Chapter 1291 The Most Absurd Order in History
Scrimgeour hadn't gone far when another voice sounded from behind him.
"Director! I'm so glad to finally see you!"
It was Wales, the elite Auror who used to be stubborn and inflexible, but is now barely considered Vincent's friend.
"What is it?" Scrinker's tone remained curt.
“Nothing special.” Wales looked him up and down casually, but there was an undisguised curiosity in his eyes. “I just feel that you seem a little different this time you came back.”
He paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully, "Well, you used to like acting alone, but you were always within the Auror's framework, but now..."
He suddenly grinned, "However, this kind of efficient action, which ignores the nagging from above and goes straight to the heart of the problem, reminds me of another troublesome guy, although that kid is now the most wanted criminal and still our key target for capture."
Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes. This seemingly reckless Auror seemed to be more perceptive than he had imagined. "Just do your job and stop worrying about these useless things."
Instead of actually reprimanding Wales, Scringer turned and headed straight for the Auror's private archives.
After closing the door, he began searching for the personal file of Aiden Selwyn, a former therapist at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries.
As expected, even in the Auror's separate archives, the information about the members of the twenty-eight pure-blood families was pitifully thin.
Aiden Selwyn
Sex: Male
Date of birth: April 1958, 9
Bloodline: Pureblood
Education: Graduated from Slytherin House at Hogwarts with excellent grades in Potions and Charms.
Occupation: Senior Healer in the Severe Cursed Injuries Department of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries
Apart from the basic information, the remaining information, such as performance evaluation, list of research achievements, personal experience, and list of family members, is completely blank.
The reason for leaving the company and the destination after leaving were both blank, and even any record of possible misconduct was blank.
Even his outstanding achievements at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Sicknesses were only vaguely mentioned with the phrase "his professional skills were recognized within the hospital," as if an invisible eraser had wiped away all the details that might have attracted attention.
Scrimgeour was not disappointed and calmly put down the almost useless personal file.
The privileges of pure-blood wizarding families within the administrative system were more deeply entrenched than he had imagined. This system, which used the name of respecting ancient wizarding families to protect the privileged class, was utterly rotten.
If official channels don't work, then we have to resort to unofficial channels.
Scrinker went to the restroom and then stayed in his office looking through documents after he came back.
His casual demeanor suggested he was waiting for something.
Just before he was about to leave work, his magical communicator beeped.
Under the questioning gazes of the Aurors, he quickly got up and strode out of the office.
Once again, Scrimgeour went to the restroom, locked the stall door, and opened the document he had just received.
Even the intelligence network of the Daixu Society can only gather extremely limited information.
The Selwyn family has kept an unusually low profile in recent years, starting exactly three years before Aiden Selwyn left his post.
His whereabouts are even more mysterious. In the past three years, he has had no public records of magical activities, spending, or travel, as if he has vanished into thin air.
There are some rumors about the reason for his departure. In the circle of pure-blood wizard families, there has always been a rumor that "Selwyn's genius was ruined due to an accident".
As the saying goes, there's no smoke without fire. The fact that rumors can spread is enough to prove that the accident was not unfounded.
A former genius healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Illnesses, born into the Selwyn family, one of the twenty-eight pure-blood families, he suddenly resigned three years ago, possibly due to a serious accident that was covered up...
Scrimgeour's heart pounded. Suspicion was not the same as confirmation; he needed more evidence.
He left the cubicle, intending to return to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Healings for a more in-depth investigation, especially regarding the accident, the authenticity of which was unknown.
But on a relatively spacious main corridor leading to the foyer, he ran into a group of people: several sycophantic high-ranking officials, and Fudge, who was surrounded by flatterers.
The atmosphere froze instantly, and the junior staff around immediately slowed their footsteps, their eyes darting around while they couldn't help but steal glances.
On one side is the increasingly anxious Minister of Magic, who urgently needs to take control of the situation; on the other side is the Auror Chief of Staff, who has been reinstated and is extremely tough, appearing only briefly and never returning to his post.
The scene was filled with sparks flying everywhere.
Scrimgeour ignored it and prepared to walk straight over.
Fudge's big face instantly turned red, clearly angered by his disregard.
“Rufus Scrimgeour,” Fudge tried to keep his voice down, “I’ve had people looking for you several times. What shady business have you been up to? You haven’t even given the most basic report. What do you take the Ministry of Magic for? Your private hunting grounds?”
Scrimgeour stopped and slowly turned to face Fudge.
His face was expressionless, and his cold gaze made the sycophants around Fudge instinctively take a small step back.
“I’m investigating the real threats that the Gringotts incident may involve.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly through the quiet corridor. “Minister, I’m not good at writing reports that are just meant to appease the public and do nothing to solve the problem.”
If you believe my investigation is shady, it must be because we have a fundamental difference in our understanding of our responsibilities.
“You!” Fudge’s fingers trembled with rage. “Don’t forget who you are! You’re the Auror’s Chief of Staff! Your primary task is to capture Vincent Wayne!”
His voice rose eight octaves, attempting to regain his authority, "I'll give you another month! You must bring him back to me this time!"
The corridor was deathly silent; everyone unconsciously held their breath.
Scrimgeour was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly a mocking smile appeared on his lips. "A month? To capture Vincent Wayne?"
His tone quickly calmed down. "Okay, but I need absolute autonomy and will not accept any foolish administrative interference. All the resources of the Ministry of Magic must be prioritized to cooperate with my investigation."
He paused, his icy gaze fixed on Fudge. "If you can't do it, or if you continue to cause me trouble like this, then you might as well find someone else now and stop wasting your time."
The onlookers were in an uproar.
Is Scrimgeour making a threat?
Fudge's face changed from red to purple, and then from purple to blue.
He stared intently at Scrinker, his chest heaving violently.
He wanted to get angry and dismiss the other person immediately, but he couldn't.
After the Gringotts incident, the Ministry of Magic suffered another tarnished reputation. Fudge desperately needed a hardliner and pragmatist like Scrimgeour to stabilize the situation. At least with him around, the public would believe that the Ministry of Magic was doing something.
If Scringer is removed, it will be difficult to find a convincing replacement in the short term, and the world is waiting to see him fail. This will only make the already precarious situation worse.
More importantly, Scrimgeour's nonchalant attitude of simply quitting at the worst made Fudge feel powerless, like punching cotton.
They don't care about official positions at all; in fact, they're happy to have a leisurely life.
"Fine! Very well!" Fudge spat out through gritted teeth. "You want autonomy? I'll give it to you! But I want to see results in a month! Otherwise... you'd better figure it out yourself!"
He stormed off down the corridor with his sycophantic group, looking somewhat disheveled.
Scrimgeour remained expressionless as he endured the mixed gazes of shock, admiration, and worry directed at him from all directions.
Arresting oneself? A one-month deadline? This might be the most absurd order in history.
Scrimgeour did not stop, but continued walking forward with steady steps, as if the brief but intense confrontation had never happened.
……
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