Vid picked up the orange juice and took a small sip. Using the rim of the glass as cover, he replied in the same quiet voice:
"It's rare to have all the key figures gathered in one place. With such a good chance to observe, how could I possibly pass it up?"
After pausing for a moment, he asked again, "Isn't it for the same reason that you arranged this banquet in the first place?"
Moody: "..."
He suddenly felt his face grow inexplicably hot.
"We didn't."
The old man said stiffly, "All of this was arranged by them. Before I walked in the door, I didn't even know there would be this many people at the banquet!"
"…Oh." Vid didn't know what to say, so he just answered vaguely.
From that one sentence of Moody's, he could hear anger, frustration, suffocation, grievance, forced compromise—all sorts of tangled emotions. Clearly, the Auror squad had come up empty-handed these past days.
Vid once again felt glad that his decision not to stay at Hogwarts and wait for news had been the right one.
After two seconds of silence, Moody asked, "Who is the person you're disguised as? Your identity won't be exposed, will it?"
"Ah, no." Vid said, "This guy went to Europe on a trip with his girlfriend. He won't be back for at least a week, and he won't be contacting anyone either."
Moody fell silent again.
To take on the appearance of a disguise target, you only needed to pluck a single hair… and anyone truly skilled in Transfiguration Technique didn't even need hair.
But a disguise target who could cooperate with Vid's operation… was that also arranged by Dumbledore?
The old headmaster certainly had the sort of far-reaching connections for that, but Moody still felt something was off.
The Auror's intuition was screeching sharply in his mind.
Just as that thought flashed through him, Moody's rotating Magic Eye suddenly froze; he had spotted an extremely tiny source of Magic Power—
On the oak's trunk, a dark blue beetle was slowly crawling, its elytra reflecting a metallic sheen.
To anyone else, this would be an utterly ordinary sight, but when the Magic Eye swept over it, the beetle's internal structure was utterly different from that of a normal insect!
—A Poppet!
Moody immediately understood.
—That merchant, right? Something like Machioni?
If he remembered correctly, that man's business now spanned countries all over the world, and such explosive growth was inseparable from the products Vid had supplied.
If Vid wanted to borrow a convenient identity from that merchant, it made perfect sense the man would fully cooperate.
Moody set aside the small doubt he'd just had and pressed on, "What have your little fellows found so far?"
"Well…"
Vid smiled and said, "We'll have to wait a bit before we can draw any conclusions."
His gaze, seemingly casual, swept over Chairman Hosone, who was chatting with Kingsley, then over Laira, who was weaving among the guests.
Then Alderich Kubit, sampling wine alone; Ezra Hughes, chatting happily with Selena; and Reginald Perez, who seemed somewhat dissatisfied with the food.
"You must at least have a target, right?" Moody persisted. "I can help you keep an eye on them!"
"Then help me watch Laira Piqueley." Vid said.
Moody's eyes sharpened at once. "Laira… Piqueley…"
His Magic Eye swung toward the woman in the distance.
"She's connected to the Scourers?"
"We're not sure yet." Vid said softly. "That's why I'm looking for evidence… to confirm it."
Laira Piqueley had very dark skin and delicate features, with astonishingly long legs and a narrow waist.
Tonight she wore a silver-grey Robe, its flowing radiance rippling like water and leaving a brief trail of light as she walked.
She chatted with officials from the International Magical Cooperation Department, making them roar with laughter; in no time she was warmly discussing jewelry with a lady.
When an older Wizard grabbed her and began rambling at length, Laira imperceptibly drew another official into the conversation, and before long she slipped away in the natural flow of things.
She was like a master player conducting multiple games at once, every move precise, every expression carefully weighed—yet her transitions were as smooth and effortless as drifting clouds, as though she had been born to this.
But if… she were to encounter some sudden, unforeseen event, could she still remain this flawless?
Vid lowered his head, took a sip of his drink, and let his gaze roam.
The beetles crawling on the trunks were already in position, hidden in various spots, watching every corner of the courtyard.
And in places invisible to the naked eye, innumerable ants had divided into several teams: some scurried along the shadows at the base of the walls, some climbed up the folds of the tablecloth, some squeezed through the gaps under door panels, and some were stretching out into long lines along the outer wall.
Vid also knew that in a building less than three kilometers from this courtyard, Victor was watching every guest at the gathering through the Flow Mirrors carried by the beetles.
Meanwhile Vilan was directing the tiny ants as they slipped through closed doors, crawled across tall bookshelves and neatly arranged files, searching among them for any secrets better left untold.
...
The banquet was halfway through; the atmosphere had reached its peak. The band was playing a lively waltz, skirts swirled and overlapped on the dance floor, crystal glasses chimed crisply together. Even the usually stern officials now wore relaxed smiles, appearing perfectly convivial with one another.
At that very moment, a terrified scream suddenly tore through the air:
"Aaaaahhhh—"
The sound was shrill to the extreme, instantly drowning out all other noise, stabbing abruptly into everyone's eardrums.
The musicians' bows hung suspended above their strings, dancers froze mid-spin, wineglasses trembled, reflecting countless astonished faces.
A lady's fan dropped to the floor with a "snap"; the faint crack of its breaking ribs sounded unnaturally clear in the dead silence.
All eyes snapped toward the source of the sound—the heavy red curtain that separated the balcony.
"Grim, go see what's going on." Chairman Hosone said evenly.
"Yes."
The broad-shouldered man set down his glass, raised his Magic Wand, and strode toward the curtain, quick yet cautious. From all directions, Selena and the other Aurors began to surround the area.
Just then, the curtain was suddenly yanked aside, and a young woman staggered out, her face drained of all color.
Her eyes were wide, locked on Chairman Hosone up on the dais. She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but like a fish out of water she only produced a few broken, tuneless gasps.
The guests, baffled, exchanged looks of bewilderment and suspicion, then turned those questioning gazes toward the swaying curtain.
—What could frighten a Wizard into that state? Could there be a Boggart hidden somewhere in the manor? Or had she witnessed a brutal murder?
In the brief instant of their mutual glance, they seemed to have already discussed a thousand words' worth of speculation.
By then the woman finally came back to herself. In a hoarse voice edged with sobs, she screamed:
"Chairman! Chairman Hosone! Some… something terrible has happened!"