"Bet Umbridge told you that..." Jon thought to himself.
If he remembered correctly, in the original storyline, Dolores Umbridge had spread a false rumor that someone at Hogwarts was ordering Dungbombs. She then used the excuse to intercept and read Harry Potter's mail—almost capturing his godfather, Sirius Black, in the process.
But there wasn't much to worry about. Black was at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, protected by several members. Umbridge wouldn't catch him that easily.
With those thoughts in mind, Jon continued walking down the main street.
Passing Zonko's Joke Shop, he spotted Fred and George Weasley, along with Lee Jordan, stepping out of the store. Then, as he passed the post office, a large flock of owls flew out. Finally, he turned onto a side street where a small pub stood at the corner.
The sign above it read "Three Broomsticks."
...
The pub was crowded, noisy, warm, and thick with smoke. The Three Broomsticks was well known throughout the wizarding world, and nearly every witch or wizard who came to Hogsmeade stopped by for a drink.
"Hello, sir?" Madam Rosmerta appeared to be in her forties, though she still carried herself with effortless charm.
"I'm looking for Mr. Draco Malfoy. Is he...?" Jon asked softly.
"Mr. Malfoy's private room is in the basement," Madam Rosmerta whispered. "Follow me."
Jon followed close behind her, descending a damp stairway into the basement of the Three Broomsticks. Toward the back stood a small, enclosed room.
"Go on in. They're all inside," Madam Rosmerta said quietly.
Watching her, Jon couldn't help recalling the sixth book of the original story, where she played a critical role in Draco Malfoy's plan to kill Dumbledore.
Could she be connected to the Malfoy family?
With that thought lingering, Jon pushed open the door to the small room.
Moments ago, the place had been faintly noisy, but as soon as the door creaked open, silence fell.
Every head turned toward the entrance where Jon stood.
A round table sat at the center, surrounded by more than a dozen students. At the far end sat Draco Malfoy, clearly the leader. The others were mostly familiar faces—Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, and Tiffany—though several older students Jon didn't recognize were there as well.
"Welcome, Chris!" Draco Malfoy stood, smiling as he walked over.
He took Jon's hand and guided him to a seat between Avery and Selwyn.
"Welcome to the Knights of Walpurgis," Malfoy said solemnly.
...
"Huh?" Jon couldn't help thinking the name sounded a bit clunky.
"Draco, are you sure he's trustworthy?" Pansy Parkinson, sitting on Malfoy's right, asked with a frown.
"Of course," Draco replied with a confident nod. "I wrote to my father to check Chris's background... He was expelled from Durmstrang for excessive use of Dark Magic."
Jon blinked in disbelief.
What the hell... I was expelled from Durmstrang for using Dark Magic?
The expressions of those around him shifted; several of them regarded him with new interest. Even the suspicion on Pansy Parkinson's face lessened noticeably.
"If you're good at Dark Magic, you're definitely not the same type as Dumbledore or Potter," said a dark-skinned boy from across the table.
Jon recognized him—it was Blaise Zabini, a fifth-year Slytherin.
"Exactly," Jon replied calmly, giving a small nod while keeping his composure.
"I'm curious," he asked after a moment, "what's the story behind this Knights of Walpurgis?"
"The Knights of Walpurgis trace their origins back fifty years, when the Dark Lord was still at Hogwarts," Malfoy began slowly. "Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov—they were the Dark Lord's most loyal companions. Together, they formed the original Knights of Walpurgis."
"But later, under the Dark Lord's command, they decided to change the name. 'Knights of Walpurgis' wasn't direct enough—it didn't strike fear into people's hearts. So, the Knights of Walpurgis became the Death Eaters."
"But the Knights never disappeared!" Malfoy said proudly. "At Hogwarts, there have always been those who support the Dark Lord's cause... even during the years of his absence."
"The Knights of Walpurgis have been passed down through the school, generation after generation. Once we graduate, we become Death Eaters."
"We've been waiting for the Dark Lord's return—and now, the time has come."
...
A group of teenage Death Eaters in their rebellious phase... Jon had already formed his judgment of the so-called Knights of Walpurgis.
Just like Regulus Black in his youth—by the time he regretted his choices, it would already be too late to turn back.
Still, Jon kept a look of anxious surprise on his face.
"So... the Dark... the Dark Lord has really returned?" he asked softly.
"Of course! The Dark Lord is right among us!" Pansy Parkinson said with a sly smile. "Potter and Dumbledore were right all along—it's just that the fools at the Ministry refuse to believe the truth!"
"How astonishing!" Jon pressed a hand to his chest, feigning shock. "Oh, Merlin... I don't even know if that's good news or not!"
"Of course it's good news!" Malfoy rose to his feet, stepping closer to Jon as he spoke in a low, fervent voice. "It means we can follow the Dark Lord and reunite the wizarding world under pure-blood rule once again."
"Chris, will you join us?" Malfoy asked gravely.
"Together, let's serve the Dark Lord!"
"Together, we'll purge this world of Mudbloods!"
"Together, we'll spread the Dark Lord's glory across the world!"
He extended his hand toward Jon.
Jon looked at Malfoy's outstretched hand, then glanced around at the circle of eager, would-be Death Eaters surrounding him.
His left hand slipped into his pocket, fingers curling around the small silver octahedral box—
The Misericore.