Hermes struggled, but Ariana not only held onto it, she even had Little Bear use an unbreakable seven-day lock to secure it tightly.
Two more people climbed down from the carriage.
Watson had changed into an entirely different set of equipment, while Mrs. Wick carried five bags in each hand.
"So I really did get to see him," Watson said in amazement. "Turns out that wish list really can grant anything."
"Dad, Mom, Ariana?" John asked in confusion. "Why are you here?"
"We came to spend the holiday with you."
Watson tossed the Quaffle he had won into the air, and it flew back to him on its own.
"That amusement park was really fun," Mrs. Wick said with satisfaction. "The clothes there were interesting too."
"Brother, here."
Ariana stuffed the restrained Hermes into John's arms.
"Ariana caught this one herself. Though it really does look like the two we have at home."
Watson chuckled.
"I heard it was part of the amusement park event. If you caught one, you could make a wish."
"Ariana wished to see you."
Hearing that, John looked at Ariana's serious expression and felt warmth rise in his chest.
He reached out and ruffled her messy hair.
"Did you miss me?"
Ariana nodded vigorously.
John looked at his parents.
"Then let's spend the holiday here."
He smiled.
"By the way, aren't we supposed to return this little guy?" Watson asked after thinking about it. "The people at the amusement park seemed pretty friendly."
"Oh, that's Hermes."
John answered casually.
Watson froze.
With an expression that suggested he was beginning to question his entire life, he asked, "That amusement park..."
"Mine."
Did John have any idea how much damage such a casually spoken word did to a father who had spent his whole life working hard to give his wife and children a good life?
Watson grabbed his wife's shoulder to keep himself from collapsing and forced a smile.
"Ah. That explains why everyone was so enthusiastic. By the way, is Silverhand a common name in the wizarding world? I saw it written everywhere today."
"Dad, if it says Silverhand, there's a good chance it's mine too."
Thud.
Watson finally lost his balance.
He simply could not understand it.
Seriously.
Just think about it.
An eighteen-year-old boy who had only just graduated owned dozens of businesses.
Was that normal?
Watson knew his son was rich.
But nobody had told him the boy was practically monopolising the entire wizarding world.
"I'm opening another hotel when I get back!"
At thirty-eight years old, Watson suddenly felt like a mere underling.
He swore he had to reclaim his place in the family!
Wait.
His place in the family?
His place?
Social status?
His place in the family!
Why was it always like this?
Watson fell into despair.
Why did his place in the family never seem to improve?
This Christmas had begun with social obligations, followed by friends, and finally ended with family.
It had been somewhat chaotic, and John still did not understand why his father kept muttering things about his "place" in the family.
But it was the happiest Christmas John had ever spent.
Silverhand Manor became lively once again.
...
The Wick residence was being watched day and night by at least twenty agents.
Inside the field vehicle disguised as a mobile food truck, the veteran agent stared at the unconscious young agent, his expression more serious than ever.
"How did he pass out?"
"No idea. There were no warning signs at all. The moment he touched the doorknob of the Wick residence, he was thrown backward and knocked unconscious."
The veteran agent slapped the young agent across the face twice.
The younger man was in good physical condition, but after collapsing, he simply remained asleep with no sign of waking.
All the instruments showed that his body was perfectly normal. Aside from slightly weak kidneys, there was basically nothing different from an ordinary person.
"It's similar to extremely high-quality sleep," said another female agent with a medical background.
The young agent's breathing was steady, and he showed no signs of discomfort.
The mysterious incident had left them on edge.
They suspected it might be a trap left behind by Watson.
Greg, who worked for another country, was also reporting the strange events that had just occurred.
The agents were completely overwhelmed.
But the domestic intelligence service was dealing with things differently.
Inside a secret MI6 base, an entirely new department had been established.
It had only one codename.
Section Seven.
As for everything else, even people within MI6 knew very little.
All they knew was that the department had taken away a group of MI6's most elite personnel.
Those people had also had their files transferred and erased, turning them into invisible men with no past.
At that moment, inside Section Seven.
A man had been bound hand and foot and suspended upside down.
Fear filled his eyes.
His head hung directly above a bucket of water.
There was no one else in the room.
A mirror stood in front of him.
Behind that mirror was the man who controlled this mysterious organisation.
Mycroft.
He watched quietly, listening to the man's continuous pleas for mercy.
In his hand, he idly turned a yew wand.
"This is their weapon."
If he had not witnessed it himself, Mycroft would never have imagined that the man could unleash a devastating attack using nothing more than a wooden stick.
One member of the Level One armed unit had been struck at the scene and was now completely unable to move, his body in a state resembling total muscular paralysis.
They had found this man in a rented flat.
After he had failed to leave the property for several days, someone reported him as suspicious.
Section Seven quickly identified him as a target.
From his unusual behaviour to the eventual forced entry and arrest, everything had progressed rapidly.
"What is your name?"
Mycroft stopped his subordinates from lowering the man into the bucket again.
His voice echoed through the room.
From the moment he had been brought in, the man had already been pushed close to breaking.
"My name is Sally Conrad. Please, please let me go."
Sally was on the verge of collapse.
He had never imagined that he would be captured by Muggles.
He was originally an Acolyte who had infiltrated Britain to spread the doctrine of purification through sacred fire.
Unfortunately, on the Second King's territory, he had never found an opportunity.
The moment anyone mentioned Grindelwald, they could potentially be dragged straight to the Ministry of Magic.
So he had been forced into hiding.
Thinking himself clever, he had chosen to hide in the Muggle world.
But he had never expected that his inability to blend in with ordinary people would expose him instead.
Mycroft's eyes remained completely calm.
He ignored Sally's pitiful pleas.
"Very well, Sally," Mycroft began. "You're a wizard?"
"A wizard? Oh, no, I'm a wizard!"
Sally was about to deny it, but when the chain restraining his legs shifted slightly, he immediately changed his answer in terror.
"Tell me this. A corpse has no disease, no wounds, and no signs of poisoning. How did that person die?"
Mycroft wanted to further confirm Sally's identity and extract more information from him.
"No disease, no wounds, no poisoning?"
Sally had only just begun to think when the chain started lowering him again.
He panicked.
"The Killing Curse! Yes, it must have been the Killing Curse!"
His hair touched the water in the bucket.
In the murky surface, his terrified face was reflected back at him, so frightened that he had already lost control of himself.
"The Killing Curse? Tell me what it does."
For the first time, a flicker of emotion appeared in Mycroft's eyes.
At Little Hangleton, they had discovered another corpse in the house halfway up the hill.
But that body had already been reduced to bones, and no one knew what condition it had been in at the moment of death.
Stammering, Sally explained the effects of the Killing Curse.
From that moment onward, the mysterious world known as wizardkind began to unfold, little by little, before the eyes of one of the most intelligent men in the country, perhaps even in the world.
The sinister Killing Curse.
The Cruciatus Curse, more painful than any torture.
The Imperius Curse, capable of controlling another person's mind.
One horrifying and unbelievable form of magic after another gradually revealed just how terrifying wizards could be.
And on the blank files of Section Seven, the classified dossier titled "Wizard Infiltration" finally began to be written.
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