"Perhaps you've misunderstood my meaning, Amelia—"
Facing an increasingly emotional Amelia whose eyes were now brimming with tears that seemed ready to spill over at any moment, Bryan sighed heavily.
"Whatever happened back then, whoever was right, whoever was wrong, whatever cruel words were spoken or terrible choices were made is all in the irreversible past.
We can't change it, can't undo it, can't rewrite those chapters no matter how much we might wish to. Harboring hatred and resentment for events that occurred before you were even born is foolish and ultimately self-destructive. It serves no purpose except to poison the present."
He met her gaze directly, his own eyes carrying a complex mixture of emotions.
"I bear no resentment at all toward your parents for abandoning my mother all those years ago. Do you understand? I'm not punishing them by staying away."
Bryan's voice softened slightly.
"Your family has built a happy, joyful life in the years since they left London. You have stability, love, peace. My sudden interference would only tear apart the peaceful existence you've all known.
It would force everyone to confront painful history, to redistribute affection and attention, to accommodate someone you never expected to know. And that goes completely against my original intentions."
He paused, then continued with even greater gravity.
"Besides, I'm certain you're aware that the British wizarding world is currently facing a tremendous existential trial. Voldemort's return from the dead has once again casted the shadow of war over all the wizards living in that land."
Bryan's expression grew harder, and more serious.
"If you know anything about Voldemort beyond what's in sanitized history books, you should understand his brutal methods. His cruelty, his vindictiveness, his willingness to torture and murder entire families to make a point.
Once our relationship becomes public knowledge, once he learns that I have family, that I have people I care about, it would undoubtedly be a disaster for you and for your parents. He would target you specifically to get to me. That's what he does."
'Voldemort.'
Amelia froze completely at the mention of that name.
She realized with sudden, embarrassed rationality that she truly hadn't given much serious thought to this Dark wizard that Albus Dumbledore had already publicly declared had returned among the living.
The declaration had seemed distant, like something that happened in another country and didn't affect her daily life.
Over a decade ago, when Voldemort had been at the height of his power, the upheaval and terror he'd caused in Britain hadn't spread significantly to other countries. The war had remained largely contained within British magical borders.
For most magical civilizations around the world, for wizards in America and Asia and continental Europe, he was merely a frightening but ultimately historical figure in history books, like a cautionary tale about the dangers of dark magic taken to its ultimate extreme but not a present threat.
The well-read Amelia had indeed seen some detailed accounts of the Dark wizard the British wizards called "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," unable even to speak his actual name without flinching.
She'd read about his reign of terror with the calm interest of someone studying a historical atrocity that couldn't touch them personally.
But if the events recorded in those books and survivor testimonies were even the slightest bit true with the torture, the murders, the way entire families disappeared overnight, the bodies left as warnings...
Amelia bit her lip hard. Bryan would certainly stand at the very forefront of resisting that Dark wizard, given his reputation and power and principles. He wouldn't hide or run or compromise.
And given Voldemort's well-known past demeanor, his pattern of destroying anything and anyone connected to his enemies, it was impossible, absolutely impossible that he wouldn't eventually come after their family if he learned of the connection.
Her parents, elderly and completely defenseless. Herself, barely trained in combat magic. All of them would become targets, weapons to be used against Bryan.
Across the room, Sirius stood at the bar with his back against the wood, still holding his empty whiskey glass. He'd been watching the two confronting each other with increasing confusion.
His mouth had fallen open wider and wider during their conversation, revealing a comically absurd expression of complete bewilderment.
The one thing he could confirm with certainty was that Amelia probably wasn't what he had originally imagined when Dumbledore first mentioned her: some young witch who had romantic admiration for the famous Bryan Watson and therefore threw herself into helping him without any regard for her own safety, motivated by infatuation.
No, it seemed Bryan actually considered this girl to be... family. Actual blood family. But how? When? What was the connection?
"I'm more than a bit confused here—"
Sirius scratched his head vigorously, making his already disheveled hair stand up in even more directions. His voice came out shrill with genuine bewilderment and curiosity.
"What exactly are you two to each other? How are you—"
Knock, knock, knock—
The sudden knocking on the door made Sirius who had been about to speak his question immediately change his expression from curious to alert. He set down his glass in silence and immediately activated his Animagus transformation.
In the twisting, shimmering distortion of light and matter that accompanied that magical change, his human form compressed and reformed until a large black dog stood where Sirius had been just a second ago.
"Come in—"
At Bryan's somewhat heavy invitation, the Muggle waiter who had left earlier returned. He pushed his wheeled food cart into the room smoothly.
Perhaps sensing the oppressive, tense atmosphere that still lingered in the room, the Muggle waiter glanced with surprise at Amelia's somber face and at the large black dog now standing alertly by the wine rack.
But he was well-trained enough not to comment or ask questions. He also didn't linger his gaze on Bryan.
Bryan watched the Muggle waiter enter the room. For just the briefest instant, his pupils contracted almost invisibly. But then they immediately returned to normal size and appearance.
His expression, which had been grave due to Amelia's passionate questioning, deliberately relaxed into something more casual. He assumed the air of a tired guest appreciating good service, calmly watching as the waiter brought three perfectly prepared steaks, fresh salads with vinaigrette dressing, and a variety of French pastries to the dining table and removed the silver covers.
"Sir—"
The waiter finally looked up after arranging everything with precision, gazing at Bryan with careful restraint and professional courtesy. He raised the bottle of red wine he'd brought in both hands with respect.
"Would you like me to open and properly decant this for you?"
Bryan appeared to think for a moment then gestured invitingly to the waiter with a gracious nod.
The waiter opened the wine with an expert twist of the corkscrew, making no sound except the soft pop of cork separating from glass. Then he poured the deep red liquid carefully into the crystal decanter, holding it steady in both hands.
He began gently swirling the vessel with rotations of his wrists, allowing the wine to breathe and oxidize, to release its complex odor. The blood red liquid swirled hypnotically in the glass container.
A rich, mellow aroma gradually filled the air of the hotel room.
The entire process lasted over ten minutes, the waiter was giving the wine his complete attention as if nothing else in the world mattered. Finally, satisfied with the decanting, he took three crystal wine glasses from the cart and poured a measure into each with steady hands, ensuring each glass received exactly the same amount.
"Is there anything else I can do for you this evening, sir?"
Perhaps the exertion of the past ten minutes, standing, swirling, concentrating, maintaining perfect service posture had consumed more energy than expected.
The waiter's question came slightly breathless, and there was a faint shine of sweat on his forehead that he dabbed with a handkerchief.
"No, that will be all for now. Excellent work," Bryan responded with satisfaction.
"Oh, after we finish our meal, I'll call down to the front desk to have someone come clean up the dishes. No need to wait around or check on us."
Bryan walked over to the table and picked up one of the wine glasses with an interested, appreciative expression. He held it under his nose and inhaled deeply, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the complex aroma.
When he opened them again, he wore a pleased, almost radiant look.
"Exquisite. Really exceptional."
"Then, I wish you all a most pleasant meal and a good evening."
Bryan's satisfied expression and generous words made the waiter breathe an audible sigh of relief. He bowed slightly with respect, then quickly left the room, pushing the now-empty cart in front of him.
"Finally! I'm absolutely starving!"
The moment the door closed, Sirius immediately returned to his true human form with relief. He complained directly to Bryan with dramatic exasperation, rubbing his stomach, then quickly sat himself down at the elegantly set table without waiting for further invitation.
"Come on, both of you—"
Bryan also beckoned to Amelia with an encouraging gesture. She remained frozen in place near the window where she'd retreated during the waiter's presence, still processing everything Bryan had said about Voldemort and danger and family.
Although she hadn't had a single drop of water all day and was terribly hungry, Amelia discovered she didn't care about physical discomfort at all. Her mind was too occupied.
She had been pondering Bryan's words: Voldemort's danger to anyone connected to Bryan, her elderly parents' complete vulnerability and safety, the unfortunate experiences Bryan had suffered throughout his life growing up without family...
"We're family, aren't we?"
Bryan's gentle summons finally pierced her thoughts, bringing Amelia back to present consciousness. Her voice, when she spoke, was no longer clear and melodious as it had been earlier. Now it had become hoarse from suppressed tears and emotional strain.
"No matter what happens, we should all—"
"Let's eat something first—"
Bryan interrupted her with a warm smile.
"Good food should never be wasted, and important decisions should never be made on an empty stomach. Hunger makes everything seem worse than it is. As for all the rest, we can discuss it slowly and thoroughly after we've had a proper meal."
Amelia pressed her lips together in acceptance. She slowly moved to the table, while Sirius was already enthusiastically devouring his steak with delight.
"Well then—"
In the dim yellow lamplight, Bryan raised his glass. He gently swirled the wine, and a flash of something passed through his eyes.
"Regardless of everything else, Sirius, Amelia, I want to sincerely thank you both. You've gone to such large trouble and taken risks for my sake. I'm genuinely grateful."
"Oh, it's really nothing at all, Bryan—"
Sirius mumbled indistinctly with his mouth full of meat, barely pausing in his enthusiastic eating. He grabbed his wine glass without reserve and drained the entire contents in several large gulps, treating the expensive vintage wine like cheap tavern wine.
Amelia, by contrast, took only a small, polite sip of her wine, barely wetting her lips with the liquid before setting the glass down. She seemed to have no real interest in drinking.
"Oh, right!"
The atmosphere at the table remained somewhat somber despite Sirius's attempts at normality. He glanced at Amelia, who was listlessly cutting her steak into smaller and smaller pieces without actually eating them, and at Bryan, who was taking small sips of wine while staring thoughtfully at nothing in particular.
"You mentioned earlier that you have a solid suspicion about who actually took your wands, right? So, who is it?"
"It's not particularly hard to deduce if you think about the circumstances logically, is it?"
Bryan tilted his head slightly, staring at his now-empty wine glass with an expression that was difficult to read.
"Consider the facts we know: The person who did this successfully took my wands from inside the MACUSA building, from supposedly secure storage in the Wand Permit Office.
They killed someone with Fiendfyre, which requires considerable skill and power. Then they left calmly, presumably through the same security they'd infiltrated to enter.
Not a single person noticed anything unusual. Not one alarm was triggered. The security measures and wards that costs a fortune to install were completely meaningless to them, as if they didn't exist at all. And they left absolutely no useful clues behind."
He paused meaningfully.
"What kind of person could accomplish all of that so cleanly?"
"You suspect someone inside MACUSA!"
Amelia stood up abruptly in shock, and asked the question instinctively, her voice was sharp with disbelief. But perhaps she rose too quickly from her position. Her body swayed unsteadily like a tree in strong wind. She pressed one hand to her head, looking dizzy and confused.
"What's wrong with you?"
Seeing her like that, Sirius asked in surprise and concern, starting to rise from his own chair to help her. But then his expression shifted as his own brows furrowed tightly together.
A strong sense of dizziness caused Sirius's vision to blur severely, the room was spinning around him in nauseating circles.
Unlike Amelia, who couldn't immediately figure out what was happening to her body, Sirius was after all an experienced wizard. He was moreover a Auror now and someone who'd survived Azkaban through sheer stubborn will. He immediately realized with horrifying clarity what had happened—
"The food... or the wine... we need to be careful—"
Sirius struggled desperately to stand up fully, to draw his wand, to do something useful. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he willed his muscles to respond, he couldn't manage it.
His body had stopped obeying his commands. His limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each, his coordination was completely destroyed.
Before he completely lost consciousness and succumbed to whatever poison or potion they'd ingested, he heard a heavy, sickening thud from across the table. It was the sound of Amelia's body hitting the floor.
He struggled to reach toward Bryan with his rapidly numbing hand, to warn him, to help him, to do anything. Bryan had at some point collapsed forward onto the table.
But before Sirius's fingertips could touch Bryan's sleeve, his own body went completely limp. His vision was suddenly engulfed in absolute darkness, tunneling down to nothing. His body slid off the chair and collapsed to the floor with another heavy thud, and he lost consciousness.
Drip, drip, drip—
The hotel room fell into utter, absolute silence. Not even the sound of breathing disturbed the stillness.
Only the dark red wine from the crystal decanter that Sirius had accidentally knocked over in his collapse continued its steady work. The expensive wine spilled across the white tablecloth in an expanding crimson stain, soaking into the cloth before dripping steadily down to the floor drop by drop.
This deep silence lasted for one hour and a half during which nothing moved, nothing changed, nothing broke the spell of stillness.
Outside the window, the city continued its restless activity, but inside this room time seemed suspended.
Finally, the shining moon climbed to the center of the night sky, reaching its apex and bathing the world below in silver light. Only then was the deathly stillness finally broken.
Click—
"Sir? Are you still awake?"
The Muggle waiter from before had returned. He pushed the same wheeled cart from earlier and opened the door with the key he'd apparently kept, but he didn't immediately enter.
Instead, he tilted his head cautiously and peered through the narrow crack in the door at the situation inside the room, his body language was careful and calculating.
"I was waiting for you to call down to the front desk for cleanup as you said you would... but I never heard from you, so I thought I should come check to see if there's anything I can do for you?"
He called out twice but no one in the room responded to his inquiry.
"Sir? Is everything well? Do you need any assistance?"
The waiter raised his voice slightly with apparent concern, putting more volume behind the words. He released his grip on the cart's handle, letting it rest against the wall, then squeezed his body through the partially opened doorway.
Once inside, he casually closed the door behind him, ensuring it was fully shut and locked.
When his eyes adjusted to the room's lighting and he finally saw the full scene: Amelia lying motionless on the floor in a sprawl, Bryan slumped over the dining table with his head on his arms, Sirius collapsed beside a table leg, a flash of delight crossed the waiter's face. His lips were curved in satisfaction.
However, when his gaze landed properly on Sirius's face, the Muggle waiter's expression immediately changed.
Satisfaction became suspicion and wary calculation.
This was an unexpected complication.
"Sir? Can you hear me?"
A wand appeared and then disappeared again in the Muggle waiter's sleeve. He began approaching the table slowly, taking careful step after cautious step, his entire body was tense and ready to react to any threat.
"You seem to have had far too much to drink this evening. Would you like me to help you to your bed? Make you more comfortable?"
The Muggle waiter called out continuously as he finally reached the dining table, his voice maintaining its professional service tone even as his eyes remained cold and calculating.
He carefully examined Amelia lying on the floor first, checking the rise and fall of her chest, the limpness of her limbs. Apparently satisfied she was genuinely unconscious and posed no threat, his expression relaxed slightly.
Then he narrowed his eyes and observed Bryan with intense scrutiny, studying every detail of his sleeping posture, the position of his hands, the rhythm of his breathing, looking for any sign of deception or pretense.
"Sir? Can you hear me at all?"
The Muggle waiter tentatively reached out and pushed Bryan lightly on the shoulder, testing his responsiveness. But Bryan remained absolutely motionless, not even making the smallest sound in his sleep or showing any awareness of being touched.
In the dimness of the room, lit only by a few lamps and the moonlight streaming through the window, the Muggle waiter finally straightened up. He exhaled heavily a relieved breath and reached up with both hands and tugged at his too-tight collar, loosening the constricting cloth around his throat.
As he did so, he dropped his uncertain, careful disguise completely. The submissive posture melted away, replaced by something harder and more dangerous.
His eyes, which had been appropriately respectful, became sinister and cold.
"Yes, Sirius Black... an Animagus, apparently."
The man who was definitely not a Muggle waiter studied Sirius's unconscious face. He quickly recognized the infamous identity, matching the face in front of him to wanted posters and newspaper photographs he'd read.
This unexpected presence made him puzzled and somewhat uneasy. But he soon cast aside this unease, forcing himself to focus on the primary objective.
"There's no time to waste worrying about unexpected guests—"
The false waiter murmured to himself. His wand, which had been concealed in his sleeve, now fell fully into his palm.
Slowly, the wand moved until it pointed at Bryan Watson's unconscious body.
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