155: Aftermath and Valentine’s Day

155: Aftermath and Valentine’s Day

John had underestimated the cost of dabbling in forbidden magic. He'd started to grow feathers.

Yes, feathers.

Golden feathers had first appeared on his arms, and at first, he thought he'd accidentally brushed against something. But when they wouldn't shake off, he reached to pluck one out, yelping in pain as he did.

He realized they were real.

Within a day, feathers had started spreading rapidly over his body.

John brewed a potion to fix it, but after drinking it, nothing happened.

He suspected the massive surge of magic that had flowed through his wand into his body had caused this transformation.

And considering his wand's core was a thunderbird feather, John was starting to feel uneasy.

"Am I... turning into a bird?"

His mouth twitched slightly, but thankfully, the transformation wasn't entirely disadvantageous.

He'd discovered he could control the weather within a small radius. Just moments ago, a bolt of lightning had struck right at Malfoy's feet, making him jump.

John lazily raised an eyebrow, saying calmly, "Two more laps."

An exhausted Malfoy glanced at Neville, who was now only a figure in the distance, and a surge of stubbornness sparked within him.

Gritting his teeth, he dragged his weary legs forward, lugging a rock nearly as big as his head, which looked like it might snap his spine at any moment.

Heavy footsteps left two lines of marks by the Black Lake. John glanced down at his own hands.

They were thinner than before; his long fingers moved slightly, and arcs of electricity danced between them.

"Guess it's a good thing?" he muttered.

Even he wasn't sure if this was a blessing or a curse.

With this power, it felt as though he'd been given a free infusion of magical blood.

The side effects, however, were more than he'd bargained for; John had no desire to turn into a thunderbird.

Rolling up his sleeve, he saw more golden feathers growing under his clothes.

...fuck.

Expressionless, he rolled the sleeve back down. Two options for a cure came to mind.

One was using Animagus transformation—a stronger transfiguration spell to reshape his body.

The other was to wait until the end of term and reset it with a magical blood infusion surge.

Either way, what he needed now was to wait.

After flushing out the thunderbird bloodline, he might lose this power, but John wasn't about to live with a bird face.

No No No. I like my face very much!

Not everyone has the courage to go around noseless, right? Looking at you, Voldemort.

He felt despair.

Slap!

This isn't a time to go into depression, John! He slapped himself and then tried to cheer himself up.

Let me tell you a joke. If Voldemort made his nose into a Horcrux, I would never be able to find it in my lifetime.

Voldemort snorted, his nose held high, arrogant of his genius. Oh, by the way, he has no nose.

...

Valentine's Day was here.

With Lockhart gone this year, there was finally no fear of some chubby little dwarf dressed as Cupid leaping out to cling to one's leg with a love confession.

In the Great Hall, a few Slytherins who were fairly familiar with John started whistling.

Remembering last year's events, the Slytherins figured they could do the same.

It seemed everyone had quietly decided that this was John's day to be embarrassed.

After all, chocolate without flavor felt like wax. Without taste, it was just a block of black wax.

Not being in the habit of eating wax, he stashed the chocolates in his drawer.

Maybe one day, if his taste returned, he could try a sample of these Hogwarts witches' handiwork.

Since getting punished, Tom had become incredibly subdued—like a dejected dog, leaving John disappointed.

"A love-struck fool never has a happy ending, Tom," he muttered.

All you could say was that the poor little girl, naive and inexperienced, had been deceived by a big black dog.

John had three wands in total: one with a thunderbird tail feather core in red oak, one with a unicorn hair core in cherry wood, and a yew wand with a dragon heartstring core.

The one taken out was the unicorn hair wand, and John scolded it sternly: "Look at you—three-legged toads are hard to find, but four-legged dogs are everywhere, and yet you fancy an Animagus!"

Tom lowered her head onto her paws, his big eyes glancing up with a look of sheer grievance.

Seeing this expression, John sighed in resignation.

Fortunately, he found out Sirius Black and uncovered the secret. It's good that Black met John since John is powerful. If it was some other student in place of John? Even if Sirius hadn't gone for a kill shot, the student would've been seriously injured.

Ignoring Tom's pitiful expression, he confined her to his room, placing her under Basil's watch.

The snowy owl, Basil, sat atop a cabinet, his eyes fixed on Tom. Should the dog dare to leave, Basil would be within his rights to give him a good swatting!

In the common room, some young witches were eyeing him hopefully.

John had just walked in when someone tugged on his sleeve.

Turning, he saw Daphne's beautiful face, raised with a prideful and slightly haughty expression, as if to stake her claim.

Ever since she'd seen Hermione bite her lip and leave that day, Daphne had maintained this demeanor.

The young witches around took this in and quietly gave up on their plans.

Pansy's eyes shone, seeing her friend finally find the courage to step forward.

Daphne immediately stood up and scanned the room, as if silently daring anyone to approach her 'friend Wick'.

She didn't need to say a word—after all, she was Daphne Greengrass, the "Flower of Slytherin."

John looked at the hesitant young witches, then at Daphne's proud little expression.

He suddenly felt a chill down his spine.

Got it.

He bent down slightly, as he was a bit taller than Daphne, and leaned close to her fair ear, whispering, "Did you make some more food?"

His warm breath tickled her ear, making it feel slightly itchy.

Daphne's proud expression nearly slipped as a blush crept up her face.

John noticed, confirming his suspicion.

Of course, she had made a new dish.

With a knowing look, he then hesitated, gritting his teeth.

"As long as it's not fruit-based, I'm good."

He was truly scarred by creations like strawberry mapo tofu and strawberry dumplings and pineapple pizza.

Can't you let go of the fruit?

"Right!" Daphne's face lit up, and immediately asked in surprise: "How did you know I made Wellington Beef Chocolate today?"

Ah, Beef and Chocolate! Hmm Hmm! It's good that she didn't put any fruit this time—Wait! ???

Do you yourself listen to what you are talking about?

Beef and chocolate.

How can you put them together? ? ?

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