329: Bounty, Money, and Retaliating Harder

Tommy placed two Galleons on the table and said to the waiter, "Money's a wonderful thing."

The young waiter grinned. Tommy didn't leave the bar—instead, he got up and pushed open an oak door inside the bar.

Behind it floated clouds of colored smoke. Each bubble popped and turned into a swirl of rainbow mist.

Loud music blasted inside, and the room was filled with all kinds of wizards.

Some were chugging drinks, others sipping casually.

A few were locked in heated debates, faces flushed red.

The bartender wiped his glass and glanced up at Tommy. Unlike the quiet and dusty exterior, this place was a whole different world.

Tommy toyed with a gold coin in his hand before flicking it toward the bartender.

The bartender shrugged and stepped aside.

Tommy picked up a silver spoon and tapped the crystal glass on the bar.

Ding, ding, ding.

The noisy music instantly stopped. Everyone turned to look.

Tommy scanned the crowd and gave a dazzling smile. With his wand in hand, he pointed toward the giant blackboard behind him, which was plastered with wanted posters.

With a wave of his wand, the bounty amounts on all the posters doubled.

Tommy slowly turned around, meeting those greedy gazes. He raised his voice and shouted, "Go make money!"

The bar erupted in deafening uproar. One loud bang after another echoed as wizards Disapparated on the spot.

They were all desperados, dancing on the edge of a knife.

What kind of money wouldn't they dare to take?

One Death Eater alone could earn them a fortune.

They were like starving wolves, scouring for the scent of gold.

Only Sir Johnny Silverhand—the king of Knockturn Alley—could grant them refuge in the shadows.

…

Dumbledore's expression shifted several times, even knowing John was right in front of him.

Owls flew in one after another, bringing letter after letter.

Gringotts explosion.

The capture of Amycus.

A dead Death Eater.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Voldemort.

Sigh..

Each piece of news arrived in the Headmaster's office, and even Dumbledore couldn't help but feel a chill.

He looked up at John—somehow, it seemed like all of this was done by the student standing before him.

"John?" Dumbledore's expression was complicated. "What exactly have you done?"

"I haven't done much," John replied, winding the golden chain of the Time-Turner around his fingers. "I've only ever been doing one thing."

John calmly looked at Dumbledore, and on that usually kind face, he saw many emotions.

"You take too much for granted, Dumbledore."

He muttered to himself, "You take it for granted that all sacrifices are necessary."

"You sent Hagrid to find the giants. You forgot—he's not you. He doesn't have your powerful magic."

"You're the embodiment of justice, so righteous that you won't even stoop to despicable means."

"But you forgot—not everyone is Dumbledore. They're just ordinary people."

John stood up and said coolly, "The Death Eaters can scheme — I can too. They retaliate — I retaliate as well, and I do retaliate harder."

"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." John grinned. "Heh~ That's all I've ever been doing, Professor."

Dumbledore stared blankly at John as he tucked the Time-Turner away.

He gave Dumbledore a polite bow and smiled. "I hope you won't try to stop me."

Then he left the headmaster's office.

...

The bomb he had planted in the Lestrange vault had detonated.

Unfortunately, it hadn't gone quite as he had hoped—it hadn't hit Voldemort.

Tommy had informed him of the full situation, and John couldn't help but sigh inwardly at the misstep.

He hadn't expected Bellatrix to be the one to go and touch it. He had intentionally set the trigger to activate when the cup was moved, all to try to blow up Voldemort.

Looks like Bellatrix also knew about the cup—otherwise, she wouldn't have gone to touch it.

Then again, it made sense. The cup had been stored in the Lestrange vault in the first place. As a member of the Lestrange family, it wasn't surprising that Bellatrix knew about it.

"Well, that gift didn't quite reach you, Tom Riddle. Just wait for the next one."

John clicked his tongue twice. Still, blowing Bellatrix to pieces wasn't a bad outcome.

Pierce got all the credit this time.

The next morning, The Daily Prophet appeared in the Great Hall.

Everyone was heaping praise on the Ministry for its efficiency.

Ron, who had previously said the Ministry only got lucky catching that escaped Death Eater, was now thoroughly slapped in the face by reality.

It hadn't even been that long, and already the second escaped convict had been captured.

And thanks to that huge explosion, one Death Eater had even died.

For the Trio—who knew about both the Order of the Phoenix and Voldemort—this was the best news imaginable.

"Hope all the Death Eaters die off," Ron muttered.

Harry was on the verge of a breakdown from Snape invading his mind every week—he looked absolutely exhausted.

Snape's "tutoring" method was terrible: he just barged into Harry's mind and forced him to resist.

Harry didn't feel any improvement; if anything, it had only made things worse.

Especially last night—he had almost ended up in the hospital wing.

He could clearly feel Voldemort's rage, as if something deeply precious had been stolen from him.

After reading the newspaper, he immediately understood why Voldemort was so furious.

At the same time, he noticed the article about Silverhand Johnny's security team and couldn't help but exclaim in surprise, "It's them again—Johnny Silverhand's people!"

Ever since Barty Sr. became Minister of Magic, the papers had been full of stories about Johnny Silverhand's people helping out.

The Ministry's relationship with Dumbledore was still murky, and that definitely had something to do with Johnny Silverhand.

There was one possibility...

Harry suspected that Barty Sr. might be following Johnny Silverhand's orders.

And Johnny Silverhand's dissatisfaction with Dumbledore might very well be due to the title of the "Second King."

He didn't say it out loud—Hermione would just say he was crazy.

Instead, he brought up his training sessions with Snape.

Hermione was aware of Harry training with Snape and said, "Maybe it's a bit like getting sick. Like with a cold—it has to get worse before it gets better."

"Ugh.. It's Snape's tutoring that's making it worse," Harry argued firmly. "It hurts like hell, and I hate that corridor."

Almost every time he dreamed, he saw that corridor and that door.

"This isn't a joke!" Hermione snapped. "Dumbledore doesn't want you dreaming about that corridor. That's why he asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You need to try harder."

"I am trying!" Harry said angrily. "Why don't you try having Snape poking around in your head? It's not a fun experience."

"Maybe…" Ron started to say.

Hermione shot him a glare, clearly saying Spit it out already.

So Ron launched into one of his conspiracy theories: "Maybe Harry's failure to block his mind isn't his fault."

Hermione froze. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe Snape doesn't actually want to help Harry," Ron said meaningfully. "Maybe he's actually trying to pry Harry's head open even wider so You-Know-Who can…"

"Don't talk nonsense!" Hermione snapped. "How many times have you doubted Snape—and when have you ever been right?"

She thought Ron's suspicions were always baseless, especially now that Snape had joined the Order of the Phoenix and was working for Dumbledore.

"He used to be a Death Eater!" Ron said stubbornly. "And we've never seen any actual proof that he changed."

Hermione felt utterly exasperated. What kind of idiot is this kid?

She said, "If you don't trust Snape, then who can you trust?"

"Dumbledore—"

"Dumbledore's the one who told Harry to learn from Snape," Hermione cut off Ron's second wave of brilliant insight.

Harry's expression kept shifting, his eyes flickering subtly toward the Slytherin table.

Malfoy had just been eating, but suddenly felt something. The moment he sensed Potter's gaze, he looked up and glared back.

Harry froze. He had been looking at John—what did Malfoy think he was doing?

Malfoy, however, took it as a provocation.

If he'd heard even a single word of insult, he probably would've charged over already.

Harry had no choice but to withdraw his gaze, his mind still echoing with Ron and Hermione's conversation.

Snape had said, aside from himself, the only other person capable of using Occlumency… was John.

That time when John entered the Potions office—Snape's nervous expression…

Why was Snape so afraid of me and John interacting? What exactly was he afraid of? Harry wanted to know.

…

There were so many annoying things to deal with, and so much to do. Fifth year came with an outrageous amount of homework that kept students up all night.

Between meetings and Snape's regular tutoring sessions, Harry felt more exhausted than ever—both mentally and physically.

Valentine's Day was coming up.

Harry was still single this year. All he could do was watch helplessly as Cho Chang and Cedric made plans to go on a date at the teahouse.

He felt like he didn't belong here—he should've been under a car instead.

"Maybe Hermione was right. I should start liking someone else," he muttered to himself.

As he walked down the corridor, he spotted Ginny and was just about to greet her—"Um.. Gin—"

When Quidditch teammate Michael Corner came up to Ginny and said hi. The way they interacted was far too familiar—more like boyfriend and girlfriend.

Harry wasn't sure what he was feeling, only that something in his chest felt strangely tight.

"Ugh.."

Was he the only one still single in all of Hogwarts?

_________

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