Hogwarts' John Wick

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Knockturn Garden was in full bloom, showcasing flowers from every season.

In the garden worked a gardener—no one knew his name.

His daily tasks were pruning and fertilizing.

Snow fell on the branches but couldn't reach the garden itself.

Amid the blanket of white that covered Knockturn Alley, the vivid colors of the garden were especially eye-catching.

The gardener quietly stared at a bone that had been unearthed, then took out a small trowel and buried it again.

In the vast garden, there was only one gardener. The shop staff had speculated about his identity.

But the answer was always the same—nothing. He had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

His range of activity was limited strictly to the garden.

There was a room for him in the Knockturn Garden—not large, and quite shabby.

After burying the bone, Barty Jr. looked up again—only to find someone standing in front of him.

Behind the vibrant, dew-kissed roses, the silver-masked man chuckled softly, "You seem quite satisfied with this job."

Barty Jr. ignored him, picked up his trowel, and prepared to leave.

"Voldemort knows you're here."

That one sentence made Barty Jr. stop in his tracks.

The name of the man he regarded as his true father made his lifeless heart beat again.

The silver masked man walked toward the rose bushes, and the plants silently parted to make way for him.

"Tonight, you might regain your freedom," John said as he approached Barty Jr., his tone teasing. "Let's play a little game."

He plucked a rose—its tender pink petals charming and delicate. John didn't speak right away, instead admiring the bloom.

Barty Jr. looked at the silver mask and spoke coldly, "What game?"

"Let's see whether you can leave this garden," John said, snapping his fingers as he walked up to Barty Jr. He slipped the rose into Barty Jr.'s front pocket and said casually, "If you manage to walk out of this garden, I'll return your wand. But if not…"

John gently tapped the rose. "If you lose, you'll have to start calling old Barty… father."

Barty Jr.'s pupils flared with hatred, and he lost his composure, shouting, "Absolutely impossible!"

"Oh?" John replied slowly, unbothered. "Are you afraid that the great Dark Lord—the Voldemort you worship—won't be able to win?"

"Or is it…" John's voice turned mocking, "that you think you've already been abandoned?"

"No!" Barty Jr. threw down his trowel, his eyes filled with conflict.

"Face reality. Admit that man has failed."

John raised his hand and summoned the dirt-covered trowel back into his grip. With a tap of his finger, the soil dropped away.

Handing the trowel to Barty Jr., John said meaningfully, "Accept the game, or admit Voldemort's failure."

Barty Jr.'s expression twisted. His eyes bulged wide like a snorting buffalo, panting heavily.

He struggled for a long time before finally taking the trowel—signifying he had accepted the game.

Under the mask, the corner of John's mouth curled upward. Old Barty would thank him for this.

As a partner, John was undoubtedly competent.

As a game master, he was just as qualified.

He watched Barty Jr. walk away. Just then, Tommy stepped through the flowerbeds, brushing off thorns that had stuck to him.

Tommy asked, "So what do we do now?"

"Weapons. Lots of weapons."

John tilted his head slightly. A shadow fell across his face beneath the silver mask.

His voice was low and hoarse. "Let the game begin."

...

Who is the number one arms dealer in the wizarding world?

If this question had been asked five years ago, wizards would have given all sorts of answers.

Now?

Ollivander? Or some other wandmaker?

Neither.

They would all tell you the same name: Johnny Silverhand.

The "Zhi" series—exclusively supplied to the Ministry of Magic—was officially designated by the Ministry itself.

If you want to legally replace a wand, go to Ollivander.

But if you want a wand that isn't registered anywhere, Johnny Silverhand can fulfill your every need.

A basic combat set for a strike unit costs 1,000 Galleons. On the black market, the price doubles to a staggering 3,000 Galleons.

Even so, it remains something many would kill for and still fail to get.

Not to mention the full advanced "Zhi" series loadout on top of that.

At this moment, every member of the Security Squad was fully equipped—armed to the teeth.

They were stationed at every corner of the garden, while a few other figures who clearly didn't belong blended into the surroundings, watching silently.

Oakes, the Index Finger Eater of the Star Disciples, scanned for Death Eaters with a bloodthirsty glint in his eyes.

He tapped his foot impatiently, his face full of irritation.

"Hurry up, come on out, little animals."

The Executioner said nothing, silently maintaining his hook.

Guss greedily counted on his fingers, already calculating how much money he could make from this operation.

The Gemini Ashbourne twins smiled gently. "Please remember our task, Mr. Oakes. We're responsible for the second stage of the hunt."

"Yeah, yeah. As long as I get a good fight out of this," Oakes replied impatiently.

Aside from them, other Star Disciples members were also preparing for the hunt nearby.

John stood in Johnny Silverhand's office, flipping a page of a book.

As the sun set, those who belonged to the "Daylight Knockturn Alley" began to leave.

Shops shuttered their doors and windows tightly, as if sensing the brutal battle that was about to unfold.

Barty Jr. turned on the radio, listening to the music as he sat in his room, waiting.

Tommy entered the office, holding a vinyl record in his hands. He asked respectfully, "Shall I put this on for you?"

"Go ahead," John said without looking up, turning another page.

The record was placed onto a brass gramophone, and the needle began to dance across the spinning vinyl.

A graceful tune started to play, like a fishing boat slowly gliding over a calm sea.

By the time John turned the page for the third time, the rhythm had shifted—it became urgent.

The storm had begun.

...

The leading figure let out a sharp, shrill laugh as they charged toward the Knockturn Garden.

Amidst the vivid blossoms, the harsh sound of spell-casting and the clash of magic burst into sparks.

The flower beds shifted and reformed, transforming into a labyrinth that devoured life.

Inside, Barty Jr. listened to the music on the radio, as if everything outside had nothing to do with him.

Green flashes, red beams intertwined.

One Death Eater grinned cruelly as he cast the Cruciatus Curse—only to see a sharply dressed security officer step toward him, calm and relentless.

The curses that flew at him were deflected one by one by a Shield Charm.

"Avada—!"

He didn't have time to finish. The security officer pointed his wand, and a brilliant red light pierced through the Death Eater's defense, sending him flying into a bed of flowers.

The dazzling blooms turned into thorny brambles. The barbed roots pierced into flesh, dragging him into a bottomless mire of no return.

The security officer's expression remained impassive. The ring on his hand dimmed slightly.

The flower walls separated the Death Eaters one by one, as the guards advanced to reap them like crops.

"Confringo!"

Boom!

A flower wall exploded open as a masked Death Eater charged out.

"Alecto!" Amycus Carrow shouted his sister's name.

On the other side, a flower wall shattered, and Alecto emerged, tearing off her mask.

She had just been entangled in a fight with a security guard. Although she was more powerful in terms of magic, that person was heavily equipped.

"Well, well," a mocking voice rang out.

The siblings turned to see a sharply dressed man, a matchstick between his teeth, saying regretfully, "The gardener spent a long time tending those flowers, you know."

Seeing the Carrow siblings step through the front garden, the man smiled and said, "Welcome to the hunting grounds."

He tilted slightly to the side and gestured with a courteous sweep, "Hope you have a wonderful time."

The two exchanged glances, as if seeing the same confusion mirrored in each other's eyes.

Alecto Carrow raised her wand and pointed it at the tall man. He frowned slightly. "That thing's dangerous."

"Good that you know," Alecto snapped, still irritable from the previous scuffle.

The man raised an eyebrow, smiling. "I don't like being rough with ladies."

Then, glancing toward a direction, he shouted, "Anyone want this little bunny?"

Little bunny?

Alecto laughed in disbelief—no one had ever called her that before.

Suddenly, Alecto was blasted away by a red beam of light. The Index finger eater, Oakes, roared, "She's my prey!"

Amycus was startled and just about to help his sister when a cold, gleaming hook pierced through his shoulder. A powerful force dragged him into the flower wall.

By the time he finally broke free, blood was pouring from his shoulder, and a silent man was staring him down.

After the siblings were taken down one after the other, more Death Eaters broke through the front court. The man waiting in the hunting ground was beginning to lose patience.

He snapped his fingers, and the security team, still engaged in battle, received the order and all retreated back into the hunting grounds.

They stood in a line. Once the Death Eaters were lured inside, they simultaneously raised their wands.

Brilliant magical beams engulfed the intruding Death Eaters.

The rings on their fingers dimmed slightly. The man raised an eyebrow and said, "Much cleaner now."

...

The game lasted until dawn. John closed his book and walked to the window, basking in the sunlight falling across his face.

"Tell the customers that the Inverted Garden will be closed for one day for renovations."

After saying that to the clerk, John headed toward the Inverted Garden.

The garden was utterly wrecked. The security team, holding shovels, was digging up damaged flowers and replacing them—burying the lifeless corpses underneath.

John spotted Barty Jr. He stood there, watching the bodies being buried into the garden.

"Looks like I won," John said, glancing at the fallen Death Eaters.

There were casualties on their side too, but thanks to the overwhelming difference in equipment, it wasn't too serious.

The Death Eaters were nearly wiped out—only the Carrow siblings, who had broken out of Azkaban, managed to escape.

And only them.

"You need to keep your promise." John patted Barty Jr. on the shoulder and walked into the devastated garden.

Tommy was over there directing the repair work, complaining, "My lord, can we use a different location next time? I had made plans to meet Oz here."

"I think it might be time to adjust your salary," John said casually.

Tommy's expression shifted immediately, and he quickly said, "Actually, I think this place is perfect. Very convenient to manage, too."

"I thought so too," John replied with a smile.

Looking at the captured Death Eaters, John chuckled lightly, "Our friend the Minister will probably be quite pleased."

Voldemort, wary of Dumbledore, didn't dare come in person—which meant the things John had prepared were left unused.

He glanced at Barty Jr.'s little house. Beneath that floor, after all, were bombs made entirely of magical crystals.

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Note: In this fic, Barty Jr. hasn't done anything remarkable. The right-hand man of Voldemort was Edgar's uncle.

According to John, Barty Jr. goes to see the Quidditch World Cup in an invisibility cloak, gets captured by him, is used to set a trap for Death Eaters in his manor, and now does gardening for him.