"I was wrong, sir, please have mercy!"
The shrill cries and pleas for forgiveness echoed through the garden. Johnny Silverhand sighed and closed the book in his hand.
The black cover was embossed with golden letters. His ringed hand rested on it.
In front of him was Mundungus, who had been dragged in and thrown before John.
Tommy frowned and kicked away the man crawling toward them.
"Mundungus, you took my money," John lowered his gaze, his fingers slowly brushing over each golden letter on the cover. "The fact I haven't killed you yet is already a mercy."
"My lord, I—I know you wouldn't really kill poor Mundungus," the man sobbed, snot and tears running together. "I swear I'll pay you back, just please don't send me back to that place!"
Mundungus had been sent to the Alchemy Workshop as a test subject for experimental potions after failing to repay his debt.
He'd spent six out of seven days each week in the hospital. He couldn't take it anymore.
"Then tell me, Mundungus, how exactly do you plan to pay me back?" John said calmly. "The only thing of value you still possess… is that relatively healthy body of yours."
His gaze made Mundungus shiver uncontrollably. The man stammered, unable to answer.
"Or," John said with a light chuckle, tossing a piece of parchment from the table onto the ground, "I can give you a new option."
Mundungus looked down. On the parchment was a list of names, each labeled with a price.
John leaned back, perfectly at ease. "Kill them."
"These are...?" Mundungus couldn't help but tremble. The list was full of Death Eaters' names. He screamed in terror, "No, I can't do it!"
"Hmm, that's a shame, then. You're clearly of no value," John's face turned cold. No matter how much Mundungus wailed and begged, he was dragged away.
Tommy walked over at just the right moment and whispered, "Mrs. Malfoy is already outside the garden."
"You'll handle the rest," John said as he picked up the book. He casually brushed across the mask on his face, and it dispersed into a silver mist.
He was going to meet Malfoy's mother; there was no need to bring anyone else.
"Don't let Mundungus die. He still has a hundred potions left to try."
"Silver Cross Emergency Hospital is on standby," Tommy replied. "I believe he'll finish them all."
John let out a soft chuckle and walked to the other side of the garden.
...
Tea Room No. 1001, No. 2, Knockturn Garden.
Narcissa's fingers hovered above her teacup, the spoon stirring her coffee with milk.
She seemed distracted. She was here to meet her son's friend.
But this place was far from ordinary.
Knockturn Garden—this was a creation of Johnny Silverhand.
It had gradually become a tourist attraction within Knockturn Alley.
It was known as the "Knockturn Alley by Day."
In the past, those too afraid to enter Knockturn Alley now found courage through the presence of Knockturn Garden as a bridge.
The quiet garden carried the scent of lavender, and as the breeze swept through, the flowers rustled gently.
A young man walked along the cobblestone path, holding a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. His black hair was smooth, his features handsome.
Today he was dressed casually, the loose wool sweater giving him a scholarly air.
He looked like a harmless, well-behaved boy.
Upon seeing him, Narcissa's curiosity about her son's friend lessened somewhat.
To her, this child probably just had some trivial matter to discuss.
That thought irritated Narcissa, who had been brooding over how to rescue her family from the mire.
She sized up John, and John was also observing Narcissa.
There is no greater sorrow in the world than a beauty fading with time.
Yet Narcissa had defied that rule. She carried a kind of aristocratic grace—unlike Madam Wick, hers had a more commanding edge.
They had seen each other briefly during the World Cup, but back then, neither had paid the other much attention.
"Mrs. Malfoy." John approached, smiling as he nodded in greeting.
A server came over to take their order. John casually said, "Just a glass of water."
He placed the book on the table. Narcissa glanced at it—just a storybook, nothing of interest to her.
"Draco said you wanted to speak with me? If it's about some petty academic issue, then you're talking to the wrong person." Narcissa suppressed her irritation—after all, this was her son's friend.
"Come to think of it, this isn't our first meeting, Mrs. Malfoy," John said as the glass of water was placed on the table. He took a light sip. "How is Lucius doing?"
"Hmm?" The way he addressed her husband by name made Narcissa frown.
John gave a soft chuckle. "No need for that, Narcissa. There are some things I hope you'll tell me."
This time, when he spoke, Narcissa was caught off guard.
The voice was different from before—deeper, raspier.
A familiar voice. One that made a startling possibility rise in Narcissa's mind.
Her eyes widened, coffee spilling onto the table as she stared, shocked and uncertain. "You... you're not...?"
"Surprised?" John said nonchalantly. "Surprised by how young I am, or surprised that I've chosen to meet you so openly?"
He let out a low laugh, and the sound burrowed into Narcissa's ears, sending her thoughts spinning in uncomfortable directions.
No one had ever seen Johnny Silverhand's true face—no one would have ever imagined he was a student.
The King of Knockturn Alley, the Second King of the Wizarding World.
A boy? A student who hasn't even graduated yet?
This was insane.
If it was true, why would Johnny Silverhand choose to meet her like this?
Was he planning to abandon the Malfoys?
Was he going to kill her?
All sorts of chaotic thoughts buzzed around Narcissa's mind like a swarm of pesky flies.
John snapped his fingers, and those chaotic thoughts settled.
She stared at John and asked, "Sir Johnny—why are you involving yourself with Draco? Lucius has already been working for you."
"Involving myself with Draco?" John gave a small laugh. "You should get the cause and effect straight."
"It's not because Draco is Lucius's son that I chose to approach him. It's because Lucius is my friend's father that I gave him a chance."
He idly rubbed the ring on his finger, expression calm and detached.
Narcissa took a deep breath and asked seriously, "I have only one question. To you—what is Draco?"
She was terrified. Was this man using her son to threaten the Malfoy family?
"He's my best friend," John replied, meeting her eyes. "A friend—the kind who stood by my side and supported me no matter what others said."
Narcissa let out a breath of relief. Even though she didn't know Legilimency, she could see the sincerity in John's words.
Thinking of the changes in her son over the past few years, Narcissa sincerely said, "Thank you. I'm truly grateful that Draco has a friend like you."
"There's nothing to thank me for. A friend is a friend," John shook his head. "I asked to meet you today because there's something I need to ask."
"Sir Silverhand.. May I ask one question first?" Narcissa no longer dared to act superior like before. She asked cautiously, "Why are you showing me your true face?"
John said, "Because I believe you need a sense of security right now."
"Security?" Narcissa echoed.
John looked at her and said, "The Malfoy family is standing on the edge of danger. This is my way of expressing trust toward your family."
Narcissa was visibly moved. Her voice grew solemn as she said, "Then I must thank you again."
"Back to business," John tapped the table lightly, and the spilled coffee vanished. He said, "Let's talk about your family—the Blacks."
"The Blacks?" Narcissa was briefly stunned. "I left that household many years ago."
"I want to know about the lineage of the Black family. Your siblings, in particular."
John added, "It's very important to me."
He needed to know who had brought the Horcrux into the Black ancestral home.
"Well, I don't know where to begin," Narcissa paused to recall. "This generation of the Blacks had two sons and three daughters."
"The eldest daughter, Bellatrix Black. She married Rodolphus Lestrange and became a Death Eater."
"The second daughter, Andromeda Black. She married a Muggle-born wizard and was disowned from the family tree."
"The third daughter—that's me, Narcissa Black. I married Lucius."
"The Blacks were pure-blood supremacists. That caused my cousin, Sirius Black, to grow disgusted with the family. He ran away from home and was eventually blasted off the family tree by his mother."
"The Black family was almost entirely Slytherin. Only Sirius was in Gryffindor, which made everyone hate him even more."
As she spoke of this, Narcissa's expression showed undisguised distaste.
John shrugged. It was like a Weasley being sorted into Slytherin—these two families really were born to be at odds.
When she brought up the last person, however, Narcissa's expression changed to one of sorrow, completely different from when she'd mentioned Sirius.
"Regulus Black, the most beloved child of the Blacks. He was always our pride. Every choice he made was one that earned our admiration. He was a Slytherin, joined the Death Eaters at sixteen, chasing the Dark Lord's glory. Our parents were proud of him."
"He was different from the rest of us, I know," Narcissa's eyes reddened. She clearly had a deep fondness for this cousin.
"He treated Kreacher kindly and had a strong sense of family duty. That's why he became a Death Eater in the first place."
"Until one day, he died. No one knew how. His mother went mad from grief."
As she said this, Narcissa choked up. "He was such a good child… I'm terrified. Terrified that Draco will end up like him—dying with no explanation."
She finally spoke the burden that had weighed on her heart for years—the younger brother she had once loved most had mysteriously died under the Dark Lord.
They hadn't even seen Regulus Black's body. They knew nothing.
"Everything changed from that day on." Narcissa stared blankly at the black-haired boy before her, as if she were seeing her brother again. "Two years later, Voldemort fell."
John remained silent. The topic of death was not something easily addressed.
"Is it possible that Regulus brought something back? Or perhaps Bellatrix?" John wanted to know what that Horcrux had been.
Narcissa shook her head. "I don't know. Bellatrix was imprisoned in Azkaban—she barely ever came home after joining the Dark Lord. That period... it was only Regulus who was around."
"If you want to know more about Regulus, I think… you need to ask Kreacher. He knows far more than I do."
"Kreacher is the Black family's house-elf."
"Thank you for your help," John said, standing up.
Narcissa rose to shake his hand.
After bidding her farewell, John felt that he had narrowed it down to two suspects.
___________
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