John had clearly altered his appearance, yet he still went on full alert the moment he saw him.
There was no other reason—standing before him was a man holding the Elder Wand, someone who had once matched the greatest wizard, Dumbledore, blow for blow.
When facing Voldemort, John could afford to look down from a position of superiority, offering mercy if he pleased.
But when it came to Grindelwald, John knew his mind was perfectly sound.
Grindelwald was alone here. This church seemed to be nothing more than a temporary resting place for him.
"Long time no see, John."
Upon seeing John, Grindelwald did not appear nearly as tense or hostile.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he said, "I always felt that fate would bring us together again."
Seeing John's guarded posture, he began to stroll about casually.
The priest's robes on his body carried a bewitching allure.
If there were residents nearby, John would have every reason to suspect they had already fallen under this man's spell.
"You're as vigilant as ever. This is a place quiet enough," Grindelwald said. Though he couldn't read John's thoughts, his intelligence and insight into human nature were exceptional.
Had he been a Muggle, he would surely have been a professor of psychology.
"Perhaps we don't have to be enemies, John." Grindelwald's boots stepped against the wooden floor, each sound seeming to carry a subtle magic. "We share very similar ideals."
"Rather than letting others interfere, why not work together first—and settle the outcome between ourselves later?"
Grindelwald's voice was like a deadly poison. That mouth had turned countless people into his devotees, and just as many had been bewitched and led astray by it.
John said flatly, "Do you really think that's possible?"
"You seem to have forgotten—if it weren't for you, none of this would have happened." John hadn't forgotten how this man had caused his plans to fall apart at the last moment.
If not for Grindelwald, he wouldn't be here now. Voldemort would have been sent a "gift" last June and taken care of as a small present.
And now the very culprit behind all of it was standing here, telling him, let's cooperate?
John could only say this man was asking for a beating.
"Equivalent exchange. That's the fundamental principle of alchemists, isn't it?" Grindelwald remained utterly calm. "That was exactly the condition Voldemort offered me when he sought me out."
Hearing his own oft-spoken phrase, a strange feeling rose in John's chest.
John said in a low voice, "Then you should also know that an alchemist's bargain isn't something just anyone can afford."
"Making a deal with Death itself—reckless in the extreme," Grindelwald said, his distinctive eyes fixed on John. "Other than you, no one would dare do such a thing."
"Don't talk like you know me," John sneered. "We've only met twice."
Grindelwald gave a sinister smile and drew the Elder Wand.
In that instant, John focused all his attention on him.
"Don't think about making a move," Grindelwald said calmly. "There aren't many people here, but it would still attract some very annoying ones."
Without question, the "annoying ones" meant Aurors.
The two of them were in surprisingly similar situations.
Neither of them wanted their whereabouts exposed.
A fight between the two of them would inevitably draw attention from the surrounding area.
That was why John had held back and not swung that sword.
"We'll meet a third time, Yorl."
Seeing that John didn't make a move, Grindelwald flicked his wand, and his entire figure vanished.
John waited in place for several minutes. After confirming that Grindelwald wasn't coming back, he put the sword away.
"Yorl? A strange form of address," John muttered, waving his wand.
The Heightened Senses spell activated.
The state of the entire church unfolded within his mind.
He confirmed that there was no one else inside.
Earlier, when facing off against Grindelwald, even Apparition had to be used with extreme caution.
When masters clash, the opening often exists for only an instant.
So even knowing that his opponent possessed seventh-tier magic and the Elder Wand, John hadn't revealed the slightest flaw.
After resting in the church for a while, John began to reflect on the encounter with Grindelwald.
"A coincidence?" No one else had known he was coming here. Aside from coincidence, there was no other explanation for running into Grindelwald.
Both of them were hiding their movements. Crossing paths in a place like this didn't seem all that strange.
What puzzled John, however, was where Grindelwald's followers had gone.
Had Grindelwald come out alone this time?
Or, like John himself, had he only arrived recently and not yet had time to develop any followers?
Either way, being able to walk away unscathed after encountering Grindelwald was a good thing.
If not for the Elder Wand, John might have tested whether he could turn the tables and kill him instead.
Unfortunately, the Elder Wand truly possessed a bug-like advantage.
Crossing two tiers like that, John would most likely still end up on the losing side.
After resting for a while in the church, John took out his badge. After a moment's thought, he sent a message to the blond one.
…
Hogwarts.
With John gone, it felt as though something was missing—and yet, as if nothing was.
In Slytherin, John had always been the leader, the king.
Without the king's guidance, their House hourglass was gradually being caught up to.
They were still in first place, but second-place Gryffindor was close behind.
Harry was having breakfast in the Great Hall.
Ron had missed the Apparition exam that should have taken place on April twenty-first due to poisoning.
It wasn't a serious problem, though.
Hagrid's Aragog still couldn't hold on and died, on the very same day as the Apparition exam.
Because he wasn't old enough, Harry didn't take part in the exam.
Hagrid invited them to attend the funeral, but Ron, lying in a hospital bed, absolutely couldn't go.
Hermione didn't want to go either. She was taking the Apparition exam.
Only Harry went.
By coincidence, he ran into Slughorn on the way.
Remembering his assignment, Harry struck up a conversation with him.
When Slughorn, a Potions master, learned that Harry was going to attend the funeral of an Acromantula, he was immediately tempted.
Acromantula venom was extremely valuable.
He went along with Harry.
Unfortunately, Hagrid didn't give Slughorn a warm reception.
Though he didn't drive him away, he didn't say much either.
That left Slughorn with all the bottles he had prepared going unused. In the end, he could only secretly stuff a few into Harry's hands, letting this "collectible" he favored do him a small service.
Harry saw the giant spider. Even though it was already dead,
its massive body and thick bristles still made him reluctant to get close.
Thinking of the task Dumbledore had given him, Harry used the excuse of observing it up close and, under Slughorn's guidance, successfully obtained top-grade Acromantula venom.
After that, Slughorn hurried off, while Harry was dragged by Hagrid to stay behind, where they cried and drank together.
By the next day, Harry felt like he'd drunk far too much—his head was about to explode.
The good news was that this experience brought him closer to Slughorn.
At the same time, Harry had been carefully studying Advanced Potion-Making and had picked up quite a bit of knowledge, which gave him more confidence when dealing with Slughorn.
Dumbledore's instruction of Harry also continued at irregular intervals.
Harry knew how fortunate he was—he was being taught by the greatest wizard in the world.
His once-restless mind gradually settled, until one day, on a whim, Harry drank three drops of Felix Felicis.
The feeling was as though everything would go smoothly.
Before a Potions class, he knocked over a set of copper scales.
Snape mocked him with his usual biting sarcasm. Harry didn't get angry; instead, he found a replacement in the cupboard and used it.
Coincidentally, it was the last one, and Harry took it with him.
After class, when he returned to the common room, Harry realized that the original copper scales had been brought back with him.
With a sudden flash of insight, he didn't hesitate and took the scales to return them.
Just then, Slughorn came by to borrow the classroom to carry out a Potions experiment.
And at that very moment, Harry happened to walk in as well.
Slughorn decided to bring Harry along to help brew the potion. With the aid of Felix Felicis and the knowledge from Advanced Potion-Making, Harry suggested adding an extra ingredient, leaving Slughorn utterly astonished.
"I think this outstanding experiment deserves a small drink."
Slughorn invited Harry to the Headmaster's office.
There, Slughorn downed a glass of high-proof liquor, and with Harry flattering him, he drank more and more.
In the end, Slughorn grew thoroughly muddled. Harry's intuition told him that when Slughorn woke up, he wouldn't remember any of this.
Seizing the moment, Harry asked him what he had talked about with John.
In his drunken state, Slughorn was unusually generous. He pulled out a segment of his memory, sealed it into a bottle, and handed it to Harry.
Harry had done it.
Suppressing his excitement, he walked off and slipped the bottle containing the memory into his pocket.
When he reached the caretaker's office, the effects of Felix Felicis ran out.
Harry noticed the door was ajar. He knocked lightly, and it opened.
He saw Dumbledore staring blankly at a copy of The Daily Prophet, so lost in thought that even Harry's arrival failed to catch his attention.
"Dumbledore?"
Harry called softly, but Dumbledore didn't respond.
"Dumbledore?" With no choice, Harry stepped inside and called again, eager to share the good news.
This time, Dumbledore snapped out of it and lowered the newspaper in his hands.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught sight of an article about a volcanic eruption.
Then suddenly, he saw a familiar name.
Johnny Silverhand.
~~~
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