Chapter 149: The Dursley Massacre Mystery

"Come sit down, child." The officer flipped over a cup inverted on the tray and poured tea for Zhang Qiu. "I'm Colonel Fabster. The Mrs. Marge you're inquiring about used to live next door—this building on the left."

"Oh, I'm Cassandra, Harry Potter's lawyer." Zhang Qiu gave a false name.

"Alright, let's return to the story of the Xiaoxiong Organization. Some may think they've long dominated London, but according to my knowledge, the Fry family only emerged in London's underworld around ten years ago—in 1982."

"1982?" Zhang Qiu flipped through her diary. "The Dursleys were killed in… 1988."

"The Dursleys?" Colonel Fabster sat up straight. "So this isn't as simple as it seems. Remember, Mrs. Marge was also killed in 1988."

"Let me guess—the Dursleys were Mrs. Marge's sister's family, right? How did they die? Were their throats slit?" As he spoke, Harry, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, clapped a hand over his mouth—he suddenly realized the murders from that year held deeper secrets.

"I don't know the details. Harry didn't tell me." Zhang Qiu shook her head.

"You might not realize what this method of death signifies—that's precisely what makes the Xiaoxiong Organization so terrifying. Every rival gang leader who opposed them died the same way—in their own homes. At first, people thought it was just a warning. Then an elderly man with wide experience told us it might be connected to the Assassin Brotherhood."

"Oh?" Zhang Qiu feigned deep interest in these urban legends.

"Legend says the Assassin Brotherhood is an ancient dark organization that has been active since the Middle Ages. Their signature weapon is the hidden blade—a dagger strapped to the wrist." Colonel Fabster gestured toward his own wrist. "They kill by driving it into the neck—stealthy and lethal."

"So you suspect the Xiaoxiong Organization is linked to the Brotherhood—and that the deaths of the Dursleys and Mrs. Marge are connected to them too?"

"It's not just me who suspects this. Some of my police colleagues think the same. Unfortunately, the Xiaoxiong Organization seems to have ties with high-ranking officials in the police force—these cases always ended up unresolved." Colonel Fabster sipped his tea. "In short, Mrs. Marge's death involves London's most ruthless gang, and behind it may lie the legendary ancient killer organization. I strongly advise you not to investigate further."

"Of course, I'll also urge Harry to stay out of danger." Zhang Qiu politely agreed. "By the way, I'd like to know—what role did the Fry family you mentioned play in all this?"

"Ah, perhaps I didn't make it clear earlier. The leader of the Xiaoxiong Organization is a woman named Ivy Fry—and rumors say she's also an Assassin." Colonel Fabster's tone carried a hint of admiration. "How mysterious."

"Well, thank you for sharing these secrets with me." Zhang Qiu rubbed her temples. "The problem is, Mrs. Marge is gone now—it's troublesome."

"What did you need Mrs. Marge for?" Colonel Fabster asked casually.

"She was Harry's closest living relative. Some things require her specifically." Zhang Qiu frowned.

"But as far as I know, her sister merely adopted Harry—calling that a blood relation is a stretch." The colonel shrugged. "I could be his relative too—after all, Mrs. Marge almost married me."

"Alright, then assume she did marry you. Next—have you heard another urban legend? About wizards and magic?"

"What?" Colonel Fabster looked intrigued. "Tell me more."

"I'd rather let you experience it than describe it." Zhang Qiu smiled and waved her wand.

As the divination had foretold, the "Muggle relative of Harry" swelled grotesquely, ballooning like a balloon and floating helplessly upward.

They were in the garden, with no ceiling, so Zhang Qiu conjured a rope and tied his left foot to the tea table to keep him from drifting away.

"Why am I floating?" the colonel cried in terror. "What did you do? Is this magic?"

"Of course. I hope you'll remember this as an amusing experience." Zhang Qiu winked, her form beginning to fade. "Don't worry—someone will bring you down soon."

Beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry was still pondering the old case when a sharp pop of Apparition shattered his thoughts. He looked up—a blonde woman in a red dress had appeared in the garden.

"Good day, sir. I'm Jane from the Department of Accidental Magic Reversal. Please tell me what happened." She smiled at the colonel.

"A little girl attacked me—she turned me into a balloon!" the colonel stammered. "She said it was magic—do you do magic? Please help me!"

"Understood, sir, just a moment." Jane pulled out a wand. Harry's tension eased—he recognized her as an official from the Ministry.

"Finite Incantatem!" she chanted—but the colonel still floated.

"If that doesn't work—Periculum Totum!"

Periculum Totum seemed a stronger spell—the colonel's body instantly returned to normal, and he crashed heavily onto the grass, then scrambled up quickly.

"Are you a wizard too?" the colonel panted.

"Yes. I'm with the Ministry of Magic—you could call me a civil servant of the wizarding government." Jane explained. "I hope you'll keep today's events confidential."

"You're official? Then I demand you punish that little brat—she called herself Cassandra, looks like she's still in middle school, so mischievous—"

"I understand, I understand. Now, look here—Obliviate!"

The inflated Muggle relative had his memory erased by the Forgetfulness Charm. The incident confirmed Zhang Qiu's divination—and seemed to leave no other consequences.

Interestingly, when the Ministry wrote to Dumbledore demanding punishment for a girl named Cassandra, the professors were baffled—Hogwarts had no student named Cassandra.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Dr. Dou asked, waving a hand before Harry's face—he still seemed lost in thought.

"I met the Fry family as a child." Harry took a deep breath. "If they killed my uncle and aunt, they might also be connected to Voldemort."

"In fact, we investigated the murders too." Dr. Dou recalled. "The Auror Office concluded the Fry family were all Muggles—so the case should've been handed to the Muggle government."

"But the Muggle government didn't act. Instead, they became leaders of London's underworld." Harry frowned.

"You should still trust British police—they likely caught the real killer, or at least arrested a scapegoat. They wouldn't ignore it completely. If you're still suspicious about the case, you can look into it later." Dr. Dou dismissed it. "But frankly, we believe the Dursley murders were meaningless—more likely the act of a mad Death Eater."

Harry sat silently on the steps, recalling the day the Dursleys were killed—the Fry siblings had taken him to the zoo. Perhaps they weren't the killers—then it must've been the husband, the Indian man.

But why? Harry wondered. For Death Eaters, killing Harry's Muggle relatives offered no benefit—unless they intended to eliminate every possible guardian. Yet they stopped at Tang Dun. That was what puzzled him.

Perhaps it was merely the act of a mad individual. The killer likely didn't use magic—Dr. Dou said the Fry family weren't wizards. Yet he worshipped Voldemort—otherwise he wouldn't have targeted the Dursleys or specifically taken Harry away. But how could a Muggle worship Voldemort? That was what Harry couldn't understand. And if it had nothing to do with Voldemort or the magical world, why would the Dursleys' enemies spare Harry, who was living under his aunt's roof?

The screech of brakes shattered Harry's thoughts. He decided to shift his focus back to the magical world—for now, investigating the mysterious Muggle murders wouldn't help his current situation.

Harry peered out from a new exit. It was a cramped, narrow room. A robed wizard lay snoring over a desk. A single flickering oil lamp cast weak light. Outside the door lay darkness.

Harry, cloaked in invisibility, stepped slowly from the room. The air carried a faint saltiness of sea breeze—but mostly an indescribable stench: feces, sweat, rotting wood, and a soul-repelling odor of Dementors.

"Could this be…" Harry gently touched the stone bricks and iron bars. "Azkaban?"

"Indeed. I don't know why Zhang Qiu came here." Dr. Dou whispered. "Let's follow her."

Following Dr. Dou's gesture, Harry noticed a faint human silhouette in the distance.

"By the way, Doctor, I didn't notice—what date is it now?"

"July 18, 1993," Dr. Dou reminded him. "July—summer vacation. Is Zhang Qiu here to witness Sirius Black's escape?"

Harry tiptoed after the invisible Zhang Qiu as she moved deeper into Azkaban, where the most dangerous Death Eaters were imprisoned. Sirius Black, still unproven innocent, should be in the innermost cell.

Around the corner, Harry heard a familiar male voice.

"Have you ever imagined what it would be like if all Muggles vanished for twenty-four hours?" His tone was persuasive. "We could walk freely anywhere, cast any spell without fear of suspicion or being seen…"