As a city holding a position of extraordinary historical and cultural importance in Muggle art history, this ancient Italian tropolis of Bologna still preserves nurous breathtaking Renaissance-era palaces, dieval city walls that once protected its residents from invaders, terracotta-colored towers reaching toward the sky, and magnificent Gothic churches.
anwhile, the rapidly developing technological landscape of the 20th century has also injected new vitality into the city's veins, creating a fascinating composition of old and new that captivates visitors from around the world.
Located at a crucial transportation hub where nurous railways and highways converge, Bologna is also a city with powerful industrial strength. Its highly developed and comprehensive social welfare systems allow the local Muggles living within this city to fully enjoy the pleasures of life.
For what was intended to be just an ordinary midday lunch— Bryan did not carefully select a dining location with any particular criteria in mind. Instead, he simply guided Louise to a charming, casual restaurant along the edge of a vintage street soaked in cultural heritage.
The restaurant itself was in a fifteenth-century building with thick stone walls that kept the interior pleasantly cool despite the warming day outside, its ceiling was supported by massive wooden beams darkened by countless years of cooking smoke and ti.
After a brief, sowhat awkward exchange during which they sat at a small table covered with a tablecloth near a window overlooking the bustling street, Bryan waved his hand to summon the attentive waiter who had been hovering nearby, clearly recognizing the foreign visitors and anticipating their needs.
"One order of capellini with truffle oil and freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, one order of fusilli in tomato sauce with basil and garlic, and one German bratwurst with sauerkraut on the side, if you would be so kind," Bryan requested in flawless Italian before switching to English. "Umm, if you have an extra fork available, I would be grateful if you could bring a pair, thank you very much—"
The middle-aged waiter with ticulously grood brown mustache that curled slightly at the ends looked at Bryan with a subtle hint of surprise lingering in his eyes.
As a world-famous tourist destination attracting millions of visitors annually, Bologna indeed frequently hosted travelers and food enthusiasts from various corners of the globe and guests with even more unusual accents and dining requests, but it was sowhat unusual to see an Englishman with such an authentic, aristocratic English accent asking specifically for two forks.
"A pair of forks?" Louise repeated the unusual request with an odd, questioning tone. She naturally knew what a fork was, but found it genuinely curious why Bryan would make such an unconventional request when one fork is normally entirely sufficient for eating pasta dishes according to both Italian and British dining etiquette.
"They're handy for switching efficiently between different dishes with contrasting flavors," Bryan explained casually, as if discussing the most natural thing in the world, "I personally prefer using one fork exclusively for the pasta and another specifically for the bratwurst. It prevents the distinctive tastes from mingling inappropriately on the palate."
"I ca across this rather useful custom during my tour of northern Italy several years ago," He added with a charming smile.
Louise pursed her pink lips thoughtfully and nodded slightly in acknowledgnt of this explanation, though a hint of skepticism remained in her green eyes.
Under normal, more relaxed circumstances, she might have enthusiastically engaged with Bryan in a discussion about the comparative rits and derits of using multiple forks versus just one for a single al, perhaps even teasing him about his seemingly aristocratic tendencies, but now this wasn't a particularly noteworthy or pressing issue deserving of lengthy conversation.
"That professor you ntioned earlier—" Louise had just begun to inquire leaning forward slightly in her chair, when Bryan voluntarily shared the information she sought before she could even finish her question:
"Field Wittelsbach is his full na and as we suspected, he has already left his position at the University of Bologna, leaving behind very few traces of his actual existence. In fact, not long after his departure, the society that Fraser belonged to also disbanded. It's very likely that Fraser left with him. Of course, to avoid drawing unwanted attention, they most certainly would not have traveled together."
"Wittelsbach?" Louise was taken aback, her eyebrows arching in surprise as she ntally processed this information. The na triggered sothing in her mory, a piece of knowledge from her college days.
"When I was completing my undergraduate studies, I took an elective course in historical surna studies and etymology. This particular surna seems to be—" She began before Bryan smoothly interrupted her.
"An ancient noble Germanic surna with royal connections—" Bryan nodded knowingly.
"Historically associated with Bavarian royalty and several Holy Roman Emperors. But given everything we know, it's very difficult not to question the authenticity of this suitably impressive na. In fact—"
Bryan's hand slipped into the inner pocket and pulled out a photograph and placed it on the tablecloth between them.
The photograph showed a man with thick brown, ticulously styled curly short hair and two streaks of gray in his mustache, which was grood much more elegantly than that of the waiter who had just left from their table. He had a broad face and black-frad glasses with subtle gold inlay that enhanced the wisdom apparent in his eyes and the scholarly air he exuded.
He truly looked the part of a dedicated academic intellectual wholly devoted to obscure research, the kind of professor students would compete to study under.
Holding the photo up in front of her eyes to examine it, Louise frowned slightly.
Her frown wasn't because she found the person in the photograph particularly familiar, but rather because of certain peculiarities about the photograph itself.
It wasn't a typical photograph captured by a conventional cara as one would normally expect to see, but rather, by Louise's judgnt, it seed to have been created using exquisitely detailed sketching skills, later carefully colored and processed through so special technical procedure to produce a convincingly photo-like image.
She shared her observation and the following suspicion with Bryan, who nodded calmly in response, apparently having already reached the sa conclusion himself.
"Actually, during Field Wittelsbach's years of teaching at the University of Bologna, he curiously didn't leave behind a single photograph in any university publication or faculty directory.
The image you're currently examining was hand-drawn by the Muggle police departnt's forensic artist when they were searching for him, based on detailed descriptions provided by his forr colleagues and students. Just like the na he left behind, I equally doubt the authenticity of this face we're looking at—it may be partially accurate at best, or completely fabricated at worst."
Louise's eyes widened imdiately in shock. She didn't fully understand all of Bryan's statents, but she imdiately grasped the key point.
"Are you saying he's actually wanted by the police?!" She exclaid, perhaps a bit too loudly, causing several nearby diners to glance curiously in their direction before returning to their own als and conversations.
"Oh, the police aren't nearly as incompetent or easily misled as you might initially think, Louise—" Bryan smiled knowingly.
"After Wittelsbach left Bologna, the magic research society he had advocated for also quickly disbanded, with the exception of Fraser. As you previously told , so forr mbers of the society were subsequently t with unfortunate accidents.
The police detectives investigating this disturbing pattern would naturally not be naive or inexperienced enough to blindly believe these were rely a series of unconnected accidents or coincidences. Field Wittelsbach quickly beca their primary suspect, though they lacked crucial pieces of the puzzle—"
"Did they ever manage to locate and arrest him?" Louise blurted out impulsively, and before Bryan could voice the answer to her question, she imdiately realized she had asked what was a very foolish and obvious question given the circumstances of their current investigation.
Sure enough, Bryan slowly shook his head.
"The police made so admirable and quite thorough efforts. They tried to determine where Wittelsbach had gone after leaving Bologna, but it was all in vain. The seemingly legitimate identity he had carefully constructed and used during his ti here had no record of purchasing airline tickets, train tickets, or even intercity bus tickets, as if he had sohow left the country completely on foot—"
This was, of course, impossible. Wittelsbach being a wizard was now an undeniable fact in their investigation, and Muggles certainly couldn't possibly discover the magical ans by which he had left Italy.
Even the Italian Ministry of Magic would have a very small chance of having such detailed records about an experienced wizard determined to travel undetected.
That's precisely why Bryan and Kingsley hadn't gone there to investigate upon arriving in Italy. After all, they were both technically illegally entering the country without proper magical visas or authorization, and if the Italian Ministry of Magic discovered that Bryan Watson had sneaked into their jurisdiction without even a polite notification and with unclear, possibly problematic intentions, it would be very strange if the Italian Ministry didn't imdiately dispatch all available wizards to "politely " invite Bryan to leave.
"I still don't understand one thing—" Louise bit her lower lip thoughtfully, her forehead creasing with confusion as she tried to organize the puzzle pieces in her mind.
"If this Wittelsbach basically didn't want to expose the secret existence of his evil society to the world, why did he spare most of the people involved?"
The restaurant's impressive service speed was more than satisfactory. The waiter presented their prepared food on porcelain plates and brought the extra fork Bryan had specifically requested.
The serious conversation paused briefly as the two began to tackle their steaming, aromatic als. Louise occasionally stole sneaky glances at the man sitting across from her, studying his gestures when she thought he wouldn't notice.
Bryan handled his tableware skillfully even after including the extra fork into his dining routine, and displayed impeccable dining posture and etiquette. Even the fashionably dressed young won sitting at nearby tables frequently looked back over their shoulders, secretly discussing this handso British gentleman.
Unconsciously, Louise's mind drifted back to her embarrassingly absurd decisions from the last night that she had been trying desperately to forget throughout the day.
Her cheeks ward to a rosy pink, and she was trendously grateful that Bryan hadn't ntioned anything about last night's embarrassing, alcohol-fueled events. But upon second thought, as she observed his detached deanor, her eyes showed hints of lancholy and injured pride.
'Could my charm and appeal really be that terrible that he's completely ignoring what happened?!' Louise internally questioned while aggressively cutting her bratwurst into unnecessarily small pieces, feeling indignant and slightly rejected inside despite her earlier embarrassnt.
"This secretive society isn't nearly as straightforward as you might imagine, Louise—"
Ten minutes later, after they had made significant progress with their als, Bryan set down his forks side by side on his nearly empty plate and picked up a napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth.
After taking a sip of sparkling lemon water from a deep blue glass, he spoke, seemingly completely oblivious to the admiring peeks from other nearby female custors, Louise's increasingly unnatural and conflicted gaze, and the chaotic, swirling thoughts in her head.
"—What superficially appears to be just a student group casually organized around common academic interests and harmless intellectual hobbies actually conceals a surprisingly tight, hierarchical internal organizational structure—"
Bryan rested his right elbow on the table's edge, interlocking his fingers into a loose fist beneath his chin, using this narration to carefully organize his complex thoughts.
"Based on my and Kingsley's investigation earlier this morning through interviews with forr faculty and students... Standing at the very top of this student society's organizational pyramid was undoubtedly Field Wittelsbach.
Around him, forming an inner circle, were so genuine witches and wizards... I an, his most trusted followers, not innocent students. And beneath these loyal followers were particularly promising students like Fraser, who, in Wittelsbach's eyes, may have demonstrated so exceptional research talent.
These three separate hierarchical levels could be considered the essential core of the organization, while those on the peripheral outer edges were rely casual enthusiasts with limited access to the group's true knowledge and activities. That's precisely why they ultimately survived when others did not."
"Research talent," Louise pressed her lips together tightly as the jumbled, ssy thoughts in her mind died down. She hadn't expected that what had led Fraser into imprisonnt and ultimately to his death was ironically his own exceptional talent and intelligence.
"Mr. Watson—"
As Louise was deeply imrsed in sadness and Bryan was carefully formulating the next strategic steps based on the limited information they had managed to gather, from the alley directly opposite the restaurant, the eternally serious-faced Kingsley suddenly appeared and strode toward them, unnoticed by anyone.
"There are so new discoveries that you might find interesting—"
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