211: The Aroma of Wine and the Coquettish Big Cat

"The Ministry of Magic reminds wizards in Hogsmeade to be on guard against the vicious and dangerous dragons that may suddenly appear in the vicinity. As of now, five dragons remain missing."

In the Great Hall, Malfoy read out loud from The Daily Prophet.

Daphne scoffed in disbelief. "Vicious dragons? You mean the ones from the Triwizard Tournament?"

Yesterday, the dragons had put on quite the show—even the so-called Savior had been smacked by one.

Because of how dangerous the situation was, Harry Potter was finally cleared of any cheating suspicions.

Everyone knew that only a complete lunatic would voluntarily get involved in something so risky.

Malfoy's badges weren't popular anymore; the ones who still wore them only supported Cedric, and hardly anyone used the green side.

Shoveling a bite of breakfast into his mouth, Malfoy spotted Neville approaching.

Neville asked in confusion, "Where's John today?"

Daphne elegantly spread jam onto her bread while Malfoy glanced at Neville and sneered, "Well, if it isn't Gryffindor's star of the celebration. I imagine you're having quite a good time."

Malfoy's sudden change in attitude left Neville at a loss. He looked around for help.

Just then, Heinrich walked over. Neville, seeing a potential savior, turned to him—only for Heinrich to frown and snap coldly, "Get lost!"

His voice was loud enough that the people eating breakfast paused.

Neville froze in place, confusion written all over his face.

"What..." He had no idea what he had done wrong.

"Go back to your seat, Longbottom," Malfoy sneered, his expression full of disdain. "There's no place for you here."

"I…" Neville couldn't find the words. He thought maybe leaving early yesterday had upset them.

Feeling dejected, he trudged toward the Gryffindor table.

On the way, he ran into Cedric.

The usually warm and friendly Cedric now looked at him as if he were something dirty, pinching his nose as he walked away.

That only made Neville feel even worse.

"Oh, right, Neville," Cedric called out after passing him.

Neville turned around with a flicker of hope—only to be met with a cruel verdict.

"John said you'd best figure out where you stand. Got it?"

With that, Cedric left, greeting Heinrich along the way. Malfoy would probably call him the top student.

But Neville… Neville felt like he no longer belonged in the Constellation Society.

...

After rescuing Amohan and the other dragons, John hid them deep within the Forbidden Forest—somewhere no one would find them.

The unicorns' habitat.

It had cost him several bottles of Stellar Essence to get the unicorns to agree.

He planned to head to Silent/Brethless Valley next year for a trial. Until then, the dragons would have to wait. 

Some of the dragon eggs seemed close to hatching, but the mother dragons, overflowing with maternal instinct, didn't mind staying put. 

However, John had been hit with too many Stunning Spells, causing him to oversleep. 

Even in his dragon form, where his scales had a weak magic-resistant effect, a dozen Stunning Spells had almost knocked him out completely. 

At the same time, he noticed that his dragon form had grown taller.

It seemed that as his magical power increased, his transformed state would also become larger. 

By the time he woke up, he had already missed breakfast. 

Still groggy, he went through his morning routine like a robot. 

His steps were unsteady as he walked down the stairs, and those who saw him were worried he might fall. 

Seeing Hogwarts' top academic overachiever looking so sleep-deprived surprised many students. 

Rumors began to spread—some said John had done something big, possibly sneaking off to find the missing dragons. 

Others speculated that he had caught someone up to no good and had fought them off in an epic battle. 

Whatever the theory, everyone had already accepted one thing as fact: John would never do anything bad. 

That was thanks to the good reputation he had built over the past four years. 

His exhausted state lasted the whole day—even Malfoy could tell that John seemed unusually tired.

"John, what exactly were you doing last night?" 

"Just.. ugh.. leave me alone." John ate with his eyes closed, not in the mood to talk to Malfoy. 

'This is my time to shine!' Daphne had an idea—blushing, she was just about to feed John herself. 

But Heinrich smoothly cut John's food into small pieces and, at just the right moment, brought it to John's mouth, letting him take a bite effortlessly. 

"..."

Daphne was so furious she almost slammed her plate down, glaring at Heinrich with burning rage. 

Heinrich, however, remained completely unfazed. 

After dinner, John skipped his usual training, went straight to bed, and fell asleep instantly. 

He slept well, but when he woke up the next morning, he still looked half-asleep. 

This state lasted all the way until Friday. 

Snape, face dark as ever, gave John a death glare, looking just about ready to shove his head into a cauldron to wake him up properly. 

But, unfortunately for Snape, John—despite keeping his eyes half-closed—accurately processed each ingredient, handling them in perfect order and brewing his potion flawlessly. 

This made Snape's expression even darker. He was now forced to award points to a student who had spent the entire class looking like he was asleep. 

So frustrating. 

"Slytherin, twenty points." 

After awarding the points, Snape hurried away, taking out his irritation by immediately picking on Neville.

Neville was already feeling down from being isolated, and now he felt even worse. 

...

Sniff sniff

Meanwhile, John was wandering drowsily through the corridor when he suddenly caught a whiff of alcohol. 

Following the scent, he staggered forward, his steps uneven. 

He finally stopped at a corner, and just then, his fatigue seemed to fade away. 

Blinking in confusion, he glanced around, wondering—where had he wandered off to? 

The smell of alcohol drifted over again, and John continued walking toward it. 

Just as he turned a corner, he nearly bumped into someone—a heavily scarred face appearing right in front of him. 

"Wick, what are you doing here?" Moody asked gruffly. 

"Ah—!" John took a step back to maintain some distance and apologized, "Sorry, I think I took a wrong turn." 

His smile was perfectly polite—neither too distant nor too friendly. 

With a slight bow to Moody, he turned and headed in another direction. 

Moody stared after him, muttering something under his breath before stomping off on his wooden leg. 

… 

John hadn't visited the Zouwu for a few days. After the last Triwizard Tournament event, Hagrid had temporarily hidden it in Aragog's old cave. 

Now that it had been let out again, the Zouwu was absolutely thrilled. Its massive tail, blooming like a peony, swayed back and forth, looking incredibly beautiful.

John patted the Zouwu's head, clearly sensing its joy at seeing him.

The Zouwu rolled over onto its back, its big, adorable eyes gleaming with anticipation, as if waiting for John to pet it.

Suddenly, the Zouwu seemed to catch a scent, a look of suspicion flashing across its face. It got up and circled John twice.

Cough cough. "As a student, it's perfectly reasonable for me to have the scent of fire dragons on me, right?"

John maintained a straight face, conveniently taking advantage of the fact that the Zouwu had no idea why a student would be involved with fire dragons.

That aside, John really did like the Zouwu—especially because it was just like a giant feline. It was fluffy, and it loved playing with cat toys.

Thinking of this, John unwrapped the gift he had brought, lifting the Shrinking Charm on it.

A large, fuzzy ball appeared!

The moment it saw the round object, the Zouwu became excited.

John levitated the ball with magic, and the Zouwu eagerly stepped forward, batting at it with its massive paw.

Every time the ball rolled, the Zouwu grew even more excited.

Before long, it was completely addicted to playing, completely ignoring John as it chased the fluffy ball around.

Watching with a smile, John said, "Hahah~ Glad I went through the trouble of making this furball."

After all, crafting something sturdy enough to withstand the Zouwu's giant paws was no easy feat.

All the materials had cost John a hefty sum, and he also had to infuse them with magic to ensure the ball remained intact.

After visiting the Zouwu, John prepared to head back the same way he came.

The cold wind brushed against his cheeks as he spotted Hagrid feeding the Thestrals pure malt whiskey.

The scent of alcohol was overwhelming—it even lingered in the air during class.

Some younger students with low alcohol tolerance always ended up red-faced just from passing by, looking as if they were drunk.

"Did Hagrid pay for this out of his own pocket?"

John watched as Hagrid continued pouring barrel after barrel of whiskey into the troughs. Just the cost alone was staggering.

Hogwarts didn't charge tuition fees. Its funding came from Ministry grants, board investments, and public donations.

Of course, Hogwarts wasn't just burning through money without replenishing its coffers. The four founders had set up a Hogwarts Foundation to handle both spending and income.

Later generations of alumni also contributed donations and sponsorships.

John wondered if the Thestrals' expenses were covered under these funds.

On a related note, nearly every notable shop in the British wizarding world made some form of financial contribution to Hogwarts. Since John was a sponsor himself, he figured part of his own Galleons might be paying for this.

Watching what might be his money being guzzled down by Thestrals, John couldn't help but feel a pang of pain.

Three seconds of heartache.

Okay, three seconds are up.

Earned it back~ Heh~

John continued on his way.

_________

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