46: Who is Johnny Silverhand?

46: Who is Johnny Silverhand?

Two weeks later.

John received a package from America, a long box securely wrapped in wooden planks.

Eagerly, he took out a crowbar to open the box. As he pried off the six nails, the wooden crate was finally opened.

Inside, cushioned with hay, was a knight's sword adorned with mithril.

The blade, polished to a mirror-like finish, featured a semi-circular guard made with a blend of mithril and steel powder through casting. The hilt was crafted from oak, and the pommel was a rounded piece of mithril with a circular notch.

This sword, forged with triple-method craftsmanship, had a straight, rigid blade that was difficult to break.

The more John looked at it, the more he loved it. He immediately began to swing it around.

The sword's balance point was at two fingers' width, making it smooth and fluid to wield.

It could be used with one or two hands, and John had specifically requested an extended pommel to maximize its greatsword characteristics.

After a satisfying workout, John stopped, feeling exhilarated.

It was a pity he wasn't at Hogwarts, where he could have tested it out in the training grounds.

"The mithril sections left unfilled are perfect for enchanting," he noted.

John immediately prepared to enchant the sword. He fixed the blade in place and used a chisel to inscribe a series of runes onto the mithril guard.

With precise and careful hammering, he successfully enchanted the sword with a fire spell based on runic symbols.

Fehu (ᚠ) represented cattle, symbolizing wealth and also wild fire.

Taking out his wand, he performed the enchantment.

The moment the enchantment succeeded, John could feel a distinct change in the sword.

He activated the runes to use the fire spell, causing the symbols to glow red and the blade to ignite, transforming into a flaming sword.

"A sword of iron and fire. I feel more like a witcher now," he mused.

If he were to wear a set of Viking armor, John felt he could pass as a witcher.

He extinguished the flames, placed the sword in his small handbag, and despite it resembling a women's bag, John didn't mind since it served its purpose.

"I should give it a name. Let's call it Ironwick Sword."

And so, the Ironwick Sword was born.

John headed to the living room to write a response and, upon returning, resumed communication with his friends.

The next day, the three of them drove to the Leaky Cauldron. Compared to their last visit, this time the place didn't smell as bad. It was probably because Quirrell wasn't there. John, familiar with the route, led them to the back entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.

After entering Diagon Alley, John planned to visit Gringotts first to deposit his money. He kept enough for buying materials and textbooks, and deposited the rest in Gringotts. This brought a smile to the goblin's typically dour face. Despite their greed and selfishness, John had to admit that Gringotts' security system was top-notch.

After passing through an anti-theft waterfall, John discreetly collected some of the water. This water could wash away magical effects, and he intended to take it back to study and possibly replicate it.

Upon leaving Gringotts, John encountered Malfoy. Malfoy was walking beside a man with the same pale, pointed face, who looked like an older version of Malfoy. John guessed this must be Malfoy's father.

The two were heading towards Knockturn Alley.

John's father had already taken his Galleons to spend, dragging Mrs. Wick along with him. John, who also needed to visit Knockturn Alley, cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and followed the Malfoys.

Along the way, John overheard Malfoy constantly muttering about Harry. This even made his father, Lucius Malfoy, impatient. "You've told me at least ten times already," he said irritably.

Mr. Malfoy glanced at his son, stopping him from continuing his tirade.

"Young Malfoy seems to have quite the deep feelings for Harry," John thought wryly as he followed the two into Borgin and Burkes antique shop, where he had once seen Mundungus.

Instead of going inside, John veered off to a nearby building.

Mundungus was living quite comfortably these days. Apart from occasionally watching over the boy, he no longer needed to steal. He simply waited for his daily mail. As a result, he had ditched his ragged suit for a more fitting attire.

"Good heavens, I look just like a businessman," Mundungus preened in front of the mirror, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his door opening.

Startled, he drew his wand and shouted, "Who's there? Come out quickly!"

"Mundungus, you're brave enough to point your wand at me now?"

The deep, raspy voice made Mundungus feel as though he had plunged into an ice-cold pool. He hurriedly dropped his wand, clasping his hands together in a submissive gesture. "Sir Johnny, I meant no offense. I just thought there was a burglar."

"Hmph."

Johnny Silverhand was the alias John used in front of Mundungus.

John had never revealed his true face to Mundungus. He found a spot to sit down, glancing around before saying, "So this is the shop you've taken over. Looks like it cost quite a bit."

"No, no, Sir Johnny, you don't understand. Five hundred Galleons can only get you the best location here," Mundungus replied, sounding a bit aggrieved. For once, he wasn't lying. He had exerted tremendous effort to secure this spot. Though it was small, the location was excellent.

"Alright, you'd better get this place fixed up quickly, Mundungus. Running a business is far more rewarding than stealing," John said, only lightly admonishing Mundungus. He knew that relying solely on small sales wouldn't bring in big money. Hence, he instructed Mundungus to set up a shop dedicated to selling Johnny Silverhand's exclusive products.

Mundungus had grown accustomed to a life without constantly hiding and naturally didn't want to give up such a good lifestyle. He immediately promised to get the place ready.

After that, he waited for John's next instructions, but there was only silence. This Johnny Silverhand had a habit of leaving without notice.

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