Hogwarts: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me From Studying

Chapter 1096: Chapter 183: Inheritance and Gift

Braun laughed, showing no sign of surprise.

He said, "Naturally, we’re going to see what kind of legacy dear Miss Liayana left for us. A person like her wouldn’t even trust the bank. So, I guess we’ll definitely find quite a few interesting things at her home."

As he spoke, he casually picked the lock of an old truck parked by the roadside, bent down and fiddled with it for a moment, and then started the engine.

"Lucky us, no need to refuel!" Braun said, glancing at the dashboard, before rolling down the window and adding, "What are you waiting for? Get in!"

"Still going after Liayana?" Abigail opened the car door and asked, "Didn’t your companion bring her back for questioning?"

The Witch Pure Party doesn’t bother with procedural justice; with Veritaserum and the Cruciatus Curse, what information can’t they extract?

The truck spewed black smoke as it sped away, and Braun, gripping the steering wheel, said helplessly:

"You’re a key member of the Scourers, how can you not understand such a simple principle? The bigger the organization, the more people involved, and the more sluggish the operations become."

"But Liayana has an operation tonight, which her associates should also be aware of."

"If there’s no timely news sent back, their people will realize something has gone wrong, and will immediately retreat and destroy the data. Some important information might thus disappear forever."

"Speed is of the essence; sometimes, the time we strive for is just that fleeting moment!"

Abigail was left speechless.

To collect data on the wizards for the organization, she had started at the Magic Academy as a child, and after graduating, she had moved between various wizard gathering places across countries. Once she made a name for herself as a mercenary, she even briefly served as a professor at several schools.

Later... she was sent back to the training base to train juvenile warriors, and she was only half-aware of matters within the organization.

She was always busy before, never sensing something was wrong. Only when Braun asked did Abigail suddenly realize that she hadn’t participated in the core affairs of the Scourers for a very long time.

She only knew a small portion of the base locations and recognized limited people. Even past acquaintances had grown more distant over the years.

Abigail leaned silently against the back of her chair, feeling as if everything that had happened in recent days had completely negated the first half of her life.

Braun glanced at her, suddenly produced a dark robe, and tossed it onto Abigail.

Abigail picked up the robe, saw the Witch Pure Party symbol on it, paused silently, and asked, "Why give this to me?"

"Of course, it’s for you to wear!"

Braun said, "Don’t forget you’re a wanted criminal now, I wouldn’t want Aurors suddenly showing up to ruin our operation!"

"Also, if people find out you’re traveling with me, just imagine how the papers will distort the story!"

Touching the thick fabric and metal clasps, Abigail felt a particularly peculiar sensation rise within her.

Not long ago, the force this robe represented was one she’d been vigilant against, even opposed, and now, she had to rely on its protection to hide her identity.

Is this a fall, or a... rebirth? She couldn’t tell.

But Braun made a valid point, so Abigail could only suppress the odd feeling in her heart, silently draping the robe over her shoulders.

The large hood fell, covering most of her face, and the magic imbued in it seemed to shroud her whole appearance in a faint shadow.

At this moment, nobody knew who she was or could see her expression.

Abigail silently lowered her gaze, her lips sank, and a tear quietly slid down her cheek.

...

Mist Valley District, on the banks of the Potomac River.

A few interconnected arc-shaped buildings stood in the night, seemingly ordinary, yet often home to politicians who could influence the nation’s direction. Due to historical political scandals, the place carried an inherent aura of secrecy and intrigue.

The dilapidated truck, completely at odds with the surroundings, silently slid into a secluded corner nearby. The vehicle’s engine was turned off, only the ventilation pipes emitted a dull humming sound.

A patrolling security guard had already noticed the truck. He pressed one hand on his waist and walked over, politely saying, "Good evening, you two. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"We’re here to visit a friend." Abigail approached and said, "We have an appointment."

Meanwhile, the Magic Wand hidden in her sleeve shifted slightly.

The guard’s gaze went hazy for a moment, then he picked up his walkie-talkie and reported, "Everything’s normal; they’re visitors with an appointment."

Braun gave Abigail a thumbs-up, and the two openly walked past the security guard without further hindrance.

Once downstairs, Braun suddenly halted, tilting his head back slightly to gaze at the building as if he saw something intriguing.

He watched for a long while, and in the shadows, Abigail noticed the curve of his mouth slowly widening until he couldn’t help but let out a low, joyful chuckle.

That laugh carried no sarcasm or mockery; instead, it was like a child discovering a much-anticipated treasure, pure joy.

"You stay here."

Braun suddenly spoke, his tone still tinged with lingering amusement.

He pushed open the door, his steps light as he walked away, heading toward the elevator without turning back to glance at Abigail.

Abigail, caught off guard by his sudden change in mood and decision, didn’t oppose but remained quietly downstairs, watching Braun leave.

She noticed that Braun’s pace towards the elevator, and even his whole stance, radiated a feeling entirely different from before—a nearly buoyant, exceptionally joyous feeling.

As if he wasn’t infiltrating an enemy’s dangerous lair, but attending an eagerly anticipated rendezvous.

This was too abnormal.

Driven by intense curiosity and unease, Abigail lifted her gaze, looking up at the top of the building.

The night was deep, glass walls reflected city lights, everything seemed calm and usual.

She didn’t spot anything particularly special but felt tonight’s sky seemed unusually clear.

The doubts within Abigail slowly began to rise—

Braun, just what did he... see?

...

Braun pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped into Liayana Lightford’s apartment.

The room, once starkly simple, now appeared bustling and noisy:

Various sizes of animal poppets scurried back and forth; some, taking advantage of their small size, slipped into locks to open safes; others climbed bookshelves to flip through every book; some dismantled the bedside tables into pieces; others squeezed into corners unreachable by humans, even discovering a secret space behind the cabinet.

Meanwhile, Vito, wearing his hat backward, was busy at a personal computer, swiftly handling floppy disks, swapping one for another.

Victor focused on organizing a pile of documents: memos, offshore company authorizations, secret trusts, medical records, and more.

Vera, with caution, packed various expensive gold and silver jewelry into boxes and suddenly let out a low cry—she’d found a box of microfilm hidden at the bottom of a cabinet.

And in the room’s center, on the wide gray sofa, sat a man.

He appeared similar in age to Braun, with somewhat disheveled black hair and calm gray eyes. Wearing clothes comfortable for movement, he sat leisurely with one leg crossed over the other, browsing through a stack of recently removed safe documents.

Braun quickly reached the sofa, leaned in to gently embrace the man, then stepped back, softly saying:

"Seeing you all well, I’m pleased... Master."

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