Chapter 1287 Five-Star Cell
Scrimgeour glared at Vincent, his eyes carrying a warning, as if he would run away immediately if he didn't give a reasonable explanation.
Vincent shook his head again. "Think about it, where would a wanted Dark Lord who just attacked Gringotts and flew over London on a fire dragon, and the Auror Chief of Staff who is ostensibly still pursuing him but is actually on vacation, be?"
Scrinker was still staring at him.
“Deep in the mountains? An abandoned castle? A secret chamber protected by hundreds of layers of protective spells?” Vincent counted on his fingers. “That’s right, those are your top choices on the Auror’s search list. You would waste a lot of manpower and resources searching for places that ‘look’ suitable for a dark wizard to hide in. You would never…”
He pointed to the elevator wall beneath his feet, “Let’s inspect a star-rated hotel in central London that requires real-name registration and is filled with Muggle tycoons and foreign tourists. In particular, the hotel’s owner and most of its long-term clients have no connection with the magical world and even scoff at supernatural events.”
The elevator doors slid open silently, revealing a quiet corridor covered with a thick plush carpet.
Vincent continued his "teaching" as he led the way: "There is an ancient Eastern saying full of philosophy, 'The most dangerous place is the safest place,' because the real danger often comes from blind spots in our understanding."
The Ministry of Magic, including you, subconsciously equates safe houses with magical hiding places. In your investigative logic, the Muggle world, especially in such public, bustling, and clearly defined locations, is not an option.
His tone was laced with sarcasm towards the stereotypes of the magical world: "This place is too conspicuous, too unmagical, and doesn't fit the aesthetic of a dark wizard."
Scrimgeour's lips twitched.
It must be admitted that some things in the magical world are indeed quite backward.
Vincent stopped in front of an exceptionally ornate door, took out his access card, and swiped it to open the door.
Scrimgeour was slightly surprised; the door opened automatically with a simple card swipe, without any magical fluctuations.
Inside is a spacious and luxurious suite, with floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room offering panoramic views of most of London.
Scrimgeour walked to the window. It was already past 1 a.m., but the traffic outside was still flowing, and there were many people on the street, probably having come specifically after hearing the news about the fire dragon.
He turned to Vincent. "So, your plan is for me, Rufus Scrimgeour, the Auror Chief of Staff, to hide in a Muggle hotel like a stowaway."
And you, so you plan to use some method I don't want to know for the time being, to disguise yourself as me and swagger into the Ministry of Magic?"
“Mostly correct.” Vincent poured himself a glass of water. “The room service slip is on the coffee table, the stuff in the wine cabinet is pretty good, there are instructions next to the TV remote, and you can use the magic communicator as much as you like. As long as you don’t reveal your whereabouts, you can go outside for some fresh air anytime.”
Looking at the electronic devices in the room that he couldn't name, the overly soft carpet, and the Muggle-like scenery outside the window, Scrimgeour felt a surge of utter absurdity.
He had dealt with dark wizards for most of his life, but he never expected to be defeated by a young man in the end. The place where he was "kidnapped" and placed under house arrest was even the presidential suite of a five-star hotel in London.
It felt even more suffocating than being imprisoned in Azkaban, yet at the same time, it was strangely...safe? Comfortable? It was so funny, so ironic.
He sighed heavily, sat down in the luxurious sofa that looked like it could swallow him whole, and rubbed his throbbing temples.
"I must have damaged my brain when I was chasing you."
He looked up and glared at Vincent. "Remember your promise, Wayne. Don't use my identity to cause trouble that can't be resolved."
Vincent pointed to his hand, which was always in his pocket. "I haven't restricted your movements. You can stand up and expose me as an imposter."
Scrimgeour's lips twitched.
"Enjoy your vacation, Director Scrinker." Vincent smiled and turned to walk towards the door.
With a click, only Scrimgeour remained sitting alone in the luxurious presidential suite.
He picked up the remote control from the coffee table, studied it for a moment, and finally gave up the idea of turning on the "TV," instead getting up and walking towards the wine cabinet.
Vincent wasn't lying to him; the wine collection here was indeed excellent.
It's amber in color, smooth on the palate with a sweet aftertaste, and not as harsh on the throat as the wines from the magical world.
In the next room, as soon as Vincent entered, Hunter on the sofa gave him a thumbs up.
"You've improved, kid. I thought you were going to knock someone out and tie them up."
Vincent rolled his eyes. "Do I look like such a rude person to you?"
Hunter nodded confidently, "It's not just like, you are exactly that kind of person."
Vincent smiled somewhat awkwardly.
If Scrimgeour doesn't cooperate, he might actually resort to some rather crude methods.
But he could swear to old man Merlin that he would never be so rude as to knock someone unconscious and tie them up.
Hunter stopped teasing. "So, is our esteemed guest satisfied with his five-star cell?"
“He’ll get used to it.” Vincent took off his coat, walked to the equipment rack, and picked up a pure white disguise mask.
……
……
early morning,
The Magic Department Hall was bustling with people, and even the air seemed tense.
The impact of the Gringotts incident has not yet subsided. Employees are walking briskly, talking in hushed tones, and their eyes are filled with anxiety.
The entire foyer fell silent the moment Scrimgeour strode past the central, golden fountain of the Magic Brothers.
He wore a well-tailored black suit with a dark gray robe over it, his hawk-like gaze sweeping over the employees in the lobby.
The Auror office director, who was known for his decisive and efficient work style, didn't look too good, which was understandable given that he hadn't taken a vacation in many years.
Percy, who was supervising the security check, spotted him immediately and a relieved expression appeared on his face. "Director Scrinker, welcome back."
Percy strode forward and lowered his voice, "The minister is waiting for you in his office. He wants you to see him as soon as possible."
“Weasley,” Scrimgeour nodded, “tell Fudge that I’ll see him once I’ve dealt with the urgent matter.”
He walked straight to the elevator, leaving Percy standing there dumbfounded.
Their tough stance has become even tougher, showing no respect even to ministers.
Inside the elevator, several lower-level employees instinctively shrank into a corner.
Scrimgeour's presence was too strong, and everyone knew he was back to clean up the mess, so no one wanted to walk into the line of fire at this time.
……
……
