"We've found Frydel, Nila, and Bagdal, and we've gotten from them a list of wizards who have smuggled out of their country in the days since they were shipped, Mr. Blaine—"

It was undoubtedly a terrible day, with the snow on the roadside flower beds and rooftops not yet completely melting, and in the early morning, the gloomy sky began to drizzle again. The cold and humid air caused a layer of ethereal mist to float on the surface of the Thames, and the breeze disturbed the cold fog began to invade the row of houses along the river.

Amosta, who was standing beside the bed, withdrew his gaze staring at the misty world, turned around and took the list handed over by Kingsley, and looked at it seriously.

There were indeed a few familiar names on the list, but it didn't prove anything, he looked at the country these smugglers went to after leaving the UK, thought about it, and gave a new advice,

"--We have limited manpower, Kingsley, we can't interrogate them one by one, in my opinion, we focus on tracking down these people who went to France, Germany, and Albania--"

Kingsley's reaction was also quick, and after only a two-second pause, he realized why Amosta Blaine would give such instructions,

"You mean it coincides with the country of the wizard you provided who is good at cursing"

"That's right--"

Amosta pinched his eyebrows, looking a little tired,

"It's not very rigorous, but we're pressed for time, so we can only pick the most likely option—"

This is a very rational and wise decision, the capable Kingsley nodded silently, and was about to walk out of the guest room to arrange work, but before going out, he paused in his steps, turned around, and hesitated

"That Muggle girl. Mr. Blaine, I just heard she woke up—"

Last night, when they took the Muggle girl named Louise Andel to the room where the Muggle boy named Fraser had died, although Louise had expected something bad to happen to Frazier, when she actually saw Fraser's body lying on the bed, her emotions immediately collapsed.

She couldn't stop crying, and no matter how much Amosta or Kingsley tried to comfort her, they couldn't make her stop crying. Louise's grief was understandable, but the fact that she threw herself on top of Fraser and refused to leave the house anyway upset Kingsley and the others were distressed.

So, Amosta had to quietly cast a coma spell on her, and after feeding her some tranquilizers, he brought her here.

Their house was a three-story villa in a small landscaped area on the banks of the River Thames, surrounded on three sides by a high iron fence to prevent people from entering, and Muggles who liked to walk around the neighborhood thought it was the private vacation home of some wealthy man who liked quiet, but in fact, it was a well-guarded safe house set up by the Aurors of the British Ministry of Magic in London.

After arriving here, the Aurors urgently changed the furnishings to ensure that they would not show their stuffing in front of Muggles.

"This Muggle inadvertently said something last night that I cared about--"

After a little silence, Amosta said,

"I have to talk to her."

The fireplace with a blazing fireplace warmed the dark-toned hall, but it couldn't dispel the dull atmosphere that permeated the villa, and Amosta stepped out of the door to take a few glances at the rain-washed greens in the courtyard, then turned and walked up the spiral staircase by the wall to the second floor.

Facing the wall facing the staircase was a row of paintings of the deceased, well-known Aurors, and Amosta glanced at them to see the anger in their stiff faces.

The Aurors, who cleaned up this place last night, did not take down the portraits of their predecessors, but only treated them with special treatment, so that the characters in the oil paintings could not move for the time being.

With an apologetic smile, Amosta turned to the right-hand side and down the hallway to the innermost bedroom.

The door was hidden and not closed, and Amosta walked in without knocking.

The four-poster bed with its blue curtains was empty, the steaming breakfast on the bedside table showed no signs of moving, and the room was as quiet as if it were uninhabited.

With a slight sigh, Amosta passed by the end of the bed and walked towards the balcony.

Amosta pulled back the velvet curtains to brighten up the dimly lit room, and then pushed open the glass-encrusted wooden door between the balcony and the bedroom and stepped onto the balcony.

Louise Andel was curled up at the foot of the wall, her arms wrapped around her arched legs, her eyes staring at the dark, stormy world with a dazed look, and a few unfallen tears hanging from her long eyelashes.

She didn't put on her coat, she just wore a light sweater, and the eaves of the open balcony did not completely hide the fine ice and rain, and the dark traces of the wet floor spread all the way to Louise's feet, and had crept up her trouser legs, which made her body tremble involuntarily, but Louise was unaware.

Amosta pursed his lips, he moved his fingers slightly, and then, the wind and rain in front of them immediately changed course, and the chill in the air was quickly tossed away by a hidden force, and the temperature was no longer so unbearable.

"Want to talk to me?"

Amosta walked up to Louise, her eyes downcast, a hint of pity in her eyes.

Louise's eyelashes quivered, and she stared blankly at the gray-haired young man who appeared beside her at some point, mysterious in every way, and an instinctive trepidation made her curl her body tighter.

The grief of losing a loved one could not be soothed by those pale comforts, and Amosta, who had experienced this kind of torment in his previous and present lives, knew this truth very well, and he did not continue to say anything, but turned and walked back to the house.

A moment later, he walked out again with Louise's own coat.

When the man, Amosta Blaine, approached with her own clothes and put the coat over her, Louise felt the urge to cry again, but in the end, she resisted it.

"Thanks--"

Louise said in a hoarse, dry voice, and the man in front of her just pursed his lips and smiled softly at her.

Louise recalled all the fond memories of her brother before reawakening from the silence of the world, during which time Amosta Bryan beside her had been silent with her.

Louise was immensely grateful, as a journalist she knew that Amosta must have a lot of questions to ask her, but he didn't say anything.

This is a very empathetic man, Louise thought.

"Who are you--"

When Louise began to speak, even Amosta breathed a sigh of relief, if this Muggle girl had been in an irrepressible grief, then he would have to use some unconventional means against her, and honestly, he was not willing to do this to a bereaved girl, whether she was a Muggle or a wizard.

But this question is destined to not be answered sincerely, Amosta regretted.

"You could think—"

Amosta didn't look at Louise, he looked at the ripples of the river that had been stirred up by the drizzle, and said in a low voice,

"We are an organization affiliated with the government and our role is to investigate some. Well, a special case that ordinary police officers can't handle—"

"You're agents?"

Louise's eyes widened slightly, and she blurted out subconsciously.

"You can understand it that way—"

Amosta smiled.

No wonder the last time we met by chance, this man told her that he wouldn't stay in the country very often. Louise thought, curiosity welling up in her heart.

After all, being a secret agent is a profession full of mysteries for ordinary people.

However, the thought that immediately rose in her heart extinguished Louise's curiosity, and her face turned pale, and even the golden hair lost its color.

"I can ask--"

Louise stroked her wet hair and said in a tone full of sadness,

"How did you find Fraser?"

(End of chapter)