"I was right across the street at the ti," 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 erge from that crevice to continue on my way, I suddenly heard two sharp, cracking noises. In the next instant, two n appeared on the street. They didn't walk up or arrive by any other ans—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 everything, Lawrence," Bryan said gently. "Take your ti 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 governnt knew of their existence, or perhaps they remained completely unaware of them. If governnt 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 soone 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 beca steadier as he fell into the rhythm of telling what he saw. "The postman must have sensed that sothing 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 confird, grasping onto the word as if it were a lifeline in an ocean of confusion. "That's precisely what it looked like. He beca 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 n 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 extrely important to him. He watched Bryan nervously, observing his reactions.
Lawrence genuinely hoped that his narration could sohow 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 sotis the less you know about certain affairs, the better off you are.
So knowledge was too dangerous to possess, and so secrets were too heavy to carry.
Tap, tap, tap—
After knocking on the table several tis with his knuckles, Bryan asked, "After those two n left the scene, you checked the postman's deliveries, didn't you, Lawrence?"
"You're absolutely correct in your assumption—" Lawrence replied, feeling montarily 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 monts in the Watson family's developnt during those pivotal tis 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 beco 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 ti before soone 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 n might return. The packages were scattered across the pavent with so 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 Hogsade.
There were two other packages at the scene that had the sa return address and postal markings. These packages were addressed as being from Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley."
Lawrence rembered 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 imdiately 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 involvent in the planning, such a mistake seed almost impossible. The only explanation that made sense was that sothing had happened at the ti 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 judgnt 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 mory, Lawrence," Bryan said straightforwardly.
'Examine my mory?' 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 montarily stunned and disoriented, completely unable to understand what such a thing could possibly an 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 imdiately tightened with uneasiness. A powerful impulse to flee, to escape from this room flooded through his system.
"This is called a wand, those two n you saw were wizards. The thod 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 stamred.
His eyes lost their focus, becoming distant and unfocused as he stared at sothing.
"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 beca more serious as he continued. "What I can tell you is that what you witnessed that day is extrely important. I need to witness those events personally through your mories. You can rest assured that the process of extracting and viewing your mory will not cause you any harm."
"Extracting mory—" 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 soone recovering from a stroke.
"The way you describe it makes it sound like so kind of brain surgery," Lawrence managed to say, his attempt at cody falling flat between them.
Despite his terror and confusion, Lawrence took a deep, steadying breath to make his expression calr. "How do you need 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 soone 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 seed 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 movent created a dazzling halo of light that seed to draw the eye and hold it captive, growing brighter and more intense with each passing second.
Whoosh—
The sound that accompanied the expanding mory 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 monts before been just a thread of silver light transford into a sowhat gloomy but completely three-dinsional scene that surrounded them both like an imrsive 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 mory was perfectly preserved, every detail exactly as it had occurred. It was as if ti itself had been captured and bottled, ready to be experienced again.
Bryan paid no attention to Lawrence's shock and amazent, his focus was completely concentrated on the scene in front of them. He walked into the mory scene, approaching the two n who were dressed in black windbreakers and wearing wide-brimd bowler hats.
The mory 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 ti the scene reached its end, Bryan's expression had beco completely grave and somber.
"Dawlish,"
In the frozen, gloomy world of the mory, 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 experinting on Muggles with cruel thods.
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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