Harry wasn't released until after writing for several hours, but judging from Umbridge's expression, it was clear she wouldn't stop until those words were carved into his flesh.
When he got back, he ran into Ron, who was busy making up dreams for Divination class.
Ron asked about the detention, and Harry only replied that he was made to copy lines.
"Well, that sounds pretty easy. Better than polishing trophies or something."
Having done detention a few times himself, Ron felt it sounded light.
But whether it was easy or not—only Harry knew.
The second detention was the same—copying lines.
Harry felt like he was silently fighting a battle with Umbridge, and he was determined to win.
...
Plymouth Settlement.
Silverhand Johnny's American Branch.
Johnson, whose boulder-like muscular body looked like it was carved out of stone, was still guarding the door. The shady folks who used to lurk nearby seemed to have vanished.
At nightfall, his large, bell-sized eyes scanned the surroundings.
He knocked his fist against a nearby pillar, and the neon lights above flickered on.
A flamboyant salesman adjusted his bowtie, waiting for customers to arrive.
There weren't many people in the shop at night, but all of them were dressed in mysterious attire.
A short wizard approached the entrance. Johnson frowned—judging by his height, the guy looked like an underage wizard.
"Pass," Johnson demanded, not letting the wizard through right away.
At night, Silverhand Johnny was only open to those with a valid pass. The short wizard was cloaked from head to toe, rummaging through his robes.
Just as Johnson was growing impatient, the little guy exclaimed in delight.
"Found it!"
Johnson reached out to take it—only to touch something thin and stiff.
Looking down, he was met with an ugly face.
It was a dwarf wizard, pretending to be a child, who spoke in a shrill voice: "Pass."
A beam of red light shot from the wand aimed at Johnson's arm, blasting him away.
"Stupid oaf—muscle without a brain," the dwarf cackled unpleasantly.
Several loud bangs sounded from behind. Masked and cloaked figures appeared.
Death Eaters.
They charged straight for the Silverhand Johnny storefront.
The flamboyant salesman realized the newcomers had bad intentions and immediately reached for his wand.
But before he could act, one of the Death Eaters who had already stepped inside pointed a wand at him.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The flamboyant salesman's legs snapped together, his whole body stiffened, and he fell backward like a board.
The other salesmen quickly reacted and drew their wands, but the Death Eaters had come prepared and struck with ruthless efficiency.
The customers inside were caught in the crossfire and were all taken down.
The lead Death Eater removed his mask, revealing a pale face. In a cold voice, he ordered, "Take everything. All of it."
The five Death Eaters with him leapt over the counters, sweeping up everything inside.
His gaze then shifted to the door that had previously been guarded by security. With a sinister smile, he strode toward it.
The two wizards who had been guarding the door now lay lifeless on the ground.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. There, seated in a wheelchair, was a beautiful Asian woman reading a book.
She looked up at his entrance, her expression calm.
"Who are you?"
"Well, well… there's still a beautiful little thing here."
The Death Eater walked up to the woman, greed gleaming in his eyes.
"You can call me Antonin Dolohov, a loyal servant of the Dark Lord."
His fingers traced suggestively along the back of the woman's hand. Seeing her face pale at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, he leaned in and whispered intimately, "Tell me, what's your name, beautiful?"
"No one's coming to save you. Everyone here has been dealt with."
He seemed to enjoy the feeling of making others tremble and let out a low, sinister chuckle.
"Nagini," she replied—not in the trembling fear Antonin expected.
She looked him in the face, and suddenly smiled. "Or, you can call me… the Lady Serpent."
Outside.
The Death Eaters looting the Silverhand Johnny specialty store hadn't noticed anything amiss.
The supposedly unconscious Johnson opened his eyes. He rubbed the thick neck that had taken the hit and patted the dust off himself.
"What a bunch of filthy scum."
He spat on the ground, stood up, and yanked hard on a rope—causing a thick wooden club to drop down.
Catching the club, he rolled his neck and strode into the store, swinging it hard at a Death Eater who had his back turned.
Spulch!
Blood and brain matter splattered. The Death Eater was smashed straight into the counter.
The Death Eaters stopped what they were doing and looked up. Johnson stood there holding a wooden club, a battle-hungry grin on his face as he greeted them, "Hey, assholes! Daddy's here!"
A second later, green and red lights crisscrossed through the air.
Several minutes later, the door to Nagini's room was pushed open.
Johnson hurried in, half of the wooden club remaining in his hand, and in the other, he was gripping the wand of the dwarf Death Eater.
Nagini was still seated, calmly flipping through a book with a wand inlaid with a blue gemstone. Beside her wheelchair, Antonin lay unconscious.
"Phew—" Johnson let out a breath. "I told you, we need to get you some bodyguards."
"Johnson," Nagini said with a smile, "we need some Veritaserum."
Johnson shrugged. "That's illegal. Alright, I'll get you some—but I'm not leaving you here alone."
He grabbed the unconscious Antonin, knocked open a hidden door behind the bookshelf, and tossed him inside.
Pushing Nagini's wheelchair out, the scene outside was a blood-splattered mess.
The dwarf wizard was hanging on the wall, his head visibly caved in.
The flashy salesman had somehow sprung back to life and was rushing up to Nagini, trying to impress her.
"Lady Serpent, it's all handled! I took care of everything!"
Johnson shot him a glance and sneered, "All I saw was you lying flat on the floor."
"That's called strategy," the flashy salesman said indignantly.
"Paul," Nagini spoke up, "I want you to take care of the aftermath."
"Alright, though I'd much rather stay by your side," the flashy salesman, Paul, shrugged. "Big guy Johnson, you'd better protect Lady Serpent well."
"Shut up, or I'll shove your head up your ass," Johnson barked.
The two of them were used to bickering.
Nagini turned to a blank picture frame and said, "Tell Tommy Shelby something happened here."
A voice came from the frame, "Hold on."
...
John found out about the attack on the Silverhand Johnny's American branch in the middle of the night.
His face was grim—this was something he hadn't expected.
He hadn't thought the Death Eaters would make the first move, and even less that they would target Nagini abroad.
Their goal was clear: to seize the equipment from the Silverhand Johnny store.
"Voldemort, I underestimated you," John's eyes gleamed coldly.
Luckily, the branch of the Silverhand Johnny store had strong defenses; otherwise, the Death Eaters might really have succeeded.
He had been too focused on the domestic front—while the Death Eaters chose to make their move through foreign ground.
"Heh~"
Now it seemed that Voldemort wasn't an idiot after all—he knew how to find weak points to attack.
Holding the silver network ledger, John said coldly, "Have the twelfth district's director conduct a full investigation into the Death Eaters' whereabouts. Drag out every single one of those hiding."
No one in the twelfth district dared disobey his orders.
Before the American Aurors even realized what was going on, the Death Eaters hiding in the Plymouth enclave had already been rooted out.
These people were no saints. John issued a kill order and handed the captured Death Eaters over to the Silverhand Johnny store.
One day later, a security team arrived at the branch store.
They began recruiting locally as well, and the generous pay instantly caught the attention of the native wizards.
If it had been anyone else doing this, the twelfth district would have intervened long ago.
But when it came to the Silverhand Johnny group, especially their security forces—those people were ruthless.
By nightfall, all the captured Death Eaters mysteriously turned up dead.
Their sheer cruelty sent a shiver down the spine of the twelfth district's director.
The Aurors were helpless—there was no evidence, no testimony.
And so, Lady Serpent became someone not to be provoked in the American magical world.
...
Friday.
The Quidditch team was holding tryouts for new players—Wood's graduation had left them without an excellent Keeper.
John noticed a woolen hat that had been discarded.
He picked it up and took a look—it seemed to be one of Hermione's creations.
There was even a note attached below it, and John was a little speechless.
"Isn't this basically setting a trap for the house-elves?"
House-elves could gain their freedom if they were given clothes by their masters.
At Hogwarts, students could essentially be considered the masters of the house-elves.
"She's still stubbornly running that association, huh?" John muttered, putting the hat back where he found it. Then he looked up at the scene outside.
Neville was holding a long strip of cloth, tapping and hammering around different spots.
__________
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