Jorkins was shaken to his core.
Ian gave him a good talking-to.
He lowered his head, looking at the remaining food on his plate, his voice hoarse. "You... you're right, sir. I... I've never really thought about these things. I... I'm ashamed."
This is a heartfelt reflection— the Wizarding World has always been like this, where the words of powerful Wizard are the truth, something that Jorkins is forced to ask himself.
Ultimately.
The other person is stronger than me.
They definitely need to be convinced.
strength.
This is the strongest evidence to prove whether the ideas of Wizard are correct.
Ian looked at him but said nothing more. Some ideas need time to be digested and changed. He pointed this out today not to preach, but simply to go with the flow.
A Wizard can work at the Ministry of Ministry of Magic and be involved in Muggle affairs might benefit slightly in the future if he can change some of his deep-seated prejudices.
"Let's eat, the food's getting cold." Ian picked up his knife and fork again, ending the conversation.
Jorkins nodded silently and resumed eating, but his state of mind was completely different. As he chewed, his gaze involuntarily followed Ian, looking more at the Muggle World outside the window. The hurried pedestrians and familiar street scenes seemed to have taken on a different color and warmth in his eyes.
This lunch at an ordinary Muggle diner ended in a subtle silence. Jorkins ate with a heavy heart; the shepherd's pie and fish and chips seemed to taste strangely different from usual. Ian, on the other hand, ate leisurely, even ordering an apple pie for dessert at the end.
Then, I slowly and deliberately finished enjoying it.
When it came time to pay, Ian used the modern banknotes. Jorkins tried to pay, but Ian stopped him with a look. The proprietress smiled and said, "Welcome back next time," her smile genuine.
"You think I'm poor? I'm very rich!"
Ian showed off a bit.
Stepping out of the restaurant, the afternoon sun was slightly brighter, but the air remained chilly. There were more pedestrians on the Street; during lunch break, people hurried along.
Jorkins followed half a step behind Ian, feeling as if his brain was a jumbled mess of conflicting information and emotions—fear and awe of Ian's power, lingering fear from the previous battle, confusion and unease about the mysterious the Black Robed Woman and the magical hints, and the profound self-reflection and shame triggered by Ian's recent remarks about Wizard and Muggle.
He secretly glanced at Ian walking ahead. The young man's back was upright and relaxed, his steps steady, seemingly completely blending into the Muggle environment around him, yet subtly exuding an air of detachment.
Who exactly is this person? Where does he come from? What is his purpose? He saved me, treated me to a meal, and said those thought-provoking things...
Was it really just a matter of standing up for what was right and acting on a whim? Just as Jorkins was lost in thought, Ian led him into a relatively quiet alleyway lined with tall brick buildings on both sides. There were few people in the alley, only a few pigeons cooing on the walls, and the sunlight was cut into alternating bands of light and shadow by the buildings.
Ian stopped by a shady, relatively clean wall, turned around, and faced Jorkins. The silence in the alley was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the restaurant and main street just moments before.
Is it coming?
Jorkins ' heart jumped again; he knew the easy time was over. The real business was about to begin.
"Alright, Mr. Jorkins," Ian began, the casualness he'd displayed during the meal gone, replaced by his previous calm and profound expression, though less of the initial coldness and aloofness, perhaps due to the lunch and brief conversation they'd shared. "We've eaten, we've strolled the streets. Now, let's get down to business."
His gaze fell on Jorkins' face, gentle yet unyielding. "I need a clearer understanding of the Prophecy in your memories, and the whole story. You previously agreed to let me examine your memories, and that offer remains valid. Of course, if you change your mind..."
"No! I haven't changed my mind!" Jorkins quickly stated firmly. After their time together, his fear of Ian remained, but it had lessened the panic of facing the "unknown terror" and increased the awe of facing an "unfathomable but seemingly reasonable and powerful figure." Moreover, he was eager to know what had happened to him. "Sir, please check. I... I will still try my best to cooperate and remain unguarded."
In fact, setting up defenses is useless.
It's completely meaningless.
As he spoke, he Hard Work again to relax his mental and Magic Power barriers, even though it made him feel as if he had deliberately taken off his armor and was standing naked in front of the other person, filled with insecurity. But he forced himself to trust the person in front of him—at least if the other person tried to forcibly examine or do anything else.
Since you are powerless to resist, you might as well be more honest.
Ian nodded, acknowledging his renewed cooperation. This time, instead of dangling his finger in the air, he stepped forward, closing the distance. The two stood face to face, the alley quiet except for the faint sounds of cars on the distant Street and the flapping of pigeons overhead. "Relax, look me in the eyes," Ian said calmly, with a strangely soothing quality.
Jorkins did as he was told and looked up into Ian's eyes. Those eyes appeared exceptionally deep in the backlight of the alley, like two dark lakes that could not reflect starlight, yet seemed capable of sucking one's soul in. Jorkins felt a slight dizziness, but he Hard Work to stay conscious and did not resist.
Ian slowly raised his right hand. This time, a tiny, almost invisible silver halo gathered at the tip of his index finger, within which tiny fragments of memory seemed to flow. He did not touch Jorkins ' forehead, but simply placed his fingertip lightly on the palm of his other hand, making a symbolic "link" gesture.
At the same time, the light in his eyes shifted slightly, becoming even deeper.
This is Legilimency.
There was no incantation, no wand waving, not even a noticeable process of Magic Power gathering. Yet, in Jorkins's perception, a gentle yet incredibly resilient, profound Mental Power, as deep as the starry sky, had Silencio seeped into the surface of his consciousness like the gentlest stream of water. There was no rough tearing, no uncomfortable cold probing. Ian's Legilimency technique had reached a level of consummate skill, even a state of returning to simplicity. This was neither Dumbledore's style, full of wisdom, patiently guiding, as if lighting a lamp in a maze, nor Voldemort's style, full of aggression, ruthlessly tearing apart all defenses.
Ian's approach is closer to an "immersive" or "high-dimensional detachment." He does not attempt to dominate or distort the flow of Jorkins ' consciousness, but rather, with a detached and precise attitude, "synchronizes" and "observes" the memory nodes related to specific events.
There was no concealment.
Therefore, those who are infected also experience symptoms.
Jorkins felt as if he had fallen into a slightly blurry river made up of countless lights, shadows, and fragments.
He "saw" the unease he felt when he was working late into the night in the office organizing a list; he "saw" the alertness and confusion he felt when he encountered the mysterious the Black Robed Woman black robes in the back alley of the Leaky Cauldron. The figure of the Black Robed Woman was indeed blurry in his memory, as if shrouded in a flowing shadow. Only those two strange words echoed with unusual clarity.
He also "saw" his own terror and panicked reaction when he was cornered by Death Eater; finally, he "saw" the "guidance" that exploded in his mind like a thunderclap during his desperate escape and the overwhelming despair, and the almost instinctive urge to run towards the " Royal Catherine Hotel " that followed...
Fragments of memory appeared quickly, clearly, and coherently before Ian's eyes.
Ian did not delve into Jorkins ' other memories; he did not touch those areas unrelated to personal privacy, emotional entanglements, or work secrets.
Ian got straight to the point—starting with the anomaly that Jorkins initially discovered in the suspicious list, to the detailed account of his encounter with the mysterious the Black Robed Woman in Diagon Alley, to every detail of being chased by Death Eater, and finally to the entire psychological process and perception that led him to the hotel during the crisis.
The objective is clearly focused on the relevant events.
The scroll of memories slowly unfolded before Ian's "eyes," more vivid and detailed than what Jorkins had described, and also contained more subconscious details and sensory information that even Jorkins himself might have overlooked.
Ian quickly noticed something was wrong.
Surrounding the fragments of Jorkins' memories of encountering the Black Robed Woman and being "guided" in a moment of crisis, there lingered an extremely subtle "additional element," almost completely integrated with Jorkins' own mental fluctuations, which would have been imperceptible to Ian only through his extraordinary sensitivity to the mental and Magic Power realms...
It wasn't a deliberately implanted false memory, nor was it a strong trace of mind control. Rather, it was a more sophisticated and subtle form of magical suggestion. This suggestion was cleverly woven into the mental reception process of those two sentences by Jorkins, like marking a specific information node with an invisible "highlight label" or "conditional trigger program." When certain conditions were met, this "label" would be activated, forcibly pushing the marked "guidance" information to the forefront of Jorkins's thinking, accompanied by a strong, inclination to follow it. "That's why he ran over!" It didn't deprive Jorkins of his free will; in non-crisis situations, he could completely ignore or forget the sentence. But when a crisis was triggered, it could greatly influence his instantaneous decision-making, making him "instinctively" choose the pre-set path. The method was exquisite and left no trace.
The caster possessed an exceptionally high level of mastery over mental magic and clearly had some prior knowledge of Jorkins's psychological state and behavioral patterns. This was certainly not something that could be done on a whim or by any random dark Wizard.
"As expected, we've been set up." Ian's mental tendrils gently touched the structure that was "hinted." It was very stable and tightly integrated with Jorkins's mind, but it had no malicious intent or backdoor program; it was more like a simple "guiding device." Its Magic Power characteristics... Ian sensed them carefully.
It was somewhat peculiar, unlike the Hogwarts system he was familiar with, and also different from common Dark Magic or Ancient Runes schools. It carried a kind of... very ancient, obscure, and even slightly inhuman ethereal quality, but it was also cleverly mixed with a very faint trace of the common fluctuations of the United Kingdom Wizarding World of this era.
This makes it less likely to be detected.
This wasn't Voldemort's or Death Eater ' style; they preferred violent control or the Imperius Curse. Nor was it Dumbledore's or the Order of the Order of the Phoenix's style; Old Deng was more open and honest, and usually wouldn't use such deep innuendo on strangers. This method... reminded Ian legends about ancient prophets, Destiny weavers, or some mysterious beings existing outside the mainstream magical system.
"Did Ian think of coming to this hotel entrance...?" Ian murmured to himself, slowly withdrawing his Mental Power.
The whole process took only a dozen seconds. For Jorkins, it was just a slight daze, as if he had just had a very short, immersive dream, before he woke up. He didn't feel any loss or confusion in his memory, only a slight feeling of mental fatigue from being "browsed." He looked at Ian nervously, waiting for the verdict.
Ian lowered his hand, shifting his gaze from Jorkins' face to the distant sign for the " Royal Catherine Hotel," his eyes growing increasingly profound, as if pondering some complex mystery.
"You're not lying, Mr. Jorkins." Ian finally spoke, his voice calm, which made Jorkins breathe a sigh of relief, as if a huge burden had been lifted. "Your memory is very clear; the details about the Black Robed Woman and his words, as well as your reaction in the crisis, are all true." A look of gratitude and relief appeared on Jorkins' face.
"But," Ian changed the subject, his gaze returning to Jorkins' face with a sharp, penetrating insight, "You weren't entirely right either. You didn't 'just happen' to remember that phrase; rather, someone planted a very subtle, very clever magical suggestion in your consciousness beforehand."
"This suggestion was triggered when you faced a deadly threat, forcibly guiding you to make the 'choice' of coming here," Ian told the other party the truth.
Jorkins ' smile froze on his face, replaced by a deeper sense of horror.
"A... a magical hint? Someone... cast a curse on me? When? Was it that the Black Robed Woman? Why... why would he do this?" Although he had this intuition before, Jorkins verifying it, Jorgins was still somewhat doubtful.
"At present, the Black Robed Woman seems to be the most suspicious."
Ian said slowly.
"As for the purpose..." He paused, his gaze sweeping over Jorkins, "Perhaps it's to save you—to guide you to a place that might have 'variables' or 'protection.' Or perhaps... there are other, more complex schemes. But in any case, to plant such a subtle and imperceptible suggestion in the mind of Wizard like you, an employee of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and whose own Magic Power is not weak... he is definitely not a benevolent person." Ian's tone carried a rare hint of solemnity:
"The entity that attacked you is definitely not simple. Mr. Jorkins, the matter you're involved in is likely far more complex than a simple leak of a Dark Magic artifact or Death Eater hunt."
Jorkins stood frozen in place, feeling a chill run from his feet to the top of his head. What he had initially thought was just a bad work mistake leading to a chase had now turned into a complex mystery involving a mysterious powerful figure, eerie hints, and an unknown purpose.
He felt like a chess piece!
The evidence is being manipulated by an invisible hand, yet the entire chessboard remains obscured.