"Is that you, kid? What do you mean by this?" Reed asked nervously.
"Nothing in particular. Didn't we agree on a daily rate? I went to the casino today, so naturally, I'm collecting a day's consulting fee."
"You went to the casino? What do you mean? Did you have something to do with what happened today?" An ominous suspicion rose in Reed's mind.
"Perhaps. After I got back to Cokeworth today, I went to the Fierce Tiger Gang first. Their boss happened to suspect his woman of cheating and was about to clean house. I can't stand the sight of blood, so I used a little magic to make him think you'd cuckolded him, then got him worked up, and he came straight to your door."
Herman casually outlined his itinerary. The little spells he had used were actually the Confundus Charm and the Rage-Flame Charm. The former could confuse a person's perceptions, while the latter could make its target's anger blaze like fire until they lost all reason.
"Why?" Reed demanded angrily.
Herman shrugged helplessly and said, "I didn't want to do this either. If you insist on a reason, I was worried that if I really were sentenced to Azkaban someday, I'd have another charge against me, and more witnesses too. So it's better to clean things up before I start school."
Clearly, Herman's explanation only left Reed and his deputy even more confused.
But Reed had not really intended to get to the bottom of things. While Herman was answering, he decisively pulled the trigger.
Bang, bang, bang! Reed emptied his entire magazine in one burst.
The gunshots rang through the quiet night sky, their piercing sound like a demon's roar tearing through the stillness.
Reed and his deputy stared wide-eyed, eagerly anticipating the sight of Herman collapsing into a pool of blood. That was the image of victory they had envisioned, but reality came down like a sledgehammer, smashing their fantasy to pieces.
A series of sharp glass-shattering sounds suddenly rang out, particularly grating in the tense atmosphere.
The air between Herman and the two men strangely resembled glass smashed by a powerful, invisible hand, a web of irregular cracks spreading across it.
Like a sturdy shield, these cracks miraculously stopped each whistling bullet. The bullets came to a halt in midair.
Then, with a loud crash, the glasslike barrier shattered completely, and countless fragments clattered into the water, sending up sheets of spray.
"What is that?" the deputy blurted out, his jaw nearly dropping in shock and his eyes as wide as saucers. At this moment, he finally believed what his boss had said. This kid had superpowers.
"Just a minor application of Transfiguration," Herman said softly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a modest smile.
It had to be said that Dumbledore truly had a discerning eye. His judgment of Herman had been entirely accurate.
Herman was indeed exceptionally gifted in Transfiguration. Coupled with a soul that had lived two lives, this gave him precise control over magic far beyond that of ordinary people, allowing him to advance at winged speed along the path of Transfiguration, which demanded the utmost precision.
Even so, Herman had been exposed to magic for less than a month and had learned entirely through his own study and experimentation. He was hardly capable of using any advanced magic.
The reason he had managed to cast such a wide-ranging spell to stop the bullets was that he had used a few clever tricks.
He had not conjured glass out of thin air like a stage magician to block the bullets. Instead, he had used magic to turn the river water beside him into ice. This ice was exceptionally transparent, and beneath the hazy cover of night, it was like an invisible shield, cleverly escaping everyone's notice and making its secret difficult to discern.
Changing water into ice, two different states of the same substance, was very simple-even simpler than making the ice transparent.
After his modest remark, a trace of resolve flashed in Herman's eyes. He would not give Reed and his deputy another chance.
As though gently lifted by an invisible hand, two pistols slowly floated up beside Herman. Their triggers pulled themselves, and two sharp bangs broke the brief silence.
Scar Reed, who had committed countless crimes in Cokeworth and whose very name had struck terror into people's hearts, thus reached the end of his wicked criminal career.
Herman then methodically moved Scar Reed's and his deputy's bodies onto the speedboat.
The bodies of two Fierce Tiger Gang members, already long dead, were also aboard. The scene looked as though the gang's underlings had risked their lives to avenge their boss and ultimately perished together with their enemies. Everything looked so "perfectly reasonable."
Of course, from Herman's perspective as a modern person, this fabricated crime scene was actually riddled with flaws. Even a cursory examination would reveal its holes.
But he already had a countermeasure. A single fire would reduce most of the evidence to ashes. With Cokeworth's limited forensic resources, the truth would remain forever buried in darkness, never to see the light of day again.
Besides, the detectives here would probably be quite satisfied with the "truth" Herman had carefully prepared for them. After all, it would let them close the case easily and save them a great deal of trouble.
As for Herman, his attention rested more on the two cases Reed and his men had brought. When he opened them, a glimmer of pleasant surprise flashed in his eyes.
Their contents seemed simple, but they were worth a fortune. There was some cash, a large quantity of high-value bearer assets such as debt securities, and deeds to several properties in major British cities. The registered owners on these deeds were not Reed, but the names on several different passports inside the cases.
All in all, these assets were nothing short of a massively upgraded version of Herman's getaway fund.
Apart from these two cases, Herman had also obtained a large amount of cash from the Fierce Tiger Gang. He had not plundered the gang like a bandit, since the purpose of his visit had not been to strip them of everything. He also did not want to arouse anyone else's suspicions, so he had only taken a moderate amount of valuables.
After completing this series of tasks, Herman finally felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He had accomplished his first major objective in returning to Cokeworth. Just as he had said earlier, he merely wanted one fewer charge that might someday get him sentenced to Azkaban.
Now, the dead could bear no witness, and everything had concluded perfectly according to his plan, leaving him immensely gratified. Feeling completely unburdened, Herman returned to St. Chris Orphanage under cover of darkness that very night.
He made his way through the dark into his familiar dormitory. Inside, the children who shared his room were lost in sweet dreams, completely unaffected by the fierce gunfight on the other side of town.
In these familiar, warm surroundings, Herman also slept soundly, as though the bloodshed and danger earlier had been nothing more than a distant dream.
The next day, sunlight fell softly over every corner of the orphanage like a golden veil. The children were delighted to discover that Herman had returned, their faces brimming with innocent smiles. For once, Herman set aside the burdens in his heart and played for a while with these children, whom he saw as lovable youngsters. Everyone laughed and chatted, as though they had returned to those carefree days of the past.
Herman also patiently explained that he would soon be going elsewhere to study and would no longer be able to attend secondary school in Cokeworth with them. Though the children were reluctant to part with him, they all offered their best wishes.
After lunch, Herman went to Director Margery's office. He knocked gently on the door, the sound echoing through the quiet corridor.
"Come in."
After hearing the director grant him permission, Herman pushed open the door and entered the office.
"Hello, Director," Herman greeted her politely.