“I was right across the street at the time,” Lawrence began, his voice trembling slightly as he recounted the events that had haunted his dreams for weeks. “I was going to pick up my hat from a deep crevice between two buildings—it was a precious gift from the old master.”

His heart began to pump rapidly in his chest, as if he had returned back to that rainy day once again.

Lawrence continued, his hands unconsciously gripping the edge of the table as he spoke. “Just as I had successfully taken my hat and was about to emerge from that crevice to continue on my way, I suddenly heard two sharp, cracking noises. In the next instant, two men appeared on the street. They didn’t walk up or arrive by any other means—they simply appeared suddenly directly in front of the postman.”

The impossibility of what he had witnessed still sent chills down Lawrence’s spine, making him question his own sanity even as he narrated it.

Bryan nodded slightly as he observed the emotionally shaken Lawrence.

“Please, sit down and tell me everything, Lawrence,” Bryan said gently. “Take your time and don’t be afraid—they didn’t discover your presence, did they? You remained hidden throughout the entire incident?”

“I’m sorry, Bryan,” Lawrence said with obvious distress as he sat back into his chair. “I’ve never in my entire life witnessed anything so absurd, so utterly impossible according to everything I thought I knew about the world.”

He removed his reading glasses with trembling fingers, his hands were shaking so badly that he nearly dropped them. Using his napkin, he cleaned each lens, though they were already spotless.

When he finally looked up at the young master, whose expression remained remarkably calm and composed despite the seriousness of the situation, a brand-new sense of awe filled his heart.

There was evidently a secret group of people and their numbers were probably not small. They possessed extraordinary, supernatural abilities, and they clearly had their own circle, their own mysterious organization.

Perhaps the government knew of their existence, or perhaps they remained completely unaware of them. If government officials did know, Lawrence reasoned, they were certainly helping these extraordinary people conceal their presence from the general public.

Most importantly, the young master was clearly someone with status and position within this secretive circle.

This was all Lawrence felt confident in deducing from the available evidence.

“One of them pointed a small stick at the postman,” Lawrence continued, and his voice became steadier as he fell into the rhythm of telling what he saw. “The postman must have sensed that something was wrong, because his entire body language changed in an instant. But then, before he could react or defend himself in any way, he couldn’t move anymore. It was as if he had been—”

Lawrence struggled to find the right words to describe the scene he had witnessed.

“Petrified,” Bryan finished for him.

“Exactly—petrified,” Lawrence confirmed, grasping onto the word as if it were a lifeline in an ocean of confusion. “That’s precisely what it looked like. He became like a statue, frozen in place but still conscious, still aware of what was happening to him. I could feel the terror in his eyes even from my hiding place across the street.”

Lawrence stared into Bryan’s unfathomably deep eyes. Beneath the surface of the dining table, his fist clenched unconsciously with the tension of reliving that traumatic scene.

“I couldn’t hear what they were discussing from my position, The distance was too great, and the rain was creating a constant patter of background noise that muffled their voices. But I could observe their actions. After these two men had petrified the postman, they began to examine the packages he had been in the process of delivering.

They opened one box and waved that stick, causing the contents to scatter everywhere. From among the scattered items, they picked out several small, dark objects—chocolate frogs. They selected one piece, and then made it move through the air, guiding it into the postman’s throat. That’s exactly what happened.”

From the intensity of the young master’s expression, Lawrence could tell that everything he had described was extremely important to him. He watched Bryan nervously, observing his reactions.

Lawrence genuinely hoped that his narration could somehow help the young master understand and respond to whatever larger conspiracy was happening.

However, despite his burning curiosity about what he had witnessed, he refrained from asking questions. Having served the Watson family for almost his entire life, and having been aware of countless business secrets, confidential negotiations, and sensitive family matters, Lawrence had learned that sometimes the less you know about certain affairs, the better off you are.

Some knowledge was too dangerous to possess, and some secrets were too heavy to carry.

Tap, tap, tap—

After knocking on the table several times with his knuckles, Bryan asked, “After those two men left the scene, you checked the postman’s deliveries, didn’t you, Lawrence?”

“You’re absolutely correct in your assumption—” Lawrence replied, feeling momentarily dazed.

The solemn expression that had appeared across the young master’s face made him resemble the old master even more strongly now than ever before.

During the many crucial moments in the Watson family’s development during those pivotal times when the old master had been required to make major decisions that would affect the entire family’s future, Lawrence had often been present at his side.

Through those experiences, he had become closely familiar with that particular expression: solemn and thoughtful, yet with a touch of strategic coldness.

“After they vanished as suddenly as they had appeared,” Lawrence continued, “I remained hidden in that narrow crevice for several more minutes. The rain was falling heavily by then, and no people were passing by. The street was deserted except for the occasional passing vehicle.”

He paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I knew that it would only be a matter of time before someone discovered the body and called the police, so I had to act quickly if I wanted to gather any information about what had happened. So, I made the decision to go out from my hiding place and investigate those packages myself.”

Lawrence’s voice carried a note of pride mixed with residual fear as he described his actions. “I approached the scene cautiously, constantly scanning the area for any sign that those two men might return. The packages were scattered across the pavement with some of their contents spilled out. I saw that the opened parcel had a return address indicating it had been sent by Harry Potter from a village called Hogsmeade.

There were two other packages at the scene that had the same return address and postal markings. These packages were addressed as being from Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.”

Lawrence remembered this incident very clearly. The reason he had been bedridden during this period was only partly due to catching cold from the rain—most of it was from shock, overstimulation and fright.

‘It was the day Hermione was attacked.’

Bryan immediately realized this. His mind rapidly connected the dots, understanding now why those three had appeared so guilty and uncomfortable when he had encountered them at the Three Broomsticks. They had been secretly donating things to the orphanage.

He sighed deeply in his heart again.

From an emotional standpoint, the kindness of Harry, Ron, and Hermione still touched him slightly. However, from a rational and practical perspective, Bryan had to say that their actions had been both foolish and unlucky.

Bryan himself frequently brought magical world specialty candies and treats to the orphanage children during his visits, but he always took precautions to ensure that every item was completely safe for Muggle consumption.

Hadn’t they screened the items before sending them?

With Hermione’s involvement in the planning, such a mistake seemed almost impossible. The only explanation that made sense was that something had happened at the time of the package preparation that had diverted Hermione’s attention.

Bryan’s guess was completely accurate.

Harry had been in a state of emotional turmoil after accidentally encountering Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang on what was obviously a romantic date. The sight of the girl he had feelings for with another boy had sent him into a brooding sulk that lasted for hours.

Hermione had been too focused on providing emotional support and helping Harry process his feelings to maintain her usual level of attention to details. This temporary gap in her judgment had created the opening.

And precisely because of Hermione’s attack, the Ministry of Magic had urgently investigated packages from Hogwarts, ultimately falling under the scrutiny of interested parties.

“I need to examine your memory, Lawrence,” Bryan said straightforwardly.

‘Examine my memory?’ Lawrence thought to himself, his mind spinning with confusion and disbelief.

Hearing the young master’s casual, straightforward tone as he made this extraordinary request, Lawrence felt momentarily stunned and disoriented, completely unable to understand what such a thing could possibly mean in practical terms.

But when he observed Bryan casually flick his fingers, causing a sleek, black, straight stick to slide smoothly out from his sleeve as if it had been waiting there all along, Lawrence’s lips immediately tightened with uneasiness. A powerful impulse to flee, to escape from this room flooded through his system.

“This is called a wand, those two men you saw were wizards. The method they used to kill that postman is called magic ” Bryan explained briefly, giving a reassuring smile to the heavily breathing Lawrence. “And just as you suspected, I am also a wizard.”

“Wizard… magic, this—this is—” Lawrence stammered.

His eyes lost their focus, becoming distant and unfocused as he stared at something.

“Too incredible,” he murmured, the words leaving his lips like a prayer or incantation.

“Regarding matters concerning ‘us’ Lawrence,” Bryan said gently, “I know that you will be very curious. However, I can’t reveal too much information.”

Bryan’s expression became more serious as he continued. “What I can tell you is that what you witnessed that day is extremely important. I need to witness those events personally through your memories. You can rest assured that the process of extracting and viewing your memory will not cause you any harm.”

“Extracting memory—” Lawrence repeated slowly, his mouth twitching as he attempted to force a smile to ease the increasingly surreal atmosphere that had filled over their conversation.

His face’s expression resembled the spasms that might occur in someone recovering from a stroke.

“The way you describe it makes it sound like some kind of brain surgery,” Lawrence managed to say, his attempt at comedy falling flat between them.

Despite his terror and confusion, Lawrence took a deep, steadying breath to make his expression calmer. “How do you need me to cooperate with this procedure?”

The sensation was Lawrence like he had never experienced in his life. It felt like an icy, silky thread being slowly drawn out from his temple, as if someone were taking out a piece of dental floss from inside his skull. Rather than causing discomfort or pain, there was instead a faint, almost pleasant cooling sensation that seemed to flow through his brain like a gentle stream of arctic air.

With fascination mixed with terror, Lawrence watched the gleaming silver thread that had been extracted from his head coil around the tip of the young master’s wand.

Bryan’s wrist moved swiftly executing a series of complex gestures that caused the silver thread to spin rapidly around the wand’s tip. The movement created a dazzling halo of light that seemed to draw the eye and hold it captive, growing brighter and more intense with each passing second.

Whoosh—

The sound that accompanied the expanding memory was crisp and clean. Under Lawrence’s astonished and awed gaze, the spinning halo of light expanded rapidly, growing larger and more complex until it filled the entire luxurious small dining room with its presence.

Finally, what had moments before been just a thread of silver light transformed into a somewhat gloomy but completely three-dimensional scene that surrounded them both like an immersive theater production.

“Too incredible…” Lawrence murmured again, his voice filled with wonder and disbelief as he gazed upon the street scene that had brought him so many nightmares over the past weeks.

The memory was perfectly preserved, every detail exactly as it had occurred. It was as if time itself had been captured and bottled, ready to be experienced again.

Bryan paid no attention to Lawrence’s shock and amazement, his focus was completely concentrated on the scene in front of them. He walked into the memory scene, approaching the two men who were dressed in black windbreakers and wearing wide-brimmed bowler hats.

The memory scene flowed quietly and smoothly, unfolding exactly as Lawrence had described. Bryan watched with intense concentration.

A trace of coldness appeared at the corner of Bryan’s mouth. But by the time the scene reached its end, Bryan’s expression had become completely grave and somber.

“Dawlish,”

In the frozen, gloomy world of the memory, Bryan closed his eyes.

“How utterly foolish,”

He sighed again. Did the person who had instructed Dawlish and the other Auror to do this understand the consequences of such actions?

Bryan had just made a very public declaration to the entire European magical community, announcing his complete uprooting and destruction of a dark wizard organization that had been experimenting on Muggles with cruel methods.

Now, in a twist of irony, it was being revealed that Aurors from the British Ministry of Magic itself had killed an innocent Muggle under orders from high-ranking officials.

This was not a simple scandalous incident that would embarrass a few people; it was a political catastrophe that could bring down the entire British Ministry of Magic.

Bryan had long understood that political struggles rarely had clearly defined limits or boundaries. However, he had truly never expected that these people would be willing to go this far.

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