"Sir, if we can't get close to the tank, can we at least use detection spells from a distance?"
Kingsley leaned toward Scrimgeour and asked in a low voice, "That might be the only place where significant traces remain. We need to conduct a thorough check."
Before Scrimgeour could respond, Bode shook his head. "No, no… using spells will disturb them."
Kingsley frowned. "But—"
"Kingsley," Scrimgeour interrupted, "Staying away from those things is for your own safety. Just inspect the surrounding areas."
"…Understood," Kingsley replied.
He could tell—Scrimgeour, although he had brought some of the best Aurors for the investigation, didn't seem particularly determined to uncover the truth.
In fact, the area they were allowed to investigate was extremely limited—just a short stretch between the Brain Room and the outer circular chamber.
Both rooms were practically empty, and the intruder had done an excellent job erasing all traces. The search ended quickly.
As for outside the Department of Mysteries, the path led directly to the underground Courtroom Ten.
Recently, the Ministry had begun re-examining cases that were poorly handled in the past. Combined with the frequent arrests of smugglers, thieves, and violators of the Statute of Secrecy, even the long-unused Courtroom Ten had been reopened.
On the very day the Department of Mysteries was breached, Courtroom Ten had been handling an old, high-profile case involving two prominent figures in the wizarding world. Many witches and wizards had been coming and going.
So although they were all quite certain the intruder had taken advantage of that chaos to sneak in, there was no way to determine the person's identity based on the route or timing.
The Aurors quickly wrapped up their work. The final conclusion was—no conclusion.
Bode didn't seem surprised. He furrowed his brow with a pained expression and nodded absentmindedly while staring into the tank at the drifting brains.
Ding—
The elevator rang again. A plainly dressed man with brown hair stepped out, carrying a wooden box. When he saw the number of people in the Brain Room, he froze on the spot.
Bode suddenly "came to life." He rushed over and asked in a low voice, "Did you get it?"
The brown-haired man nodded.
A trace of joy flashed across Bode's face. He turned to Scrimgeour and the others and said, "Thank you, Mr. Scrimgeour. Since the investigation is complete, you may leave now."
Scrimgeour's sharp eyes lingered on the two men for a few moments.
"Let's go."
He was the first to turn and leave, and the Aurors followed close behind. As soon as they stepped out of the circular hall, the black door behind them shut instantly.
"What the hell?" a young Auror muttered, both confused and annoyed. "No wonder no one likes those guys—are all Unspeakables a bunch of weirdos or what?"
"Enough, let's go."
The group took the elevator straight up to the second level of the Ministry of Magic. The Auror Headquarters was on this floor, and unlike the gloomy underground, it was bright and bustling here.
The Aurors dispersed, returning to their individual cubicles and diving back into their busy work.
As for the earlier investigation in the Department of Mysteries, they had all signed confidentiality agreements—speaking of it to anyone was strictly forbidden.
Kingsley lagged slightly behind. After the others had gone, he turned to Scrimgeour and asked, "Sir, do you already know the identity of the intruder?"
Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes. "Are you accusing me of something?"
Kingsley offered a polite smile but said nothing.
Scrimgeour turned his gaze away and said, "When I first encountered the Department of Mysteries, my superior told me something. Now, I'm passing it on to you—"
"When it comes to the Department of Mysteries: don't investigate, don't approach, don't desire."
"Anyone who tries to use that place for their own gain will end up paying the price."
With that, Scrimgeour walked away, leaving Kingsley standing there, silently reflecting on those words.
No warning is given without reason—behind them lie countless bloody, painful lessons. That's why, aside from the Unspeakables who have dedicated their lives to magic, most witches and wizards avoid the Department of Mysteries like the plague.
What Kingsley wondered now was—Did the intruder know this?
If they did, and still chose to break in—then why?
…
After watching the last Auror leave the Department of Mysteries, Bode slammed the door shut with a bang, then pulled his companion into the Brain Room.
He reached out for the wooden box, then paused in hesitation.
"You didn't open it, did you?" he pressed. "You didn't open it?"
"No," the brown-haired wizard replied. "I took it straight from Vault 716. I've been carrying it the whole time, never opened it, never let anyone else touch it."
"Good," Bode exhaled in relief.
The two of them carefully opened the wooden box and saw several black seeds inside. Once exposed to air, the seeds began to turn a faint shade of red.
Working together, the two wizards pried open a few marble floor tiles and buried the seeds by hand. By the time they covered the last handful of soil, the seeds had already become a glaring, bright red.
After placing the tiles back and restoring everything to its original state, Bode wiped the sweat from his forehead—sweat born of nervousness—and said, "Alright, that should do it."
The brown-haired wizard asked worriedly, "Are you sure the intruder will come back?"
"Definitely," Bode sighed. "Greed is the original sin… No matter what that guy got from here, he's bound to return."
…
Mabel huddled in her cloak and huddled into a corner. She forced herself to resist the overwhelming urge to flee as her eyes constantly scanned the people on the street.
Earlier, she had quietly followed Ryan Troka into Diagon Alley. She knew Troka was here to buy textbooks, and she hoped that by tagging along, she might get a glimpse of the young wizard who had once saved them.
But Mabel hadn't expected so many people in Diagon Alley!
It was absolutely packed—shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall, a dense, surging sea of people.
What's more, most of the witches and wizards dressed similarly. Aside from a few who stood out, nearly everyone wore black robes.
Though there were variations in trimming or accessories, at a glance, everyone looked almost identical—even differences in height, weight, or build were hard to distinguish.
Mabel had grown up in a dungeon and, after escaping, had always hidden in desolate places. She had never seen such a crowded, chaotic place.
Even though she possessed powerful, terrifying magic, right now she felt nothing but fear and helplessness in this noisy, overwhelming crowd. In her panic, she lost sight of Ryan Troka and became completely disoriented.
Like a baby bird abandoned by its parents, she stood in the middle of the street, trembling, until she finally backed up against a wall and managed to catch her breath.
Resting against the wall for a bit, she turned her head—and that's when she saw it.
A black-and-white photo of herself, plastered on the wall.
—It was a wanted poster.
"Hey, kid!" A shop assistant nearby stepped out and asked kindly, "Are you feeling alright? Can I help you with anything?"
Mabel was startled. Not daring to let him see her face, she quickly yanked her hood down and took off running!
She ran blindly for quite some time. When she finally realized no one was chasing her, she slowed to a stop and ducked into a shadowy corner to observe the street.
Her body was frail, and the sprint had left her chest burning with pain, as if it might explode. She crouched down, panting heavily, trying to ride out the wave of discomfort.
Thin wisps of black mist began to drift from her body, spreading out along the ground—but just as they were about to reach a passing pedestrian, they abruptly recoiled.
"Don't do anything bad!" Mabel muttered to herself. "If someone finds out, I'm finished!"
She glanced up at the sky. It felt like the weather had grown even gloomier.
Wade… where can I find you?
…
Wade wasn't hiding. He had just spotted Lupin at the entrance of the bookstore. After briefly saying goodbye to the professor they'd just met, he and the others stepped out together.
Michael noticed Lupin's strange expression and asked, "What's wrong? You look pale."
"Who was that man just now?" Lupin asked with a stern face.
"He's the new professor at Hogwarts," Harry replied. "He said his name is Ryan Troka."
Lupin paused. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"
"Yes," Harry replied.
Lupin fell silent for a moment.
The truth was, he had previously received a letter from Dumbledore, asking if he would be willing to return to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Lupin had been tempted for a brief moment—but in the end, he turned the offer down.
Though his collaboration with Wade and the Aslan Magical Workshop had gone smoothly, that didn't mean he could simply walk away. Lupin had many responsibilities to manage on a daily basis.
Sirius was still tracking the whereabouts of Peter Pettigrew and his two associates, and Lupin couldn't help worrying about him.
And now, they had uncovered a group of criminals specifically targeting young wizards—although the Ministry of Magic considered the case closed, both Dumbledore and those like Lupin, who got involved later, believed it was far from over.
Lupin had too much on his plate. He simply couldn't abandon everything to hide away in the ivory tower of a school.
It seemed that after Lupin declined, Dumbledore had extended the offer to the man from earlier… Though that man seemed refined and charming, Lupin just couldn't bring himself to like him.
Maybe it was some kind of instinctual sensing between dangerous beings, but he vaguely felt—that guy resembled a vampire.
And considering he'd only recently been ambushed by a creature like that, Lupin didn't have a good impression of vampires at all.
But he couldn't be certain. After all, judging by appearances alone… Hogwarts students had long gossiped about how Potions Master Snape might actually be a vampire.
And besides, if Dumbledore was the one who invited him…
"Is there something wrong with him?"
Lupin heard Wade ask the question, and after hesitating for a second, he shook his head. "Just gave me an odd feeling—is all the shopping done?"
"Not yet, but we're planning to buy the rest from a Muggle store," Harry said with a grin.
"Is that so…" Lupin looked intrigued. "Well, let's go then, it's getting late."
"The weather sucks today," Michael muttered, glancing up at the sky. "Like, it's not raining but feels like it might, and it's so muggy I can barely breathe."
As they made their way to the entrance of Diagon Alley, they saw quite a few people already using the newly released Communication Beans.
They were walking and chatting into the little devices, looking like they were talking to themselves—some even laughed out loud randomly.
"That's so convenient," Michael said. "Book of Friends might get replaced by Communication Beans soon."
"No way," Harry shook his head. "Book of Friends is way cheaper and can send pictures. Communication Beans can't do that."
"Speaking of which… Wade, you're not planning to give everyone a Communication Bean for Christmas this year, are you?"
Michael raised an eyebrow at Wade and teased, "Put a little thought into it once in a while, yeah? I'd actually prefer some of those handmade snacks your little dolls make."
Wade glanced at him and noticed that although Michael was speaking in a joking tone, his eyes looked very serious.
On the surface, he was asking for a gift, but in reality, he was telling Wade—don't give out Communication Beans again this time.
Magic Dolls weren't exactly cheap, but since Wade crafted them himself, the cost wasn't too high.
Communication Beans, however, were far more expensive. Due to the overwhelming demand, the Aslan Magical Workshop had even started limiting purchases.
That made them incredibly valuable—anyone who got one could resell it for a fortune in Galleons. It wasn't the kind of thing that should be passed around as casual gifts between students.
"Mhm, mhm," Harry nodded enthusiastically, not thinking too much about it. "They're really tasty… and those ribs and chicken legs too, Wade, your dolls must have some secret recipes, right?"
Wade laughed. "Alright, there'll definitely be a snack bundle in the gifts—and I've prepared something else too…"
He looked at Michael and emphasized, "Not Communication Beans."
"Good," Michael smiled. "I'm looking forward to the surprise you have for us."
Just as the group was walking past a pet shop, a wizard not far away suddenly shouted, "What did you say? Is that true?!"
People nearby all turned to look at him, but the wizard didn't seem to notice. He had one hand pressed to his left ear and his face went pale with cold sweat instantly beading on his forehead.
"That can't be… are you joking?"
He trembled as he spoke.
The curious crowd didn't get an answer, but their footsteps all gradually came to a halt.
Because some people's newly bought Communication Beans began speaking, others felt their Book of Friends heating up in their pockets, and a few stared in shock as silver Patronuses came bounding up in front of them.
One by one, the people on the street stopped, responding to the sudden emergency message.
Moments later, the expressions on everyone's faces synchronized—pale, terrified, disbelieving.
POP!
POP!
POP!
A series of loud, explosive cracks rang out as many wizards Apparated away from Diagon Alley on the spot. Others raced toward the Floo Network Station.
Wade watched the scene in confusion, a strange sense of surrealism washing over him—as if he had stepped into "The Truman Show", and everyone around him had just received a director's cue.
"What happened?"
Before Lupin could finish his question, he suddenly raised a hand to press against his ear as well. The three young wizards watched him anxiously.
A moment later, Lupin looked up, swallowed hard, his expression tinged with disbelief.
"Sirius just said… news from Nurmengard… that man… has escaped prison!"
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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- +235 Chapters
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