"The person who initiated the research program,"
Louise bit her lower lip uncertainly and shook her head slightly. She didn't fully understand the true meaning of Bryan's words.
Bryan had no intention of explaining further, Instead, he redirected the conversation and simply asked: "What happened next? You must have eventually met with Fraser, right?"
This particular question seemed rather obvious and needed no further explanation otherwise, Louise wouldn't have obtained Fraser's telephone number after years of complete silence and failed attempts at contact.
"It happened quite unexpectedly around Halloween about two years ago, I received a letter from Fraser out of the blue—it was the only proper letter I'd received from him in all these years of silence. The most unsettling part was that it didn't appear in my mailbox, nor was it delivered by the postman.
It simply appeared... quite suddenly... on the third-floor balcony of my rented room, which should have been completely inaccessible from the street below. The envelope had no postage stamp, no return address, no recipient address. I immediately recognized it was from Fraser by his slanted handwriting and the personal content of the letter that only he could have known—"
Louise's eyes reflected deep confusion and lingering uneasiness, as if even now, years later, she still couldn't logically reason or rationalize how the mysterious letter had managed to reach her.
"—Fraser told me in that letter that he had relocated to a new country to continue their research. He mentioned that this international relocation had been arranged by the research organization he belonged to."
Louise pressed her trembling lips together, her beautiful face clouded with gloom.
"Before receiving that letter, I had always assumed it was just an eccentric but ultimately harmless student interest group in the University of Bologna.
I never imagined this mysterious organization wasn't so simple—that it actually had resources and maintained operational bases or facilities across multiple countries. Then, almost as an afterthought, he mentioned in the concluding paragraphs of the letter that he was supposedly doing quite well under the circumstances and somewhat formally asked me to take care of myself and our parents."
Bryan's eyelids twitched slightly. This development was very unusual——a Muggle who had previously been so obsessed with obtaining magical power even to the point of exclusion of all normal human connections and responsibilities, was now suddenly showing concern for his family's wellbeing?
The abrupt shift in priorities seemed completely inconsistent with Fraser's established pattern of behavior. There was clearly something far more complex to this transformation.
"When you read that letter," Bryan asked directly, his gaze focused intently on Louise's face to observe her micro-expressions, "did you instinctively realize that Fraser might have been in an extremely precarious, possibly life-threatening situation when he wrote it?"
"Of course, I did!" Louise replied with sudden indignation flaring in her eyes as her voice rose sharply.
"Although he never explicitly mentioned any direct danger threatening him, I could sense his fear at the time. The handwriting itself showed his anxiety. I desperately wanted to write back immediately to offer help, but I had absolutely no way to do so because I had no idea how the mysterious letter had reached me in the first place.
I even took it directly to the local police station because I suspected Fraser might be in imminent danger or possibly even kidnapped, but the dismissive officers said an unsigned, unstamped letter appearing mysteriously couldn't possibly prove anything substantial enough to justify opening an official investigation!"
"What about this letter?" Bryan asked with interest, leaning forward slightly.
"I... I burned it completely to ashes—"
Louise admitted hesitantly, immediately noticing Bryan's expression of surprise. She quickly added her explanation, her words tumbling out defensively:
"It was Fraser's request, you see. At the end of the letter, he very solemnly and repeatedly begged me to destroy it completely immediately after reading its contents. He seemed terrified that it might be discovered. The skeptical police officers said that perhaps the letter was just a joke or prank."
Bryan felt a sharp pang of regret surge through him. The letter had almost certainly been delivered to Louise by owl post or some similar magical courier method, and if the physical document still existed, it might have been possible for them to magically trace where it had originally been dispatched from.
"—I saw Fraser in person for the last time last September," Louise continued softly.
Seemingly aware that this was the final occasion she had seen her brother alive; Louise's breathing pattern suddenly became noticeably erratic and labored. Her already reddened eyes grew visibly moist once more.
Bryan didn't rush her or pressure her to continue immediately but simply reached forward and took out a tissue from a box on the coffee table, and silently handed it to her.
"Thank you so much—"
Louise murmured in a hoarse, emotion-restrained voice. With glistening tears ready to spill from her eyes, she looked at Bryan, feeling that this Mr. Bryan Watson was indeed a remarkably considerate, genuinely empathetic gentleman beneath his professional exterior.
"I still don't understand how Fraser somehow managed to discover exactly where I currently lived, but he simply appeared unannounced at my door—"
Louise gently dabbed her reddened nose with the tissue, then crumpled it into a tight ball in her trembling palm.
"You can imagine how shocked and confused I was. After so many years—without seeing even a glimpse of him, he stood before me, transformed. He looked quite fat and more muscular than the last time I had seen him in that basement laboratory, but his psychological state was absolutely terrible, bordering on complete breakdown.
He appeared paranoid, constantly glancing over his shoulder at nothing, visibly trembling, and repeatedly checking that my curtains were completely closed. He spoke in fast whispers, explaining frantically that he had narrowly escaped from somewhere he wouldn't name."
"Escaped?" Bryan narrowed his eyes sharply, his entire demeanor shifting subtly toward alertness at this.
"Yes, precisely that word," Louise nodded insistently, her voice dropping to a horrified whisper as if she feared being overheard even now.
"That's exactly how he characterized his situation. Perhaps because he was so overwhelmingly terrified and disoriented, he impulsively disclosed certain details that he might not have otherwise intended to reveal.
He confessed that those mysterious people were all dangerous, morally bankrupt lunatics who had initially lured him into magical research. According to his explanation, they routinely conducted cruel experiments.
All varieties of inhuman experiments, on people, on innocent babies, even on pregnant women. He himself had apparently been used repeatedly as experimental material. I was absolutely horrified. I immediately suggested we go directly to the police together to report, but that suggestion seemed to trigger an extreme panic reaction in him—"
Louise's breathing became increasingly rapid and shallow.
"He refused to consider approaching the police under any circumstances, saying that if those magical terrorists—that's exactly what he called them, 'magical terrorists'—discovered his whereabouts, absolutely everyone connected to him would be in danger.
Throughout his frantic narrative, he stubbornly insisted that he had witnessed genuine magic performed with his own eyes multiple times and had personally seen those terrifying people use supernatural abilities to torture and kill captives who displeased them.
I desperately tried to make sense of his claims, I guessed he must have been severely psychologically traumatized by his experiences, or... perhaps even injected with powerful hallucinogenic drugs that had made him delusional and paranoid!"
"I presume you asked him exactly where he had been all these years, and specifically where he had managed to escape from, Louise?" Bryan asked with an increasingly solemn, grave expression.
From the disturbing information Louise had provided, Bryan realized he was gradually getting closer to uncovering the truth behind these events, but simultaneously, deeper and more disturbing puzzles were presenting themselves with each new exposure.
He could now roughly deduce what kind of organization Fraser had become entangled with and what their ultimate objectives likely were.
It wasn't particularly surprising that such secretive organizations existed within the shadows between the magical and Muggle worlds, even whether they had backing from certain elements within the Ministry of both worlds itself was questionable.
But what genuinely puzzled Bryan was why an organization that should logically remain deeply concealed in the shadows, avoiding any public attention or scrutiny, would provoke someone as prominent and well-connected as Hermione Granger.
They should understand that plotting against Hogwarts' young witches and wizards was equivalent to directly challenging and angering both himself and Albus Dumbledore which was a foolish and thankless decision by any rational assessment.
"He absolutely refused to disclose any specifics about his location—"
As Bryan was deeply pondering these troubling implications, Louise nodded and clenched her delicate fists tightly.
"He repeatedly told me that knowing too many specific details would put me in danger as well. He seemed to have become significantly more lucid and rational during this part of our conversation. With regret, he said that he probably shouldn't have approached me at all, but explained that his overwhelming guilt and remorse had compelled him to reach out one final time.
He earnestly asked me to take care of our parents, then abruptly prepared to leave. I refused to let him disappear again, of course. I blocked the doorway, begging him to accompany me to the local police station, to return home with me to see our parents. But he resisted every suggestion, and became more and more agitated.
We struggled both verbally and physically for a long time and finally, in the end, he only reluctantly left me a hastily scribbled phone number on a scrap of paper before pushing past me. He constantly refused to reveal where he was currently living or how I could find him if the number was unreachable—"
The story about Fraser's tragic life concluded there, followed immediately by Bryan's discovery that Fraser had been transformed into an Inferi trap with no human remains ultimately recovered from the rental house.
Outside the walls of the villa, it had begun to pour, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for Fraser's fate.
Violent, howling winds mercilessly assaulted the wooden doors and multi-paned windows with increasing ferocity. Ominous thunder occasionally rumbled darkly through the low-hanging, charcoal-colored clouds that had completely blocked out any remnant of daylight.
In the dim room, there was only the sound of Louise's quiet sobbing from the couch and the crackling of burning wood in the fireplace. Bryan closed his eyes, mentally reviewing the information he had gathered.
"Kingsley!"
Suddenly, much to Louise's surprise and momentary alarm, the composed man seated opposite her stood up with unexpected abruptness. His previously gentle, sympathetic demeanor vanished instantaneously, replaced by a sharp, distinctly commanding intensity that radiated powerful authority.
"Mr. Watson—"
Kingsley, who had been listening attentively outside the door throughout their entire conversation, immediately pushed it open and strode into the room. He stood straight in front of Bryan, his body perfectly still, awaiting specific orders.
This scene made Louise somewhat dazed. Judging by his age, this tall Black man called Kingsley was clearly many years older than Bryan, yet he seemed to be Bryan's subordinate. Moreover, from his posture, he showed great respect for Bryan Watson, who was much younger than him.
"Get ready immediately. You and I will leave for Italy within the hour. The rest of the team will remain stationed here and wait for further instructions or developments—"
Bryan said in a deep voice.
Kingsley didn't appear surprised by this decisive instruction, having perhaps anticipated such a development, but he did hesitate briefly.
"According to established international protocol, Mr. Watson, we are technically required to first formally submit a mag—ahem," He caught himself mid-word with a quick glance toward Louise, "an official entry application through appropriate diplomatic channels to the Italian authorities, and can only legally enter their jurisdiction after receiving approval—"
'Why on earth would they possibly need a special entry application beyond normal passports?' Louise wondered, thoroughly confused.
Affected by the special aura emanating from Bryan, Louise had unconsciously stood up from the couch. Hearing these words, she was confused, but quickly understood—these people were special agents affiliated with the British government, and if they wanted to investigate a case in another sovereign country's territory, they would indeed require specialized diplomatic clearance beyond ordinary visas.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Kingsley, in extraordinary circumstances such as these, I believe occasionally circumventing bureaucratic regulations isn't something to unnecessarily concern ourselves with, wouldn't you agree?" Bryan calmly looked at Kingsley.
"I believe without reservation that you are an exceptionally wise leader, Mr. Watson—"
Unexpectedly, Kingsley didn't persist with his routine objection but acquiesced immediately and said with a smile,
"Perhaps the Auror Office would function far more effectively and decisively under your leadership—"
'Auror?'
Louise blinked rapidly in confusion. 'Weren't they special government agents or intelligence officers? Or was this perhaps the classified codename for their special forces unit within British intelligence? '
"I have no intention of taking Scrimgeour's job—" Bryan smiled slightly. "I won't notify Dumbledore separately. You can write him a letter when you have time, explaining the situation—"
'Who were Scrimgeour and Dumbledore? Senior officials in some department? But why have I never heard of them?' Louise, as a newspaper reporter, thought with some confusion. Then she saw Kingsley turn his gaze toward her.
"What about Miss Williams? How do you plan to arrange her, Mr. Watson?"
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