Inside Silverhand Manor, everyone waited in tense anticipation.
After the golden light aperture was imprinted, the Ouroboros that had been biting its own tail seemed almost completely frozen.
It was a bizarre sight. The radiance spreading outward was fixed in place at the same time.
As if someone had pressed a shutter, sealing everything in this place into stillness.
Malfoy slowed his breathing and asked cautiously, "Did it succeed?"
Heinrich focused his gaze, unable to determine whether it had succeeded or not.
Among everyone present, the most powerful was undoubtedly Albus Dumbledore.
The old man, who had only just managed to get some time off, had also suffered backlash from the forbidden magic.
"You still chose this path in the end, John," Dumbledore said, looking at the temporal anchor with a complicated expression. "The forbidden will lead one to ruin."
This was the most brilliant person he had ever seen, surpassing everyone else.
In matters of the forbidden, Dumbledore was certain that not even the most senior Unspeakables of the Ministry of Magic could reach John's level.
His knowledge, experience, and intellect were far beyond ordinary people.
This became even clearer when Dumbledore recalled that white-haired boy from the past. It made him realize just how powerful the John who had returned this time would be.
Back when Dumbledore was still Headmaster, whenever Severus Snape tirelessly brought up John, he would always find himself overlapping two different figures in his mind.
Now that he thought about it…
It was not that John resembled Lord Voldemort, but that in his subconscious, Dumbledore had taken Voldemort to be John.
After the overlap, was that figure not the very same white-haired wizard he had seen in his youth?
"So it was you all along, Yorl."
Dumbledore subconsciously touched his nose.
Now that the memory had surfaced, he also recalled who had punched him there.
"As expected, Aberforth didn't have that kind of strength."
Dumbledore could not help but laugh.
Suddenly, the time frozen at the anchor began to move again. The Ouroboros, biting their own tails, started devouring one another. Until the two serpents consumed each other up to their heads, continuously shrinking.
The contracting light burst forth in that instant.
The blinding golden radiance forced everyone to shut their eyes.
A figure stepped out from within.
His fingers idly twisted a strand of hair, black energy roiling around his body.
Noticing where he was, the figure paused, a faint smile appearing on his face.
"I'm... back...?"
As the golden light faded, the familiar voice echoed.
Everyone's gaze locked onto the figure that had appeared.
Then... Malfoy locked his gaze onto him, stuck his backside out, and sprinted forward.
Just as he was about to tackle John, his body suddenly flipped upside down, completely out of his control.
A soft figure crashed into John's arms.
He instinctively steadied the person and looked down, letting out a light chuckle. "For you all, I should have been gone for less than two hours."
Daphne rolled her eyes at his words.
The next second, John was pinned to the ground as members of the Constellation Society piled onto him one after another.
This was their punishment for his reckless adventure.
Malfoy wailed loudly, still hanging from the chandelier.
"Why do you still have the magic to use the Levicorpus spell!"
He was indignant. He was already nearly drained, yet Daphne still had magic left.
Surrounded by the crowd, John burst into laughter.
Then Malfoy noticed something off and said in shock, "John, your hair has changed back?"
Everyone hurried to look. John's white hair had returned to black.
One by one, they broke into delighted smiles.
"An unexpected gain," John said with a shrug. The dark power of that dimension had simply dyed his hair for him.
Still smiling, John lifted his head. When he saw the white-bearded old man, he froze.
"How is it you?"
Dumbledore did not join in the young people's revelry. Instead, he seemed somewhat surprised by John's words.
"You wrote me a letter, John."
"No, no, no." John shook his head repeatedly, a look of astonishment on his face. "I wrote to someone else."
"Someone else?" Dumbledore fell into thought.
John had already calculated that the combined magic of the group might not be enough to successfully establish the anchor.
So he had written three letters. One to his old man, asking him to find the Sword of Silverwick.
The second to Fleur, asking her to gather the members.
The third, and most important, was to request help from someone with immense magical power.
Among those he knew, there were three who met that requirement.
Gellert Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore, and… another Dumbledore.
"Well."
Even John could not account for everything. Fortunately, the result was that another Dumbledore had arrived.
Heinrich pulled John to his feet. Looking at the old man, John said, "You helped me, Dumbledore. I need to repay you."
"You have already helped me, John." Dumbledore shook his head slightly. The fact that he was still alive was due to the Holy Grail.
Moreover, given Dumbledore's saintly nature, helping a Hogwarts student who had gone astray was not something he did in expectation of reward.
John looked at him and said firmly, "This is an equivalent exchange. There is no need for you to refuse so quickly."
…
In the United States.
Nagini's soul had already been restored. By all logic, her legs should now be able to walk.
For some reason, however, she seemed to have forgotten how to walk.
She remained unable to rise from the wheelchair.
Gently, she stroked the wand John had given her.
Eleven and a quarter inches, with dense grain and excellent flexibility.
The handle bore a spiral pattern, set with a sapphire.
Yew wood, with a Thestral tail hair core.
It was a wand that belonged to one reborn, and the most treasured possession Nagini had.
In the first half of her life, she had once loved a boy deeply.
Yet until the day she completely turned into a snake, she never had the chance to see him again.
But she always remembered, remembered that promise.
The promise that he would find her.
On the beautiful wand, there was a line of text.
Her fingers traced over it as she softly read, "To celebrate Nagini's rebirth with this gift."
She pressed the wand lightly against her chest and whispered the name of someone long gone. "Credence..."
That reckless boy had given her a second life.
Nagini felt that she should let go, and not disappoint John.
She tried to stand, just as she once had.
As she steadied herself against the wheelchair, trembling… Gently, as if afraid she might shatter, someone supported her.
Nagini froze.
A black substance passed through her body, and the familiar sensation made her eyes widen.
"Is it you?" The Snake Lady, revered in District Thirteen, spoke with a trembling voice. "Credence?"
The black substance slowly gathered, forming a human shape before her.
That familiar face, though his hair had grown longer.
He wore the deep purple suit John had given him that day, coming here as if to keep a long-awaited appointment.
"Nagini."
Even Credence was not certain. He had fallen into a deep slumber, only to awaken again.
After finding his family, he had come to know his origins.
He had gained his own name.
Yet he could not find the one he cherished most.
The Obscurus had eroded his body, and not long after he returned to his father's home in Godric's Hollow, he died.
Along with the pendant he had never removed, he was buried in Godric's Hollow.
The one who should have slept forever… had awakened once more after many years.
The pendant that had held the parting gift had vanished.
Relying on the fragmented memories in his mind, he found his way here.
Nagini covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face.
"John."
The memories missing from her soul surged back like a tide.
"May you have no regrets this time."
The words spoken at parting echoed in her ears.
She moved.
Her legs, which should have been unable to take even a step, broke into a run, carrying her toward the embrace from years ago.
"You're back, Credence."
Our king, gentle and powerful.
Our king, selfish and domineering.
Even regrets, he would overturn for his friends.
He saved the latter half of Nagini's life, filling the regrets of her first.
They should have been fated, one to die in the past, the other to become an evil vessel and die in the future.
Until that death by the sword, when she turned into a wisp of smoke and reunited with him once more.
Now.
Two birds, each with a broken wing, had finally found each other again.
She ran toward the boy she loved so deeply.
To touch him, to hold him, to love him.
So real, so warm.
No boy taken too soon, no great serpent that had lost its humanity.
Nor any existence seen as a monster.
There was only a pair of lovers, bound together.
…
"She should have become a wisp of smoke and rushed toward the boy she loved, but the domineering yet gentle king refused to allow such a tragedy.
John Wick, a selfish Slytherin.
His love was so selfish that it was only enough for those he cared about.
He was an alchemist who pursued equivalent exchange, yet he mended all his friends' regrets without asking for anything in return.
He was a king beloved by his subjects, but one who could never become a saint revered by all."
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