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0695 Misfortune
🕑 Added 2025-04-24 12:57:36 +0000 UTCA handsome face down at Louise—a face with soft, silky gray hair that caught the faint moonlight and seemed to shimmer in its glow. But it was those remarkable pale purple eyes that captivated her.
Louise blinked hard several times rapidly, her vision momentarily blurring as she stared in disbelief at the young man standing before her. Her lips parted comically in shock, forming a perfect 'O' of astonishment.
"Mr. Watson—" She breathed, her voice barely audible above the whistling of the wind that swept through the narrow alley.
Without any warning, another man emerged suddenly from the darkness behind the young gray-haired wizard. He was a tall, powerful looking Black man and based on professional experience, Louise immediately branded him as a no-nonsense man.
Louise shrank back, her shoulders hunching as if to make herself a smaller target, startled by the sudden appearance of the serious-faced Kingsley with his intimidating demeanor. Noting her reaction, Bryan thus released his grip on her arm, allowing her the space she clearly needed.
"This is Kingsley," He introduced with a casual wave of his hand. "Don't be afraid, Miss Williams. We are not bad people—"
A handsome face always makes it easier to gain trust. Although Louise was not personally familiar with the gray-haired gentleman in front of her, something in his open expression and the sincerity reflected in those unusual purple eyes compelled her to believe his words without question, despite the bizarre circumstances of their meeting in this godforsaken place.
"You know this Mug—ahem, this lady, Mr. Watson?" Kingsley asked, his deep voice carrying a hint of surprise as he caught himself before using a term that would be unfamiliar to the young woman.
Bryan glanced again at the timid girl looking up at him with those wide, questioning eyes.
"Not really acquainted, just met once, outside the entrance alley to the Ministry, on a street," He explained, before addressing to Louise directly. "Do you remember me, Miss Williams—"
Louise bit her lower lip nervously, and nodded slightly.
A light flush began to creep up her neck as memories of their previous encounter flooded back with embarrassing clarity.
"Just call me Louise... you're Bryan Watson—" She quickly spoke the gray-haired gentleman's name, but after saying it aloud, her cheeks inexplicably flushed pink, visible even in the poor lighting, and she tightly closed her mouth again as if regretting her boldness.
How could she possibly forget their brief encounter?
Bryan Watson—this was the first and only time in her life that she had approached a completely strange man on the street, driven by instinct. And then she had been promptly and decisively rejected. For a "lady" of her upbringing and sensibilities, this kind of shame would follow her for life.
"What a marvelous coincidence—" Bryan said, shaking his head slightly, again expressing his amazement at the unlikely event of their paths crossing in such circumstances.
But his tone carried a heaviness, suggesting that this coincidence was perhaps not entirely fortunate.
"Louise, I'm delighted to encounter you again, but for you, this is really a terrible thing to happen in this situation—"
After several seconds of bewilderment, during which her mind raced through possible meanings behind his ominous words, Louise came abruptly back to her senses.
She immediately realized what Mr. Watson meant by "terrible-thing" The slight blush that had appeared on her cheeks instantly drained away, leaving her face as white as porcelain.
She stared at Bryan Watson, silently pleading for a denial of her growing suspicion, but he didn't return her gaze, instead looked down at the cracked pavement beneath their feet.
So, Louise turned bewilderedly to the tall man standing behind Mr. Watson, seeking answers, but this Kingsley, who emanated an aura of sternness and authority, also lowered his head, his face also showing severity that confirmed her worst fears before any words were spoken.
"Fraser," Louise whispered, covering her mouth with trembling fingers as if to hold back the sob that tried to escape her lips. "He—what happened?"
Bryan and Kingsley exchanged a glance, their eyes meeting briefly in the shadows, both seeing the hidden anger blazing in each other's gaze—anger at the senseless violence, at the dark wizard who had caused this tragedy, at the situation they now faced with this innocent Muggle woman drawn into their dangerous world.
"Louise—" Bryan pursed his lips, choosing his words with careful pondering. "May I ask, what is your relationship with this Fraser?"
His voice was gentle but direct, needing to understand the connection before proceeding with the difficult news he must deliver.
"He is my brother—" She replied, her voice breaking on the final word.
In the cold alley, surrounded by crumbling brick and concrete, the girl's sobs, filled with heartache and sorrow echoed hauntingly.
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St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, fifth floor, Spell Damage ward—a place where the most seriously injured victims of magical mishaps and attacks were treated.
The unbearably torturous night finally ended with the faint light of dawn breaking on the eastern horizon. The slightly greenish morning light filtered through the high, narrow window set in the oak-paneled wall opposite the door onto the hospital bed and, as time passed, gradually crept up to touch the pale, bloodless face of Hermione who lay unconscious.
Beside the bed was a recliner where Nymphadora Tonks was sleeping, her body was curled into an uncomfortable position, covered messily with her wizard's robe. However, when sudden hurried footsteps echoed from the distant corridor outside and grew steadily nearer, Tonks opened her eyes abruptly, instantly alert despite her exhaustion.
Though her shiny black eyes were still slightly foggy from being suddenly awakened from deep sleep, the increasingly experienced Tonks had already drawn her wand, and assumed a defensive battle stance.
As the footsteps grew closer and finally stopped directly outside the hospital room door, the haziness in her eyes had completely disappeared, replaced by sharp focus and determination. She moved silently to Hermione's bedside, placing herself protectively between the vulnerable girl and the door, her vigilant gaze was fixed steadily on the entrance.
Tap, tap, tap—
But after the somewhat urgent knocking, which had a familiar rhythm to her ear, Tonks relaxed. She scratched her hair absently, which had become dry and brittle due to poor sleep and the hospital's artificially heated air. After thinking for a moment, focusing her metamorphmagus abilities, she changed her brown hair to black.
"I was in Albania—phew—"
Upon entering the hospital room with a swing of the door, Sirius didn't bother with the customary greeting to Tonks. He directly walked past her with large steps toward Hermione's bed.
"Working jointly with French Hit Wizards on a special cross-border mission. I only received Madam Bones's urgent letter last night, and then I rushed back immediately...phew...How's Hermione?"
"Since I arrived yesterday evening, she's been unconscious, showing no signs of waking," Tonks replied. "But Dumbledore visited briefly and said she would likely wake up today—"
Ever since Sirius joined the Auror Office, the two had become partners, while Kingsley had shifted his focus to team leadership.
Sirius looked thoroughly exhausted. His fatigue was likely worsened by traveling through the morning dew and mist. His black hair was wet with moisture, with a few strands plastered to his forehead, but he paid no attention to his disheveled appearance.
His gray eyes, now brimming with fury at whoever had caused this situation, were firmly fixed on Hermione's pale face, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest as she took each faint breath and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides.
"Madam Bones didn't say much in her letter, she only told me that Hermione had encountered a serious problem while collecting some kind of package in Hogsmeade, something that had severely injured her. Is there any new development? What exactly happened?!"
Looking at Hermione, who just over a week ago had been staying at his house at Grimmauld Place, Sirius's breathing didn't slow but became more rapid and shallow, showing his growing anger and concern. His tightly creased brow created several deep vertical wrinkles on his forehead, making him look older than his years, the legacy of Azkaban still visible in moments of extreme emotion.
"Nobody knows precisely what happened, Sirius—" Tonks said in a low, voice, glancing toward the partially open door to ensure they weren't being overheard by passing Healers or Ministry officials.
"But I heard through Ministry channels that both Bryan and Dumbledore were absolutely furious about the whole situation,"
She continued, leaning closer to him. "After Umbridge returned from her visit to Hogwarts, she nearly destroyed half her office in a fit of rage—throwing things, shredding papers, the works. And the Minister's face didn't look good either. I guess they probably faced some serious heat at Hogwarts during their visit—"
The corner of Sirius's mouth twitched at this information. Fudge and Umbridge had probably gone to Hogwarts to assert their authority and control the narrative of the incident, while also hoping to avoid any personal or formal responsibility the Ministry would certainly have to bear in this serious matter.
And knowing Bryan as he did, Sirius was certain he wouldn't have given Fudge and Umbridge anything resembling a pleasant reception during their visit.
The feeling of schadenfreude existed in Sirius's heart for only the briefest instant before vanishing, immediately replaced by a deeply worried expression as his thoughts returned to more important matters.
Perhaps knowing the close, almost parental relationship Sirius had with Harry Potter, Madam Bones had specifically mentioned in her letter that Harry had fortunately not been physically injured in this apparent terrorist attack.
But Sirius knew his godson better than most; he understood Harry's tendency to shoulder blame for events beyond his control. Harry would certainly not feel fortunate about escaping injury while Hermione suffered—quite the opposite. He would be consumed by guilt, searching for ways he could have prevented his friend's injuries.
"Oh, it's time—"
As Sirius was worrying about Harry's current mental state, Tonks beside him suddenly exclaimed. She picked up the robe thrown on the recliner and took out a bottle containing golden potion from the pocket.
"This was personally brought by Dumbledore late last night—" she explained, holding the bottle up so Sirius could see the intricate swirling patterns within the liquid similar to that of dancing flames.
Tonks gently lifted the covers and carefully supported Hermione's body, who was wearing the standard pale blue hospital dress.
"He gave me very specific instructions," She continued, "Every six hours, she needs exactly three tablespoons—no more, no less. This bottle is a two-day supply specially brewed for her condition. Snape will personally deliver the rest before tomorrow evening. Please, give me a hand with this—" She gestured for Sirius to assist her, keeping Hermione supported in a semi-upright position.
At the mention of Snape's name, Sirius curled his lips in an instinctive expression of distaste. Nevertheless, he pushed aside his personal feelings and picked up a silver spoon from the bedside table.
Taking the bottle from Tonks, carefully tilting the bottle, Sirius gently brought the potion, which had golden flame-like colors, to Hermione's lips.
After the potion entered her mouth, Hermione's sickly face quickly regained color, and her breathing became slightly heavier.
To avoid disturbing Hermione's healing rest, Sirius and Tonks didn't engage in much conversation after completing this important task. They spoke only in hushed whispers when absolutely necessary.
Around nine o'clock, when the morning sun had fully cleared the horizon and was streaming more brightly through the window, a team of green-robed hospital Healers entered the room to conduct their scheduled examination of their patient.
They supplemented Hermione with several vials of nutrient solution and applied a pungent, violet-colored, viscous potion to Hermione's right arm before they sealed the wound with a spell, bandaged it with self-cleaning gauze, and hurried away to attend to the next ward on their busy morning rounds.
"Get some sleep—" Tonks urged gently, noticing the extreme exhaustion that Sirius was struggling to overcome. "We need to stay energized and alert to handle any possible assassination attempts that might occur again—"
Tonks's logical reasoning finally convinced the stubborn Sirius, who had been determined to maintain his watch.
He nodded reluctantly.
"Alright, I'll sleep for just two hours, no more, If Hermione wakes up while I'm—"
Tap, tap—
The soft knocking on the door interrupted Sirius mid-sentence, immediately putting both of them on alert again.
"Excuse me—"
Behind the tightly closed hospital room door, an elderly, stern voice suddenly sounded.
"I heard a young witch named Hermione Granger was brought here," The voice continued, "She's a classmate of my grandson, so I came to see how she's doing. Is she alright??"
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