Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0624 Visiting

"Professor Watson, won't you please reconsider accepting a position at the Ministry of Magic?"

After Bryan finished recounting the entire sequence of events, Percy, who had fallen into a long silence with a look of astonishment on his face, finally came to his senses. Gazing at Professor Watson with admiration, he said in an extremely respectful tone:@@novelbin@@

"Remaining at Hogwarts would be a tragic waste of your immense wisdom and insight, Professor Watson. The Ministry of Magic offers a far grander stage upon which you can showcase your talents. I dare say, Professor, that if you are willing to take a position at the Ministry, the Minister's seat itself would be well within your grasp sooner or later!"

'Professor Watson's wisdom and insight were simply terrifying', Percy thought, and his mind was shaken.

Professor Watson had only heard a few sentences of conversation between Goldstein and himself, and received a few hints from Goldstein, yet he was able to roughly piece together the truth of the whole matter. Moreover, he provided a solution to extricate Percy from the predicament of having to be a "scapegoat". The level of skill and wisdom that brought such a shocking revelation to him... Percy had to admit that even Mr. Crouch could not match it.

"To each their own ambition, Percy--" Bryan said as he rose from the sofa, his steps were slow as he began to pace around Barty Crouch's office. His eyes casually surveyed his surroundings, taking in every detail with an air of casual interest.

"You must understand that power manifests in numerous forms, and the authority wielded by the Minister of Magic is all but one side of true power--" Bryan continued, turning his head to fix Percy with a sharp gaze.

Percy sat straight on the sofa, as if attending a lecture, his eyes blazing with an enthusiastic desire to learn and grow. A flicker of concern darkened Bryan's expression momentarily.

"Allow me to offer you a word of caution, Percy--" Bryan said, his voice filled with solemnity. "If you are firm in your pursuit of a political career, there is one fundamental rule you must never forget."

"What might that be, Professor?" Percy leaned forward eagerly, hanging on Bryan's every word.

"When working in the wizarding government, you must have a clear and discerning mind, honing your ability to see through the countless schemes and intrigues that spin around you. And I'm afraid it will also become necessary to engage in some scheming of your own from time to time.

However - and this is of the utmost importance Percy - you must never allow yourself to become intoxicated by such tactics. Resist the temptation to resort to trickery and conspiracy as your default means of problem solving. To put it plainly, if you desire to climb the ranks, you must focus on honing your abilities through diligent and earnest work. Expecting to reach the top in a single step is pure foolishness."

Bryan's meaningful gaze bore into Percy, causing a flush of embarrassment to color his cheeks.

"One more thing, Percy--" Bryan turned his attention to the paper airplanes fluttering in midair, gesturing towards them with a pointed finger.

"If you wish to avoid spending your days confined to this office, drowning in a sea of meaningless paperwork, I suggest you have Arthur take you around to visit the various departmental offices within the Ministry. Take the opportunity to cultivate relationships with some of your father's old acquaintances--"

"Dad?" Percy blurted out; surprise evident in his tone. Confusion quickly followed. "What role could he possibly play in this?"

"Your father is a far more remarkable man than you give him credit for, Percy. Set aside your arrogance and preconceived notions. When faced with challenges, search for your father's counsel more often. You will find that his wisdom and experience will help you well."

There were some other things that Bryan did not say.

For example, he believed that Percy should consider transferring to another department within the Ministry.

Working under Barty Crouch, Bryan knew, was not the wisest choice. Bryan himself had given his support behind Amelia. When the inevitable day came that Voldemort returned and Fudge was forced to step down, Bryan was even prepared to vocally advocate for Amelia's ascension to the Minister's seat. At that juncture, it would be necessary to minimize Barty's influence and power.

From the moment Percy had entered the Ministry, he had been firmly fixed in Barty's camp. Whether by choice or circumstance, he was marked as one of Barty's men. It was unavoidable that he would find himself caught in the crossfires of the impending power struggle.

Moreover, there was the matter of Barty's current state of being...

*Southeast London*

Miles away from the Ministry, bordering either side of the cement road stood two rows of identical detached houses, their manicured lawns and magnificent flower beds showed a demonstration of the meticulous care poured upon them.

The air was submerged with the aromatic fragrance of flowers mingling with the earthy scent of freshly turned soil. The occasional Muggle passerby strode past with an air of self-importance, their manner exuding an unmistakable sense of privilege and superiority.

This area was situated on the southeastern fringes of London, spanned the boundary between the bustling city and the tranquil suburbs. It was a renowned community for the Muggle elite, a place where dignitaries and celebrities chose to reside. However, these "big shots" among the Muggles probably could not imagine that among their respectable neighbors, there was actually a wizard who had "strayed from the proper path."

In the days following his instructive conversation with Percy at the Ministry of Magic, Bryan lingered in London, biding his time until, at long last, a response from Barty arrived.

The relentless snowfall of the previous days had left London in the grip of a damp and bitter chill. Yet, despite the severe weather, Bryan remained clad in a simple woolen shirt beneath his trusty, time-worn dark green coat. His apparent disregard for the cold temperature elicited more than a few startled glances from the occasional passerby who chanced to walk past him.

As he stood before Barty's residence, Bryan took a moment to quietly appreciate the dazzling flowers that continued to flourish in winter's icy grasp. A smile appeared upon his lips as he finally reached out to press the doorbell.

"I'm afraid my mobility is somewhat limited these days, Bryan. You'll have to forgive me for not coming out to greet you in person. Please, do come in on your own--" Barty's voice, slightly hoarse, emanated from the intercom fixed to the side of the door.

This development caught Bryan quite by surprise. Given Barty's position within the Ministry of Magic, he had assumed the man would maintain a certain distance from Muggle technological accessories. The fact that Barty had used a Muggle intercom was totally unexpected.

The mechanism within the door emitted a crisp click. Bryan grasped the handle and pushed the door open before him.

Upon crossing the threshold into the entrance hall, Bryan was met by the sight of a pair of cotton slippers, which promptly leapt down from the shoe rack on their own. They began to hop up and down at his feet, leaving him no choice but to remove his own boots and slip into the offered footwear.

As he passed the kitchen, Bryan noted the conspicuous absence of any signs of recent cooking. Instead, the garbage can overflowed with a hill of empty Muggle fast food packaging.

The hallway leading to the living room was adjacent to a photo wall, upon which hung numerous group photographs depicting Barty in the company of notable figures from the wizarding world. In nearly every image, Barty's face was marked by a stern, unsmiling expression.

Only one photograph stood out from the rest... a portrait of Barty and a slender woman, both appearing to be in their early thirties. In stark contrast to his typically severe demeanor, Barty's expression in this image was remarkably gentle. The lady leaning against his shoulder also radiated pure joy, and her face was filled with happiness.

Bryan's eye discerned that the family photo had been deliberately cropped. At the very bottom center of the image, a small tuft of light-yellow hair remained visible.

Based on the composition of the photograph and the relative height, Bryan guessed that this must have been Barty's son. The incomplete removal of the child's presence was likely due to the woman's hand with a wedding ring, resting on the boy's head.

"That wall is still missing a photograph of the two of us together, Bryan--" A voice, lacking of any warmth, emanated from the dimly lit living room, pulling Bryan from his contemplation. He turned to see Barty, wrapped in a thick blanket, rising from the sofa.

"If you don't mind, we could correct that oversight and capture a photograph together now, Barty--" The moment his gaze fell into Barty's eyes, Bryan's eyes flickered and a sense of confusion arose in his heart. The possible truth behind this confusion made Bryan feel a wave of heaviness in his heart.

The coffee table in front of Barty was equally littered with empty fast food packages. The living room's fireplace, cold and dark, was clearly unused for some time, giving the space an even more chilling atmosphere than the world outside.

"Oh my--" Bryan's voice carried a note of concern. He swiftly moved to Barty's side, offering his arm for support as he helped the man settle back onto the sofa.

Drawing his wand, Bryan pointed it at the fireplace, and in an instant, the inactive embers burst into golden flames. As the fire's warmth immersed the room, the temperature began to rise, chasing away the chill.

In the flickering light of the fire, Bryan studied Barty's pale complexion with growing unease.

"Your complexion looks really terrible, Barty--" Bryan said, his brow furrowed with worry.

"Cough cough!" Barty coughed and pulled his arm free from Bryan's steadying grip and, after several difficult breaths, spoke in a flat, emotionless tone. "Yes, I suppose it would be like this."

Bryan's nostrils flared as he detected the unmistakable, pungent scent of blood. The source of the odor, he realized with rising alarm, was none other than Barty's arm itself. Setting the gift, he had brought—a bottle of honey wine, aged to perfection in the finest oak barrels—upon the coffee table, Bryan took a seat himself.

"I was originally planning to have a drink with you--"

Bryan began, making no effort to conceal his surprise at the sight of the fast food packages and debris littering the table.

"But I fear you are no longer in any condition to appreciate fine wine. Truly, Barty, I must insist that you seek immediate medical attention at St Mungo's rather than suffering in this cold house!"

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