She was dressed smartly in flat shoes, a small handbag tucked under her arm. The woman moved with skill and purpose, her eyes scanning the shelves as she selected the items she needed.
She glanced at a list and muttered to herself, "Crookshanks likes this cat food. He hasn't been very active lately. Maybe he's getting old."
Her phone buzzed in her bag. She answered it.
"Mom?" Hearing her mother's voice, a weary smile touched Hermione's lips. "Okay, I know. I really don't like Mr. Browning." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Tonight? I still have things to do at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs." A pause. "No, I really don't!"
Despite her best efforts, Hermione couldn't escape her family's invitation. She hung up and slammed her hand against the shopping cart, a wave of melancholy washing over her. As a strong, independent woman, Hermione wasn't against marriage, but she despised being pushed into arranged dates. The Granger family wasn't short on money, yet her mother was perpetually worried she would become an old maid.
Here she was, the Minister of Magic for Great Britain, juggling matters of state and deflecting potential suitors introduced by her mother. Annoyed, she lifted a large bag of cat food and dropped it heavily into the cart. She rubbed her temples, her brow furrowed in frustration.
Fortunately, she had her own ways of coping.
Taking two deep breaths, she felt her chest rise and fall. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, her resolve renewed. If she were so easily defeated, she wouldn't be Miss Know-It-All.
Her spirits lifted, and she pushed the shopping cart to leave. As she passed an aisle, a familiar face flickered through a gap in the stacked goods.
Her steps halted.
Then, she was running. She abandoned her cart, her only focus on the figure she had just seen. Her face flushed red as she sprinted to the other side of the aisle, slightly out of breath as she stared intently in that direction.
Several shoppers were startled by her sudden appearance. One middle-aged woman, intimidated by Hermione's fierce expression, carefully put back the bag of dog food she had just picked up.
The hopeful light in Hermione's eyes gradually dimmed.
"Yes," she muttered to herself, her shoulders slumping. "He shouldn't be here."
John, who had already moved to another aisle, glanced back. "She's already the Minister of Magic?"
He didn't stop. He simply took the dog food and headed for the checkout counter.
Hermione Granger. A top Hogwarts graduate, consistently among the best in her year. She was, without a doubt, brilliant. After graduation, she had joined the Ministry of Magic and, following its reform, had risen through the ranks to become the Minister of Magic for Great Britain.
After returning to Britain, he kept running into old acquaintances. John had thought he was prepared, but when the moment actually came, he suddenly didn't know how to face them.
He placed a hand on his chest, sensing the lack of a heartbeat there.
Perhaps not meeting was for the best.
Let the regrets of youth pass. The people they were now were different. One was a Minister of Magic. The other, a Wizard King whose vacation had just ended.
...
John paid and walked down the street, a bag of dog food in hand. Though there was no snow in London, it couldn't escape the rain. He pulled out his wand, conjured an umbrella, and walked along the slick pavement. The dog food was tucked into his pocket. He passed an ice cream shop.
"One ice cream… cantaloupe flavor."
John reappeared holding a green ice cream cone. He licked it, the cool cream melting slowly on his tongue. After one bite, he didn't touch it again, simply holding it as he walked.
Passing a red telephone booth, he saw a man step inside. The booth began to descend.
"How many years has it been? Why is it still in this mode?" he shook his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes. Below this spot was the entrance to the British Ministry of Magic. Though much had changed, some procedures remained the same.
John lingered for a moment and noticed he was being watched. He glanced at the nearby buildings. In the one opposite, a person in casual home clothes was one of them. There were others.
"Not wizards," John mused, quickly figuring it out. Besides S.H.I.E.L.D., other organizations knew of wizards. This one in Britain, however, was on the front lines of confronting them. "The Seventh Division, huh."
They were just recording and monitoring. If a wizard's power couldn't be documented beforehand, ordinary people might not have time to react if something happened. John walking past here had made him a suspicious person to be recorded.
Unfortunately for them, he had no plans to visit the Ministry of Magic. When not using magic, wizards were no different from ordinary people—unless, of course, they were eccentric enough to wear clothes that made them instantly recognizable, like the person wearing a cotton jacket and beach shorts on a rainy day. As soon as that man appeared, the monitors' attention shifted.
John leisurely walked out of the monitored area. Seeing he wasn't entering the Ministry, they let him go. He could have driven them away with a bit of magic, but in someone else's country, it was best to let them feel at ease. Among the nations friendly with the Magic Kingdom, Britain was one of them.
After leaving the area, John snapped his fingers, and his body vanished without a trace.
He reappeared on Privet Drive. As he opened his door, an excited Tom greeted him, wagging his tail and sniffing all over him. He seemed to catch a familiar scent, something like a little friend from Hogwarts, and let out a few chirps.
"Here you go."
John took out the dog food, and Tom promptly forgot his question. On the owl perch, Basil, who hadn't seen John for a few days, poked his head out. Riddle, the black owl, was quite normal, except his head was turned a full 180 degrees.
After rubbing the two round heads, John entered the basement. He hadn't forgotten he still had a large amount of Time Stone energy to process. Delay could lead to unforeseen problems, so he set up a cauldron. Even without an AI like Moss, John, having already mastered the power of the Time Stone, could craft it manually.
He stirred the cauldron, opening the scroll-like jars one by one. Green energy gathered towards the cauldron. Sometimes the liquid would revert to its original state as if time had reversed. Time power was not so easily controlled.
John pulled out his old wand and stirred the mixture. A golden magic circle formed an ouroboros, rotating on the liquid's surface. As the Time power took shape, he extended his right hand. Silver covered his arm, and he unclipped a Super Magic Crystal, dropping it in.
The Time power and the magic met, and the crystal shattered instantly. It had been inside for less than a few seconds, yet it seemed like thousands of years had passed. The bursting magic and time power collided, squeezed, and repelled each other, finally contracting into a single point.
John flipped his hands, and the Casket of Ancient Winters appeared, spraying a cold current at the small point. The intertwined forces quickly solidified, emitting a green light.
The second Limited Stone was complete.
Half of the cauldron was covered in rust; the other half was brand new.
The Limited Time Stone slowly floated up, and John grasped it, inlaying it into the vacant spot on the back of his hand. A surge of power coursed through him. John's expression hardened as he gritted his teeth, enduring the flood of Time.
"The power of Time," he murmured, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He raised his left hand, and a green magic circle appeared.
With a gentle twist, the half-rotten cauldron quickly weathered and became covered in rust. Twisting in the opposite direction, the rust vanished, leaving it as new as if it had just left the factory.
John walked out of the basement and saw the bag of dog food ripped open by Tom, who was feasting on it. He twisted the magic circle, and the food that had been eaten returned to the bag.
Tom was dumbfounded. He ran over repeatedly to confirm this wasn't a dream.
John crushed the magic circle, and the Silver Hand receded, turning back into a ring. These stones possessed the functions of the originals; the only difference was likely the energy level. He was increasingly looking forward to whether, after collecting all the stones, he could solve everything with a snap of his fingers.
Thinking this, John saw the black owl, Riddle, turn his head, his eyes fixed on one direction without moving.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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