning the old house into a full-fledged operations base.
Dumbledore himself oversaw it.
"Tch. Dumbledore, if only you'd sell the place."
With the kind of money John had, he wouldn't have minded paying a hefty sum to buy it from Sirius—but unfortunately, Dumbledore seemed to have seen right through him.
The Order of the Phoenix had been founded to combat the Death Eaters. Now the Death Eaters were captured, but Voldemort remained free.
Alone and furious, Voldemort's hatred toward the Order burned even deeper, making them his prime target.
Of course, the one he hated most of all was undoubtedly John.
Unfortunately for him, there was nothing he could do about it.
Because of the Holy Grail's existence, the Dark Lord who feared death above all else had seen a glimpse of something different—a possibility that both tempted and unsettled him.
There was still no news of Grindelwald's whereabouts.
The last confirmed sighting had been in Germany, where some of his old followers were believed to remain.
Though aged, those followers were still frighteningly powerful.
After all, Grindelwald's influence had once stretched across all of Europe—something Voldemort could never truly match.
To rule through fear and to rule through faith were two very different things.
John began extending his reach beyond Britain.
Through Nagini's branch network, he was advised that such expansion required careful timing.
In Britain, Silverhand's growth had reached its limit; only by moving abroad could it continue to thrive.
And the Dark Lord's return had just given John the perfect opportunity.
By promoting the threat of the Dark Lord, John could push his products to break through the barriers between nations.
As for Grindelwald, his name alone was enough to make every European Ministry of Magic feel a renewed sense of crisis.
Descending from his home's basement into the Silverhand Johnny office, John found Kim Jin busy at work.
Kim had taken off his silver mask, and the somber expression he used to wear had softened into something closer to a genuine smile.
"You should've come sooner," Kim Jin said naturally, slipping back into his role as assistant. "Several foreign Ministries of Magic are seeking collaboration."
He laid a stack of documents neatly on the desk.
"The 'Of' series hasn't been received well by everyone. Some believe it's wrong for something like this to be monopolized."
John raised an eyebrow, glancing over the documents. "Ministry officials?"
"Yes," Kim Jin replied, pouring a cup of black tea for him. "Director Bones—she believes the Ministry shouldn't be restrained by Silverhand and that monopolies must be countered."
John turned a page and came across a letter from the American Ministry of Magic.
"She's quite capable," John said lightly, "but there are things she doesn't see clearly."
He opened the letter and took a slow sip of tea.
Amelia Bones—he knew her well. A strong-willed woman who had lost the Minister election because of Silverhand's influence. And she hadn't forgotten it.
Most of the Ministry's current policies now carried Silverhand's influence behind them.
Amelia Bones wouldn't just sit back and watch Silverhand continue to expand, so she had proposed an anti-monopoly initiative—an attempt to weaken Silverhand's control by nationalizing the "Of" series.
Old Barty would never allow himself to be led by the nose, of course, and Amelia's plan was clever—on paper.
Unfortunately, she'd miscalculated one crucial thing.
Old Barty might turn against Silverhand one day, but that day was certainly not today.
The Ministry's finances and armaments still relied heavily on Silverhand's support. Implementing her policy now would mean severing ties with them—and that would shatter Barty's newly reformed Ministry like a fragile, glittering bubble.
That was something Barty would never allow. Until the Ministry's coffers were full and stable, he would steadfastly uphold Silverhand's interests.
So John wasn't worried. What concerned him more was the letter from the American Ministry of Magic.
After reading it carefully, John said to Kim Jin, "I think our product line could use a strong spokesperson."
Kim, who had also glanced at the contents of the letter, suggested, "Lockhart's last shampoo endorsement sold extremely well."
Indeed, the wizarding world's top celebrity—Gilderoy Lockhart—was always ready for a little more publicity.
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