97: Shafiq's Concession

Two figures appeared in the room—one sitting and the other standing.

"Who are you!" Sean Shafiq shouted sharply.

He wasn't being foolish by doing so; he was trying to wake up the portraits on the wall.

This cunning old buzzard knew something was wrong the moment he saw the two of them.

There was a magical barrier on the Shafiq family estate. For them to enter the manor so silently, they couldn't possibly be here just to chat with an old man like him.

His shouting didn't wake the portraits. The previous head of the Shafiq family, whose portrait hung on the wall, was sound asleep.

No matter how much noise Sean made, the portrait didn't stir.

Even the house-elf, who was usually bullied, seemed deaf, showing no intention of coming over.

The Shafiq Manor was eerily quiet.

The two people in the room continued to watch Sean in silence. John, who was sitting on the sofa, turned the emerald ring on his left hand.

He calmly watched Sean, then raised his index finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

"Shh—please keep quiet."

Sean's palms were sweating. He wanted to strike first, gripping the eagle head on his cane and pulling it out forcefully.

'I should capture the leader first,' Sean thought, and he launched an attack on the person on the sofa.

"Stupefy!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Two voices sounded simultaneously. Sean was hit by a red light, and his wand flew out of his hand.

Just as the wand was about to hit the ground, it suddenly changed direction and landed in the hand of the person wearing the silver mask.

Sean's expression changed drastically. He stared intently at the person.

That person hadn't used a wand—it was a brilliant display of wandless magic.

"Wandless magic? I don't recall having such a powerful enemy."

"That was in the past. Johnny Silverhand greets you," John said casually, his fingers lightly brushing the handle of the wand. The wand was made of wood painted with silver—how stingy this Shafiq was.

With a slight force of his fingers, John broke the handle off the wand.

He then picked up the yew wand and pointed it nonchalantly at Sean, saying calmly, "You shouldn't have meddled with my shop, Sean Shafiq."

Sean shouted aggressively, "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"No matter. I don't need your answer."

John tilted his head slightly, his deep gaze piercing through the silver mask and landing on Sean.

At that moment, Sean felt a predatory pressure emanating from him.

Tommy, wearing a white mask, stepped forward and respectfully asked, "Master, may I do the honors?"

"You may," John replied indifferently.

"I-I am pure-blood. You can't harm a pure-blood. The Ministry of Magic won't let you get away with it."

Pure-bloods are not like the dark wizards of Knockturn Alley; the Ministry wouldn't just turn a blind eye.

Just as Sean Shafiq was trying to use his pure-blood status as a threat, Tommy drew his wand and sinisterly whispered, "Crucio."

"Ug... ggg.. ggghh..."

The chattering mouth was silenced by the intense pain, leaving Sean unable to speak.

He fell to the ground, his body convulsing like a beached fish.

"You can pretend to know nothing."

Playing idly with the elm wand, John chuckled softly, "But you and I are both smart men, right?"

The first wave of pain passed, and Sean's already gaunt cheeks turned even paler.

"Haah.. Haa.h.." He trembled, his lips quivering as he spat out, "Haah.. I'll destroy your shop!"

"Looks like you're a tough guy." John leaned his head back against the somewhat rigid sofa. "Tommy~"

Tommy, expressionless, waved his wand again. The second round of pain lasted a full half hour.

John inserted the Tracing Silk he had developed into Sean's wand and raised his hand to signal Tommy to stop.

Sweat from Sean had already formed a puddle beneath him. His face was filled with terror, his eyes no longer sharp and calculating.

"W.. What do you want?" 

"What do I want?"

John shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of disappointment as if Sean had failed to meet expectations. He coldly said, "I should be the one asking you that, Sean. Tell me, what do you want?"

Sean was momentarily stunned by the question. He didn't understand what John meant.

"It seems you're not as clever as the rumors say. You didn't even address me with respect, and that displeases me. Hand over all your businesses in Knockturn Alley. That's your punishment."

John sighed, casually lifting his wand, and delivering a ruthless ultimatum.

"Looking at you.. um, it'll take just three strikes, and you're out. Your choice is death ...or submission~"

Sean understood now. This person actually wanted him to submit.

As the head of the Shafiq family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Sean glared and roared, "Impossible!"

"What a pity."

John's voice deepened and elongated as he intoned, "Redi ad animam tuam~"

White smoke emerged from Sean's skin, and in a panic, he tried to extinguish it but couldn't.

His soul was being slowly pulled out, a terrifying sight that caused the previously defiant Sean to scream in horror.

John stepped forward and used his wand to carve a curse into the center of Sean's ethereal chest.

"Leave this place, Sean Shafiq, and never return."

He whispered into Sean's ear.

Sean's soul couldn't move, and the inscribed mark became searing hot, amplifying his screams.

Having completed his task, John pressed his hand onto the soul and shoved it back into Sean Shafiq's body.

Once back in his body, Sean clutched his chest, writhing and shouting in agony. He tore his shirt open, revealing no visible wound on his chest, but it felt as if a red-hot brand had been pressed against him.

John threw Sean's wand to the ground with disdain, turned and walked away, leaving Sean with only the view of his back.

Filled with hatred, Sean immediately grabbed his wand, aiming it at John. But he found he couldn't raise his hand, and the curse he wanted to shout disappeared from his lips.

In disbelief, he aimed a dark curse at the sofa, finding his body to be otherwise normal.

It was as if he had been shackled. Unwilling to believe it, he tried to curse again, but his head throbbed with pain.

It felt as though a knife had been plunged into his heart; the intense pain nearly suffocated him.

After a long while, he finally got up from the cheap carpet.

He walked over to the mirror and yanked his shirt open, revealing a line of words on his chest.

"An enemy not to be made."

But looking down, his chest appeared smooth and unmarked.

Sean collapsed again; now he couldn't even utter a single vulgar word against Johnny Silverhand.

"No!!!"

Overwhelmed by immense despair, he smashed everything around him and eventually passed out in the manor.

Inside the Shafiq Manor.

All the guards had been knocked out.

The loyal house-elves were stuffed under the bed. Lupin and three security team members were together, looking up at the manor.

There was no sign of activity inside.

After waiting for a while, the sound of smashing came from the manor, and Johnny Silverhand came down with Tommy Shelby.

"It's done. Sean Shafiq was very generous; he voluntarily gave up all his properties in Knockturn Alley as a gift."

Johnny Silverhand walked past him, and Lupin didn't know what he had said to that old vulture, Sean Shafiq, but he knew it was definitely not something good.

The young shop assistant, Kim Ladislay, caught up and pretended to ask curiously, "Sir, how did you get Shafiq to apologize?"

John paused, his voice carrying a hint of mockery. "Heh, I gave him an offer he couldn't refuse."

This answer made Kim Ladislay frown, pondering what kind of enticing offer it could have been to make an ancient pure-blood family back down.

Upon hearing his boss's words, Tommy Shelby showed a helpless expression.

If not being able to ever raise his head in front of Johnny Silverhand could be called enticing, then it really was an offer one couldn't refuse.

He even suspected that when it came to soul research, no one could surpass his boss.

That miraculous soul curse, which allowed Johnny to take their soul out of the body, cut their hands, or carve something on them, then after playing shove them back to the body all while without leaving a scar, was even more sinister than the Killing Curse.

At the same time, Tommy was also grateful he wasn't one of those rigid fuckers who messed with Johnny Silverhand; otherwise, being an enemy of his boss would be a terrifying thing.

After leaving the anti-Disapparition zone, John put his hand on Tommy's shoulder.

Tommy also wanted to complain about this. His boss even knew something as weird as the soul spell, but he couldn't Apparate.

This made him wonder if Apparation was so difficult to learn?

Waving his wand, Tommy Apparated with John.

The other wizards followed him, thinking that the boss was too cool to Apparate by himself.

After all, if someone said that he couldn't Apparate with such strength, who would believe him?

...

The next day.

The Shafiq family withdrew from Knockturn Alley, and all their assets were acquired by Johnny Silverhand's exclusive store. (A/N: I'm always forgetting the spelling of Speciality)

Not only that, but the Shafiq family also abandoned London and went abroad to a country in turmoil.

Some say the Shafiqs wanted to make a profit during the Muggle unrest, while others claim the old buzzard wanted to enter politics and run for Minister of Magic.

But whatever the reason, Knockturn Alley had changed.

The former Dark Lord of Knockturn Alley had gone overseas, and a new ruler had ascended.

The forces that had previously eyed Johnny Silverhand now retreated.

Even Rufus Scrimgeour, who had anticipated a period of tension, was bewildered.

"Just one night, and Shafiq gave up?"

He scoffed at the rumors.

No one knew better than he did how much of an empire the old buzzard, Sean Shafiq, had in Knockturn Alley—a sum that the old buzzard would never relinquish.

So there was only one truth: Shafiq had been exiled.

The suddenly emerging Johnny Silverhand had exiled one of the twenty-eight Sacred Families in just one night.

Rufus Scrimgeour felt he needed to reassess his relationship with Johnny Silverhand.

The new king of Knockturn Alley, Johnny Silverhand, had become a legend.

_________

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