"They're all dead."
An Auror walked through the blood bank, unable to bear looking directly at the carnage.
"Why are these Muggles so bloody?"
This was a question from one of the Aurors. It made sense—after all, in the magical world, even the most evil Killing Curse allowed people to die peacefully, never creating scenes of blood splattered everywhere.
This wasn't the first time vampires had died. They would report these incidents to the Ministry of Magic for handling. But none of them had discovered that a vampire hunter and a woman had been here.
On the outskirts of London stood a manor that had been untouched for a long time. The estate was vast, like Downton Abbey from television dramas. The garden, once filled with various flowers, was now overgrown with weeds. The vegetation naturally parted to create a path for passage.
John stepped back into this manor—Silver Hand Manor.
Its glory days were over. Once, pure-blood families had raised their glasses here, and prominent wizards had changed the magical world's landscape through casual conversation. Only the elite of the magical world could set foot here.
In the era before the Magical Kingdom was established, wizard society was fragmented across different countries, like the magical schools—full of mutual barriers. It wasn't until the Wizard King appeared that these divisions were reunited and the magical world grew stronger.
As John walked here again, he seemed to see his former shadow in his vision.
"This place needs a gardener," John said, standing in the garden. He reached out to touch a beautifully blooming rose, then slowly opened his fingers. A black, smoke-like substance drifted from his fingertips. Wherever it passed, the stubborn weeds quickly lost their vitality and withered. The black smoke spread, covering the entire garden, then suddenly contracted back into his hand and disappeared.
Without the weeds, the garden became bright and charming. Sunlight fell between the petals, and the fragrance spread in all directions with the gentle breeze.
John stood in the garden with his eyes closed, feeling nature's embrace. When he reopened them, he walked into the manor. In the empty, cold estate, sunlight streamed through spaced windows, forming columns of light one after another.
John snapped his fingers. "Scourgify!"
Like a whirlwind, dust swirled up into a ball and left the manor. Though still empty, it was no longer gray and dim.
John looked toward the second floor. The former liveliness was no longer visible; crystal chandeliers swayed slightly. He walked through layer upon layer of sunlight from the windows, moving through the corridors.
Unlike many ancient wizard families, there were no portraits on the walls. In the magical world, wizards had magical portrait paintings where the people in them were as lively as real people. The ancient Black family had a portrait of Mrs. Black, who cursed her disappointing son daily with foul language. Later, John destroyed it—deliberately.
Hogwarts also had many portraits, the most famous being those of headmasters in the headmaster's office. These paintings could not only speak but also offer advice. John didn't like them, or rather, he had no one to display. Plus, he had no self-portrait or anything like that, so he simply put nothing up.
However, valuable antiques were plentiful. This place had originally been an ancestral home of an ancient pure-blood family who had "willingly" given it to John, leaving behind all the antiques.
Walking on the precious century-old red carpet, John went to another part of the manor. In each of John's residences, there was a laboratory for research, and this was no exception.
Upon entering, one could see a dragon-shaped structure connected to a dark, sunless prison cell. John would refine the extracted Tesseract power here.
Luminous pearls provided light for John. His journey to Asgard had earned him not only the Tesseract but also Asgardian magical knowledge. John spent a long time here.
Dimensional magic differed from Kamar-Taj's dimensional magic—one was about how to go, the other about how to come. Kamar-Taj's magic was like equivalent exchange from Fullmetal Alchemist. Compared to invading other places, Asgard had more experience, having precedent in expelling Heaven from the World Tree.
All that knowledge was recorded in his mind. When John needed to use it, he could retrieve and study it carefully. Knowledge research always consumed time and energy, so by the time someone called him out, much time had passed. He had been staying here the entire time. If not for his phone ringing, he would have prepared to experiment with the Rainbow Bridge.
"How about meeting?" Mycroft twirled his pen on the other end of the phone. "I said I would send you a gift of thanks."
As thanks for keeping Greenwich intact, it naturally wouldn't be light. But for the Wizard King, value was secondary. Clever Mycroft knew what was more important to John than gold.
John thought about it and agreed to go. He didn't think Mycroft would be foolish enough to try surrounding the Wizard King. Looking at the blue-glowing gem on his silver hand, John felt that currently, no army in this world could kill him.
Since that was the case, John didn't continue staying in the laboratory researching. He went to the place Mycroft had arranged.
To demonstrate the gift's value, Mycroft came alone to the Diogenes Club—a place he had created for solitary thinking. He usually stayed here after 4:45 PM. Normally there were many people here, but today there were only two.
"Your power seems to have grown," John raised an eyebrow, scanning the club. This was a good platform for academic exchange or political networking, filled with officials and scholars.
Today, clearing the club showed that Mycroft's power had grown enough to make those scholars and officials yield.
Mycroft wasn't arrogant. "I'm now the Miracle Children project executor and future coordinator of domestic heroes."
John nodded knowingly. "Like Nick Fury."
As S.H.I.E.L.D.'s boss, Fury's authority was frighteningly large.
Mycroft stopped and shook his head. "His power extends abroad, but in Britain..." He glanced at John meaningfully and smiled. "He has people above him; I don't have many above me."
Well, cabinet ministers were that willful. Controlling superhero organizations, Mycroft's domestic power was even greater than Fury's.
"Your gift isn't just showing off your power to me, is it?" John asked after sitting down across from Mycroft at the long table.
Mycroft naturally wouldn't be so boring—he had a more significant gift in return.
"Aren't you curious how your parents escaped a certain death situation?" Mycroft smiled mysteriously.
John glanced at him. "What's the answer?"
John had actually wanted to use Legilimency to check, but he hadn't seen this part of the memory in Mycroft's mind. Mycroft had likely sealed that memory through some means. After all, Legilimency's prerequisite was that the person's mind knew what it was. Using it on someone ignorant would only yield wrong answers.
Mycroft didn't answer immediately but said with a tone of surprise, "Your face is the same as when we first met. I once thought you wouldn't age."
His expression was intriguing, his words probing. A Wizard King who didn't age—could he still be considered human?
But someone had given him the answer.
Mycroft looked at John, meeting those eyes that could peer into his brain directly.
He spoke, bringing news that even the Wizard King wouldn't remain calm about.
"It was John Wick who saved them."
[Chapter Complete]
***
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