0751 That Incident

In an instant, Bryan’s mind became filled with countless speculation and analysis but, none of them could sufficiently explain the strange combination of surprise and suspicion regarding Harry and Lawrence at the moment.

Throughout this term, Harry had been ‘behaving well’ at Hogwarts. staying out of trouble. There had been no reports coming through the usual gossip about Harry causing any significant disturbances within the castle. Nor, had he returned to Privet Drive to endure another miserable holiday period with his aunt and uncle’s family.

Given this context of relative tranquility and good behavior, what could have happened to make Lawrence suddenly develop such concern about someone he had only met once?

And what could have driven him to question Bryan about whether Harry had gotten himself into some kind of trouble?

Bryan’s facial expression remained unchanged. However, beneath this carefully maintained facade, he was now at maximum alertness.

“What’s the matter, Lawrence?” Bryan asked, his voice perfectly tuned to show just the right mixture of surprise and confusion. “Why would you suddenly bring up Potter?”

Lawrence seemed to be in an intense internal struggle. His breathing began to quicken noticeably, and his pale complexion due to his recent illness also began flushing red. He hesitated, uncertain whether he should confess everything to Master Watson.

Although what he had observed on that day was completely incomprehensible and beyond rational explanation, Lawrence could keenly sense that there was a conspiracy lurking beneath the surface of that event.

If he shared what he had witnessed with Master Watson, would it drag the him into a dangerous vortex? The people he had observed that day possessed such powers. What if exposing the master to knowledge of such things placed him in danger?

But equally troubling was the alternative possibility that haunted Lawrence’s thoughts with urgency. What if this conspiracy was actually targeting Master Watson?

The connections seemed too numerous and too significant to be sheer coincidence. The child named Harry Potter was the master’s student. More important still, Harry had been sending packages to Hurst Orphanage, which clearly showed he was highly trusted by the master. And the items he sent were used by two people with such supernatural powers to kill an innocent postman.

The connections formed a chain that seemed to lead inevitably back to Young Master Watson.

Lawrence had been turning these troubling thoughts over in his mind repeatedly during the days since that shocking incident. No matter how he approached the problem, the incident seemed to have countless subtle connections to the master.

Suddenly, as if struck by a bolt of lightning, Lawrence’s eyes were filled with alarm. The joy and excitement that had overwhelmed him since the master’s unexpected arrival had temporarily overshadowed a crucial realization.

How had the master managed to enter his room last night without alerting anyone?

It was true that the estate’s security was no longer what it had been during the height of the Watson family’s prosperity. Many of the advanced security features had been deactivated or removed entirely, sold off along with other valuable assets to fund the charitable donations that had consumed the family fortune.

But even with these reductions, an untrained ordinary person slipping past the remaining defenses unnoticed was still far from simple. However, if the master possessed the same supernatural abilities as those two mysterious assassins Lawrence had seen, then entering the manor undetected would indeed be the simplest thing imaginable.

Once this line of reasoning opened up in Lawrence’s mind, it was as if a dam had burst releasing a flood of suspicions and concerns that had been building in his mind.

He had conducted investigations into the young master’s background, using the resources and connections available to him through decades of service to the Watson family.

Apart from his association with Hurst Orphanage, Lawrence could find almost no trace of Master Watson’s existence in the normal society. There were no educational records in any of the institutions he had contacted, no employment history with any organization or company, no credit card transactions, no property purchases or rental agreements.

It was as if the master existed like a ghost, moving through the world without leaving the usual footprints like the passage of ordinary human beings. Such an absence of documentation was not just unusual, it was nearly impossible for someone living a normal life in the modern world.

“Lawrence?”

Bryan’s voice cut through the old butler’s increasingly frantic thoughts. Bryan narrowed his eyes, as he had already sensed some of the vague thoughts scattered through Lawrence’s mind.

Lost in his own speculations, Lawrence jolted at the sound of his name as if he had been struck by an electrical current. The sudden return to awareness was disorienting, causing him to instinctively step backward two paces in a reflexive attempt to create distance between himself and Bryan, who had been standing close.

“What’s wrong?” Bryan asked, his voice returning to the gentle, composed tone that had been in their earlier conversation.

“From your expression and the look in your eyes,” Bryan continued with casualness, “it’s as if you suspect I’m some kind of dangerous criminal who’s committed terrible acts. Have I done or said something to give you such an impression?”

Lawrence gazed across the dining table at the face that bore such resemblance to his master. His expression had become complex and his lips had grown dry with anxiety.

“Young master—”

Lawrence called out hoarsely. This time, Bryan did not correct his form of address, merely maintaining a listening posture.

“Please look at this first.”

With that, Lawrence reached into the inner pocket of his tailcoat and pulled out a newspaper.

Bryan glanced at the paper. From the condition of this copy of the Daily Mail—folded into a square with the text at the creases already faded and blurred—it was clear that Lawrence had read through it many times.

Lawrence unfolded the newspaper, skillfully turning past the front page and second page. When he reached the third page, he folded it several times to present the news item he wanted Bryan to see.

A photograph showed a middle-aged man in postal service uniform lying in the rain, with a bicycle and scattered packages beside him.

“The orphanage?” With just one glance, Bryan immediately recognized the background of the photograph that this was the street where Hurst Orphanage was located.

Lawrence nodded gravely and explained,

“This tragic incident occurred on the very same day that I traveled to Hurst Orphanage to participate in the donation ceremony,”

Bryan turned his attention to the newspaper article.

The article read:

Dreck Booth, a postal worker with nearly a decade of faithful service to the Royal Mail, met his untimely death under mysterious circumstances while conducting his daily mail delivery rounds on Frank Street. The discovery of his body was made by a concerned resident who noticed the abandoned bicycle and scattered mail on the scene of the tragedy.

Upon receiving the initial report, local police immediately cordoned off the area and conducted a detailed investigation into the circumstances surrounding Booth’s death. Detective Inspector Margaret Thornbury, who is leading the investigation, stated that the scene presented several puzzling elements that have complicated efforts to determine exactly what happened during Booth’s final moments.

According to the police officers who were interviewed by our reporter, the weather conditions at the time of the incident were particularly challenging, with heavy rainfall that had been ongoing for several hours before the body was discovered. This long rainfall had the unfortunate effect of washing away many of the physical traces that might have provided crucial evidence about the sequence of events leading to Booth’s death.

The subsequent autopsy of Dreck Booth’s body, conducted by the county coroner Dr. Elizabeth Hartwell, revealed discoveries that have only deepened the mystery surrounding this case. According to the official report, there was no evidence of physical assault or violence inflicted upon the deceased.

However, the autopsy did reveal one particularly significant and puzzling detail. Dr. Hartwell discovered a large quantity of unmelted chocolate lodged deep within Booth’s throat in such a way as to completely obstruct his airway. Based on this physical evidence, the coroner has concluded that Dreck Booth’s death was caused by asphyxiation resulting from choking on what appears to have been a large piece of chocolate that somehow became trapped in his respiratory system.

This official determination has been met with skepticism and outright disbelief by those who knew the deceased best. Margaret Booth, Dreck’s wife of twenty-two years, has publicly stated her conviction that her husband’s death was not the result of an accidental choking incident, but rather a carefully orchestrated murder disguised to appear as a tragic accident.

“My husband never ate chocolate,” Mrs. Booth told our reporter during an emotional interview at the family home. “He was actually quite averse to sweets of any kind, had been ever since childhood. The idea that he would voluntarily consume such a large piece of chocolate, let alone do so in such a way that it would become lodged in his throat, is absolutely preposterous. Someone did this to him deliberately, and I won’t rest until the truth comes to light.”

The investigation into Dreck Booth’s death remains active, with police continuing to examine all available evidence and interview potential witnesses who may have information relevant to the case. This reporter will continue to follow the story as it develops, providing updates on any new developments in this puzzling and tragic case.

The phrase that immediately captured Bryan’s attention was the reference to chocolate lodged in the victim’s throat.

‘Chocolate. Lodged in his throat?’

The words echoed through Bryan’s mind as he stared intently at the photograph accompanying the article, his gaze focusing upon the face of the deceased postman. Even in death, Dreck Booth’s features had an unmistakable expression of terror.

Bryan remained silent for a long while, his mind working through what he had just read while his eyes continued to study every detail of the crime scene photograph.

“What did you see?” Bryan finally asked, his voice carrying a tone of calm inquiry.

Lawrence’s body began to tremble slightly. From this single question alone, he could already determine that the master was indeed involved in this incident as he had suspected, and moreover, he very likely possessed the same kind of miraculous abilities as those two assassins.

‘There actually existed such a group of people in this world?!’

The question exploded through Lawrence’s mind like a bomb, shattering the beliefs and assumptions that had sustained him throughout his long life. The idea that there might be an entire hidden society of people with supernatural powers, operating in secret to their world he had always known, was so overwhelming that his mind struggled to process it.

In desperate attempts to preserve what remained of his sanity and worldview, Lawrence had spent the days since the incident trying his best to avoid recalling or dwelling upon the impossible things he had witnessed.

He had tried to convince himself that exhaustion, stress, or some other rational explanation could explain for what his eyes had shown him. But now, faced with Bryan’s question and obvious familiarity with the circumstances, he could no longer maintain these comforting self-deceptions.

“That postman was indeed choked to death by chocolate—” Lawrence said with immense difficulty.

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Lawrence continued. “A chocolate frog. But it wasn’t just a piece of candy—it was moving as if it were truly alive, hopping and jumping inside a delivery box like some kind of enchanted creature from a fairy tale.”

‘A chocolate frog?’

Bryan’s eyes grew deep and thoughtful.

“Sent by Harry Potter?” Bryan asked, though his tone showed he already suspected the answer.

“The return address on the delivery box was identical to the one you had provided for letters,” Lawrence confirmed. “There were also two other packages that arrived simultaneously, bearing the same address but sent by different persons—one from someone named Hermione Granger, and another from Ron Weasley.”

The mention of these additional names caused Bryan’s expression to darken considerably.

‘How incredibly foolish.’

The thought resonated through Bryan’s mind. Even he, with his experience in dealing with the impulsive actions of young wizards, found himself genuinely shocked by the sheer recklessness displayed by these three students.

This wasn’t comparable to their usual pattern of rule-breaking within Hogwarts School, where the consequences of their actions were generally limited to detention, loss of house points, or at worst, temporary suspension.

Sending magical sweets from the wizarding world directly to Muggles represented a blatant violation of laws.

If the Ministry of Magic were to discover this, they would undoubtedly have grounds to prosecute all three students under the most serious provisions of magical law.

But what was even worse was that what they had sent had accidentally killed a Muggle. Expulsion from Hogwarts would be the least of their concerns; they could potentially face criminal charges that might result in imprisonment in Azkaban.

‘Wait!’

But even as these thoughts appeared in Bryan’s mind, his analytical processes suddenly stopped to an abrupt halt, derailed by a realization that struck him like lightning. His eyes suddenly blazed with an intensity that seemed to illuminate the entire dining chamber.

The magical pressure that emanated from Bryan in that instant was so powerful, so overwhelming, that it nearly left the recently recovered Lawrence unable to breathe.

Bryan’s mind stuck onto a crucial detail that changed everything about the situation.

Chocolate frogs were a household name in the wizarding world, beloved by young wizards and magical-born children not yet of school age. Because the target audience consisted mainly of children, certain safety measures refined over centuries were built into these sweets to ensure their safety.

The most important of these safety features was the simple fact that chocolate frogs would not actively attempt to burrow into people’s throats or place themselves in positions where they might cause choking hazards.

Even if the unfortunate postman had opened the package out of curiosity and even if he had encountered this bizarre, chocolaty hopping creature, normal human behavior and basic survival instincts would have prevented him from voluntarily stuffing the entire frog down his own throat.

In all the centuries that chocolate frogs had been produced and consumed throughout the wizarding world, Bryan had never heard of a single precedent for anyone being choked to death by one of these.

Unless—

“Tell me, Lawrence—” Bryan said as he slowly rose to his feet, looking solemnly at the sweat-drenched Lawrence.

“Someone made that chocolate frog fly into that unfortunate Muggle’s throat, didn’t they?”

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