Harry Potter: The Golden Viper-Chapter 715 - 0713 Plans

Would they truly go so far as to kill Hermione just to gain more gold galleons from the goblin betting operation?

If that was truly their motive, then this group of people could only be described as incredibly foolish and shortsighted, their minds were clouded by the shine of gold to the exclusion of all reason and consequence.

Not to mention that after such a calculatingly orchestrated incident involving a student champion, Hogwarts would undoubtedly investigate this matter with unprecedented thoroughness. Bryan also believed his reputation in the wizarding world, along with Dumbledore's nearly mythical standing in magical society, still carried considerable weight and influence across international magical borders.

Their combined efforts would leave no stone unturned. Taking such an enormous risk just for gold galleons, even if it was a mountain of them, went far beyond mere greed clouding judgment. It was utter madness.

Considering the current situation within the British magical community and the numerous passionate supporters of Hermione in other European countries, the news of her attack had, thus far, not yet been made public through official channels.

Professor McGonagall had ensured a tight information lockdown at Hogwarts, and St. Mungo's staff had been sworn to absolute secrecy about their high-profile patient.

But Bryan knew from experience that if this matter remained unresolved for much longer, the information would inevitably leak out. The magical community was too small, too interconnected, for such significant news to remain contained indefinitely.

Rumors would spread, first as, well, just rumors, then as front-page headlines in the Daily Prophet and other magical publications across Europe.

The goblins' intelligence network was certainly not to be underestimated in this incident. They had infiltrated every corner of wizard society over centuries, establishing informants and contacts that many wizards never suspected. Their ears were everywhere, and their eyes missed nothing that might affect their precious gold galleons.

Once they received this news about the Triwizard champion, they would certainly react with the swift efficiency. Freezing the wagered funds would be the minimum, most immediate response to protect their business interests.

The betting pools would be suspended pending investigation, causing an uproar among gambling wizards across Europe. Next, the goblins would also hunt down these greedy wizards who had dared to disrupt their crafted rules and betting systems. They would track them relentlessly, with the same determination they showed when pursuing those who dared to steal from their vaults, and teach them an unforgettable lesson in goblin justice.

Goblins didn't forgive, and they certainly didn't forget—especially when it came to matters involving their gold galleons.

Bryan remained externally silent and still as a statue in the center of the confinement room, but his thoughts raced ceaselessly through his mind like galloping hippogriffs, analyzing and discarding theories with dizzying speed.

Logically, this scenario made no sense at all when examined with just reason. The organization they had begun to uncover through Fraser's lead clearly possessed considerable influence in the Muggle world. Their tentacles seemed to reach into government Universities, legitimate businesses, and perhaps even law enforcement. They obviously weren't desperate criminals taking foolish risks for a quick profit.

Bryan didn't believe for even a second that Mr. Onisto Pastore had actually donated all his property and wealth out of overwhelming despair over his daughter's mysterious disappearance, as the official records apparently indicated.

Most likely, his assets had been secretly transferred through complex transactions, laundered clean of any connection to their original owner. This sophisticated financial maneuvering demonstrated that these people had absolutely no shortage of methods, connections, or expertise when it came to accumulating wealth through both magical and non-magical means.

Unless... they were two separate groups.

Bryan's expression remained blank, showing none of the thoughts swirling behind his eyes, but the light in those eyes had transformed into something unsettling and powerful—the cold, calculating gaze of a predator preparing to strike.

Even though he wasn't intentionally intimidating anyone in the room or consciously projecting his magical power, the unconscious pressure he exuded still made Louise feel increasingly suffocated, as though the air around them was becoming too thick to breathe.

She backed away instinctively, and retreated repeatedly until she was more than thirty feet from the door, nearly pressing herself against the opposite wall, before feeling somewhat better.

In the thin sunlight that now penetrated through the window, Louise clutched her chest with trembling fingers as she stared at those remarkable purple eyes glimmering in the shadows. Her face turned increasingly pale as she struggled to draw breath into lungs that seemed to have forgotten their purpose, and she kept gasping like a fish out of water.

Only then, in that moment of fear, did she truly recognize and realize the truly formidable, almost otherworldly nature of wizards walking among ordinary humans.

Kingsley, despite being a powerful wizard himself and an experienced Auror accustomed to magical duels and confrontations, also couldn't bear the intense, suffocating aura surrounding Bryan Watson.

He retreated steadily until his back was pressed against the stone wall, watching Bryan Watson with startled, disbelieving eyes as his hair swayed slightly in the supernatural breeze created by the magical disturbance.

There were never truly coincidences without cause in this world, Bryan pondered as the pieces began to arrange themselves in his mind. What happened to Hermione must have deeper, more complex reasons than a simple gambling scheme.

"Kingsley, I'm afraid our plans need to change immediately—" Bryan said calmly, demonstrating remarkable control over his magical power.

In the time it took him to turn around, all the unusual, disturbing phenomena in the room disappeared completely, though his commanding tone still carried a powerful pressure that made Kingsley feel an uncomfortable tightness constricting his chest.

"I need you to do some things—" Bryan continued, his voice low but sounding clear in the silence of the room.

Kingsley blinked rapidly, knowingly suppressing his feelings of anxiety as he stepped forward to receive instructions.

"First, regarding Mr. Onisto Pastore—" Bryan's gaze turned sympathetically toward the unconscious Muggle, a man who had suffered from a truly pitiful fate that no human deserved, and who had fallen back to the hard ground in his broken state.

"I believe we have no reason to negligently leave Mr. Pastore alone here in this dreadful place with his tormented memories. I'd like you to personally escort him back to London without delay and have him placed under care at St. Mungo's. His psychological and physical condition is critically unstable and requires immediate professional treatment—"

"I will escort him safely back to London—" Kingsley responded in his usual deep voice and nodded solemnly.

"Afterward, take Louise directly to Berlin and wait for me there—" Bryan gave Kingsley these serious instructions,

"Before I arrive, resist all temptation to investigate anything on your own, no matter how promising it might appear," Bryan emphasized with particular intensity. "If my suspicions are correct, there should be one of their operational bases located there. You've witnessed the dark magic that killed Fraser. Without full Ministry support, it would be extremely dangerous if someone discovered your intentions and marked you as a threat—"

"What are your plans, Mr. Watson?" Kingsley glanced at Louise, who was gradually approaching them again with cautious steps now that the magical disturbance had subsided, and asked, clearly understanding the implication hidden within Bryan's words.

"I have some new, potentially critical leads that require immediate attention," Bryan said firmly in a serious tone. "I'm not entirely certain if they're directly related to this incident, but I must verify them personally before proceeding further—"

'Should I find Ludo Bagman first, or should I approach Gerson Barnah directly?' Bryan considered silently, weighing the advantages and risks of each option.

After some careful consideration, Bryan decided to first speak with Ludo Bagman to gather the necessary background information.

Ludo Bagman was relatively straightforward to understand as a character—greedy and hopelessly addicted to gambling, continuously in debt, but basically not dark wizard material. He was more fool than villain, and perhaps more reckless than malicious.

Although he maintained 'good' personal relations with the head goblin in Paris, their naturally suspicious nature towards wizards and infamously untrustworthy style still made Bryan appropriately cautious about approaching them directly.

He couldn't guarantee with absolute certainty that this wasn't a trap set by the goblins working secretly with that mysterious group. Goblins had their own agenda, their own ancient grudges against wizardkind, and their trustworthiness was to gold above all else.

In the Wizarding world, appearances were often deceiving, and Bryan had survived this long in the Underground World by maintaining healthy skepticism.

'What information did Bryan possess?'

Louise looked hesitantly at Bryan, who was talking with Kingsley. Previously, she would have persistently questioned him until she got satisfactory answers, but her recent emotional outburst had left her feeling deeply embarrassed.

Especially after learning about the magical world's hidden existence and the shocking revelation that Bryan Watson was seemingly a top influential figure in that world, she suddenly felt that Bryan had become somehow distant and almost unreal to her.

"Oh, and there's a third matter of importance—" After giving the two previous instructions, Bryan suddenly remembered something. He motioned for Kingsley to step back, then waved his wand in a fluid, precise movement to gently move the unconscious Mr. Pastore safely aside as well.

With the area cleared, he focused his gaze intensely on the concrete floor.

This certainly wasn't the first time Mr. Pastore had pounded desperately on the floor in his madness. The cement surface, despite years of weathering and repeated impacts, remained intact without a single fragment breaking off or crack forming. Even with the unusual magical reaction they had witnessed earlier, one could tell that there was something unusual underneath.

Bryan didn't wave his wand again immediately. Instead, under the increasingly curious gazes of both Kingsley and Louise, he slowly crouched down. His fingertips touched the slightly cold cement surface, tracing the irregular patterns, occasionally pausing to tap the floor gently with his knuckles.

"What exactly are you doing?" Louise couldn't resist asking out of curiosity. She immediately shrank back under Kingsley's stern, warning gaze, ducking her head slightly in apology before agreeing to watch in patient silence.

"Not a typical wizard's approach," Bryan explained with a slight, knowing smile after a few minutes of this examination. "This monastery, before it closed down, was probably not so ordinary."

A few tense minutes later, Bryan took a deep breath.

As they say, all roads lead to Rome. With his top-tier magical expertise and knowledge of runes, Bryan quickly understood the seal over the opening. His fingertips emitted a faint light as they again traced the strange patterns on the floor, and then—

Whoosh—

A white halo of light illuminated the dim confinement room. As the light receded, a dark hole appeared in front of the three of them.

The moment air began to circulate between the long-sealed underground chamber and the room above, a scorched, pungent smell like that of magical burn damage mixed with an intense, inescapable stench of long-dried blood and decay surged upward.

Louise, who had curiously peered down into the darkness was struck full force by the foul wind rushing across her nostrils. Her body reacted violently and instantaneously; she immediately retched as she clapped a hand over her mouth and hurriedly went to the doorway gasping desperately for fresh air.

"Is this the actual location where that so-called magical society conducted their research and experiments?"

As an experienced Auror who had seen his share of crime scenes and dark magic aftermath, Kingsley had developed much greater physical and psychological resistance to unpleasant odors and disturbing sights than a civilian like Louise.

He just frowned deeply without backing away as he looked down into the darkness. His eyes showed a mixture of professional anticipation and personal disgust. "Can we potentially dig up more substantial clues from below that might lead us directly to these perpetrators?"

"As material evidence for conviction in front of the Wizengamot, we might indeed find something useful," Bryan stared carefully at the spiral stone staircase leading downward into darkness, his tone ice-cold. "But if we're hoping to track down those dark wizards through some lingering magical traces or signatures they may have left behind, it's highly unlikely at this point—"

His wand emitted a soft light now, illuminating the first few stone steps of the staircase.

"Too much time has passed since they abandoned this place, and it seems to have been carefully cleaned up," Bryan continued. "I believe Mr. Pastore was once taken down there and witnessed his daughter being tortured. Such cruelly traumatic memories were simply too painful to bear, rooted deeply in his soul and mind. So, even in his current irrational mental state, his instinct repeatedly drove him to try opening this place."

Kingsley clenched his fist tightly within his sleeve. His gaze toward the unconscious Mr. Pastore was filled with sympathy and anger. As an Auror, he understood all too well the twisted mentality of those who practiced the dark arts on victims.

The reason they had allowed Pastore to live when they could easily have killed him was because these perverted abusers believed that this would subject the survivor to even more excruciating, continued suffering. They took perverse pleasure in tormenting and torturing the human heart and mind long after the physical torture had ended!

"These despicable people should rot in the deepest, darkest cells of Azkaban prison for the rest of their lives!" Kingsley said furiously, his deep voice vibrating with rare emotional turbulence and fury.

"What they did to Fraser alone is more than enough to earn them a lifetime sentence in Azkaban—" Bryan's expression was severe as he continued. "But even that punishment wouldn't satisfy my sense of justice in this case. You can go down and look for evidence, Kingsley. When we catch these people, I hope they'll get a taste of the Dementor's Kiss as their final judgment. That would be far more fitting for their crimes than simply turning them to ash with a well-deserved Incendio."

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