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Two hours later, Bryan returned to the damaged hotel room. He slowly made his way back to the lounge chair, staring at the increasingly deeper starlight of the late-night sky as his thoughts quietly churned in his mind.

Some of the events that occurred tonight were indeed quite unexpected, but as for the outcome, it wasn’t too bad. 

In particular, the final request made by the old goblin named Gerson Barnah could be considered Bryan’s biggest gain from the trip to Paris.

In recent years, Bryan had been active in the Underground World, and the connections he had established were with those who lurked in the shadows. However, after being invited back to Hogwarts, a series of incidents gradually pushed him into the public eye.

And amongst the elite echelons of “high society,” he was also gradually building another network of relationships.

This was actually a matter of time. In the bright world, weaker individuals instinctively seek protection from the strong, and as Bryan’s power was gradually exposed to people, those seeking his friendship would only increase, just like Gerson Barnah today.

Gerson Barnah’s “defection” was quite valuable to Bryan, meaning he had created a certain influence within another vast population of sentient beings with great potential besides wizards. 

Power brings influence, and in some situations, influence also means authority.

In the second half of this year, Harry would be entering his fourth year. Bryan couldn’t remember exactly when Tom Riddle had returned to the wizarding world, reigniting a new round of war, but he could imagine it would be at most two or three years from now.

At that critical juncture, how should he position himself?

How would Albus Dumbledore respond to these rapidly unfolding events? What measures would the Ministry of Magic take? And what methods would Voldemort employ to regain his former might?

Bryan had meticulously mapped out the potential reactions of each faction in his mind.

For Bryan, the biggest problem wasn’t Voldemort, but Albus Dumbledore.

The two men shared the same goal, but the contrasts in their personalities and ideas destined a rift between them. And once war was imminent, if internal conflicts arose, it would undoubtedly be fatal.

One side had to concede.

In Bryan’s view, Dumbledore’s biggest problem was being soft-hearted. He always tried to control losses to the minimum extent and avoid implicating or harming more people.

But Bryan’s view was that in the brutal carnage of war, there could be no true innocents. 

As the saying goes, “One too compassionate cannot command troops.”

Once the war broke out, he would not allow anyone to play both sides. Whether friend or foe had to be made clear – there could be no ambiguity. Afterwards, he would arrange all available forces to overwhelm the opposition, advancing in a relentless, step-by-step campaign to steadily shrink the enemy’s living space and, conveniently, uproot some of the deep-seated cancers afflicting the wizarding world along the way.

But to reach that critical juncture, he first needed to amass even greater influence.

The violet irises reflected the fleeting, dazzling trail of a shooting star streaking across the inky canvas of the night sky. Bryan clenched his fist upon the armrest, then slowly relaxed it once more.

He still had to choose the timing to make a proper debut before everyone.

As for the Ministry of Magic, he would also need to cultivate considerable influence within its ranks. And this was precisely why Bryan had not immediately dragged Ludo Bagman and Cuthbert Mockridge out and thrown them at the feet of Barty Crouch.

The Ministry led by Fudge was utterly incapable of contending with the overwhelming flood that would inevitably follow in Voldemort’s return to power. Cornelius Fudge’s resignation was almost a certainty, and Bryan’s current plan centered upon pushing Amelia Bones into the position of Minister for Magic in the aftermath of Fudge’s removal.

This woman possessed a certain degree of decisiveness and courage, coupled with a simmering dissatisfaction with the stagnant situation in the wizarding world and her yearning for substantive change, unlike Barty Crouch, whose sole concern was the preservation of his own power and authority.

Ludo Bagman was not a wizard capable of shouldering major responsibilities. His ascension to the ranks of Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports within the Ministry was more of a consequence of the power vacuum created by Voldemort’s devastating impact upon the wizarding world over the past decade – a circumstance that had allowed this former Quidditch player to slip through the cracks.

Yet, it remained an undeniable truth that Ludo had a certain degree of popularity among the common folks. In other words, he had a bit of influence within the British wizarding world, rendering him somewhat useful, if only in a limited capacity.

As for Cuthbert Mockridge, Bryan knew very little about the man. But judging by his old age, his retirement from his current ministerial position would be happening in just year or two away at most. He had no great reputation to speak of. But since Bryan now held leverage over him, and was urgently seeking to expand his influence within the Ministry…

A peculiar light flickered in Bryan’s eyes. Regarding Cuthbert Mockridge, he had already formulated a decisive plan of action.

Early morning, on the outskirts of Paris.

Above a winding, twisting tributary of the Seine River, a chilly mist hovered, constantly shifting shapes with the light breeze. 

On the northern side of the river sprawled a vast expanse of meticulously cultivated rice paddies, where a few magically-driven machines tilled the fertile fields. Half a mile to the south of the river’s bank stood a sparse white birch forest, on the edge of which towered a five-story wooden dwelling with a vibrant red roof and snow-white walls. At that moment, plumes of smoke billowed from the chimney, filling the crisp morning air with a rich, smoky aroma.

In the expansive clearing before the house, a thick layer of fallen leaves blanketed the ground. A handful of children, appearing no more than seven or eight years of age, played upon the stone path leading from the house to the riverbank.

A mischievous red-haired boy broke away from his siblings, giving chase to a small gnome and gradually making his way toward the riverbank. A tiny fish, leaping from the clear, gently flowing stream, suddenly captured the boy’s attention. Abandoning the gnome burrowing into the mud, he swiftly stripped off his shoes and socks, rolled up the legs of his trousers, and carefully stepped onto the cobblestones lining the riverbank before wading into the water itself.

The icy chill of the morning stream caused the boy to grimace, but the sight of the fish swaying gracefully in the crystalline depths soon diverted his focus once more.

He bent down, cupping his hands together, eagerly following the fish’s movements and occasionally letting out joyful peals of laughter that reverberated across the tranquil scene.

Danger, however, often arrives unexpectedly. The boy playing in the water was unaware that he was gradually stepping toward the center of the stream.

At that moment, the children playing in the clearing finally noticed they were missing a companion. Glancing around, a sharp-eyed little girl spotted the boy heading into danger in the stream.

“What are you doing, Ludwig!” The little girl let out a startled cry, immediately catching the attention of the two younger boys. In an instant, the trio of children dashed toward the riverbank in a state of escalating panic.

“Get out quickly, Ludwig!” The girl panted heavily as she reached the water’s edge. “The water in the center is deep, you’ll drown!”

Splash!

A few glistening droplets scattered in the air. Feeling the life pulsing in his cupped palms, Ludwig laughed merrily, utterly oblivious to the potential danger.

“It’s no big deal, Camilla. Look what I caught! Oh, why don’t you all come down too? We can make a pot of fish stew for ourselves!”

Ludwig grinned, straightening up and about to turn and call Camilla and the others down. But suddenly, an irresistible dizziness overcame him, his vision blurring. Amid a piercing scream of panic, Ludwig vaguely realized the world was tilting before his eyes!

Whoosh!

A gust of wind suddenly whipped across the gently flowing stream. On the riverbank, the few shrieking children felt a fleeting shadow flash before their eyes. Immediately thereafter, a young man with striking gray hair and piercing purple irises appeared beside them, Ludwig tucked securely under his arm after his near-plunge into the water’s depths.

“No need to worry, little ones, everything is alright now –“

The gray-haired young man’s friendly smile seemed to exude a calming effect. Camilla glanced at Ludwig, who still appeared dazed, swallowed hard, and found that the overwhelming sense of panic had dissipated.

“Who are you, sir? How did you appear here–” the little girl asked in a childish, curious voice. “I mean, this is the Dreghorn family’s private property, protected by magic all around. Uninvited people can’t enter, unless–“

Camilla blinked her eyes inquisitively. “Are you Grandpa’s guest?”

The gray-haired man smiled faintly. He was about to set down the mischievous little boy tucked under his arm, but then a booming sound came from behind the children, and a somewhat flustered elderly figure materialized in the air with an audible crack.

“What’s going on, Camilla? I heard your–“

The words trailed off abruptly. In casual clothes, Vipor Dreghorn’s rigid expression softened momentarily as he glanced at his grandson held securely under the man’s arm. But in the next instant, his rasping voice carried an intense, bloodlust.

“What do you think you’re doing, Bryan Watson!”

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