Hogwarts' John Wick

The villagers of Little Hangleton still referred to the house on the hillside as the Riddle Manor, even though it had long been uninhabited.

In the past, it had been the grandest and most imposing building for miles around.

Now, the manor was damp and desolate, left abandoned for years.

Ivy clawed its way up the entire structure, tiles were missing from the roof, and the windows were boarded shut—like something terrifying had been sealed inside.

In truth, it was indeed terrifying.

The manor's former residents—the Riddle family—had been found dead in the house by the maid. Their bodies were ice-cold, still dressed in their dinner clothes.

At the time, people believed it was the work of the gardener. Little did they know it was vengeance from a major figure in the wizarding world.

Kim walked up to the grand mansion, which still faintly retained traces of its former grandeur.

"Alohomora."

Click—!

The front door swung open.

His shoes, damp with muddy soil, stepped onto the wooden floor, which creaked with an unsettling screech that made one's teeth ache.

"Lumos."

The tip of his wand lit up and cast light on the ground.

There were drag marks—like a large snake had slithered through here at some point.

The soil had already dried out, though due to the recent damp weather, the edges were still slightly moist.

Kim's eyes shifted as he searched through the rooms of the manor.

He saw a corpse—no, a skeleton. The body had already decomposed into bare bones.

"He's been dead for a year."

Lifting a strand of white hair with his wand, he identified the remains as belonging to an elderly man.

"He was killed by magic," Kim said with certainty. This old man had died under a spell.

A glimmer of excitement flashed in his eyes, but his expression grew more cautious.

From the tracks at the entrance to the ones inside, every trace indicated that something had once been here.

"The item might be here."

He began checking every place in the room that could be opened.

From the time of death to the point of decomposition into bones, the windows had remained sealed. The lingering stench clung to the air like maggots boring into his nostrils.

But the foul odor didn't make Kim retreat.

However, the excitement in his eyes gradually faded.

In the end, he had searched the entire house.

Still nothing.

Stumbling, he leaned against a table, despair clouding his eyes.

"Nothing... huh..." His throat was dry, and he ran his fingers through his disheveled blond hair, his expression on the verge of collapse.

He had walked every inch of the place with hope, searched every patch of ground with anticipation.

But in the end, he had found nothing.

His body trembled slightly. He had been holding on to a sliver of hope, allowing himself to imagine—just maybe—he could still find it.

That hope had been shattered.

Bloodshot eyes, he swung his wand.

Every window in the house shattered with a loud crash. He stood against the gusting wind, his greasy blond hair plastered to his skin.

He had fallen into a state of paranoia, madness.

In that state, he walked to the window and spread his arms wide.

Just as he was about to take the next step, he froze.

His eyes were locked on something below—a white stallion had appeared.

The horse tilted its head slightly, then began walking in a certain direction.

He gave chase, pursuing the white figure.

Branches scratched fine cuts across his skin, but Kim paid them no mind.

Following the stallion, he was led to an even older manor.

This place was at least several centuries old, and the ancient building exuded a chilling, mysterious aura.

It sat nestled between two steep hills, half-hidden in the tangled maze of gnarled trees.

Moss covered the manor's stone walls, making it appear even more decrepit than the Riddle House.

But unlike the Riddle House, the age of this place came with a sinister feeling that made one instinctively avoid it.

The stallion stopped here and stood calmly on the side lawn, leisurely chewing on the fresh grass.

Kim walked up beside it, reaching out to stroke its smooth, silken coat.

It was probably a free-roaming horse from Little Hangleton, drawn here by the lush grass.

Pushing through the thick nettles surrounding the house, he reached the manor's entrance.

A chilling eeriness seeped from the building, as though some decaying ghost might crawl out at any moment.

Through the misty windows, he could see nothing inside.

He opened the door and stepped in.

"You wish he were alive, don't you?"

"The one who tricked you—he never had that kind of power."

"If he were strong enough, that great fire would never have happened."

"Put it on. It can fulfill all your desires."

"Go on, seek it."

From the moment he stepped into the house, a voice like a whisper to his soul began accompanying him.

He couldn't tell whether it was real or a hallucination.

"Yes, right there. Open that box."

The voice guided Kim, leading him to a box.

A pitch-black box etched with intricate patterns.

Kim slowly opened it, revealing a black gemstone ring inside.

"Put it on. You should know what this is."

"Yes, you've seen it before."

"In that book."

"All regrets will be made right."

"Put it on."

The whisper of the soul continued in his ears. Kim reached out and carefully picked up the ring.

The black octahedral gemstone gleamed with a glassy luster. Kim's heart felt like a small boat drifting into a vast ocean.

In the midst of a violent storm, the little boat rocked wildly.

He struggled internally, and before his eyes appeared the image of a black-haired scruny figure.

That voice told him—as long as he wore the ring, he could undo everything.

He knew, with absolute certainty, that it couldn't be wrong.

The ring approached his finger.

"I just want to see you one more time," Kim murmured.

Just as he was about to slip it on, he felt a push against his chest.

The ring slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground. Kim stumbled back several steps.

"Neeeeigh~"

The white horse outside let out a cry, and Kim quickly turned to look.

It was as if the horse had accidentally eaten a prickly weed and neighed in response.

Kim reached out and covered his badge, which vibrated slightly.

It was a group message.

He looked down to search for the ring, and for a brief moment, it seemed he saw a pair of greedy, unwilling eyes.

Picking up the ring, he placed it back into the box, took the box with him, and left the house.

The white horse had finished grazing and was heading toward the direction of the Little Hangleton villagers.

Kim stood there watching for a while, a little dazed.

For a moment, the horse seemed to have turned into someone—but when he looked carefully, it was still just a white horse.

"Was it you?"

He asked the question without knowing why, though he was certain it would receive no answer.

He lowered his head to look at the ring that still tried to influence him. Taking a steady breath, he composed himself and resisted its pull.

He turned to glance back at the old mansion. The ancient house behind him looked like a lurking, crouching beast.

Its pitch-dark interior seemed ready to drag people into it.

Kim waved his wand, and a loud crack echoed from the spot.

After a while—The wind blew, slamming the open door shut with a loud bang, as if no one had ever been there.

…

John was going through the newly delivered batch of items.

His expression didn't change much, but those familiar with him could tell he was in a foul mood.

His complexion looked paler than usual—sickly pale.

As if he were ill.

"No Horcrux," he muttered, tossing aside the junk Mundungus had stolen and delivered as payment for his debts.

Even when paying back debts, Mundungus didn't dare to steal too frequently.

He could only scavenge through the Black family's trash bins.

Sirius was a proper prodigal—he'd nearly thrown away everything that belonged to the House of Black.

Sometimes, Mundungus even had to be careful of that old house-elf Kreacher, who would fight him over the trash.

Mundungus had already made two deliveries to pay off his debt, but they were all trivial junk.

John had Tommy subtly hint to Mundungus that some of the seemingly worthless items from old families might actually be antiques.

"These aren't worth the debt."

These items made John very dissatisfied, and he slashed the price significantly.

He even issued a warning: if Mundungus dared to bring more of this trash trying to pass it off as valuable, he wouldn't even get interest next time.

Basil had gone off to the owlery again.

Recently, there weren't as many tasks requiring Basil, and it needed an outlet to burn off energy.

Fortunately, Basil was well-behaved—at least, John hadn't yet received any complaints about someone's owl being beaten to death.

As an unusually powerful owl, Basil's usual playmates were Tom, who could cripple a wizard with a single bite, and the big cat Zouwu, who could slap several wizards into the ground with one paw.

So when John saw Basil return, he was a little surprised.

Basil didn't look as neat and tidy as usual—some feathers on its wings had been lost.

Yet that face still bore an air of arrogance, as if it had just won a glorious battle.

John began to wonder whether Hogwarts even had an owl capable of matching Basil in a fight.

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