By the Black Lake, Neville and Malfoy were, for once, NOT training.
The two of them sat watching the sun slowly sink below the horizon, staring at each other in silence.
"About John, do you think he might have…" Malfoy hesitated, wanting to voice something ominous.
Neville fell silent for a moment after hearing him, then said, "He won't. You will."
"What kind of crap is that?!" Malfoy exploded.
Neville looked up over Malfoy's shoulder, confirming once more. "You really will."
"!!!"
Malfoy felt a chill creeping up behind him and swallowed hard.
Turning his head, he saw Daphne's pretty face frosted over with cold fury.
Malfoy gave a tragic little smile, stood up bravely, and said, "Today, though I die, I still remain Manly—ow!"
Before he could finish, he was hoisted upside down into a tree with a surprised yelp.
"Bloody hell! Daphne!" he yelped, flailing slightly. "This is abuse! I could sue in Wizengamot!"
"You're welcome to try."
Daphne said coolly, arms folded as she turned her back on him and walked to the lakeside, heels crunching on the gravel, waiting for John to emerge. "But I have all the blackmail material such as some moving pictures of you whining and talking shit about John while he trained you to death."
"..."
"Pfft—!" Neville snorted into his sleeve.
"Ok, but this isn't justified! I-I demand to be released!" Draco cried. "My pants are custom-tailored! And I'm getting dizzy!"
"You were dizzy long before I put you in the tree," Daphne said without looking back.
…
Following the directions of the young couple, John arrived at a place that resembled a mermaid village.
The Black Lake was vast, and beneath it lay many ruins that resembled ancient relics.
John suspected that this area may not have originally been a lake.
Walking through the ruins, John finally saw the giant squid.
Normally, only its tentacles could be seen—very few had ever seen it in its entirety.
The squid, even larger than a dragon, was sprawled atop a heap of collapsed ruins. Its tentacles drifted gently with the current as it slept.
Seeing this, John had the sudden impulse to go up and draw some blood with a needle.
But they were underwater, and if the squid went berserk, he probably wouldn't last long.
Getting closer, John used mental magic to try to communicate with it.
The moment he touched a tentacle, countless images flashed before his eyes.
His face turned pale, and he let out a muffled grunt, a bubble escaping his mouth.
The giant squid woke up, thinking John was a drowning student. One tentacle wrapped around him and started to lift him toward the surface.
John quickly jabbed the tentacle with his wand, making the squid pause.
Its movements halted, and its two large eyes seemed filled with confusion.
John stopped trying to peer into its thoughts and instead used mental magic to speak directly.
"Put me down, big guy."
The squid slowly set John down, wiggling its tentacles to turn and face him.
It was remembering—could Hogwarts be hosting the Triwizard Tournament again?
Otherwise, why would there be a student underwater?
"Big guy, I'm John Wick, a student from Slytherin."
The giant squid could recognize that he was from Slytherin.
John tried to communicate with it, but the squid was too ancient.
After several attempts, John had no choice but to stop trying for now.
Having exhaled half a breath earlier, he was starting to feel the pressure, so he asked the squid to bring him back up.
"Aaah! What the hell!"
"Get back, Daphne!"
"Oh! That's John!"
When John was lifted to the surface by a massive tentacle, the three people on shore let out startled cries.
"You guys are still here?" John asked, blinking water out of his eyes.
Daphne, watching the tentacle quickly submerge again, asked worriedly, "Are you alright?"
Evaporating the water from his body, John waved his hand. "I'm fine."
Draco flailed wildly. "Is no one going to talk about me hanging upside down like magical laundry!!?"
Seeing Malfoy hanging upside down, John's expression turned a little odd. "Umm.. Nice view up there?"
"Just peachy," Draco grumbled. "The blood is rushing to my head, my wand is stuck in my sleeve, and if I see one more squirrel giggling at me, I swear I'll hex the entire forest!"
Neville pointed. "That one just winked at you."
"..."
"But what were you doing there? And why were you looking for that Squid?" Daphne asked.
Fixing his hair, John replied, "I was just having a talk with the giant squid."
"You can talk to a squid?" Malfoy asked, head still hanging down.
"Strictly speaking, I was the one doing the talking. That squid's been alive for over a thousand years—it's hard to really communicate with it."
John felt a bit regretful—he had wanted to negotiate with the giant squid for some of its blood, but unfortunately, the squid didn't seem to understand him.
He could only plan to come back and try communicating again later.
He asked Daphne to let Malfoy down, then returned to the castle.
...
A few days passed.
The Quidditch matches once again brought a lively atmosphere back to Hogwarts. Umbridge was still as disturbingly effective as ever, but even she couldn't quench their passion for Quidditch.
Ever since John had threatened her, Umbridge hadn't dared to cause trouble again.
She was genuinely afraid that John might rally other Slytherin students to file a formal complaint with the Ministry of Magic.
If there was one thing Slytherin students excelled at, it was connections.
Her restraint, however, was limited to Slytherin. The other houses weren't so lucky.
Every few days, Umbridge would crack down again. Not just the students—even the heads of house were full of complaints.
Under such circumstances, Slytherin's Quidditch training naturally went much more smoothly.
…
Ever since founding [Dumbledore's Army], Harry felt like he had a warm secret tucked close to his heart, like a protective charm. It supported him through life under Umbridge's oppressive regime.
He could even look at Umbridge's terrifying toad-like eyes and manage a gentle smile.
Truly, trying times create heroes.
Leading the oppressed through hardship always fosters growth.
But there was one troubling issue—they couldn't fix a single training time that worked for all the students.
The Quidditch practice schedules of the three houses made it hard to gather everyone together.
Fortunately, Hermione always came to the rescue when her "sons" needed help. She created a magical silver coin that looked just like a Galleon.
It functioned similarly to the Dark Mark—but not carved into the arm, thankfully.
By changing the numbers on the coin, they could effectively notify all the students of training sessions.
"How come I didn't know you could do that?" Ron exclaimed.
Hermione said smugly, "There are plenty of things you don't know I can do."
Harry was thrilled. Now they could quickly inform everyone of the special training times.
The only concern was accidentally spending the fake Galleon.
To that, Ron sadly assured them there was no need to worry.
Because aside from the fake Galleon, he didn't have any real ones.
Poverty kept him safe from mistakes.
How fortunate.
...
The first Quidditch match of the season: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin.
The two long-time rival teams both had lineup changes this year, as both of their captains had graduated.
Professor McGonagall, always a devoted fan of Quidditch and one who took the game very seriously, showed her support once more.
A week before the match, she exempted the Gryffindor Quidditch team from homework so they could have more time to train.
But Slytherin wasn't about to back down. Snape had long since reserved the pitch for Slytherin's practice sessions.
As the often-criticized Head of Slytherin House, Snape fully embodied the house's strategic cunning.
John went to check on Malfoy, who was training tirelessly in the wind, rain, and mud despite the match still being a week away.
Montague, unable to bear watching any longer, rushed over and grabbed Malfoy, who was about to mount his Firebolt again. He shouted, "Draco, that's enough! You've trained plenty!"
"Let go of me," Malfoy said stubbornly, pushing Montague away. He jumped on his Firebolt and shouted, "I need more training if I want to keep up with Potter! If you're tired, go ahead and leave. I'm going to practice a bit longer."
Montague opened his mouth, but in the end only muttered, "You've already worked so hard."
"It's not enough. It's not nearly enough," Malfoy roared. "Do you have any idea how fast Harry Potter flies? He's been a Seeker since first year—do you know what kind of talent that takes?!"
When it came to Quidditch talent at Hogwarts, there was no doubt—Harry Potter was number one.
Since his very first year, his flying skills had caught Professor McGonagall's eye.
That was Harry's first time ever touching a broomstick!
But Malfoy? He had been flying since he was a child.
He had several more years of experience than Harry.
And yet, what was the result?
In first year, he couldn't even make it onto the team.
In second year, he watched helplessly as Harry snatched the Golden Snitch right in front of him.
In third year, once again, the Snitch slipped from his grasp.
Where had he lost?
Even with a better broom, he still couldn't beat that Harry fucking Potter.
Malfoy knew—he had lost because of talent.
That slight edge in talent had defeated him.
Given the same amount of training time, Harry's progress was several times his own.
So, he had to put in double, ten times, a hundred times the effort to make up for that gap.
He wanted to win.
The blood of Slytherin was etched into his very body.
He had to win!
Malfoy had just taken a fall from his Firebolt, his head still dizzy and foggy.
The Golden Snitch appeared before him, but in Malfoy's eyes, there were several Snitches darting around.
He shook his head and urged his Firebolt forward at high speed.
"Oh.."
His vision went black, and his hands slipped from the broom—his whole body plummeting rapidly from the sky.
By the time the other team members reacted, it was already too late.
Just as he was about to hit the ground, his body abruptly halted.
Rainwater had condensed into a cushiony bed, catching him.
John walked past Montague and said, "Call it for today. Make sure you're in your best condition before the match."
"Haah! Thanks a lot, John!"
Montague snapped out of it, exhaled in relief upon seeing John, and quickly issued the dismissal order to the rest of the team.
Looking at Malfoy, battered and bruised from overtraining, John led him off in another direction.
________
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