That's ..Death?
The unfamiliar word exploded in Harry's mind.
"You are greedy, John Wick."
Death let out a low, rumbling laugh. "Bargaining with Death is not a wise move."
"I am an alchemist," John leaned back in his chair with a smile. "Equivalent exchange—that is the immutable law of alchemy."
An alchemist was far more stubborn than any merchant.
"You are indeed amusing, John Wick." Death lifted a hand, revealing skeletal fingers beneath the robe.
Harry felt a chill run through his body as he held the child stiffly in his arms.
"To toy with death is something that cannot be tolerated," John intoned, almost like reciting a hymn.
He looked toward the child in Harry's arms and said, "The last time we met, you said those very words."
"You intend to use this one for the bargain?" Death asked with interest. "This soul is very weak."
John shook his head. "Tom Marvolo Riddle."
At the sound of Voldemort's name, Death's gaze fixed on the child.
The child cowered in Harry's arms.
"You like to control the fate of the powerful."
A strange light flickered in John's eyes as he said, "The warlike eldest, the arrogant second, the humble youngest."
"The Tale of the Three Brothers." Harry suddenly recalled the story.
It was the one Hermione had shown him during a Dumbledore's Army gathering.
By chance, he remembered it clearly.
And in some mysterious way, he felt that the story was connected to him.
"Tom Riddle toyed with death. His soul should be exactly the kind you favor," John said, fixing his gaze on Death.
Death shifted his attention away from the child and back toward John. The hood concealed his face, so no expression could be seen, but his voice said, "What do you want?"
He had revealed an interest in Voldemort's soul.
John's palm was damp with sweat, his eyes locked firmly on Death as he enunciated, "Equivalent exchange."
"One soul for another?" Death said.
Harry suddenly felt a force press against his back, pushing him into his seat.
He turned to the window. The train, which had been moving slowly before, was accelerating. There was no scenery outside, but he could clearly feel the speed increasing.
It was going towards.. Death.
Death fixed his gaze on John, his voice icy. "Do you understand what you are saying?"
"Do you wish to become my next prey?"
At those words, Harry felt his heart nearly leap out of his chest.
He turned to look at John—yet John showed no fear.
John smiled, as though he hadn't heard the danger hidden in Death's tone. "Of course I don't. But compared to an ordinary soul, the Dark Lord's soul is far more enticing."
He spoke unhurriedly. "Voldemort's soul survived by sacrificing countless others to evade death. In theory, he could live forever."
John raised a finger and waved it slightly. "That's the rule—one even you cannot break."
Death fell silent. For Death could not actively kill.
Just like in the tale of the Three Brothers, even when facing them, he had never struck directly.
Instead, he had only waited for their deaths.
Through the gifts he granted, the eldest grew arrogant and warlike and was ultimately slain by another wizard's blade. The second, driven by the cold rejection of the one he loved, took his own life.
And the third? Did he escape Death because of the Invisibility Cloak?
No—it was because he possessed a humble heart.
If he had used the Invisibility Cloak to provoke other wizards, he might well have been stripped of it and sent to the gallows.
After all, in the wizarding world, there were indeed ways to see through an Invisibility Cloak—Dumbledore could pierce it with his bare eyes, and Moody's magical eye could see through it as well.
The youngest brother survived because he did not stir up trouble.
That was what set him apart from his two elder brothers.
Death said coldly, "Even so, how long do you think he can live?"
"A long time."
John replied, "If you refuse this bargain, I can assure you—he will live for a very long time."
Death sneered. "You're merely indulging in foolish dreams."
Voldemort would die, would be defeated by another wizard—for Dumbledore still lived.
But John's next words shattered the smile from Death's voice.
He fixed his gaze on Death and said calmly, "I will help him. I'll help him escape death—and gain immortality."
"John, you…" Harry stared in disbelief.
And in the next instant, John locked eyes with Death and dropped a bombshell that gave his words undeniable weight.
He said calmly, "I created the Philosopher's Stone."
At that, the train's speed surged to its limit.
The blank void outside the windows shifted, faint shapes like white mist in the form of people flashing past from time to time.
Death remained silent.
The Philosopher's Stone?
The very same Stone from first year?
Harry tried desperately to read John's expression, but in the end, he failed.
After a long silence, Death finally spoke. "At your current level, you could not have made it."
"In the wizarding world, there is never a shortage of miracles," John replied indifferently.
Death seemed almost convinced. "No one has ever dared threaten me."
John smiled faintly. "This is a bargain, not a threat."
If John's words were true, then Voldemort's immortality was not impossible.
At the very least, Voldemort could easily live for centuries.
With both Horcruxes and the Philosopher's Stone, even Death himself could not claim his soul.
For Death, this was something intolerable.
He had once spent nearly a century pursuing the souls of the Three Brothers—Voldemort's soul, in his eyes, held immeasurable value.
"Very well. For your wit and boldness, I am willing to complete this bargain." Death extended his skeletal hand.
Just as he had once flattered the Three Brothers, he now spoke with respect: "As the price, I require the soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle."
John clasped that hand, his smile turning a touch strange.
With a mocking tone, he said, "Actually, I was only bluffing you."
"Em?" Death sounded puzzled.
John's smile deepened, layered with meaning. "So even Death cannot escape the bounds of magic."
Before, he hadn't been certain—after all, this was only the second time he had come into contact with Death.
But from Death's reactions, he was sure now: Death could not kill Voldemort by force.
Death could not interfere directly in the living world.
Which meant Death was still bound by the domain of magic, compelled to follow its rules.
And as long as he was within the domain of magic…
From their clasped hands, a strand of golden thread emerged, winding around the backs of both.
"What are you doing?" Death demanded.
"Ahaha~" John chuckled. "Did you forget? I'm an alchemist."
"Of course I need a qualified witness."
On top of the golden thread entwining their hands, a diagram of circles and lines formed, spreading into the shape of a tree across the backs of both.
"The Gate of Things?!"
Even Death's voice wavered.
"Unlucky for you, my teacher happens to be the current keeper of the Gate of Things."
John's smile was dazzling. "The moment you agreed, I took it upon myself to bind it as equivalent exchange."
Their hands were locked tight. Even Death, at this moment, seemed unsettled.
The one who had once toyed with the Three Brothers was today outplayed by a wizard.
He had never intended to honor the bargain properly—just as with the trap he had laid for the Brothers.
But now, the tables had been turned on him.
The Gate of Things—the highest mystery of alchemy. Not even Death could break free from the rules of its contracts.
If his face could be seen beneath the hood, it would surely look dreadful.
John said, "I, John Wick, will offer Voldemort's soul in exchange for the soul of Heinrich Edgar. Equivalent exchange, with the Gate of Things/Truth/Everything as witness to the contract."
Above their clasped hands, two great doors appeared. His words solidified into a binding contract, coiling around them.
Harry's eyes widened. John was actually trying to exchange for Heinrich's soul.
Could it be—
Was he trying to bring him back?!
Impossible. Magic could not raise the dead.
Even a first-year Hogwarts student knew that.
"This ancient magic… and you actually know it." For the first time, Death spoke with genuine astonishment.
It was a spell so old that almost no one alive remembered it.
But John had been taught by the greatest alchemist in history.
He himself had stepped through the Gate of Things twice.
With both John and Harry watching, Death slowly nodded.
The golden contract entwining their hands dissolved, and a scroll of parchment appeared between them.
Death picked it up and tucked it into the folds of his robe.
Just when Harry thought it was all over..
"Hah.. John Wick.. haha.. Kehahahaha.." Death let out a chilling laugh. "This John Wick.. Can you believe it! Bahahaha! You are indeed a clever man, John Wick. Haha.. haah.. But you forget—those who toy with Death never meet a good end!!"
"That's not something you need to trouble yourself with," John replied calmly.
The train began to slow.
Death rose, flicked his hand, and the carriage came to a halt at a station shrouded in mist. He stepped off the train.
Beyond the window stretched a hazy, fog-filled world. Harry thought he saw a couple waving to him.
But as he tried to make out their faces, the train started moving again.
John's body, tense all this time, finally relaxed.
Haah.. haah.. Huff... His palms were slick with sweat—even for him, facing the legendary Death had required nothing but feigned composure.
Outside, the scenery shifted into something familiar—the path they usually took toward Hogwarts.
Only now, the tracks ahead had vanished, leaving nothing but a dead end.
Harry spotted it and cried out in alarm.
"Bad news—there's no track ahead!"
The train, unmanned, sped straight toward the drop.
Even after leaving, Death had made sure to disgust them one last time.
John shrugged and muttered, "Childish."
Holding Harry steady, he pulled a black feather from his pocket and pressed it into Harry's hand.
The train was less than a kilometer from the dead end—only a matter of seconds away.
Right now, John wasn't the least bit tense, a stark contrast to Harry's panic.
As the train plunged toward the cliff, John pulled a locket from beneath his collar.
Inside lay a black stone.
He smiled. "Enjoy the ride, Harry."
A burst of white light swallowed his vision.
________
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