章 498: 0497 The Malfoys (BIG CHAPTER)

The pale sun struggled just above the horizon, its feeble rays striving desperately to send life-giving warmth and illumination to the innumerable creatures inhabiting the earth below.

A servant, his face contorted with panic and his breath coming in ragged gasps, ran frantically away from the imposing manor. Left behind, an iron gate of intricate design and formidable size still kept Bryan isolated outside the grand estate.

However, Bryan paid no attention to the barrier before him, he simply turned around, his hands clasped loosely behind his back and a smile on his face, surveying the vast, flat lawn and river outside the estate, as well as the distant fields gleaming golden.

Fawkes remained perched on Bryan's shoulder, seemingly interested in the white peacocks strolling through the garden inside the manor. It lowered its head, gazing at Bryan with eyes like clear rubies.

"Oh, no—" Bryan had been contentedly admiring the tranquil suburban scenery, but his words showed he already knew exactly what had captured Fawkes' interest. With a voice tinged with gentle amusement, he continued, "We haven't been given permission yet, Fawkes. It's impolite to barge into someone else's home."

Fawkes' beautiful eyes rolled upwards, showing a bit of white in a very human-like expression of its feelings upon hearing these words.

The peaceful moment was abruptly shattered as the Malfoys arrived on the scene far more quickly than Bryan had anticipated. The well-dressed couple came running from the luxurious villa, their usual composure notably absent as they hurried towards their unexpected and undoubtedly unwelcome visitor. Their eyes immediately locked onto the figure of Bryan Watson and the conspicuous large bird perched upon his shoulder.

"We're terribly sorry to have kept you waiting, Professor Watson—" Lucius Malfoy's normally smooth voice was slightly breathless from his hurried approach. Even from a distance of over sixty feet, his anxiety was palpable. With a casual wave of his hand the manor's great iron gate began to open. Unlike the creaking, rusty gates of Hogwarts, this barrier parted silently.

As the couple drew nearer, Lucius Malfoy's sharp eyes finally recognized the large bird perched on Watson's shoulder as Dumbledore's phoenix. A flicker of additional concern passed across his face as he considered the implications.

'Could it be that Dumbledore had something to do with Watson's unexpected visit?' The thought flashed briefly through Lucius's mind, a spark of paranoia in an already tense situation. But he quickly dismissed it, recognizing that there was no point in pondering this now.

Bryan reluctantly tore his gaze away from the pleasant view that had captivated him. He turned slowly to face the approaching Malfoy couple. His face was a mask of polite indifference as he observed their slightly disheveled appearance, noting the beads of sweat that dotted foreheads despite the cool morning air.

Then, his keen gaze was drawn to an unexpected detail—the silver spoon Mrs. Malfoy was clutching in her hand. After glancing at it twice, he raised an eyebrow slightly.

"This is my wife, Narcissa. You've already met her, Professor Watson—" Lucius began, his words trailing off as he noticed Bryan's pointed glance at the spoon. The Malfoys, who had carelessly forgotten to hide this visibly paled. Lucius hurried to cover up their lapse, "She was just arranging things in the dining room."

Bryan, who had maintained a stoic silence up to this point, finally showed a faint curve at the corner of his lips. He nodded slightly to Narcissa Malfoy and suddenly became very economical with his words, saying,

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Malfoy—"

Only when Bryan Watson began to speak did the Malfoy couple feel the crushing weight on their shoulders lighten somewhat. Lucius, seizing upon this moment of relative calm, quickly invited Bryan into the estate and began leading him towards the villa.

"Wait—"

As they walked along the snaking path towards the manor, Bryan suddenly came to an abrupt halt. They had reached a fork in the path, one way leading directly to the house, the other meandering through the extensive gardens. Bryan turned to face the Malfoy couple; whose faces had once again drained of color at this unexpected pause. He gave them a reassuring smile, though it did little to ease their anxiety.

"Before dinner begins, I'd like to take a walk with Fawkes in the garden—"

Bryan's gaze shifted to Fawkes, who was stretching its and looking around with undisguised curiosity and said with a smile, "You know, this phoenix spends most of its time cooped up in Dumbledore's office. It doesn't get many chances to stretch its wings—"

"Oh, of course, that's no problem. Feel free to look around—" Lucius Malfoy's response came a beat too quickly. Despite being the master of the manor, he was behaving more like a nervous guest in front of Bryan. His words were stiff, lacking their usual polish, and he discreetly glanced at his wife Narcissa, giving her a meaningful look. Although Narcissa understood her husband's hint, her face showed clear reluctance.

Bryan also noticed this silent exchange. His smile grew a touch wider. "If you have matters to attend to, Mrs. Malfoy, please go ahead. I don't mind—"

To be honest, Lucius would have preferred to see Bryan arrive at his home with a menacing demeanor. Such open hostility would have been easier to deal with, easier to counter. But this? This elegant and gracious manner, coupled with an undercurrent of unspoken threat?

It made Lucius even more anxious, setting his nerves on edge. Nevertheless, Lucius was eager to get his wife away from Watson. He glared at Narcissa, his eyes conveying a silent but urgent message. Finally, reluctantly, Narcissa took her leave, her steps slow and hesitant as she made her way back to the manor.

This small gesture did not go unnoticed by Bryan. As Bryan's meaningful gaze fell upon him, Lucius felt his mouth go dry. His lips moved, but no words came out, leaving him struggling in uncomfortable silence.

Lucius Malfoy, who had long dealt with the upper echelons of European magical society, prided himself on his ability to navigate the most treacherous social and political waters. He knew how to please greedy politicians with just the right combination of flattery and implied promises. He had mastered the art of gaining favor with renowned wizards, playing to their vanities and insecurities with practiced ease. He even had the audacity to plot Albus Dumbledore's removal from Hogwarts, a scheme that required nerves of steel and a masterful grasp of magical politics.

But in front of Bryan Watson, all these skills, honed over decades of maneuvering through the highest levels of wizarding society, seemed to have suddenly vanished. The only thing he could do was obey, like a puppet dangling from invisible strings.

Perhaps, Lucius thought with a touch of bitterness, it was because this young man potentially possessed the power to defeat the Dark Lord himself. And unlike Albus Dumbledore, with his lofty principles and hypocritical charades, Bryan Watson didn't seem to be bound by many rules or pretenses. He was an unknown quantity, a wild card in a game where Lucius had thought he knew all the players.

This unpredictability, combined with his immense power, made him a force to be reckoned with—and one that Lucius was not entirely sure how to handle.

Having received Bryan's permission, Fawkes let out a joyful cry that echoed across the grounds. The phoenix spread its magnificent wings and with a graceful leap, it left Bryan's shoulder, swooping excitedly towards the peacocks that had been peacefully pecking at the lush lawn.

Those normally graceful and proud birds, upon Fawkes' approach, stood frozen in place. Their usual regal demeanor vanished in an instant, replaced by a stillness born of instinctive fear. It was as if they had seen some terrifying creature from their worst nightmares, rather than the beautiful phoenix that was gliding towards them.

As the two men strolled along the intricately designed stone path that made its way between meticulously maintained flower beds and perfectly manicured lawns, Bryan turned his head slightly. His eyes, sharp and penetrating, focused on Lucius as he asked in a teasing tone, "Did you think I came here to raze Malfoy Manor to the ground?"

Lucius broke out in a cold sweat that had nothing to do with the mild morning temperature. He seemed to have inherited the mannerisms of a house-elf, his usually proud posture giving way to a slight hunch, his voice taking on a tone of excessive reverence as he replied, "You wouldn't do that—"

Pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts, Lucius continued, his words carefully chosen, "A remarkable wizard like yourself would never break your own promise."

Bryan's gaze deepened as he observed Lucius Malfoy, his eyes seeming to peer into the very soul of the man before him. After a moment of contemplation, he shook his head slightly, a gesture that could have meant many things.

It had to be said that Lucius Malfoy was indeed a clever man, sufficiently smooth and adaptable to navigate even the most treacherous of social and political waters. The respect he showed towards Bryan seemed to come entirely from within, rather than due to any external factors or coercion. No wonder even a madman as difficult to please as Voldemort had trusted Lucius; otherwise, he wouldn't have entrusted him with keeping his precious Horcrux.

Lucius had hoped his carefully worded response would elicit some reaction from Bryan Watson, perhaps a hint as to the true purpose of this unexpected visit. But to his mounting frustration and anxiety, Bryan neither revealed his intentions nor expressed any new thoughts about the Malfoy family. Instead, he simply continued walking forward, his pace unhurried and his manner relaxed, as if he were merely enjoying a pleasant morning stroll.

Indeed, Bryan seemed to be genuinely appreciating the scenery that surrounded them. His gaze roamed over the well-arranged landscape within the estate, taking in every detail with apparent interest. To get a better view of the expansive grounds, he even walked up a slight incline on the perfectly maintained lawn his eyes taking in every detail of the surrounding layout.

The silence stretched between them, growing more uncomfortable with each passing moment. Finally, unable to contain his curiosity and anxiety any longer, Lucius broke the silence. "If there's anything you'd like to know, Professor Watson, I'd be happy to explain."

"I'm observing the layout and terrain of this estate—" Bryan's response was casual, almost spontaneous. He stood with his hands behind his back, facing the cool evening breeze that had begun to pick up. But his next words made Lucius's heart race, pounding so hard he was sure Watson must be able to hear it.

"If one day Voldemort were to make this his Headquarters—oh, don't rush to deny it, Lucius, I'm saying if such a thing were to happen—I'm considering how best to approach an attack on Malfoy Manor."

Whoosh—

The gentle breeze that had been caressing the day, a soft whisper of air that had playfully ruffled leaves and cooled sun-warmed skin, suddenly transformed. In an instant, it became a fierce gale, a roaring beast that tore across the landscape with unrelenting force.

Bryan squinted against the sudden gale. His eyes, sharp and discerning, peered towards the horizon where the wind seemed to originate. There, at the very edge of the visible world where sky met earth, darkness was already encroaching upon the dim heavens, spreading with alarming rapidity in all directions, as if eager to devour the last remnants of light.

Lucius, standing beside Bryan, was not oblivious to this dramatic shift in both weather and atmosphere. His temple throbbed visibly, a physical manifestation of the stress that coursed through his body. With great effort, he forced his features into what he hoped was a convincing smile.

"This is a joke, right, Professor Watson?" Lucius managed to say, his words nearly lost in the howling wind. He resisted the urge to cough as the gale filled his mouth with dust and debris, the taste of earth and impending storm bitter on his tongue. Fighting to maintain his composure, he continued, "Everyone knows the Dark Lord was defeated by Harry Potter. He can never return to us, and the Malfoy family—"

Lucius paused, taking a deep breath that did little to calm his racing heart. His face, already pale from stress and fear, seemed to lose what little color remained.

With a voice that trembled almost imperceptibly, he pressed on, desperation coloring his words, "We've been proven to have no connection to that Dark Lord. The Ministry has confirmed those baseless rumors were false. Even if that person were to return one day, the Malfoy family would not associate with him. He could never use Malfoy Manor as his headquarters!"

Bryan, unmoved by Lucius's protestations, shifted his penetrating gaze from the ominous horizon to Lucius Malfoy's face, raising an eyebrow.

Then, with a chuckle devoid of any real humor—a sound that seemed to carry with it the chill of a grave—Bryan shook his head.. Without further comment, he continued walking forward, leaving Lucius to stew in his mounting anxiety.

As Bryan moved away, Lucius's mind raced, a torrent of questions and fears threatening to overwhelm him. What did Bryan Watson know? The question pounded in his head with each beat of his frantically racing heart. Had Watson somehow discerned that the faceless dark shadow he had defeated at the Quidditch Final that night could very well have been the Dark Lord himself?

Logically, Bryan Watson shouldn't have known this crucial piece of information. He didn't bear the Dark Mark, that Lucius and his fellow Death Eaters carried. Nor did he possess the unbreakable, hidden connection with the Dark Lord. And yet, if Watson had managed to deduce that it was Lucius who had dispatched someone to attack the stadium—

The first-person Lucius's panicked mind thought of was Severus Snape.

From his son Draco, Lucius was well aware that Severus and Bryan Watson shared a close relationship. Coincidentally, or perhaps not so coincidentally, Severus harbored the same suspicions about the Dark Lord's potential return.

The only flaw in this theory was that Severus hadn't been present at the Quidditch stadium on that night. Even if he had sensed the change, he might not have realized the true cause of the Mark's reaction. This uncertainty gave Lucius a small measure of comfort, but it was fleeting, overwhelmed by the tide of fear and doubt that began to engulf him.

Suddenly, the tense atmosphere was shattered by a chorus of startled cries erupting from near the largest fountain in the manor. The sound, a cacophony of squawks and screeches, cut through the howling wind. Bryan halted his forward march, turning to investigate the source of the commotion. What he found was a scene of chaos, with Fawkes at its epicenter.

Fawkes apparently misinterpreting the scattered peacocks' frantic attempts to flee as some sort of game, had decided to join in the 'fun'. In a display of its power, Fawkes spewed a small jet of magical flame. The fire, beautiful and terrible in equal measure, had found its mark on the flamboyant tail feathers of several unfortunate birds.

In an instant, aided by the strong wind that whipped across the grounds, the flames spread with alarming speed. They raced over the entire bodies of these unlucky peacocks, transforming the birds into comical, albeit dangerous, balls of fire. The lawn, once a picture of manicured perfection, was now a chaotic scene filled with fleeing 'turkeys on fire'.

Lucius's face darkened considerably at this unexpected turn of events. The destruction of his prized peacocks, symbols of the Malfoy family's wealth and status, was yet another misfortune in what was rapidly becoming a day of unrelenting stress and loss. Even Bryan, usually so composed, couldn't entirely suppress his reaction. His lips twitched.

With a swift, fluid motion, Bryan drew his wand from his sleeve. Despite being half a mile away from the unfolding disaster, his aim was accurate. He made a sharp, decisive slashing motion with his wand.

In response to his silent command, the water in the fountain suddenly surged to life. Multiple jets of water rose into the air and with absolute accuracy, they arced through the air and soaked the 'fire turkeys', extinguishing the magical flames and saving the unfortunate birds from further harm.

"Don't be naughty—" Bryan's voice broke through the howling wind. It reached the ears of Fawkes, who now looked sheepish.

After this small but chaotic commotion, Bryan no longer felt like strolling across the vast Malfoy estate. He glanced up at the sky, now gloomy on one side, and stopped in his tracks.

"Have you heard about some pureblood families' businesses being invaded by unknown individuals recently?" Bryan asked, his tone deceptively casual.

Malfoy's mind, still preoccupied with the potential crisis that threatened to overthrow his family and endanger Narcissa and Draco—perhaps as soon as tomorrow—took several long seconds to process this sudden change in topic. When Bryan's words finally penetrated the fog of his anxiety, Lucius found himself momentarily at a loss.

For a businessman of Lucius Malfoy's caliber and connections, the daily influx of information was vast and varied. Rumors and whispers of business dealings, both legitimate and shadowy, were as common as breathing. What Bryan Watson had just mentioned, though somewhat surprising, didn't immediately strike Lucius as particularly urgent or alarming.

"I've heard some rumors—" Lucius began, his voice trailing off as his quick mind began to race, analyzing the possible implications of Bryan's query.

In those few seconds of bewilderment, a flash of insight seemed to strike Lucius. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he stared into Bryan's unfathomable gaze, a look of surprise flashing across his features before he schooled his expression back to careful neutrality.

When he spoke again, his tone was deliberately nonchalant. "But the Malfoy family's businesses in England haven't encountered such incidents, so I didn't pay much attention—"

It wasn't that the Malfoy enterprises hadn't been targeted—it was that any such intrusions hadn't yet been discovered.

Remus had been far from incompetent in his covert investigations. He had simply had a stroke of bad luck. Over the past few days, through various channels both magical and mundane, Remus had painstakingly mapped out the unknown businesses of pureblood wizard families throughout magical Britain. Only the most paranoid and cautious of these families, those who concealed their business dealings away in the depths of Gringotts vaults, had managed to keep their secrets from Remus's determined probing.

Before the sky completely lost its luster, an owl rode the surging waves of encroaching darkness towards Malfoy Manor. It circled in the sky a few times before making a sharp dive towards Bryan in the garden.

Lucius, his curiosity piqued but wary of appearing too interested, stepped back a few paces. He didn't want Bryan Watson to think he was prying into matters that didn't concern him. However, when he saw the pleased smile that curved Bryan's lips after unfolding the letter—a letter clearly longer than a standard piece of parchment—Lucius felt his curiosity surged again.

"Tonight, find someone to cause some chaos in one of the Malfoy family's workshops," Bryan said, his tone casual as if he were discussing about the weather. His eyes fixed on Lucius as he continued, "Tomorrow, you'll escort this troublemaker to the Ministry."

After a pause, Bryan asked casually. "Any problems with that?"

Lucius realized that Bryan Watson's visit was a move to protect someone, someone who had been acting on Watson's orders, someone who had been causing trouble in secret.

If Watson was coming to the Malfoy family to provide cover, it meant that this person's identity had been exposed. They might even now be in Ministry custody.

The question of who this person could be burned in Lucius's mind.

Lucius pursed his lips, his mind racing through possibilities. But even as he speculated, a part of him recognized the futility of guessing. This was not some mystery to be unraveled through deduction alone—it was a very easy thing to find out. If the person had indeed been detained by the Ministry, their identity would be a matter of record, easily discovered through the right channels.

Yet, even as he realized this, Lucius found his thoughts drawn to an even more intriguing question. Why was Watson doing this? What was the ultimate goal behind these investigations? Was he searching for something specific, or was this part of a larger, more complex scheme?

Lucius's brow furrowed deeply as he racked his brains, But as his gaze inadvertently met Bryan Watson's deep purple eyes—Lucius felt his body tremble involuntarily and cold sweat immediately beaded on his forehead.

In that moment, Lucius realized that the question of whether to refuse or agree to Watson's 'request' was not a question at all. It was a foregone conclusion, a choice that had been made the moment Watson set foot on Malfoy property.

Lucius Malfoy, for all his wealth and influence, for all the power he wielded in the magical world, had no right to refuse. Not to mention the deadly leverage Bryan Watson had over him. If Watson decided to take his life, Lucius knew with chilling certainty that he would have no means of resistance. And perhaps even more terrifying was the knowledge that if Watson were determined to do so, he would accomplish it silently, leaving no trace, no evidence.

"Well then—" Bryan's voice cut through Lucius's spiraling thoughts like a knife through butter. Receiving the expected acquiescence, he nodded with evident satisfaction.

With a soft call that was nearly lost in the howling wind, Bryan summoned Fawkes from the distance. The phoenix appeared on his shoulder in a burst of flame that momentarily illuminated the gloomy garden.

Bryan turned to face Lucius, a smile appearing on his lips that did not reach his eyes. With a nod that seemed both farewell and a warning, he spoke, his words carrying easily despite the storm that begun to rage around them, "Thank you for your support, Mr. Malfoy. I'll be leaving now—"

"Leaving?" The word escaped Lucius's lips before he could stop it, his carefully cultivated mask of composure slipped for a moment to reveal the confusion and fear beneath. "But... the banquet—"

"I'm well aware that I'm not a welcome guest, Mr. Malfoy—" Bryan's words were accompanied by a light chuckle. "I'll leave now, and you won't need to risk breaking the law by having your wife use an unregistered Portkey."

The casual mention of the portkey sent a jolt of fear through Lucius. How much did Watson know?

"Wait!"

The word burst from Lucius's lips, driven by a surge of panic that overwhelmed his usual caution. But as that intimidatingly heavy gaze fell upon him once more, Lucius realized he had no clear purpose for stopping Watson. His outcry had been purely instinctive, a desperate grab at understanding in a world that suddenly seemed to be slipping from his control.

Observing the uneasy Lucius Malfoy, Bryan displayed a remarkable level of patience. His posture relaxed, as he quietly waited for Lucius to gather his thoughts.

"If—"

Lucius Malfoy—Draco's father, the proud head of the Malfoy family, a renowned figure in the European magical world—seemed to shrink before Bryan's eyes leaving behind a man who looked small, vulnerable, and terribly afraid.

Lucius's face, already pale from the stress of their encounter, now took on an almost ghostly sallowness. It was an expression more befitting a small wizard about to graduate, worried about his future prospects, than the powerful and influential man Lucius Malfoy was known to be.

"If..." Lucius continued, each word seeming to cost him great effort, "if one day, that person really comes back, Mr. Watson, would you be willing to protect the Malfoy family?"

As if in response to the gravity of the moment, the night wind howled fiercer than ever. It tore across the manicured lawns of Malfoy Manor, whipping the branches of ancient trees into a frenzy and sending leaves spiraling into the darkening sky.

Bryan's response, when it came, was not immediate. He seemed to consider Lucius's words carefully, his deep purple eyes unreadable as they bore into Lucius's own.

"I only protect those who are worth protecting, Malfoy—"

With a soft laugh in these words, Bryan Watson's figure and voice dissipated into the wind.

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章 499: 0498 Intentions

Bryan had no intention of staying for the carefully prepared dinner at the Malfoy residence. He knew from the start that he wasn't a welcome guest. However, Narcissa's 'elaborately designed' spoon portkey did amuse him somewhat.

Bryan had always thought highly of Lucius Malfoy. Despite his checkered past and many ideas that conflicted with Bryan's own, there was no denying that Lucius Malfoy was a clear-headed, intelligent man.

Although he had worked for Voldemort in his youth and was once deeply trusted by him, Lucius was different from the infamous, deranged Death Eaters imprisoned in Azkaban. Bryan could see that in Lucius Malfoy's heart, family and lineage were far more important than loyalty to Voldemort. It was just that he now found himself in a difficult position to find a way to extricate himself without losing everything.

The bonds of his past choices, the expectations of his pureblood peers, and the looming shadow of Voldemort's potential return all were combined to keep Lucius ensnared in a perilous balance.

As Bryan contemplated these complexities, he felt a sense of reassurance. Dealing with intelligent individuals, even those with whom one disagreed, always made negotiations smoother. He was confident that Lucius, despite any initial resistance, would not cause trouble regarding the matter of Remus.

Bang!

"Sorry, Fawkes, you're not suited for appearing in crowded places—" Fawkes fluttered, trying to land on Bryan's shoulder, but was blocked by Bryan. Fawkes' ruby-like eyes showed clear dissatisfaction.

Bryan couldn't help but smile at the bird's almost human-like display of emotion.

"Why don't you find some amusement for yourself?" Bryan suggested with a light smile. "There's no need to rush back to Hogwarts just yet."

With a soft whoosh of displaced air, Fawkes took flight, its magnificent tail feathers trailing fire-like embers that quickly faded into the night sky. Bryan watched the phoenix disappear into the distance. Then, with a small shake of his head, he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Carefully, Bryan surveyed his surroundings. The narrow alley gradually gave way to the more open expanse of Diagon Alley. The cobblestone street stretched out before him, lined with varied array of shops that catered to every magical need imaginable. Despite the lateness of the hour, a few witches and wizards still wandered along the street, window shopping or hurrying to complete last-minute errands.

Across the way, the famous Leaky Cauldron stood as it had for centuries. Its battered sign creaking gently in the evening breeze.

Fortunately, the attention of passing wizards was focused on the bustling Diagon Alley, and no one noticed that the renowned Bryan Watson was among them. However, this tranquility ended as soon as he entered the grimy hall of the Leaky Cauldron.

Tom, the nearly bald innkeeper whose wrinkled face bore resemblance to a shriveled walnut, was in the midst of a conversation with a short elderly wizard wearing an oversized top hat. Several unsavory-looking old wizards sat in the corner, sipping sherry from small glasses. One of them, with a long pipe, was filling the hall with smoke.

The innkeeper glanced casually at the customer entering through the back door. His jaw dropped, and his rheumy eyes widened to an almost comical degree. Without a word of apology to the small wizard he'd been conversing with, Tom practically vaulted over the bar, his wrinkled hands trembling with excitement.

"Mr. W-Watson!" Tom exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion. He looked as though he might faint from the sheer honor of Bryan's presence. "What an extraordinary pleasure! How may I be of service to you this fine evening?"

The effect of Bryan's arrival rippled through the pub like a stone dropped in a still pond. Conversations ceased mid-sentence, jugs were set down with soft thuds, and all eyes turned towards the entrance.

In the corner, the group of rough-looking wizards seemed to shrink into themselves, lowering their heads one by one as Bryan's gentle yet penetrating gaze swept over them. The wizard with the pipe even hastily stuffed the long-pipe into his sleeve.

"It's been quite some time, Tom," Bryan responded warmly, his voice carrying easily through the now-silent pub. "I'd like a private room, as I'll be meeting someone to discuss important matters later. Of course, I might need something to eat before that—"

As Bryan spoke, his mind drifted back to the summer when Sirius had escaped from Azkaban. At Fudge's insistence, Bryan had taken up temporary residence at the Leaky Cauldron, apparently to keep an eye on Harry, who had run away from his Muggle relatives. During that time, Bryan had become quite familiar with the ins and outs of the old pub, and with Tom himself. However, he noted with some amusement, the innkeeper's eagerness to please him had increased exponentially since then.

Every pair of eyes in the pub followed Bryan and Tom as they made their way towards the private rooms. The gathered witches and wizards watched with a mixture of awe and barely concealed curiosity. Many seemed to be wrestling with the desire to approach Bryan, to shake his hand or engage him in conversation. But there seemed to be a 'repelling aura' around Bryan Watson. Even until Bryan disappeared from view, no one dared to act on their intentions.

Almost in the blink of an eye, a knock sounded at the door of Bryan's private room. Tom entered, balancing a tray that was piled precariously high with variety of drinks. Surprisingly, there was hardly any food to be seen amidst the bottles and glasses.

"Oh, Mr. Watson," Tom began, his voice quivering with barely contained excitement. "These are all from the patrons in the pub. Everyone out there is clamoring to buy you a drink!"

Bryan had encountered similar situations before and had developed a graceful way of handling them. He skillfully reached into his robe and pulled out a handful of gleaming gold Galleons placing them on Tom's tray with a gentle smile.

"Please convey my heartfelt thanks to them all, Tom," Bryan said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "However, I can't accept such generosity without reciprocation. These Galleons should be enough to provide everyone in the hall with a glass of your finest Firewhisky. My treat, as a token of my gratitude for their warm welcome."

Tom's eyes widened even further. He bowed so low that his nose nearly touched the tray he was carrying. "You're a true gentleman, Mr. Watson!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with respect. "Such generosity! I'll see to it right away, sir!"

With practiced care, Tom backed out of the room, closing the door with a soft click. Moments later, the muffled sounds of wild cheering penetrated the thick wooden door, bringing a genuine smile to Bryan's face.

When the clock hanging on the mottled, grayish-white wall of the private room showed one minute to seven, the sound of hurried high heels clicking on the wooden floor suddenly came from the corridor outside. Bryan picked up a napkin and dabbed at his mouth; just as he made the mess on the table disappear, there was a knock on the door.

Without waiting for a response, the door swung open, revealing a figure that could only be described as a riot of color and extravagance.

"Oh, Bryan Watson!"

Rita Skeeter swept into the room like a tropical storm. Her choice of attire was, as always, flamboyant that bordered on the outrageous. A robe in the most vivid shade of banana yellow clung to her frame, its brightness almost painful to look at in the dim lighting of the private room. Her long nails were painted a dazzling pink, her eye shadow a riot of colors, and her hair still in elaborate curls.

Of course, Rita Skeeter would be incomplete without her signature accessory – the crocodile-skin handbag that was as much a part of her persona as her Quick-Quotes Quill.

It was clear that Rita had completely disregarded – or perhaps conveniently forgotten – the events surrounding the Greyback incident. Her face showed no trace of the animosity or fear that one might expect given their last encounter. Instead, she beamed at Bryan with an expression of utter delight, as if he were an old friend she'd been longing to see.

With a curl, Rita slammed the door shut behind her, Her gaze locked onto Bryan, filled with an almost predatory gleam of anticipation.

"Good evening, Rita," Bryan greeted her, his voice calm as he gestured towards the chair opposite him. "Please, make yourself comfortable. We have quite a variety of drinks, courtesy of the generous patrons in the main hall. Although," he added, "I'm afraid your quill won't be necessary for our conversation this evening. Perhaps it's best left tucked away."

A flicker of annoyance passed through Rita's bright green eyes, but she quickly masked it behind a practiced smile. She tucked her oversized handbag beneath the table, out of sight but certainly not out of mind. Then, leaning forward, she extended her hand across the table towards Bryan. Her fingers with numerous flashy rings, seemed almost man-sized in their size.

"I must say, Watson, I was quite surprised to receive your letter," Rita began, her tone dripping with false casualness. "How have you been faring lately? Oh, and did you happen to catch my article in the Daily Prophet last month? The one speculating on the truth behind that dreadful attack during the Quidditch World Cup final?"

Bryan raised a glass of sherry, toasting Rita. "It was truly excellent," he replied, his voice laced with subtle irony. "I was particularly impressed by your objective portrayal of me as Cornelius Fudge's newly recruited henchman. Your depiction of mine alleged collusion with the Ministry was...."

Rita's heavily made-up face remained blank, showing no sign of embarrassment at Bryan's thinly veiled sarcasm. Instead, her eyes sparkled with an almost manic enthusiasm as she leaned in closer.

"Oh, you know how it is, Watson," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "The public loves a bit of intrigue. I simply thought that a wizard of your caliber should have some spirit of rebellion. It adds spice to your image, you see."

Bryan chuckled softly, the sound rich with amusement and a hint of resignation. "Thank you very much for your frank suggestion, Rita. Your concern for my public image is truly touching." His eyes suddenly flickered towards Rita's handbag, a knowing glint in his gaze. "Oh, and could you please ask your quill to stop its continuous fidgeting in your handbag? I'd hate for it to have an unfortunate accident later."

Rita's heavily powdered face froze for a moment, her practiced smile faltering slightly. She recovered quickly, but not before Bryan caught the flash of surprise and irritation in her eyes. With a forced laugh, she nudged her handbag with her foot, as if disciplining a misbehaving pet.

"Oh, this quill is getting a bit long in the tooth," she said casually, "Sometimes it doesn't behave as well as it should. I really must look into getting a new one."

Taking a deep breath, Rita seemed to gather herself. Her eyes, magnified behind her jeweled spectacles, fixed on Bryan intensely. The predatory gleam was back, her earlier discomfort forgotten in the face of a potential scoop.

"So, Watson," she began, her voice dripping with eagerness, "I was thinking we could have a little chat about that mysterious witch you mentioned. Cliodna, wasn't it? The public first heard this intriguing name from your lips, you know. They're absolutely fascinated."

Rita paused for dramatic effect, her eyes never leaving Bryan's face as she continued, "I mean, here's a witch as powerful as you, yet she avoids the limelight like you. It's all very mysterious, very alluring to our readers. You both belong to some secret organization, don't you?"

Her voice dropped to a staged whisper, tinged with implication. "There's a history there, isn't there? Between you two, I mean. The public is very interested in your... relationship." Rita's eyebrows wiggled suggestively. "Are you... oh, I don't know... lovers, perhaps?"

Bryan had anticipated this line of questioning. Unmoved by her probing questions and implications, he just smiled and snapped his fingers producing a crisp sound.

Bang!

A sharp crack suddenly sounded in the small private room, startling Rita Skeeter. She almost thought Watson had lost his temper in embarrassment, but as the echoes of the sound faded, nothing seemed to have changed. The room remained as it was, with no visible effects from Bryan's magical display. Rita's eyes darted around wildly, searching for some sign of what had just occurred.

It was then that a small, neatly folded piece of parchment materialized in mid-air. It hovered for a moment, as if suspended by invisible strings, before gently floating down to land on the table directly in front of Rita.

Rita stared at the parchment, her expression a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and lingering uneasiness. She made no move to touch it, instead looked up at Bryan with questions burning in her eyes.

"What's this?" she asked, her voice showing a hint of the fear she was trying to conceal. In that moment, it was clear that Rita Skeeter had suddenly remembered exactly who she was dealing with – not just a subject for her sensational articles, but one of the most powerful wizards of the age.

Bryan leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers as he looked at Rita with a calm, almost amused expression. "Why don't you read it and see for yourself?"

*******************************

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