Whether Muggles or wizards, there were always those in power and those who chased profit.
John was an alchemist, a merchant who traded in magic.
The alchemical principle he believed in was simple: equivalent exchange.
That was how he conducted himself as well.
With ten percent profit, capital would ensure itself was used everywhere.
With twenty percent profit, capital would become active.
With fifty percent profit, capital would take risks.
With one hundred percent profit, capital would dare to trample over all the laws of the human world.
And in this incident, the profit John offered was enough to make the pure-bloods shut their mouths.
They bore no cost and no loss. The only thing required of them was to stay silent.
Conscience began to disappear the moment money blinded one's eyes.
John did not care about any of that, even though that money could have allowed his industries to expand considerably.
Malfoy arrived at the Silverhand Manor, and he had been riding high lately.
With his relationship with Astoria officially confirmed, the family's business had suddenly begun to flourish again.
It was just that those pouty lips were still far fuller than usual even now.
Pfft~! Seeing him, John couldn't help but laugh.
"Stop laughing," Malfoy snapped irritably. "I've tried every method, and none of them worked."
"Then I'd suggest you go to Silver Cross Hospital. They have healers who specialize in treating curse-related injuries," John said, shamelessly advertising his own hospital.
"It's too expensive," Malfoy said with a wary look. "Just a single examination costs over a hundred Galleons."
This hospital, established less than two years ago, was still very young, but its equipment was in no way inferior to St. Mungo's.
The only thing people criticized was the price.
Especially specialist consultations, which were outrageously expensive.
Incidents like this had made the newspapers more than once.
"That's because you don't have medical insurance," John spread his hands helplessly. "Who told you you're not from Knockturn Alley?"
"Can't you arrange one for me?" Malfoy asked awkwardly. "My father wants one too."
Right, Lucius, that well-known curator, had his Dark Magic Museum located in Diagon Alley out of sheer caution, so he didn't have medical insurance either.
Every time he went to Silver Cross Hospital for a checkup, it ended up costing Lucius twice as much.
"There's no helping it. Rules are rules," John shrugged. In the first place, that insurance had been created to attract talent from Knockturn Alley.
There were three ways to qualify. First, having a job in Knockturn Alley. Second, living in Knockturn Alley. Third, being an employee of Silverhand.
The Malfoy family met none of the three, so they were clearly ineligible.
"Fine," Malfoy muttered unhappily, his lips looking ridiculous.
Malfoy hadn't come over without reason. He had brought John a piece of news.
"Mum met Bellatrix once," Malfoy said. "Bellatrix is in contact with Voldemort."
"What did they talk about?" John asked, his interest piqued.
"I don't know," Malfoy shook his head. "Bellatrix deliberately kept things hidden. Even Mum only overheard a single word."
With a strange look on his face, Malfoy said, "White weasel."
"White weasel?" John repeated, finding it oddly unsettling.
That was the information Narcissa had overheard. It seemed to be one of Voldemort's targets.
But using "white weasel" as a designation… was it a person, or a place?
"It seems Voldemort really is continuously trying to draw certain forces to his side."
John fell into thought. Voldemort's whereabouts were unclear. Ever since he had appeared abroad, there had been no further movement.
Unlike him, Grindelwald was different. John had seen Grindelwald mentioned in the newspapers.
He was wanted, yet his followers had already risen to thirty.
One major incident was the assassination of an official from the German Ministry of Magic.
Although there was no evidence proving he was responsible, the Ministry still pinned it on him.
As a result, Grindelwald was placed on a nationwide wanted list.
When he appeared again, it was in another snow-covered country.
However, his followers did not seem to have left with him. Only two people were by his side.
"His motives are unclear. Truly troublesome," John said, glancing over Grindelwald's movements before setting the newspaper down.
"Stabilize the home front first."
His priority was dealing with Voldemort.
"Is the leverage still not enough? Why hasn't he made a move yet?"
John calculated Voldemort's chips. Giants alone were clearly not sufficient.
The five hidden pure-blood families had been erased by him, and along with them, the plan to split the werewolves had been completely crushed.
"The path ahead for him is either to seek help abroad, or to continue drawing in dark creatures."
John removed the ring from his finger.
The emerald-green ring symbolized Silverhand's authority.
It was only after years of operation that John had gained the ability to play this game against everyone else.
He had no intention of capsizing at this point.
Whether it was Voldemort or himself, only one of them could survive.
"You'd better grow quickly, Voldemort," John thought. He had no desire to scour the world looking for him.
"Draco," he suddenly called out to Malfoy.
Malfoy: "?"
"Barty Crouch Jr. is waiting for you in the garden," John said with an innocent smile. "He thinks it's necessary to toughen you up a bit, considering you couldn't even dodge a Wasp Hex."
Malfoy's face changed instantly. Again?
Was he not even allowed to rest during Christmas?
"This is to keep you alive, Draco," John said lightly. "Carelessness gets people killed."
Malfoy curled his lip and muttered, "I don't even have medical insurance." If he got hurt, he'd have to pay for it himself.
John watched him leave with a miserable expression.
Standing within Silverhand Manor, it felt as though this place only truly resembled a home when a banquet was underway.
"A bit too quiet," John murmured as he looked over the empty manor.
There wasn't a single thing here that belonged to Christmas.
Standing on the second floor, John rested his chin in his hand and thought for a moment.
"Going home for the holidays might not be a bad choice."
Come to think of it, he had never gone home for Christmas even once.
Since that was the case, John decided to make a trip back this year.
"I remember the old man wanted an owl."
In the magical world, keeping in touch with family required relying on owls.
John walked over to the fireplace in Silverhand Manor. The flames inside turned blue as he stepped into them.
The fire swallowed him up, and in the blink of an eye, he arrived at the fireplace of the Constellation Society.
As he stepped out, golden letters transformed into little figures that came hopping over.
John flicked away the little creature that tried to jump onto his shoulder and walked to one of the doors, opening it and stepping inside.
When he came out again, there was an owl in his hands, one that looked rather sly.
A big head, with round amber-colored eyes gleaming brightly.
It looked like it wasn't very bright.
Just as he was about to step back into the fireplace, John frowned.
He walked to the door and opened it, only to see the old man outside, his expression immediately souring.
"Oh, John," Dumbledore greeted him with a smile.
John replied flatly, "It must be hard on the great wizard Dumbledore, having to stand guard here even during Christmas."
Dumbledore showed no embarrassment at all. Instead, he blinked and said, "As a gatekeeper, I feel it's my duty to remain loyal to my post."
"Heh." John gave a completely emotionless chuckle.
As if he'd believe that. Wasn't it just because he was worried something might happen to his Goblet at Hogwarts?
"Then your hearing is truly remarkable," John said, in a tone that was hard to tell whether it was mockery or ridicule.
He turned around and closed the door. Just now, he had seen a wand in Dumbledore's hand.
He had probably thought the Constellation Society was under attack.
Even without the Elder Wand, this man was still the most powerful wizard in the world.
Not even a single door could block his prying gaze.
John returned to the fireplace. The gray owl tried to perch on his shoulder again, only to be stopped by him.
"If Basil finds out, he'll pluck all your feathers."
That was Basil's exclusive seat, and Basil held grudges very well.
Like lifting a chick, John ignored the gray owl's protests and carried her into the fireplace.
Blue flames swallowed them both.
Only then did Dumbledore leave from outside the door.
…
The Wick family's basement.
The golden flames, burning without firewood, suddenly turned blue as John stepped out of them.
He opened the basement door and walked upstairs.
"What do you think about this?"
He heard his father, Watson's voice. He was trying to place his Wizard King onto the top of the Christmas tree.
"..." Mrs. Wick glanced at him, then turned back to calmly brew herself a cup of black tea.
Watson wasn't annoyed at all. One by one, the protesting wizard chess pieces were placed onto the Christmas tree.
Among them, the silver knight was still shouting, "I've rendered great service to this household! I'm a hero!"
"Shut up. All you ever did was catch mice for me."
Watson placed the silver knight in the middle section of the Christmas tree.
Taking in the view from there, the silver knight immediately changed his tune. "The scenery here is quite nice."
HOOT!!
Suddenly, a gray owl flew over and tilted her head as she stared at the silver knight.
Watson was startled by this creature that had come out of nowhere.
"Where did this come from?" Watson said.
As he turned his head, he saw John walking up.
Ignoring the silver knight yelping as the gray owl pecked at him, Watson exclaimed in delight, "John!"
Hearing the sound, Mrs. Wick's hand trembled, and the red tea spilled onto the tabletop.
She turned back and saw John standing there.
Not bothering to wipe it up, Mrs. Wick ran over.
The family of three was reunited.
________
o(*￣▽￣*)ブSupport and Read 12 Chapters ahead: Patreon/Dragonel