0700 Bewitched

At some point during their conversation, the sky outside the villa had shifted from the gray of early afternoon to an ominous, brooding darkness. The river adjacent to the villa flowed more rapidly as its currents seemed to be visibly accelerated by the weather’s change.

Light rain fell from the sky, creating ripples across its surface. Yet, despite the gathering darkness and increasing rain, the chill in the air had dissipated somewhat, and the wind flowing over the city carried a hint of warmth.

“Fraser was my brother, two years older than me—” Louise began sadly, curling up defensively on the sofa, drawing her legs toward her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

“He was very kind—the sort of person who would give his last pound to a stranger in need. Always warm and genuinely interested in others. Fraser had this remarkable ability to make friends wherever he went.”

Louise’s voice gained strength as she spoke about her brother’s positive qualities, as though these memories temporarily lifted her above her grief.

“His academic performance was also best from the moment he entered primary school—top marks in every subject. In short, he was the undisputed pride and joy of our parents, their golden child.”

She paused, swallowing before continuing, “But when he was home, we were also very close. I’ll never forget when he was in high school, and became absolutely infatuated with a girl from the neighboring class. He tried everything to convince me to help him come up with ideas to capture her attention and pursue her—”

Louise was completely immersed in the bittersweet sea of grief; this recalling of their past was clearly excruciating for her, like pressing on an open wound. Her narrative came in fitful starts and sudden stops, occasionally interrupted by lengthy silences during which she would close her eyes tightly.

Through her fragmented narration, Bryan methodically constructed a detailed mental model of Fraser’s appearance and character—a gifted, charismatic young man, whose life had somehow deviated drastically off course.

The attack on Hermione was obviously far more complicated and strategically orchestrated than he and Dumbledore had initially hypothesized. Their preliminary assessment had been that this Muggle called Fraser was simply an unfortunate random target, manipulated and discarded by the dark wizards once his usefulness had expired.

But now, as the layers of this complex situation began to unfold through Louise’s testimony, it seemed increasingly obvious that nothing about this case was as straightforward as they had assumed. Behind Fraser’s involvement wasn’t just one or two malicious dark wizard pulling strings from the shadows, but potentially an entire secret organization with deeply disturbing objectives.

“Mother and I both hoped that Fraser would stay in England for his university education,” Louise continued after composing herself somewhat.

“But he stubbornly insisted on going to Italy because the girl he liked was fond of that country’s artistic heritage and creative atmosphere. They had a whirlwind romance, but ultimately dated for only two months before breaking up.

Because, Loria, it turned out, had fallen ‘deeply’ in love with James, a handsome, intolerably arrogant boy whose family owned half of Yorkshire and made sure everyone knew it—”

Louise gently bit her lower lip, transferring a portion of her simmering hatred onto this Loria. Her eyes flashed with anger as she clearly believed that if not for this girl, Fraser would never have chosen to pursue his education in that foreign country, would never have encountered the circumstances that ultimately led to his death.

‘Italy—’ Bryan mentally noted, his eyes flickering slightly with recognition.

“Which university did he eventually attend?” He inquired.

“The University of Bologna—” Louise responded. “That University has a long history, and is widely acknowledged as the mother of all European universities. Many celebrities and historical figures have graduated from there; it’s particularly renowned for its excellence in theology, philosophy, and the arts. But Fraser,”

She sighed deeply, “Fraser had originally dreamed of becoming an automotive engineer.”

Bryan nodded slightly, indicating he had heard of the university.

“And then?” Bryan asked with appropriate curiosity in his tone. “What unusual events occurred?”

“Everything appeared perfectly normal at first,” Louise replied as her eyes focused on some distant memory.

“During the first two months of his time there, Fraser wrote many letters to me and our parents. His letters were filled with descriptions of the magnificent architecture, the delicious regional cuisine, and how helpful and accommodating the school administration and his professors were. He even sent me several exquisite small sculptures he had crafted himself during his introductory art classes—”

Tears glistened on Louise’s eyelashes, her tone despairing, showing a mixture of fragility and desolation.

“During his first Christmas holiday when he returned home,” She continued after composing herself, “he told us about his new life at the university—amusing anecdotes about cultural misunderstandings, descriptions of the historical city, and enthusiastic narrations of the friends he had made from around the world.

It was during this visit that he first mentioned, almost casually over Christmas, that he had been specially recruited into what he described as a small ‘exclusive student society.’ The purpose of that society was—”

Louise gave Bryan, whose expression remained composed, an absurd smile.

“—to study magic.”

Bryan didn’t react with the mockery or dismissive amusement that Louise had anticipated from a practical government agent. Instead, he simply nodded gently, and then the light in his eyes grew deeper, as impenetrable as a night filled with mist.

“There was nothing particularly extraordinary about that at the time,” Louise continued, somewhat thrown by his lack of skepticism. “I later learned through my own research that such mysterious sounding groups aren’t unique to Bologna; they exist at almost any university.

Studying magic, ancient religious practices, forgotten deities, mystical traditions… during those university years, these seemingly unconventional and rebellious pursuits were the so-called cool things that naturally attracted many curious followers.”

“Indeed, such societies are not uncommon—”

Bryan, who had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with excellent grades, nodded knowingly.

“But later, things became unusual—”

Perhaps knowing that Bryan was eager to obtain this information, or perhaps because she wanted to identify her brother’s murderer, Louise appeared much calmer now. She spoke rapidly:

“If I remember correctly, beginning approximately from the second semester of his first year onward, Fraser’s communication with both me and our parents dwindled. His previously frequent, enthusiastic letters became increasingly rare, arriving at unpredictable intervals.

Letters and packages we sent to him frequently went unanswered for long periods, sometimes months. The occasional, perfunctory letters we did receive from him contained minimal personal information.

Instead, his brief messages just vaguely mentioned that he was engaged in researching magic with his fellow society members, researching how to… hmm, I remember there was a peculiar word that appeared repeatedly in one of Fraser’s letters that seemed to be… um, something like Mug—Muggles?”

Bryan’s fingers, crossed on his raised knee, twitched slightly, while Kingsley, who had been standing outside the door for quite some time, suddenly pressed his lips together.

“Probably Muggles,” Bryan confirmed casually.

Since these events had occurred several years ago, and Louise had likely reviewed Fraser’s letters without understanding their true significance, many of these critical details had understandably become somewhat blurred in her memory. She shrugged slightly, her expression helpless and apologetic for her inaccurate recall.

“He wrote about researching methods to give these ‘Muggles’ magical abilities… I didn’t really understand at the time, and honestly, I still don’t. I suppose that was the primary research objective of that strange society.”

Louise sighed and continued. “To be completely honest with you, neither my parents nor I paid particularly close attention to these bizarre ramblings. We assumed Fraser had simply found a passionate romance at school—perhaps with an eccentric, bohemian art student and was investing all his emotional energy in this relationship, leaving little time or thought for us.

So, when he returned home for Christmas during his second year looking alarmingly thin and exhausted, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, Dad even teasingly inquired about whether his mysterious girlfriend was demanding too much of his time and energy.”

Louise paused here briefly, her expression transforming from recollection to severe seriousness.

“But later, Fraser never came home again. Throughout his remaining two years at that university, he never once returned for holidays or family events. Dad became increasingly worried that something truly concerning had happened to him and eventually took a week off to visit the university personally.

After returning from this trip, Dad told Mom and me the troubling discoveries he had made. It turned out Fraser had hardly ever attended scheduled classes, his grade reports were terrible, and he was failing almost every single subject. His roommate told Dad that Fraser rarely returned to their room to sleep and devoted almost all his time to what the roommate described as ‘obsessive, absurd research’ with that mysterious society—”

“Did your father meet your brother during this visit?” Bryan inquired with a deeply furrowed brow.

“Yes—” Louise’s confirmed and her eyes were filled with memories. “Dad later told me that when he finally found Fraser after three days of searching, he was conducting what he called ‘magical research’ in a basement beneath one of the university’s oldest buildings.

He described a scene that sounded like something from a medieval alchemist’s laboratory—the musty room illuminated by dozens of mismatched candles, strange symbols chalked onto the floor, and numerous glass bottles containing foul-smelling liquids in various unnatural colors.

According to Dad, Fraser actually drank some, bubbling mixture brewing in a blackened cauldron right in front of him, and then immediately collapsed to the floor. Dad gathered him up and rushed him to the nearest hospital—”

Bryan was speechless, not knowing what to say.

“At the hospital, once Fraser regained consciousness,” Louise continued, “he and Dad had a big argument. Fraser stubbornly insisted that magic was absolutely real, and refused to return home with Dad.”

“Did your father happen to encounter or see any other members of this society during his visit?” Bryan asked.

“Dad fully intended to confront them directly—” Louise replied, her voice rising with reawakened anger, her hands clenching into tight fists in her lap.

“He was determined to identify whoever was responsible for Fraser’s condition and declining health. But Fraser became absolutely hysterical at the mere suggestion, threatening that if Dad dared to approach or interfere with any of his connections, he would permanently sever all ties with our family! He became so agitated that the hospital staff had to sedate him.”

To be honest, hearing these things made Bryan’s heart feel somewhat heavy.

Never mind ordinary Muggles—even within the wizarding world, with its centuries of accumulated magical knowledge and research, enabling Squibs to possess genuine magical abilities had remained an unsolvable challenge that had frustrated the greatest magical researchers throughout history.

For a Muggle who knew absolutely nothing about the true nature of magic to harbor hopes of solving this impossibly complex magical problem was beyond absurd.

“The university eventually expelled Fraser because of his poor academic performance—” Louise continued as her face turned pale.

“I only learned about this about a year later. At that time, I was traveling through New York with a group of friends. When I received a letter from my parents about their complete inability to contact Fraser, I left my friends and traveled directly to Bologna to search for him personally. That’s when I found out.

He was skin and bones by then, still staying in the school’s basement. Apparently, a respected professor at the university, who was researching the same topic as him, had somehow secured him rights to stay there.”

“This professor’s name was?” Bryan immediately seized on this critical detail.

“Oh,” Louise blushed slightly, “I didn’t think to ask him at the time—”

“That’s fine, we can look into this—” Bryan shook his head slightly. “Please continue—”

Louise took a deep breath.

“I was absolutely furious when I found him in that condition because Fraser was quite literally destroying himself. Moreover, he showed absolutely zero concern for our family, showed no interest in our parents’ growing despair, all for an utterly unrealistic fantasy… it was selfish and irresponsible.

I confronted him about the pain he was causing, and we had heated argument that quickly escalated beyond control. In response to my concerns, he became enraged and threw me out of the basement, actually shoving me up the stone stairs and slamming the door in my face—”

Louise struggled to calm her emotions and continued:

“After that confrontation, he seemed to have deliberately vanished from our lives completely. My mother and father, heartbroken beyond words, eventually reached a point where they couldn’t bear to mention his name anymore.

But I couldn’t accept his complete disappearance; I couldn’t surrender to the idea that my brilliant, kind brother had been reduced to that hollow-eyed fanatic I’d encountered. So, after I completed my degree in journalism, I returned to Italy again, determined to find him and somehow reach the person he had once been—”

At this point in her narrative, Louise’s expression became somewhat strange, as if confused, as if startled.

“But by that time, he was no longer there. No one could provide any information about his whereabouts. It was as if he had never existed there at all and the society he had belonged to had also disbanded.

Through questioning of various faculty members and students, I eventually found out that the regular members of that mysterious group had all graduated and left the school, with a few having allegedly suffered ‘accidents’ while still enrolled. I was very worried about him, but couldn’t find any way to contact him—”

“Was that professor you mentioned still affiliated with the university at that time?” Bryan inquired, bringing the conversation back to this potentially crucial figure.

“I honestly don’t know; I didn’t think of inquiring about him during my search—” Louise admitted with a shake of her head, then looked at Bryan with unmistakable curiosity flashing in her reddened eyes.

“Why are you so particularly interested in this professor, Mr. Watson?”

“Please, just call me Bryan—” He gently said to her.

Bryan remained thoughtfully silent for several seconds, carefully considering how much information he could safely share with this Muggle girl. Finally, he spoke slowly:

“These kinds of secretive societies generally have specific founders or leaders. If I’m not mistaken, this supposedly ‘respected professor’ might well have been the person who initiated this research program.”

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