studiobondurri 198: Comfort and Rescue
198: Comfort and Rescue
198: Comfort and Rescue
Darkness engulfed John's vision, and an overwhelming surge of emotions—unease, panic, fear, dread—poured into his mind all at once.
He could feel the Zouwu's torment as if it were his own, even the sharp pain of the collar's barbs piercing into its bones was vividly clear.
"Grr—"
"Sss.."
Drawing in a sharp breath, John forced himself to endure the discomfort and softly whispered words of reassurance: "Hey, big guy, the sun's setting."
Through the mental magic, his soothing words reached the Zouwu's mind, causing its frantic movements to slow.
Hagrid's booming voice rang out in excitement, "John, it's working!"
Clinging tightly to the Zouwu's mane, John continued in a gentle tone, "It's okay, the bad guys have been caught."
The Zouwu began to calm down, though it still remained highly wary.
John shouted, "Hagrid, do you have anything to help the Zouwu calm down?"
With Hagrid being a magical creature expert, there was no need to ask anyone else.
Hagrid, who had been panicking moments ago, quickly responded, "Wait here!" before rushing into the woods.
During this time, John did his best to continue soothing the Zouwu using his mental magic.
The creature bore numerous scars from its captivity, the worst of which were on its eyes and neck.
Its left eye was dull and lifeless, seemingly blind, while the vision in its right eye was cloudy, like that of someone severely nearsighted.
The collar around the Zouwu's neck continued to tighten, leaving John with no choice but to focus on calming it; he didn't have a free hand to remove the cruel device.
Hagrid returned, holding something that looked suspiciously like an oversized cat toy.
Approaching cautiously, he waved the toy in the air, trying to capture the Zouwu's attention.
With its severely nearsighted eyes, the Zouwu had to get quite close to see what Hagrid was holding.
The moment it spotted the cat toy, John felt the tension ease in the creature. It stretched out its massive paws, batting at the toy with a playful motion.
It was working.
Exchanging a glance with Hagrid, John quietly shifted his hands toward the collar.
This device was cruel by design—any resistance would activate its mechanism, severing the creature's neck.
"Poor beast..."
Several steel spikes had already pierced deep into the Zouwu's flesh. If they went any further, it would be fatal.
For most wizards, this would be a daunting task, but for John, a master of alchemy, it was manageable.
He extended his right hand, and a silver ring slid over two of his fingers.
Gently pressing against the collar, John sent a pulse through it, causing the magical structure within to collapse instantly.
With a simple Reducio, the collar shattered into fragments, and the embedded spikes withdrew.
The Zouwu let out a pained cry as the spikes were removed—a sound that oddly resembled that of a massive, disgruntled cat.
Hagrid waved the giant cat toy, and the Zouwu obediently lay down on the ground, seemingly pacified.
John inspected its wounds, noticing that the injuries bore traces of dark magic, which made them resistant to ordinary healing spells.
"They'll heal with time and care," Hagrid said, his eyes shining with excitement. The mental abacus in his head was practically clattering as he calculated the logistics of keeping the Zouwu.
John gave Hagrid a withering look. The Zouwu was practically made for Hagrid's aesthetic—massive in size and radiating a ferocious energy.
But keeping a Zouwu wasn't just impractical; it was borderline suicidal. Not only was it highly dangerous, but it could also traverse space at will.
Ignoring Hagrid's enthusiasm, John pulled out a handful of Galleons.
In the end, John left the Zouwu with Hagrid. After repeatedly promising to return, the Zouwu reluctantly agreed to stay behind.
Hagrid, brimming with excitement, prepared an assortment of food for the Zouwu, piling up things like dead sheep and pigs in front of it.
True to his word, John returned the next day to check on it.
The Zouwu was overjoyed, bounding around like an oversized housecat.
Hagrid's small hut was nearly toppled by its antics, but far from being upset, Hagrid was thrilled.
Poor Fang, however, wasn't as pleased.
Terrified of the Zouwu, he refused to go inside the hut, worried it might collapse and bury him.
John had thought that after their previous conversation, Hermione would drop the idea of forming her society. To his surprise, she went through with it anyway.
Harry and Ron, looking utterly miserable, were roped into spreading awareness among students. They were practically going around asking, "Have you heard about Amway?"
The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare hadn't even managed to gain a foothold. Understandably so—most wizards were used to house-elves being servants and weren't about to give up such a convenient arrangement.
Even the famously inclusive Hufflepuffs weren't keen on the idea, especially since they often relied on house-elves for midnight snacks.
Without house-elves, who would make their late-night meals?
Draco Malfoy, upon hearing about the society, was seething with anger. He still hadn't forgotten how Harry had tricked the Malfoy family's house-elf.
So it was premeditated!
Feeling a bit guilty, John averted his gaze. He couldn't very well admit that back then, he simply found Lucius Malfoy annoying and had nudged Harry into doing it.
'Sorry, Harry, but you're just going to have to take the blame for this one.'
John thought to himself, silently apologizing before pretending as if nothing had happened.
Basil flew over carrying some letters. Taking them, John glanced through and noticed that there really weren't many people researching mental magic.
He had sent inquiries to a few authorities on healing magic, but unfortunately, none of them could confirm whether his method would work.
Some, however, did provide constructive feedback. They suggested that if John's approach—using empathy to break into the minds of the Longbottoms—was successful, then healing might indeed be possible.
No one dared guarantee success, though. After all, no one had ever attempted such a thing before.
Setting the letters aside, John tapped his fingers on the table.
It seemed that there was at least some potential in his plan.
Among the letters Basil brought back were a few from Tommy.
It seemed Basil had noticed them and decided to deliver them along the way.
The letters mentioned that the investigation into Tom Riddle's family home and the orphanage had already begun.
John had instructed them to notify him immediately upon any discoveries, with no need to conduct further investigations.
With only a surname to go on, given the current reach of Johnny Silverhand's network, finding the target was just a matter of time.
Meanwhile, another matter arose: Barty Crouch Sr., who had been away on official duties for some time, returned home to find that his house had been broken into.
"Something happened at old Barty's place?"
John frowned.
Recently, Barty Sr. had been preoccupied with work and, with his son absent from the house, had rarely been home.
Additionally, since he had dismissed the family's house-elf, it ruled out the possibility of the elf returning.
Was this a direct move against Barty Sr., or was there some other motive at play?
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