At Moody's words, the room finally quieted down.
Bill, the eldest Weasley son, was also present. He had once worked as a curse-breaker for Gringotts and was well-versed in curses and ancient tombs.
He crouched beside Sturgis Podmore and wore the same grim expression as Snape.
"Not looking good," he said, quoting an old saying, "The poison itself is the cure."
"The best way would be to pull out that dog's teeth and brew them into a potion to lift the curse."
Snape cut him off. "I already said that. So you want us to catch the dog?"
Hermione cried out sharply, "You can't! John will kill you."
John Wick, Hogwarts' famously dog-loving wizard—anyone who dared lay a hand on his dog could forget about ever seeing the sun again.
Hermione looked pleadingly at Sirius. "You're friends with Tom, aren't you?"
Sirius looked utterly awkward. Back then, he and Tom had been good friends, and it was thanks to Tom that he'd gotten through a tough period.
He had even been known as "Tom's little black dog out in the world," and there was reason to believe that those two kicks John had given him were more than just casual.
Sirius could only tactfully say, "I'm afraid pulling Tom's teeth isn't really an option. Trust me—you do not want to make John Wick angry."
Some of the uninformed wizards were puzzled—why was everyone so wary of this John Wick?
"Isn't he just a student, this John Wick?" asked the silver-haired wizard, confused. "His dog's the one that bit Sturgis Podmore."
"I'm sorry, Dedalus, but John Wick is not the kind of student you're imagining," Snape said with his usual sneer. "He's a genius. A wizard with powerful magic."
Dedalus Diggle still couldn't quite grasp what made that student so special.
Lupin said, "Alright, we can't go after the dog. Bill, is there a way to at least stabilize him for now? Dumbledore should have a solution."
"I can at least ease the pain," Bill said, pulling out his wand to cast a spell. Sturgis's excruciating pain subsided somewhat.
Though his face remained pale, he looked much better.
Snape wore a sullen expression. Their important meeting had been interrupted, and there was no chance of him lightening up.
Ron swallowed nervously, a chill still running down his spine, and asked Hermione in a low voice, "It—uh—it doesn't hold grudges, right? I mean, about that time I kicked Crookshanks?"
Crookshanks was Tom's good friend, and that cat was smart beyond belief. What if it had held a grudge and sent Tom to bite him?
Hermione shot him a glare. What a stupid boy.
The adults began preparing to resume their meeting, while Bill needed to properly dress Podmore's wound.
Mrs. Weasley shooed the kids back to their rooms—what came next wasn't for their ears.
Just as Harry, full of questions, was about to head upstairs, the scarred door creaked open—and Tonks came back in, slightly out of breath.
As she came in, Tonks shouted, "Bad news! There's a Muggle!"
Moody bellowed angrily, "Then get rid of him—use a Memory Charm!"
Having to deal with one thing after another had thoroughly worn out Moody's patience.
Tonks pulled a grim face and muttered, "I couldn't do it—he drove off in his car. Really fast."
"You didn't cast the Memory Charm?" Moody was startled, his wooden leg thudding rapidly across the floor as he strode over.
Tonks clutched her right hand, furious. "I wanted to, but he slammed the car door on my hand and knocked my wand out!"
Harry froze halfway up the stairs, stunned.
"Bloody hell, nothing is going right today!" Sirius growled, yanking at his collar in frustration. "I'll go after him!"
A wizard had been seen using magic by a Muggle—and even got disarmed.
If word got out, it would be utterly humiliating.
Now cleared of his fugitive status, Sirius charged out the door and transformed into a large black dog, sprinting off in pursuit.
Snape muttered dryly, "Seems like this meeting won't be happening today after all."
The trio on the stairs exchanged baffled looks. So much had happened today, and none of it expected.
…
As Watson thought back on it now, he broke out in a cold sweat all over again.
He had originally just come to survey the area, thinking it might be a good place to build a hotel as a new source of income.
He didn't want to become the kind of bad guy who committed crimes, so he planned to use the investors' money for legitimate business ventures.
Everything had been going smoothly—he was sitting in his car, drafting plans for a star-rated hotel in the area.
Until he saw a group of people descend from the sky on broomsticks like something out of a fairy tale.
As a father of a wizard, he was definitely startled, but he didn't raise any alarm.
He was deep in thought, sitting in the car with the lights off.
Once those wizards disappeared, he decided to leave.
Just as he started the engine, he saw a witch running toward him.
She had a wand in her hand—just like his son's.
His heart almost leapt out of his throat.
He pretended he didn't know anything, and the witch apologized, raising her wand at him.
Watson's mind went completely blank, but he remembered a few self-defense tricks he'd learned recently from André.
In a flash, he flung open the car door, knocking the witch's hand aside, then leapt out to grab the wand.
His son had told him that most wizards, once disarmed of their wand, were no different from ordinary people.
All sense of gentlemanly decorum flew out the window—when he couldn't snatch the wand by force, Watson shoved the witch's hand into the car door and slammed it shut hard.
That did the trick. The witch let go, and he gave her a hard push, jumped back into the car, and sped off.
As he drove, he hurled the wand into a patch of grass by the roadside.
Once he'd calmed down a bit, Watson couldn't help but slap the steering wheel and shout, "Thrilling! That was so thrilling!"
Even after everything he'd seen in the line of fire, he couldn't keep himself from yelling.
These were wizards, after all.
Driving at high speed, he kept glancing in the rearview mirror.
At a crossroads, he finally came to a stop, thinking he'd shaken them off.
He considered calling his son—just to let him know what an epic move his old man had just pulled off.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a big black dog.
His instincts screamed danger.
Something about that dog wasn't right.
It didn't wander off but instead charged straight toward him.
No time to think—Watson slammed the gas pedal to the floor.
Wroom!
Black smoke trailed from the rear of the speeding car as it shot forward—just as a bolt of red light struck the spot it had just occupied.
The big black dog running behind transformed mid-stride into a man, then crack—he Disapparated with a loud pop and reappeared right in front of the car.
Watson gasped in shock as a dark-haired man suddenly materialized in front of him and yanked the handbrake.
Screeeeech!
The car skidded into a graceful drift, the rear end swinging out—right into the man.
Bam!
He was sent flying.
Watson's heart pounded as he stared at the motionless body. Did I just kill someone?
After a moment's hesitation, he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a handgun.
He stepped out of the car, approaching cautiously.
"Is he… dead?"
A hundred different possibilities raced through Watson's mind. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, "Well, in for a penny, in for a pound… Might as well toss the body into the sea." (A/N: Bahaha!)
He'd just decided to go straight, and now this? What terrible luck.
He knelt beside the man and flipped him over.
A wand was pointed straight at his face.
"Fu...ck!"
A flash of white light exploded—and everything went blank.
Empty the magazine.
The sound of gunfire—bang, bang, bang!—finally stopped.
A flash of confusion crossed Watson's face. The dark-haired man wasn't doing so great either.
He staggered to his feet, bullet wounds in both his arm and leg.
Blood poured from the holes, but for a wizard, that was still treatable.
"Bloody hell… almost got killed by a Muggle," Sirius cursed under his breath, dragging his injured body away.
Clack clack clack.
A slow, mocking sound echoed down the street.
"Well, well, well, look who it is?"
A taunting voice floated over. Sirius immediately tensed and turned to look.
A man stepped out onto the empty road.
Wearing a wide trench coat and a cowboy hat, he looked like something out of a Western. He strode out of the shadows, arms crossed, voice dripping with amusement.
"Sirius Black."
Sirius's face darkened.
"You… Ocsa the Finger-Eater."
___________
Read 12 Chaps ahead:
Patreon: Dragonel