In the deserted atrium of the Ministry of Magic, the fireplaces set into the walls suddenly flared with ghostly blue flames.
Cedric stepped out first. His fitted black suit didn't hinder movement, and his cufflinks were set with amber-yellow gemstones.
Next came Malfoy, clad in black velvet. A silver serpent coiled over his shoulder, and on the pinky finger of his right hand gleamed an emerald ring.
Neville was the last to emerge, wearing a white shirt and black waistcoat, carrying a sword with an ornate silver scabbard inlaid with rubies.
After the three had stepped out, another fireplace beside them roared to life. From it emerged a blond man in white robes, wearing a white mask.
"You're here."
The man removed his mask, revealing a face they had crossed paths with during the World Cup.
"Kim," Cedric said in a low voice.
He took in Kim's attire—that Silver mask he remembered seeing back during the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts.
One of Johnny Silverhand's people.
"So you're working for Johnny Silverhand," Cedric said, naturally taking the role of elder brother as the oldest among them.
"Wrong." Kim's jaw was rough with stubble as he looked at the three of them. "We all are."
"Hm?" The three exchanged looks, their expressions tinged with confusion.
"John is Johnny Silverhand," Kim said.
In the vast, empty atrium, he spoke the truth aloud.
"You're saying… John is Johnny Silverhand?" Malfoy felt his chest tighten. His eyes locked on Kim, and he growled, "That's impossible. I've met Johnny Silverhand…"
But his words trailed off.
He remembered being brought before Johnny Silverhand once—what was it for again?
Ah… it was something about being asked to become Johnny Silverhand's godson.
Kim clearly knew a bit about it. His expression softened with sympathy. "You never saw his face, did you?"
Malfoy's expression darkened.
Neville, still trying to process it, murmured, "If John is Johnny Silverhand, then he…"
"He's far more capable than you think." Kim nodded slowly. "He built this massive network starting in his second year."
"But why did he not tell—"
"The reason he didn't tell you," Kim continued, "is because you were still too young."
"So Percy and Fleur already know?" Malfoy still seemed unwilling to accept it.
"Percy found out, but only last year," Kim said with a nod. "You shouldn't resent him—keeping it secret was the best way to protect you."
Malfoy turned to Cedric, who had remained silent, and asked, "You knew too?"
Cedric nodded, closing his eyes in pain. "The graveyard."
It was a memory heavy with grief.
Kim's gaze darkened, but a moment later, light returned to his eyes.
"That's enough about John's secret," Kim said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "It's time to carry out John's plan… his final plan."
A shadow fell over everyone's hearts.
"Revenge," Malfoy said through clenched teeth.
Kim said nothing, simply turning to lead them forward.
As they passed through the Ministry's lifts, Cedric frowned. "Where is everyone in the Ministry?"
"John secured one night's exclusive control of this place—to draw Voldemort here," Kim said, a glint of cold steel in his eyes.
"So this is it—we're taking revenge?" Malfoy asked.
Neville tightened his grip on the Sword of Marvolo.
Cedric lowered his gaze to the wand in his hand.
Kim placed his hand over the badge on his chest.
"For John and Heinrich."
The other three did the same, the constellation badges on their chests like a starry sky breaking through the clouds, revealing starlight.
Their resolve hardened, and as the lattice doors of the lift closed, they descended.
Meanwhile, in Percy's office—
Fleur's beautiful hair had grown even longer, cascading like a silver waterfall.
She wore clothing suited for movement, a string of protective charms around her wrist.
Beneath her pale swan-like neck hung a sapphire necklace.
Fleur kissed the constellation badge and fastened it to her chest.
She looked at Percy. "Shall we go?"
Percy stood, his voice carrying a rare gravity. "You know our mission is different from theirs."
"If I'd known sooner that John was my boss, maybe I wouldn't have been bogged down with all that trivial nonsense," Fleur said with a confident smile. "Still… I don't mind this feeling."
"The final location will be the Death Chamber. Remember—do not touch that archway under any circumstances."
Percy warned her again and again. "That's something even the Ministry doesn't fully understand."
"The more mysterious something is, the more likely it is to cause unexpected events," Fleur said with a wave of her hand. "Let's go, Percy."
Percy already carried a certain air of authority, but in front of his own comrades, he still couldn't put on airs.
Picking up the cup from the desk, Percy kept a stern face. "Yeah.. Let's go."
He knew the Ministry was completely empty right now—no need to hide anything.
The two of them took the lift toward the Department of Mysteries.
As Percy watched a corridor slide past outside, he couldn't help but recall a recent conversation with John.
"All of this depends on you, Percy."
In the Constellation Society, John had shown Percy that deadly black poison.
Percy had roared, raged, despaired.
Knowing the danger of that thing, he had even considered going to Dumbledore for help.
But in the end, John stopped him from doing so.
"Only this way can we finish everything, Percy," John had said, gripping Percy's hand tightly. "And only you can carry out the final stage of my plan."
"You know better than anyone how the Ministry works."
"The Department of Mysteries hides tremendous power. Those taboos are our only hope of turning the tables."
Percy's shoulders felt unbearably heavy. When that golden cup was handed to him, he knew he had no other choice.
Either he carried his comrades' deaths into defeat, or he made everything right again.
Fleur could see the weight on Percy's shoulders, and she patted him lightly.
"John believes in you," she said firmly. "And so do we."
"John…" Emotion flickered in Percy's eyes before he gave a resolute nod.
Silently, he swore to himself: Even if it costs me my life, I will see this plan through.
The lift arrived. At the end of the black corridor, a black door stood closed.
They opened it to find the four who had arrived before them already working out their plan.
Noticing the marked doors, Percy couldn't help rubbing his forehead. "Who did this? If Minister Crouch finds out, there'll be no escaping a scolding."
"But… this is actually a clever idea," he admitted, just as the doors began to spin again.
He pinpointed exactly where he wanted to go.
The Time Room.
Gazing at the drifting golden sand, Percy took out the golden cup.
It seemed everyone thought John Wick—Johnny Silverhand—hated Voldemort to the bone.
He had sent the Star Disciples to hunt Death Eaters, and placed massive bounties on their heads.
The desire for revenge was obvious to anyone.
Dumbledore thought so.
So did Barty Crouch Sr.
But Percy knew that John's plan wasn't something so shallow.
It was something far more difficult than simply killing someone.
A mere death would never be enough to make the legendary Johnny Silverhand use himself as bait.
The golden sand held the power of time—just a touch could bring terrifying consequences to the body.
That was why time was a forbidden domain—its effects were irreversible.
The Ministry's control over it was extremely strict, extending even to Time-Turners, with hundreds of laws regulating their use.
As Percy placed the golden cup inside, the golden sand began to fall into it.
The cup seemed bottomless, the sand vanishing as soon as it entered.
Soon, one golden hourglass was completely emptied.
Then the second. The third…
Percy couldn't quite name the feeling, but it was as if he was betraying the Ministry itself.
This filled him, a Ministry official, with deep conflict.
Fleur's gaze was fixed on a bird—it soared high into the air, then rapidly aged and fell, only to transform into an egg just before hitting the ground.
The eggshell cracked open, and the bird, now a hatchling, grew at an unnatural speed and took flight again.
It was like an endless purgatory, an unceasing cycle repeating the same events over and over.
The sight made Fleur's skin crawl.
Meanwhile, just one door away from the Time Room—
In the Hall of Prophecy, five students had slipped into a space filled with towering shelves and priceless prophecy orbs.
The ceiling was as high as that of a cathedral, and the shelves rose just as tall.
Glass spheres sat upon them, each casting a faint, dim glow that matched the gloom of the circular hall.
Harry and the others moved cautiously through the narrow, shadowed aisles between the rows of shelves.
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