Dobby and hitting a brick wall

A formidable bodyguard had been sent to the Johnny Silverhand shop in Knockturn Alley. Mundungus Fletcher did not know who this newly arrived Tommy Shelby was, but judging by his respectful attitude toward Johnny Silverhand, he was probably a trusted confidant.

That threw cold water over Mundungus Fletcher, who had been getting rather full of himself. He had thought he was the indispensable one.

Now it seemed he was merely one of Lord Johnny's lackeys. For some reason, he also felt afraid of this Shelby.

It was like being caught stealing by an Auror passing by.

With a man like that watching him, he had no choice but to stay on his toes.

This was just awful.

As a new employee, Tommy Shelby received a monthly salary of 100 Galleons, and John would supply him with Wolfsbane Potion every month.

During his year of wandering, he had also met quite a few werewolves. John decided that once the shop grew a little bigger, he would have Tommy recruit the other werewolves too.

Anyone who could get along with a former Auror was unlikely to be a bad sort. John understood that much.

The Johnny Silverhand shop had opened a few days earlier. Business was not particularly brisk yet, but bringing in 200 Galleons a day was no problem.

Once more people learned about the place, business would only grow.

Especially once the Dame Alexandra Order of Merlin, First Class was awarded, word of his Wolfsbane Potion would spread, bringing more werewolves in to buy it.

An ordinary Wolfsbane Potion cost 30 Galleons a dose. It allowed you to suppress your bloodlust when you transformed into a werewolf.

A refined Wolfsbane Potion cost 80 Galleons. It allowed you to recognize your loved ones after transforming and stay quietly in one place.

A top-grade Wolfsbane Potion cost 150 Galleons. Only your appearance changed, and you could no longer use magic; your mind remained your own.

The three varieties of Wolfsbane Potion met werewolves' most basic needs while also offering them a way out of the discrimination they faced.

The top-grade variety took the most time. Brewing something that could preserve the mind exactly as it had been before transformation was a great deal of work.

That was the variety John supplied to Shelby, and it made Shelby willing to die for him.

The start of term was drawing closer.

With Harry staying at the Burrow, John had been left all alone.

These days, all he did was count gleaming gold Galleons or hand them over.

There was never enough money to spend. Alchemy burned through it far too quickly.

Still, progress had been very smooth. He had engraved a second rune on the Iron Wick Sword, creating a magical circuit for it.

Once the circuit was activated, the sword's magic could be used without drawing on John's own magical power.

Of course, after the magic generated by these circuits was released, it needed time to build up again. Beyond handling an emergency, it was not particularly useful.

John was practicing magic that day, but his Transfiguration still had not leveled up. He was tempted to spend a free point on it.

"Should I read more books on Transfiguration?"

He had been yearning for a dragon form for a long time. He estimated that it would not unlock until level four, so he could only set it aside for now.

"Someone broke in?"

John frowned. He had installed magical detection devices in the basement that would alert him if anyone intruded.

Pointing his wand at a corner of the basement, John said coldly, "Did you think I wouldn't notice you?"

A pair of bulging green eyes were as large as tennis balls, and two batlike ears drooped backward.

John acted without hesitation. A Transfiguration Spell turned the desk in the corner into strips of cloth that tightly wrapped up the creature who had appeared.

"A house-elf?"

Once he had dealt with the intruder, John paused in surprise.

"Ah!" the house-elf screamed. "Dobby came to see John Wick, Harry Potter's friend."

Dobby tried to break free, but the cloth held him fast, constricting him so tightly that even his screams grew quieter.

"Dobby? That house-elf?"

John remembered Harry's complaints and said in a low voice, "Who sent you? Are you trying to find out where Harry is through me?"

"No, no! Dobby wants John Wick to protect Harry Potter."

After saying that, Dobby realized he had almost spoken ill of his master. He wanted to punish himself, but he was firmly bound.

He could only keep banging the back of his head against the wall, berating himself. "Bad Dobby, bad Dobby!"

"Stop!"

John felt a headache coming on. He had no choice but to make the cloth bind Dobby's head as well.

Keeping his wand raised, John approached Dobby, his expression turning grave. "You said Harry would be in danger. How do you know?"

As he asked this, John saw Dobby's face fill with terror. The elf wanted to hurt himself but could not.

His head ached. These house-elves all tended to overreact. He could only rephrase the question. "What kind of danger do you mean?"

"A plot, a dangerous, terrible plot! The most dreadful things will happen at Hogwarts!"

Dobby screamed, and John released the spell, sending him tumbling to the floor with a thump.

"Then why did you come to me to protect Harry?" Lowering his wand, John stared intently at the house-elf who had broken into his home.

Dobby sniffled. "Dobby heard that John Wick is a powerful wizard. He has protected Harry Potter."

"Uh... I admit I've protected Harry, but calling me a powerful wizard is going a bit far."

The corner of John's mouth twitched. Who had started that rumor? He was only a novice with level-three magical power.

Glancing at Dobby, he said helplessly, "If you really want to protect Harry, you should tell me the name of whoever is behind this plot."

As long as he had a name, and with Harry, the Chosen One, involved, John could write to Dumbledore.

With that White Dark Lord around, he did not believe anyone could hurt Harry.

"Dobby cannot say! Bad Dobby, bad Dobby!"

Dobby started hurting himself again, so John had no choice but to bind him once more.

He could not fully trust Dobby's words, but if Harry really was in danger, he would lend a hand.

"I'll investigate this plot, provided it's real."

Dobby was immensely grateful, and John waved a hand.

Then his gaze settled on Dobby's clothes. The elf wore an old pillowcase, looking both pitiful and comical.

"I have some old clothes. If you don't mind them, you can take them to wear."

John's words made Dobby shriek. "Dobby is so grateful to John Wick! He is worthy of respect, just like Harry Potter. House-elves can only gain their freedom when their masters give them clothes to wear."

Dobby could not accept John's kindness, but he had elevated John to the same standing as Harry, the Chosen One. Well, perhaps a little lower.

Dobby snapped his fingers and vanished with a bang.

"He can use wandless magic."

John stared at the spot where Dobby had disappeared. He had cast spells here, yet Dobby could come and go freely.

It seemed the defenses he had set up were still insufficient.

He decided to make a few more Sneakoscopes to prevent anything similar from happening.

The days passed. As business at the Johnny Silverhand shop settled into a steady rhythm, it was time for John to return to school.

September 1.

Watson took his son to King's Cross Station early. This time, he even deliberately charged at the barrier leading to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

The result was obvious: he was not a wizard.

At least, until he raised a large bump on his forehead, he had still believed that perhaps Hogwarts had simply forgotten to send him a letter when he was young.

Mrs. Wick was attending to customers at the beauty salon, leaving John to watch his father run headfirst into a brick wall with considerable disdain.

"All right, Dad. It's time for me to go."

Having hit the wall and turned back in dejection, Watson could only watch his son leave. He rubbed the large bump on his forehead, and then...

Thud!

"Ow!"

"Ouch!"

The two cries left Watson dumbfounded. Two young wizards stared in confusion at the wall they could not pass through, utterly stunned.

"Why can't we get through?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"I don't know, but we're going to miss the train."

Ron did not know either, but time would not wait for them.

They were frantic. The passage was closed, and they could not get through, which meant they could not take the train to Hogwarts.

Suddenly, Ron had an idea.

"The car! We can fly the car to Hogwarts!"

He remembered his family's Flying Ford Anglia. Harry still had reservations, but then he thought of being expelled from Hogwarts for arriving late. That would be the worst outcome of all.

The two immediately put their plan into action. They found the Weasley family's Flying Ford Anglia and were about to start it when a hand rested on the window.

"Hey, I think you boys need some help."

Harry and Ron stared blankly at the man in a hat who had appeared out of nowhere.

Watson Wick flashed a confident smile. "They call me the driving ace of Canary Wharf."