Chapter 939
Secret
Chapter 939 Secret
After a long silence, Serafina slowly said, "I wish I could tell you the whole truth, but unfortunately... I don't actually know the whole story either."
Hawthorne couldn't help but show a look of disappointment—he thought it was because Seraphia didn't trust him much.
But then he heard the elderly woman say in a soft but heavy voice:
"Because the key clue comes from a memory... but it is extremely unstable and can only be read completely once by one person, after which it will be completely shattered and can never be restored."
She closed her eyes slightly: "I don't think I'm suited to read memories, because even if I knew what happened, I wouldn't have the ability to solve it."
"But if I were to read the memories first and then transfer them to someone else, I worry that there might be losses and unintentional alterations involved—"
"As you know, only memories from the original owner are the most complete and authentic! They can present not only what was seen and heard at the time, but also some... other things."
Hawthorne nodded slightly, unsurprised.
The Ministry of Magic in various countries rarely extracts prisoners' memories for trial because there are simply too many ways to alter memories in the magical world.
Seraphina said, "So I've decided to give that memory to someone who really has the power to change things... I hope it's Dumbledore who comes."
"Unfortunately, because Voldemort was resurrected in the league, Dumbledore was unable to leave England, so he had to entrust the matter to someone else."
For people like Seraphina and Hawthorne, protecting their memories and brains is an instinctive action, so they were hardly affected by Voldemort's magic in the Brain Hall and knew that the person was still alive.
Of course, since Voldemort had always been active in Britain, the legends of the Dark Lord were only occasional topics of conversation for American wizards, not even as much as their discussion of Quidditch matches.
Therefore, neither of them realized that it was somewhat strange that everyone else thought Voldemort was dead again.
Hawthorne pressed on, "Then who was the person you handed it over to...?"
Serafina's fingers paused slightly. She raised her slightly cloudy eyes and looked at Hawthorne's expression.
The current Speaker of Congress across from him showed only concern for the situation, without any urgent probing or ruthless intent to do something.
However, her long-standing vigilance still led Serafina to choose to conceal the secret, but she did not choose to lie; she simply said:
"To protect the person who brought back the evidence, I cannot tell you who he is, Nicolo. I hope you understand."
“But I can confirm that he has already passed the intelligence on to Dumbledore.”
So even if we find that person, nothing will change.
"However, I learned part of the truth from someone else, which is why I knew the matter was of great importance and chose to seek help from Dumbledore..."
The so-called "other person" is actually Stella, who heard Jack, a Muggle soldier, recount parts of his experiences while protecting him.
But Hawthorne was unaware of this; he only deeply felt the gap between himself and Madame Picqueli—
He was still in the chairman's position, but there were very few people standing around him;
Serafina Picqueli has been retired for many years, yet many people still trust and follow her, willing to entrust her with secrets concerning their lives and fortunes.
This realization left him feeling deeply frustrated.
But soon, Hawthorne perked up and listened intently to the deeply hidden secret.
……
In the garden, Stella finally learned that the person targeting her aunt was not Chairman Hawthorne, but her cousin Lyra. Stella accepted this reality without much struggle.
She stood there quietly, tears silently streaming down her pale cheeks.
“I know Layla hates her aunt…she hates Aunt Serafina for not saving her mother, but I thought…she just doesn’t want to associate with us…”
Stella's voice was soft, choked with sobs.
"I never expected... I never expected her to go to such lengths... How could she have become like this?"
Ezra Hughes stood beside her, the Auror director, usually known for his stern demeanor, now appearing somewhat awkward.
He remained silent for a moment, and finally said in a deep voice:
“This is not your fault, Stella.” “Some people go astray because they choose that path themselves, and it has nothing to do with what those around them do, or even whether their family is intact.”
"I have seen many people who, even when riddled with wounds, still choose to hold fast to their inner convictions and refuse to succumb to despair."
“I have also seen many people who were loved by their parents and had happy lives, but still went down the path of crime.”
"Lyra is the same... She chose to be who she is, and that has nothing to do with you."
Stella wiped away her tears forcefully, took a deep breath, turned to look at Hughes, and her eyes became decisive and resolute.
“Uncle Ezra… no, Director Hughes.”
She switched to a more formal form of address and said, "There are some things I've never dared to say, or even think about. But now... I feel I have to tell you."
The girl glanced around, making sure the annoying bodyguards and maids weren't nearby, then spoke quickly in a low voice:
"There are some people in our country, some very powerful people hiding in the upper echelons, who have been colluding with Muggles! Those Muggles are also secretly conducting magical experiments on wizards and Muggles!"
Hughes' pupils suddenly contracted.
"Not only that, they also... they also instigated Muggle governments to wage war against other countries. Their purpose was not what they claimed on the surface, but rather... to seize the Ministry of Magic of those countries and take over the secrets hidden under their Department of Mysteries!"
Stella's voice was filled with fear and anger, and she whispered, suppressing a sob:
“I have a friend, Jack, he’s a Muggle, a soldier, was captured and used as a test subject, but he managed to escape… He saw with his own eyes… those people, they possessed something—”
The girl looked up at the elder she trusted, her expression filled with fear and incomprehension.
"What do you own?" Hughes couldn't help but ask.
His heart was in his throat, and although he hadn't heard Stella's reply yet, he already felt a chill run down his spine.
Stella swallowed hard before whispering:
"—It was a golden particle. Jack said it emitted an incredible light, and time itself seemed to be distorted by it."
"Just like what Wade Grey and Harry Potter encountered in the game, that thing could instantly turn a person back into a baby, or turn them into an old person... but those people didn't understand how it worked, so they kept experimenting on living people..."
She grabbed Hughes' sleeve; his fingers were icy cold.
“Jack died not long after he escaped. I’ve kept what he told me to myself, and I’ve never dared to tell anyone except my aunt…”
“But I believe what he saw… Uncle Ezra, they are using war, using wizards’ lives, to exchange for the ‘time’ they want!”
This deeply buried secret exploded like a thunderclap in Hughes' ears.
He looked at the girl, and suddenly seemed to lose the ability to understand words, unable to believe what he was hearing.
Absurdity, shock, and chill intertwined, almost freezing his mind.
But seeing the girl's trembling eyes, words of comfort slipped out unconsciously:
"Thank you, Stella, thank you for choosing to trust me... and for telling me all this. I know it takes a lot of courage and perseverance to keep so many secrets in my heart."
"Don't worry, child... From now on, leave these matters to me, to the Auror Office, to... all those who are still willing to fight for truth and justice."
"You did a great job, really great... You don't have to work so hard anymore, these things are not your responsibility."
As Stella listened to his words, her tense shoulders gradually relaxed.
On her face, where tears had not yet dried, the intense fear and unease seemed to have finally been dispelled by the sunlight, replaced by a sense of relief and exhaustion, as well as a strange, almost suffocating sense of peace.
She nodded gently, said nothing more, but raised her hand to wipe the corner of her eye, and the corner of her mouth curved slightly upward.
It wasn't a smile, but it expressed her feelings even better than a smile... a calm that came from the weight of a heavy burden, mixed with sadness, trust, and a glimmer of hope.
The burden has now shifted to Hughes... and Hawthorne, who is talking to Serafina in the room.
(End of this chapter)