Chapter 1266 Hide and Seek Based on Imagination and Panic
Scrimgeour and his men left after a hasty farewell.
“Those Brits…” Sam lay back on the sofa with a relaxed expression. “Director Graves, they’re gone. Can I apply for leave now?”
Graves smiled at him. "What's the rush? I still have a few tasks to complete."
Sam rolled his eyes. "And also, I don't do tasks that are too troublesome."
Graves opened the drawer, picked up two file folders, and threw them forcefully, hitting Sam squarely on the forehead.
"Ouch—Director, could you please stop throwing things at my head?"
"do you have any opinion?"
"I wouldn't dare." Sam grumbled and sat up, picking up the file folder that had fallen to the floor.
The tasks are not difficult: first, to mentor the Aurors who joined this year; second, to temporarily protect the Muggle president with them for a period of time; and third, to closely monitor the movements of the Muggle government.
“Protect the Muggle president?” Sam rolled his eyes again. “Director Graves, I can understand training newcomers, but we are Aurors. Why are the last two missions related to Muggles?”
Graves glared at him. "Are you blind? Look for yourself!"
Sam pursed his lips and looked down at the documents in his hand.
A major event has recently occurred in the Muggle world: the Befrost Project, initiated by European countries in conjunction with the University of the East.
With Britain preceding them and Germany following, the Muggle government's relationship with the Ministry of Magic seemed to have become strained because of this project. Rodriguez Randolph, the president of the Magical Congress, and a group of members wanted to know why, which led to the latter two missions.
Sam carefully put away the documents. "Chief, is the Beaufort Project the one I need to investigate?"
Graves glared at him again, his face serious. "Seriously, you bastard, if you dare embarrass yourself in front of the Muggle president..."
With a "crack," a corner of the solid wood desk was forcibly broken off.
Sam jumped up from the sofa and stood up straight. "Yes, sir! I will definitely live up to your expectations!"
Graves shook his head, took out a money pouch and tossed it over, "Go change into something more presentable first, look at what you're wearing."
Sam caught the money bag and looked down at his clothes.
A white shirt, a black suit—the standard Muggle agent attire. Isn't that respectable enough?
He looked at Graves's unchanging long-sleeved white shirt and black trousers, and suddenly seemed to understand something.
He weighed the money bag in his hand and felt a lump in his throat.
"director……"
Graves' eye twitched violently; he knew the kid had misunderstood.
"Get out of here, don't get in my way!"
Sam sniffed. "Master, I will definitely complete the mission!"
After he left, Graves's rugged aura completely disappeared, and he became as elegant as a nobleman.
It's true that Sam should be dressed presentably; vampires pay special attention to their quality of life, especially when it comes to clothing.
Despite his convincing disguise, Victor's clothes were actually tailored and sewn by a top Italian tailor, his shoes were custom-made, and even his belt was handcrafted.
……
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Ministry of Magic, United Kingdom.
The door to the minister's office was pushed open silently, and Scrimgeour walked in, looking weary from his long journey.
Fudge heard footsteps and looked up.
He ignored Scrinker's rudeness and quickly put on a fake smile. "Rufus! You've had a long day. Please sit down and have some tea."
He waved his wand, and a steaming cup of black tea appeared on the table.
Scringer stood motionless in the center of the office, as if he were contemplating something.
When Fudge's smile froze, he finally spoke: "Minister, I'm here for something. I think we need to temporarily halt the capture of Wayne."
The air suddenly tensed, and the flames in the fireplace seemed to have shrunk.
Fudge's face darkened. "Rufus, what are you talking about? Wayne is spreading panic and undermining public confidence. His actions seriously threaten the safety of the wizarding world. We must arrest him as soon as possible."
“A threat?” Scrimgeour gave a short, cold laugh. “You and I both know what the real threat is. You gave me a month to capture Wayne, isn’t it because he’s the head of the Hogwarts Board of Governors?”
A flicker of annoyance at being exposed crossed Fudge's face. "Rufus, you have to understand, Hogwarts has to get back on track. Dumbledore's influence is too dangerous. They claim... claim..."
He ultimately didn't reveal the name. "They're claiming the Mystic is back, spreading such outrageous rumors. We need to seize the initiative before things get out of control, demonstrate our strength to the outside world, and capture Wayne. This will not only intimidate others but also allow us to secure a key seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. This is for the sake of long-term stability!"
He spoke of "stability," but his eyes gleamed with a naked desire for "control."
Scrimgeour suddenly felt a deep weariness, a weariness that penetrated to his very bones, far more exhausting than the transnational manhunt itself.
He is an Auror whose creed is to confront darkness, protect the innocent, and follow evidence and rules.
At this moment, however, his minister was asking him to conduct a political hunt, the purpose of which was to further his power.
"Hmph—" Scrimgeour's cold laugh was full of contempt. "Minister, you want me to take the most elite Aurors and continue a game of hide-and-seek based on delusion and panic?"
Fudge's cheek twitched, but he tried to remain calm. "Rufus, your duty is to obey orders!"
Scrimgeour straightened up abruptly, his eyes sharp as knives. "Listen, Connelly, you're not going to let me waste another day on this political farce."
His voice was soft, “My Aurors and I are not tools for you to whitewash the situation and eliminate dissidents.”
This profound disappointment and fundamental questioning were more embarrassing for Fudge than any argument.
“Rufus, you are the head of the Auror Office, you should know that we must do everything we can to maintain the authority of the Ministry of Magic.”
“I know very well.” Scrimgeour’s sharp gaze made Fudge back step by step. “But your authority and the Ministry of Magic’s authority are two different things. If you don’t reassess what our priorities are, then you should find someone else.”
His gaze softened, tinged with a last shred of respect for his superior.
He didn't say another word. After a stiff but polite nod, he turned and left the office, a symbol of power, with more determined steps than when he arrived.
The door was gently closed, as if separating two worlds.
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