In the private dining room of Watson Manor reserved exclusively for the master's use, Bryan left his position at the dining table and made his way across the room toward the magnificent floor-to-ceiling glass wall. With his hands clasped behind his back, he gazed silently at the lush vegetation in the courtyard, but his face remained expressionless.
The actions of Dawlish and his unnamed Auror companion were, no doubt, the direct result of orders issued from the highest level of the Ministry of Magic. This much was quite certain. Such a brazen assassination could never have been done by a single person on his own initiative.
Although Bryan had not yet done a proper investigation into the matter, it needed no great deductive reasoning to conclude that Dolores Umbridge, the current Deputy Minister with real power at the Ministry of Magic, was certainly involved in this conspiracy.
The timeline of events showed a picture as clear as in 4k when examined through the lens of political motivation and personal retaliation.
On that day when Hermione was attacked, Bryan had taken decisive action to show Hogwarts' fury over this assault upon a young student due to ministry's carelessness. He had collaborated with both Dumbledore, and Amelia in the Headmaster's office and had stripped Umbridge of her control over the Department of Magical Transportation.
Fudge was also in desperate need of a 'scapegoat' and had almost tacitly approved Bryan's punishment of Umbridge.
However, Dolores Umbridge had never been a selfless, magnanimous person. Her attempt at revenge against those who had arranged her professional humiliation was predictable.
The only variable that no one had anticipated was the speed with which opportunity would present itself. Fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor, as it was Harry Potter's own well-intentioned actions that had inadvertently provided Umbridge with exactly the opening she needed.
Bryan could somewhat guess Umbridge's thoughts.
More than ten days had passed since the incident that had provided her with this political ammunition, yet she had held back from taking action.
There were multiple layers in Umbridge's plans. Her main objective was undoubtedly to leverage this incident at the moment when it would provide her with maximum political advantage. She knew that timing in politics was everything—strike too early, and the impact might be dulled by other events; strike too late, and the opportunity might be lost completely.
She was waiting for the perfect storm of circumstances that would amplify her revelations and guarantee their devastating effect upon her targets.
One other possibility was that she intended to keep this information as a trump card to be used only when she found herself in truly desperate political situation.
Another, more practical consideration was her calculation of the current political situation surrounding her main targets. Dumbledore could never stand idly by while Harry faced the prospect of imprisonment in Azkaban.
When Umbridge finally chose to weaponize this incident by throwing it directly in Dumbledore's face, she knew that he would be compelled to make significant compromises to prevent such a outcome. She could then force him into a trade to drive Bryan Watson from his position at Hogwarts.
The current status that both Bryan and Dumbledore had within the European wizarding community was another crucial factor of concern in Umbridge's calculations.
For Umbridge to successfully use this option, she needed to ensure that the majority of Ministry officials would align themselves with her. The current political situation was not yet favorable for such a scheme.
In the silence of the manor's dining room, Bryan's hands slowly clenched into fists behind his back.
It had to be said that Umbridge had indeed presented him with quite a puzzle.
Without external pressure forcing his hand, the option of proactively exposing this matter himself had its own complications. Such a preemptive strike would be equal to detonating a nuclear bomb in the heart of the British magical government, with consequences that would be unpredictable and potentially catastrophic ways.
High-ranking Ministry officials like Dolores Umbridge were never isolated persons. They were the representatives of larger political networks, shared interest, and reciprocal protection that extended deep into the magical society.
Umbridge had spent years cultivating her own faction within the Ministry and behind her stood Cornelius Fudge. If Bryan chose to expose this matter immediately, the resulting political explosion would be equal to conducting a wholesale purge of Ministry officials, potentially reaching all the way to the Minister of Magic.
The resulting upheaval within both the Ministry of Magic and British wizarding society should not be underestimated.
After all, behind almost every high-ranking Ministry official stood one or more ancient pure-blood families. Once these pure-blood families that had hollowed out the wizarding world reached consensus to any threat to their common interests, they had the power to cause massive unemployment among ordinary wizarding folk.
Faced with such a tide of organized opposition, even the combined influence of him and Dumbledore might not be sufficient to weather the storm.
Moreover, the question of how Dumbledore would react upon learning the full extent of this conspiracy remained an unknown variable in Bryan's calculations.
To reduce the impact, unless there was a more acute conflict to divert attention...
"Bryan?" Lawrence, who had been standing silently behind Bryan, couldn't bear the suffocating silence any longer. He looked with concern at Bryan's stern face, his voice was hoarse,
"This incident, the people behind instructing those two to kill the postman—are they targeting you?"
Lawrence was a shrewd person. He could easily see through the fact that there must be other instigators behind the two attackers. This murder case occurred at the entrance of that orphanage and also involved Vernon Dursley's nephew—that boy named Harry Potter who was similarly connected to Bryan. The direction of the accusations was self-evident.
Bryan turned his head to look at Lawrence, whose face was full of worry, and smiled reassuringly. He didn't lie, but spoke frankly,
"It should be so, judging from the current situation and the available evidence," Bryan replied, his voice carrying a note of frank acknowledgment that confirmed Lawrence's fears. "However, I must express my sincere gratitude to you, Lawrence. If you had not possessed the courage to risk your life in order to witness this scene, I would have found myself in an extremely passive position when this matter erupted."
Lawrence absorbed this confirmation of his suspicions.
The current situation... This seemed to indicate that these people with incredible abilities had a rather complex organization, even a society, and the young master occupied an important position within it.
Lawrence didn't express modesty about Bryan's gratitude. His lips moved as he said softly,
"Although the Watson family has experienced a significant decline in its fortunes since the old master's passing, when the late master was alive, he had showed kindness and assistance to a considerable number of people in positions of influence and authority. If you have need of such assistance, I could try to—"
Lawrence understood better than most the principle that fair-weather friends disappear when the weather turned stormy. Although the late master had indeed provided crucial help to numerous people who had since risen to positions of power, the reality was that many of these beneficiaries would be reluctant to honor old debts now that the Watson family had fallen to the point of near-extinction.
"That won't be necessary,"
Looking at Lawrence, whose eyes showed determination after hesitation, as if he had determined to sacrifice himself, Bryan's lips curved in a warm smile,
"I believe you also know that this is not an area you are familiar with. However, I do have something I need you to do." Bryan said in a calm and resolute tone.
A surge of emotion rose to his nasal cavity. Almost instinctively, Lawrence took a deep breath, straightened his legs, and bowed slightly,
"Please give your orders!"
"This isn't an order, Lawrence," Bryan replied, his smile deepening. "Rather, it should be considered a suggestion—albeit one that I sincerely hope you will follow. You should understand that behind this assassination case lies a complex conspiracy,"
Bryan explained, his words carefully chosen to explain the situation without overwhelming Lawrence. "Fortunately, you weren't discovered by those people, but this doesn't mean you're safe. Moreover, the time may come when I will need to invite you to attend a formal trial as a key witness.
I hope you will agree to temporarily set aside the matter of converting the manor into a welfare school. Instead, I need you to pack your luggage and go immediately to Hurst Orphanage. I will give you a letter to tell Mrs. Reagan to agree to let you stay there. You will need to stay there for several months. Before I come to find you again, stay peacefully at the orphanage and try not to go out."
Without any hesitation, Lawrence immediately agreed.
"What else should I pay attention to, Bryan?"
"Don't mention what you saw to the people at the orphanage. Also, they still think I work at a drilling company. If they ask about my work situation... just make something up."
Two days later, on a serene moonlit night.
BOOM!
From the expanding cloud of smoke and swirling dust at the center of the magical detonation, a man with grayish white hair the color of wool appeared in a spectacular back flowing trajectory and crashed heavily into a pre-established magical barrier. The collision left him dazed and disoriented, his chest was aching with the sharp pain of what were likely several cracked ribs.
His vision blurred as his brain struggled to process the trauma of the impact. After struggling to his feet, he suddenly tasted something metallic and sweet—a trickle of blood had begun to flow from the corner of his mouth.
"Are you completely insane, Watson?" Dawlish roared as his voice cracked with strain and panic as he continued his accusation. "You dare to openly attack a Ministry Auror!"
But Dawlish could no longer care about his injuries. Supporting himself against the barrier with one arm while fighting to keep his injured body straight, Dawlish continued to roar his protests at the figure whose outline was gradually becoming clearer as the smoke and dust began to settle around them. The man approaching him through the dissipating cloud radiated a deadly aura.
"Openly?" Bryan's voice carried a note of cold amusement as he approached him.
His back was turned toward the moonlight, causing his face to be hidden in a deep shadow. Only his eyes remained visible in the darkness glowing with a cold purple light The effect was unsettling, transforming Bryan into a figure that seemed to have emerged from the depths of hell.
"Oh, not quite, Dawlish, in fact, I have made some rather elaborate arrangements to ensure that our little conversation remains entirely private and free from unwanted observation."
Dawlish felt a chill of realization run down his spine. Following Bryan's subtle gesture toward the second-floor balcony of a neighboring house, he noticed his Muggle neighbors were laughing and enjoying the moonlight, completely oblivious to what was happening right next to them, his face darkened as he finally understood what Watson meant.
"What exactly do you want, Watson!"
Dawlish let out a low growl like a cornered beast, his wand gripped tightly in his hand and pointed at Watson. However, he was well aware that this 'little stick' in his hand would be utterly useless against Bryan Watson.
"You're very fortunate, Dawlish. I've killed quite a few wizards recently, you see. So tonight, I don't intend to take your life. I just want to—"
As he got closer, Bryan saw that Dawlish's raised arm was beginning to tremble, his rough face showed a subtle weakness, his breathing became irregular, until finally his body slowly slid down the barrier.
Looking down condescendingly at Dawlish, who had lost the will to resist, Bryan smiled coldly and slowly bent down.
Gazing at Dawlish, who was gradually losing his soul in the purple glow of his eyes, Bryan said softly,
"Take a look at some of your treasured memories..."
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