"Of course I won't," Jon said without hesitation, shaking his head. He let out a sigh, but his tone remained firm.
He dropped heavily onto a chair, doing his best to suppress the tangled surge of disappointment and anger inside him, forcing himself to calm down.
In truth, he had already reached that conclusion at this same hour the night before.
From Voldemort's perspective, it wasn't impossible for him to suspect that Jon Hart was still alive—especially after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, when "Barty Crouch Jr." had suddenly reverted to the real Alastor Moody and turned on him in open betrayal.
But there was no way Voldemort could connect two utterly unrelated identities like Christopher Patrick and Jon Hart. The former was an unremarkable, ordinary figure—hardly someone who would ever catch the Dark Lord's attention.
Very few people in the world knew that Christopher Patrick was Jon Hart. Not even his own parents were aware. Those who did know—Dumbledore, the former headmasters of Hogwarts, and Astoria—were all people who would never leak such a secret.
And although, deep down, Jon wanted to believe that Diana was also someone who would never betray him—after all, she was Astoria and Daphne's mother—the truth was that she had always lingered among the most plausible suspects.
To save Astoria, Jon had been forced to reveal his secret to her. And among everyone who knew the truth, she was also the one most likely to have close contact with Voldemort.
Especially last night—when she had proactively mentioned the giants' whereabouts, and even told him that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was preparing to dispatch a team to investigate the attacks on the West Coast.
No matter how much he wished to deny it, he could still tell that You-Know-Who's actions carried hidden intent.
If Diana Greengrass played such a crucial role in all of this, how could she possibly be completely in the dark? With her intelligence, how could she have failed to notice anything at all?
And yet, Jon hadn't confronted her directly. First, he had no evidence. Second, even if he had exposed her, it would have achieved nothing. And finally—no matter what—he simply couldn't bring himself to believe it.
Fortunately, the portrait of Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black had been right there beside him. Through Black's portrait, Jon had contacted Albus Dumbledore the night before.
After a brief discussion, they decided to play along and turn the scheme back on its originator.
...
Jon desperately wanted to ask Dumbledore whether there was some hidden explanation behind Mrs. Greengrass's betrayal.
Had Voldemort threatened her? Had she been placed under the Imperius Curse? Or was there some other "objective" reason?
To be honest, Jon had never felt any dislike toward that perpetually calm and composed woman. She was exceptionally intelligent, not rigid or dogmatic like some wizards, and she didn't share the innate prejudice many pure-blood families held against Muggle-borns.
She was someone who inspired trust almost effortlessly, someone easy to feel goodwill toward—and a mother who genuinely loved her daughters.
In the end, though, Jon said nothing.
Because he knew Albus Dumbledore well enough to understand this: Dumbledore might let the guilty go unpunished, but he would never falsely accuse an innocent person.
Which left only one possible conclusion—
And it was the one Jon least wanted to face.
How bitterly ironic it was. For months, he had wandered across Europe, risking his life to save Astoria. And now, just as everything was beginning to fall into place, he was betrayed by the very person who should never have betrayed him.
After all, Voldemort was a master craftsman of souls who had created six and a half Horcruxes—his mastery of soul-splitting far exceeded Jon's own. The giants were already under Voldemort's command, loyal to him. For someone like him, controlling the giants through precise soul manipulation would pose no difficulty at all.
The Greengrass family's blood curse had persisted for centuries. Most pure-blood families likely knew something about it; it was hardly a secret within their circles.
The solution to the blood curse was something Jon could figure out thanks to his unusual perspective. And Voldemort, a seasoned Horcrux creator, could certainly arrive at the same conclusion.
If Voldemort had truly begun to pay attention to Jon Hart after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries—if he had genuinely started to suspect that identity—then among the Knights of Walpurgis and those prospective Death Eaters, everyone knew about the close relationship Jon Hart once had with Astoria Greengrass.
They also knew about Astoria Greengrass's so-called "withdrawal from school due to illness."
Still—
Betrayal was betrayal.
Jon let out a long, quiet sigh.
Even with careful preparation, he had nearly lost his life on the West Coast.
...
The night before, Jon had asked Mrs. Greengrass for a list—the roster of temporary members assigned to the so-called "Disinformation Office," who would be departing the next day to investigate the giant attacks on the West Coast.
He had even revealed part of his hand, mentioning that he could use Polyjuice Potion.
What he hadn't told her was who he intended to become.
After that, he'd hurriedly "escaped" from Greengrass Manor.
That same night, he had "visited" the home of David Jorman, a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. While Jorman slept, Jon administered a small dose of Draught of the Living Dead, then used Polyjuice Potion to assume his appearance.
The following day, when Jon officially joined the operation under the identity of "David Jorman," he discovered that the commander of the Disinformation Office wasn't Diana Greengrass at all—but Dirk Cresswell, the head of the Goblin Office.
At that point, Jon's earlier suspicions and conjectures were completely confirmed.
After all, the previous night he had made it abundantly clear to Mrs. Greengrass that locating the giants was crucial to curing Astoria.
And yet the next day, she hadn't personally taken part in the operation. That was utterly baffling and completely out of character—she had always been deeply concerned about her daughter.
Which meant there had to be something else going on.
More importantly, among the temporary members of the Disinformation Office was Walden Macnair—a veteran Death Eater. In this timeline, Macnair's true allegiance hadn't yet been exposed. But Jon, with his half–god's-eye view, knew exactly who he was: one of Voldemort's most loyal followers.
Fortunately, Jon had prepared for this as well. Tonks and Kingsley—Aurors loyal to the Order of the Phoenix—had both volunteered to take part in the operation.
Dumbledore, meanwhile, had already gathered most of the adult members of the Order he could muster, equipping them with Portkeys to the West Coast in advance—just in case the Death Eaters cut off Apparition routes.
As it turned out, that precaution proved invaluable.
So the moment Voldemort and his Death Eaters launched their attack on the Aurors and the members of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on the West Coast, Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix joined the fight as well. The side caught truly off guard was, without question, the Death Eaters.
They were forced onto the back foot almost immediately, and their losses were even heavier.
But there was one unexpected complication.
Rufus Scrimgeour suddenly gave the order for the Aurors and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to split into two groups.
To be fair, it was a more efficient arrangement—after all, the two teams weren't pursuing exactly the same objective. The problem was that Scrimgeour hadn't accounted for the possibility that Voldemort and the Death Eaters might regroup and come back at them.
Since the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort and the Death Eaters had been retreating step by step. That apparent weakness had led some Ministry officials to underestimate how dangerous they still were—some of them had even started getting complacent.
With Macnair feeding them information, Voldemort personally led the Death Eaters in an attack on the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures' people. Luckily, Jon noticed something off about Macnair in time—he'd been watching him closely the entire way.
He immediately used the Disillusionment Charm and hid himself in the ruins of that seaside summer hotel, narrowly avoiding the ambush.
Even so, if Voldemort's luck had been just a little better—if that Killing Curse had been off by only another ten centimeters—Jon would have died horribly on the West Coast.
He had survived by sheer luck—nothing more, nothing less.
...
"Thank you for telling me, Headmaster Dumbledore." After steadying himself, Jon stood up and spoke first. "I think I should get back to the Hospital Wing. If Madam Pomfrey realizes I'm missing—"
He hadn't finished when the Headmaster's Office door banged open.
"You sent for me, Dumbledore?" came a cold voice from the doorway.
Professor Severus Snape, Hogwarts' Potions master, strode inside. His black, bottomless eyes swept the room, and when he saw there was someone else present, his brows knit in irritation.
"So… Headmaster, you already have company," Snape drawled in that greasy, unhurried voice. "In that case, I'll take my unnecessary self and wait outside—"
"No, no, no, Severus…" Dumbledore crossed the room at once and all but hauled him inside.
"What is it?" Snape asked coolly. He never once looked at Jon.
Jon could only stand there, faintly awkward.
"The situation is this…" Dumbledore said slowly, as though he were waiting for something. "I need you to pass along a small piece of information to the Dark Lord—"
"About what?" Snape's expression tightened, his voice dropping.
He still didn't spare Jon so much as a glance.
"The… the information… concerns the West Coast attack…" Dumbledore said, stumbling slightly over the words.
From where Jon stood, he could clearly see Dumbledore, out of Snape's line of sight, give Fawkes's tail a subtle tug.
The phoenix immediately understood. She swept up into the air, and a single feather drifted down in front of Dumbledore.
Dumbledore snatched it up as if he were reading a message.
"Damn it, something's happened!" he said at once, suddenly speaking at top speed. "I need to step out—ten minutes. Severus, stay here. I'll be right back… Jon, you stay as well. I still have something to tell you later…"
He delivered it like an order, then grabbed Fawkes's tail feathers.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
...
Only Jon Hart and Severus Snape were left in the office.
For a moment, both of them looked stunned.
An awkward silence settled over the room. For several minutes, the only sound was the soft snoring of the portraits on the walls.
Snape cut his eyes toward Jon, hesitated, then finally spoke. "So… the Dark Lord didn't kill you back then. He killed young Crouch."
"Yes, Professor," Jon said quickly, nodding.
"Don't call me Professor. You're not a Hogwarts student anymore." Snape's lip curled in disdain. "That does explain something I never quite understood… why young Crouch suddenly became Alastor. Who would've thought you'd manage to deceive even the Dark Lord."
"Yes, Professor," Jon said again, nodding without thinking.
Snape gave him a look of pure contempt. "I just told you not to call me that."
Jon's face heated. "…Yes."
"I can guess why Dumbledore left me here," Snape said flatly. "The Dark Lord didn't specify who the target of the attack was, but if you're still alive, then the most likely target was you."
He paused, then let out a short, biting laugh.
"And that little Greengrass girl—your relationship with her." His voice turned sharply sarcastic. "Betrayal leaves a bitter taste, doesn't it?"
Jon nodded in silence.
And yet, strangely, hearing Snape's familiar, cutting tone made him feel a little better.
"I've betrayed someone too," Snape said suddenly, his voice lowering. "The person who mattered most to me." He stared at nothing in particular as he spoke. "I overheard a prophecy, and in a moment of weakness I told it to the Dark Lord…"
"The Dark Lord has always been skilled at playing people," Snape went on, letting out a tired breath. "He can sense the soft spots in you—and he knows exactly how to use them to lure you in."
Jon's lips parted instinctively, but Snape snapped, "Don't interrupt me, Hart."
Then, just as quickly, his voice steadied again.
"And I killed her," he said quietly. "It wasn't what I intended… but I still killed her. I've regretted it for the rest of my life."
Jon didn't speak. He knew exactly what Snape meant.
After a moment, Snape growled, low and rough, "Dumbledore never had any information to 'leak,' did he?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
He turned and strode out of the Headmaster's Office without looking back.
...
Not long after, Dumbledore returned.
"Severus has gone?" he asked softly.
Jon nodded.
"I should go as well, Professor."
"Good night, Jon."
When Jon stepped out of the Headmaster's Office, his mood had lifted noticeably.
Because all at once, he remembered something Daphne Greengrass had told him—Voldemort had already begun to suspect him.