No one looking at Winston would be able to tell that he was in a bit of a panic. It didn't show on his face, in his body language, anything at world he lived in, he didn't have the luxury of emotional expression, especially as the manager of the Continental. A level of detachment was necessary to be the manager of a Neutral space in their world. He could not rage the way John could, could not be annoyed the way Santino did, couldn't be smug the way Viggo would have been. Only cold amusement and warm nostalgia were available to him.

And they were certainly not what he felt.

John had left to settle business with the Tarasovs, still annoyed at being followed to England. There would be no Tarasov syndicate by the time he returned, Winston knew. And in the meantime he was left to babysit his young cousin.

The boy was unlike any other he had met. It wasn't just the magic, of course, it was more than that. The boy had lived through harsh conditions to be sure, there had to be a reason for Wick to have rescued him so, but despite that he was rather...innocent.

Innocence was not something they had in their world.

It wasn't because he was young either, many enforcers started young, and there were the heirs to the many syndicates as well. But innocence was not something either of those could claim. They had been born to a life of violence and death, after all.

Then again, he thought, young Harry Potter had been born to an era of war as well. Had his first kill at an age far earlier than even the most brutal of the heirs could claim. Innocent did not mean harmless.

What would the ears of their world make of this young innocent boy with his early kill, Winston wondered. Would he become legend like Wick had? Transcend humanity to become a monster like Baba Jaga?

Still, the boy was capable of miracles, that much was obvious. Winston hadn't seen Jonathan being quite as peace with himself before. He had been unfeeling and blank when he had first become part of their world. It was what made him so good at his job, there were no orders that made him balk, no arbitrary morals to stop him. The stories they told about him talked about how he was a man of focus, pure will and commitment, they failed to mention that for a long time there had been little more than that.

Helen had changed that, made him human. She had changed that again by dying, making him a monster anew. Winston had felt an overwhelming pity for John when they'd last met. Chasing revenge as Baba Jaga for a slight he had faced as John Wick. The monster and man warring with one another inside, trying to figure out which he was.

The person he was now, was more than John had ever been. Complex in a way Winston had never seen him be before. There was no purity of emotion there, not just grief, not just anger. An amalgam of feeling that Jonathan probably hadn't known himself capable of.

Miracles. Another one of Harry Potter's making.

Winston hummed absently as he watched the boy. His little cousin was withdrawn and quiet, looking at the door every other second in an obvious hope that John would walk in. And that was odd in itself.

After all, Winston had talked of magic. Of a power that Harry hadn't had the word for. Surely, he should have been curious? Should have asked after the family that Winston had mentioned? He was more fascinated by the inlaid tile than interested in talking about magic though, and that had Winston wondering.

Winston had never been jealous of those who could work magic the way his father had. He had seen how bitter Marius Black became when the mention of that world was made. Winston had only ever seen it as a skill, one he didn't have, nothing more, nothing less. He couldn't do magic perhaps, but neither could he bake, nor could he play the cello. He made sure to learn what he could of it because it was a threat. Charon had been hired not only for his efficiency and acumen, but also because he knew of many magicks and how to reverse them. Couldn't have the manager of the Continental obliviated, after all.

Not that their world collided much. Magic wasn't practiced in America the way it was in Britain. The users lived their own life, far away from the rest, their life closer to that of the Amish than anything else.

And even when they ventured out, they did not interfere. The Rules were understood.

"May I ask how you came across Jonathan?" Winston couldn't help but ask, curious. In this world where he was as close to all-knowing as a person could be, curiosity was quite a thing to experience.

"He saved me." The boy said, no hesitation, no doubt. And Winston, who had wondered why the Boy-Who-Lived knew nothing of magic, felt a bitter taste at the back of his tongue. He shouldn't have expected better from that world but he supposed he still had. Expectations and the defiance of the same, quite an oddity for him. "When will he be back?" His cousin asked, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"Once he has burned his enemies to the ground." Winston said, and watched for Harry's reaction.

How the boy took this piece of information was everything. Whether he liked it or not, whether he knew it or not, he was apart of their world now, no longer belonging to the wizards. All that was left to see was whether he had the gumption he needed to survive in it.

"So, he'll be back soon." Harry Potter concluded and went back to counting tiles.

And Winston smiled. Yes, his young cousin would do just fine.