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0689 Unlucky Tom
🕑 Added 2025-04-18 11:58:12 +0000 UTCAfter seeing the appearance of the young man who walked in through the back door, the Aurors throughout the bar hall lowered their vigilance one by one, their tense shoulders relaxed slightly as they dropped their wands to their sides.
In the Ministry of Magic, apart from the Department of Mysteries, the Auror Office was probably also considered a department with a relatively high degree of confidentiality.
These weren't ordinary desk-bound bureaucrats shuffling parchments between departments, the elite witches and wizards who belonged to this department's force did not work in an comfortable office but were out on missions all year round, and their lives were constantly at risk as they tracked and captured dangerous criminals or dark wizards with a high degree of threat to magical society.
Therefore, although Bryan appeared in the Ministry of Magic frequently enough for his face to be recognized in the halls and lifts, only a small handful of the Aurors who now blocked all exits from the Leaky Cauldron had ever had close contact with Bryan Watson.
Of course, they had already heard countless stories about him in newspapers and rumors that circulated through the Ministry canteen.
The Aurors on duty were usually not talkative. They watched with professional detachment as Bryan Watson walked, their faces were expressionless showing nothing, but the depths of their cold, judging eyes told different stories that some observer might read.
Some had curiosity hidden deep in their eyes, some had admiration, and some—perhaps the most belligerent among them—looked at Watson with eager eyes.
Those who could successfully become Aurors after the grueling training programs had more or less a combative and unyielding component in their blood. Although this small part of the Aurors knew rationally in their hearts that they could not hope to be Bryan Watson's opponents in a direct magical confrontation, they could not totally suppress the desire to have a few exchanges with Watson.
But Bryan, who was covered in many different evaluating eyes from all corners of the room, remained composed and unaffected. There was even a genuine, friendly looking smile at the corner of his mouth. He passed by several Aurors and came directly to where Kingsley stood in front of the bar.
"You've come quickly, Mr. Watson," Kingsley nodded to Bryan.
"You know I happened to be nearby, Kingsley," Bryan said gently. He smiled at Kingsley, and suddenly, as if he remembered something important that had momentarily slipped his mind, he turned his head to look at the Aurors in the hall. After looking at their faces one by one, he couldn't help feeling a little strange. "Where are Sirius and Tonks?"
"They were assigned to maintain security at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," Kingsley explained in a deep voice.
If Tom didn't realize by now that something big had happened, he would be really stupid. But what he didn't understand most was why the Ministry of Magic had surrounded his bar with such overwhelming force.
Perhaps they had finally discovered his occasional smuggling of certain controlled substances or his habit of purchasing wines of questionable origin at low prices from those shady folks who appeared on the third Tuesday of each month. But what on earth would be serious enough to alarm Bryan Watson from Hogwarts?
"Mr. Watson," Tom said tremblingly when those light purple eyes were fixed on him. His back was pressed tightly against the wall-mounted liquor shelf. Only in this defensive position could he barely stand showing an expression that looked like he was about to cry.
"Ah, hello, Tom," Bryan's smile made Kingsley, who was observing his expression, a little puzzled. In his opinion, it would be more appropriate for Bryan Watson to be furious.
"We don't have to be so hostile and intimidating, do we?" Seeing Tom's pitifully terrified appearance, which had transformed his usually jovial persona into a quivering wreck, Bryan turned his head again to look at the group of Aurors behind him who were on vigilant guarding positions.
Kingsley pursed his full lips thoughtfully and, after a moment's consideration, waved at his subordinates. Then, responding to the silent order from their superior, the previously statue-like Aurors looked at each other with subtle, slightly lowered their raised shoulders in synchronized relaxation, and found various places around the room to sit down.
However, their attentive eyes still constantly monitored the nervous bar owner, the front hall entrance, and the back door of the bar.
"Does it feel much better now, Tom?" Bryan smiled and looked at Tom, whose eyes still glistened with unshed tears of fear, and then asked with casual curiosity, "By the way, Kingsley, have you actually informed Tom of your purpose?"
"Not yet, Mr. Watson," Kingsley admitted without returning the smile, "After finding out that the package came from here, we immediately locked the location according to protocol, and then dispatched my Patronus to deliver you a message. I assumed that perhaps you would want to personally witness and participate in the interrogation process,"
'Interrogation—' The ominous word echoed in Tom's mind like a death knell. Tom, who had just begun to calm down slightly, shook violently again.
A horrifying mental image of a creature—that terrible creature in a tattered black cloak that would suck up all happy memories, leaving only despair flashed unconsciously in front of his eyes.
'Package?!'
Then, this word suddenly leapt out from the conversation and stuck in Tom's mind again. He was stunned for a long moment, his eyes widened as he seemed to have found the core of the problem that had brought the Ministry's finest to his doorstep. He looked at Bryan Watson with realization, and then heard this young big shot show him a peaceful smile and say to him.
"I don't want to cause unnecessary panic throughout the wizarding community, and I certainly don't want to disrupt your business operations any longer than absolutely necessary, Tom, so let's keep this unpleasant interaction as brief and efficient as possible,"
Bryan explained reasonably as he pulled out a high stool by the bar and sat down on it, his palm pressing on the bar's surface for support. "Tell me, do you regularly help people send and receive packages here, Tom?"
'It really does have something to do with a package', Tom screamed silently in his own terrified mind. Moreover, with sinking dread, he also realized that one of the countless packages he had innocently sent out on behalf of a customer must have contained something truly terrible to get this level of Ministry response!
"You see, Mr. Watson," Tom said tearfully, his voice coming constricted as if an invisible hand was strangling his neck, forcing him to gasp desperately for each breath. "I - I have literally hundreds of people passing through these doors every day. Some wizards are in a tremendous hurry, rushing between appointments or trying to catch international Portkeys, and they'll often let me help send their packages to the post office. Oh, and some people will even send things directly here, and their intended recipients—customers or friends—will come later to pick them up at their convenience."
"Where exactly are you keeping those packages now?" Kingsley said immediately. "I need to personally inspect them immediately."
Tom pointed with a trembling finger toward an inconspicuous small room next to the kitchen. Then, two Aurors in the hall stood up silently. While taking out professional equipment like Secrecy Sensors, dark magic detectors and other specialized magical instruments from their trouser pockets, they quickly walked towards the small storage room.
"I am sure you've probably already guessed the nature of our visit, Tom,"
Bryan observed shrewdly as he casually took a few gleaming silver Sickles out of his pocket and placed them with a clink on the bar. Then, on the liquor shelf behind Tom, a dark-colored wine bottle flew down steadily through the air and gracefully poured a portion of golden sherry into a glass that Bryan had subtly conjured.
After taking a sip of the light and sweet sherry, Bryan said in gentle yet serious tone,
"In order to prevent widespread panic among the general magical population, the Ministry of Magic has ordered the Daily Prophet not to report this incident in their pages—just yesterday afternoon, a fourth-year witch at Hogwarts received what appeared to be an ordinary package from the Hogsmeade post office.
However, the package contained a powerful and highly dangerous dark magic item, which directly led to the student being urgently transported to St Mungo's Hospital. She is in a critical condition and is still not completely out of mortal danger even now. At the same time, several unfortunate Hogsmeade villagers who happened to be nearby and many young wizards and witches who were simply enjoying their school weekend suffered magical injuries of varying degrees in this incident."
Bryan paused and then said to the dumbfounded Tom, "Now, after investigation by the professionals of the Ministry of Magic throughout the night, it has been conclusively determined that this particular package was originally sent from your bar, Tom. Do you have anything of significance to tell us about this matter?"
The oppressive silence in the bar lasted for tens of agonizing seconds. Then, under the gaze of Bryan and the many vigilant Aurors around the room, Tom suddenly jumped up from his stool as if he was electrified, his face was transforming from fear to outrage.
In the next few colorful minutes, the furious Tom kept spitting out saliva in his passion, his face was flushing deeper shades of crimson with each passing moment.
He cursed the unknown person who had left the package with the most vicious and creative magical swearwords in his vocabulary, and "kindly" greeted every elder who had any blood relationship with that person with suggestions for anatomically impossible acts that made even some of the veteran Aurors raise their eyebrows in surprise.
This unexpectedly ridiculous scene made the corners of the Aurors' previously stern mouths twitch uncontrollably, some of them having to disguise inappropriate laughter as unconvincing coughs.
"Was it Miss Hermione Granger's package that went wrong, Mr. Watson?" Tom suddenly stopped his colorful tirade mid-curse and looked at Bryan with caution.
Kingsley's brows furrowed at once, and Bryan also sat up straight, asking with interest, "You have an impression of that package, don't you, Tom?"
"It was indeed that very package!" Tom exclaimed through gritted teeth as his hands clenched into fists. "Of course, I remember it clearly now, Mr. Watson."
After taking a few deep, calming breaths that did little to settle his agitation, Tom swallowed audibly and continued, "That was more than half a month ago, Mr. Watson. One cold evening, when the lamps were already lit in the streets outside, a strange guy came in through the front door of the bar."
"A strange guy, you say?" Bryan said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes never leaving Tom's face.
"Yes, that's right, Mr. Watson," Tom nodded vigorously as he fell deeper into his memories of that evening. "He was a particularly sloppy young man, and he was dressed very much in the manner of a Muggle—not the usual wizard's attempt at Muggle clothing that stands out for its weirdness, but genuinely like a Muggle.
You know, even many magical folks who frequently visit my bar are not so good at correctly wearing Muggle clothes without obvious mistakes, but that person was dressed impeccably according to Muggle fashion. I mean, like an authentic Muggle who had lived among them all his life."
Tom turned around unsteadily and reached with trembling fingers for a glass of whiskey from his personal reserve kept under the counter. Only after drinking it all in one desperate gulp, did he continue his account, panting.
"Of course, not only was his clothing convincingly Muggle in every detail, but he also wore these Muggle sunglasses. You know what these sunglasses are, don't you, Mr. Watson?"
Bryan nodded thoughtfully, "You mean to tell me, he appeared in your bar at night, yet he was wearing sunglasses?"
"That's exactly right, that's precisely what I'm saying!" Tom exclaimed with relief that Bryan Watson had immediately understood the weirdness of what he was trying to say. He smacked his thin lips nervously and continued.
"That person approached me directly at the bar, avoiding contact with other patrons, and casually placed two gleaming gold Galleons on the counter and asked me to mail a package for him.
He explained in an oddly flat voice that he was a fan of Miss Hermione Granger and insisted this was a modest gift to express his admiration. Oh, this type of request is not particularly unusual in itself. Similar situations have occurred before. But then he made a rather specific request."
"What was this request exactly?" Kingsley asked immediately.
"He hoped that I would keep the package in the bar for a few days rather than send it immediately," Tom explained,
"He explained that because it was during the Christmas holiday period, Miss Hermione Granger might have returned home. He expressed that it was in his preference that I wait to send it to her after the new term had officially started, when she would certainly be back at Hogwarts to receive it.
Oh, and, he was unwilling to leave either his name or any return address with me. You know, Mr. Watson, if no one accepts the mail for whatever reason, the post office will return the parcel to the sender. I habitually keep my customers' addresses recorded in my logbook so that I can return packages to them in such circumstances, but that person told me quite firmly that if the package is returned, I should just throw it away directly."
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