"So, the leader not only wants Vid Gray but also wants him to willingly join us?" Abigail summarized.
"That's correct."
Byrd nodded, "We can't use the brainwashing methods we employ on those little kids on him—you know, whether it's the Confundus Charm or the Memory Charm, they will make the brain dull and clumsy. His mind is too precious; we cannot take that risk."
Abigail nodded, "So you sent that child."
"Actually, ideally, we'd find Vid Gray's parents... but unfortunately, his parents are hiding somewhere, and the companions who were carrying out this task are also missing."
Byrd said regrettably, "Dumbledore's protection of this student is unprecedented, and I suspect the Greys might be hiding in a house that's under the Fidelius Charm."
"So the leader hopes that you and Carrel can, as professors and friends, make Vid Gray identify with our ideals and develop a sense of belonging to the organization."
"Of course, we've also arranged a few pretty girls; such young lads are easily blinded by love. But they can't get into this school yet, so it's up to you two for now."
"This is a long-term task, no need for urgency. Even if it takes ten years, it's worth it... but you can start guiding him to become interested in the Philosopher's Stone now..."
Byrd gave detailed instructions, even suggesting Abigail find a chance to convey to Vid the idea that they could fund him to complete experiments.
No matter the success, every attempt at creating the Philosopher's Stone consumes expensive Alchemy Materials, enough to bankrupt an average middle-class family.
In Byrd's view, the biggest obstacle preventing an Alchemist from being curious about the Philosopher's Stone is—money!
Abigail didn't refute, agreed and then exchanged recent intelligence from both sides with Byrd before getting up to leave.
"I must return—every professor should not miss the Halloween banquet."
Abigail donned a Cloak, and while pulling up the hood, she asked, "By the way, what is Carrel's real name?"
"Just Carrel," the slightly plump woman said, "Carrel Johnson."
"... I see."
Abigail said softly, opened the door, and went out.
By now night had fallen, and the shops on both sides of the road were lit with candlelight.
Some returning students hurried towards the direction where carriages were parked, laughing and joking as they ran.
Many people ran quickly past Abigail, like silhouettes of time. Only Abigail walked slowly, step by step, neither hurried nor agitated.
Because now, her mind was already filled with a past event.
It was one day shortly after she joined the joint investigation team, taking advantage of others being busy, Abigail secretly found Landon Johnson, who was residing in a Muggle Hotel.
That was her first mission in this country—helping colleagues from the United States finish off.
Those careless guys should have cast the Forgetfulness Spell on the Johnsons, but delayed the time due to drinking.
When they found someone in the hotel, they mistakenly identified the repairman fixing the phone in the guest room as "Landon Johnson," and after casting the Forgetfulness Spell twice, reported the mission as "completed," and went off to enjoy themselves.
Mrs. Johnson forgot she had a son, but the real Mr. Johnson did not forget. By the time the organization discovered this oversight, Landon Johnson had already returned to the United Kingdom.
—The organization's influence in the United Kingdom is the weakest among European countries.
They finally managed to use some connections in Muggle Society to find out Landon Johnson's whereabouts, but could not locate him.
And by then, Hogwarts had already noticed this matter, and Mr. Johnson had actually been arranged a hidden residence by Dumbledore.
Later on, Abigail, who had originally been active in other areas, joined the investigation team.
She remembered that man—
Landon Johnson, a man so thin he was almost skin and bones, his hair was almost gone, kneeling down looking like an alien creature.
He was easily lured out of his surroundings, and when the Magic Wand pointed at his heart, he was neither shocked nor afraid.
The man knelt on the ground, crying, "I know you are with them... Kill me if you want, I won't run or resist... Please tell me, since I'm going to die anyway—"
"Carrel... my child... is he still alive?"
"Carrel?" Abigail said carelessly, "Who is that? I haven't heard of him."
She quickly erased all traces and turned to leave.
In such an island nation, disposing of bodies is easier than in the United States.
This matter, in the course of her life, was just a minor episode.
Abigail quickly forgot about it because dealing with those Wizards from various countries had already occupied her full attention.
But at this moment, she suddenly remembered everything, repeatedly picturing that embarrassing, unattractive face in her mind, echoing a father's last voice—
"Carrel... my child... is he still alive?"
Abigail walked into the teacher's seating and sat down, raising her eyes towards the Gryffindor long table.
A group of bats fluttering in the air happened to sweep overhead, many orange ribbons were spewing with golden-red flames, and the pumpkin lamps illuminated the hall more brightly than usual.
Carrel was actually easy to find.
Among a large group of students who were wolfing down their food, there was one Gryffindor eating a probably only one-third cooked steak at a leisurely pace, looking a bit bored and patient.
It must be said, this kind of performance by the young boy seemed exceptionally unique; several girls nearby were secretly giving him flirtatious glances, yet Carrel seemed unaware, showing no response.
"—Yes, still alive."
Abigail mentally answered, then shook her head with a self-mocking smile.
As she smiled, her smile suddenly stiffened.
Carrel was considered a child raised by the organization, because he was very stubborn and had particularly strong willpower, the organization had to create an illusion, according to his memory, that his parents were still around him, in order for him to obediently comply.
—And what about herself?
Abigail thought about her own experience of losing both parents at a young age and suddenly didn't know what in this world is true and what is false.
But a few seconds after such thoughts emerged, they were slowly suppressed by another idea.
False is false.
Byrd is not Landon Johnson, there are actually quite a few flaws in this fake couple, and if Carrel stayed with them day and night, he would surely discover some clues.
But Abigail was different.
There was no apparent inconsistency or contradiction in her memory; all memories were coherent and logically consistent.
Abigail did not know whether to regret or be grateful as she sighed, the delicious dinner suddenly became unappetizing.