Chapter 1301 Impossible Mission
“Rufus Scrimgeour.” Fudge stood up and blocked Scrimgeour’s path. “I’ve had enough! I’ve had enough of your unilateral decisions! And your complete lack of discipline!”
His roar echoed in the conference room: "I'm giving you a month, not for you to establish your own independent kingdom in the Ministry of Magic! I want to see progress! I want to see Vincent Wayne arrested! Not for you to mysteriously access some old files every day and treat the Auror office like your private club!"
The senior officials on both sides of the conference table all kept their eyes down, seemingly engrossed in the patterns on the table.
Only Amelia and a few others frowned, as if pondering how to end the meeting.
At the eye of the storm, Scrimgeour didn't even raise an eyebrow; he calmly watched the enraged Fudge with his sharp eyes.
“Minister, I remember saying that I need absolute autonomy and will not accept any foolish administrative interference. All the resources of the Ministry of Magic need to be prioritized to cooperate with my investigation.”
He particularly emphasized the “foolish administrative interference,” which was tantamount to adding fuel to the fire.
Fudge was so angry he nearly jumped to the ceiling. "I am the Minister for Magic! I bear the highest responsibility for the safety of the Ministry! I have the right to know the latest developments in the capture operation!"
Scrimgeour sneered, "That's right, you're the Minister of Magic, you can dismiss me at any time."
He stopped looking at Fudge's slightly purplish face and walked calmly out of the conference room.
The person had left, but the meeting room still reeked of tension.
Auror Office
Scrimgeour locked the door as soon as he returned.
Bored, he flipped through some internal documents about Vincent Wayne, and as expected, apart from unfounded rumors and old records of whereabouts, there was no substantial progress.
The absurdity of self-examination is quite humorous.
The morning flew by, and he got up to go to the archives. Just as he opened the door, two figures who "happened" to be passing by blocked his way.
Kingsley's towering figure almost blocked half of the doorway, with Tonks standing beside him, her hair today sporting a striking bubblegum powder color.
“Director,” Kingsley’s voice was steady and low, “I heard the meeting this morning didn’t go well, and everyone is worried…”
Tonks continued, "Director, have you been under too much pressure lately? Or have you encountered some trouble?"
Scrimgeour could sense that their concerns were genuine, but the reality was not what they thought at all; he simply couldn't stand the monotonous meetings.
But after all, he is now Scrimgeour, so he still needs to maintain appropriate interpersonal relationships.
He pretended to be tired and rubbed his temples. "There is pressure, Fudge wants quick results, but as you know, Wayne is not the kind of careless person. Even if there are clues, they are most likely left by him on purpose."
Kingsley and Tonks quickly exchanged a glance.
Indeed, Vincent is a cunning fellow. He was probably the one who spread all those fake news stories a while ago. The German Ministry of Magic is really having a tough time, being sent running all over the world by them.
Scrimgeour had been through a lot abroad and must have accumulated a lot of resentment. With Fudge constantly putting pressure on him, it's not surprising that he would do something unusual.
Kingsley hesitated, but the more outspoken Tonks spoke without any hesitation: "Director, what are your plans next? Do you need our help? We can't be led by the nose by the false clues he deliberately left behind."
Scrimgeour shook his head. "I've done everything I can, but he's like a drop of water merging into the ocean. If he doesn't show up, we can only remain highly vigilant."
He was talking about himself, and at the same time, he was talking about the antisocial pleasure criminal, Aiden Selwyn.
Kingsley sighed. "This is truly an impossible task."
Tonks's hair turned from bubblegum powder to a melancholic deep blue. "Wen... if Wayne doesn't show his face for a month..."
Scringer chuckled self-deprecatingly, "Then I'll have no choice but to submit my resignation."
He waved to the two dejected men. "I'm going out for some fresh air. Shakel, I'll leave Gringotts to you."
Kingsley nodded emphatically.
The cleaning work at Gringotts is mostly complete, and it is expected to reopen after Christmas.
Upon arriving at the archives, Scrimgeour skillfully headed to section C-7, browsing through some unrelated cases of unusual injuries.
Despite having read some of the cases many times, he still couldn't help but marvel at the wizards' incredible imaginations.
For example, there's the bizarre potion that makes people tireless and keep running even after crashing into walls, all while riding a flying broom.
For example, putting a strong laxative in aromatherapy can cause people around to have diarrhea to the point of exhaustion after smelling it.
These types of cases are often not very harmful, but they are highly creative.
If I could go back to campus, I'd definitely let some slick-haired professor experience it for me.
Scrimgeour smiled, put the file away, greeted the old administrator who was still organizing the index cards, and then left the Ministry of Magic alone.
He walked into the alley to shed his disguise, and when he came to the main road, he became Vincent again.
The Dark Lord, whom the British Ministry of Magic had been longing for, was walking casually down the street. If those high-ranking officials saw this, especially Fudge, their expressions would certainly be quite interesting.
Back at the Lane Hotel, Vincent knocked on the door of the room next door as usual.
The real Scrimgeour is in good condition and seems to have fully adapted to Muggle life.
He was wearing a bear-themed pajama set he had bought a few days earlier from a nearby shopping mall. Perhaps it was the effect of the Muggle shampoo, but his hair, which had been as bushy as a lion's mane, had become much smoother.
When he opened the door and saw Vincent, his lips twitched slightly. "Wayne."
“Director Scrimgeour.” Vincent entered the room and, as usual, recounted what he had been doing at the Ministry of Magic that day.
Despite having held on for more than half a month, Scrimgeour quickly broke down.
"Wayne, I'm begging you, could you please tone it down a little?"
Vincent blinked his big, innocent eyes. "I didn't miss the meeting, and I didn't deliberately provoke anyone. What more do you want from me?"
Scrimgeour was speechless.
He is indeed ruthless and tough, but not to the point of daring to ignore Fudge.
If this continues, he will really have to take a permanent leave of absence.
Vincent noticed his worry and comforted him, "Director Scrimgeour, how about this? Before the deadline, we'll cooperate. I'll pretend to be caught by you, and once we get to the Ministry of Magic, I'll find a way to get out myself."
Scrimgeour's eyes widened as he recalled some unpleasant memories.
After spending these days together, he finally understood what kind of person Vincent was.
In short: lawless.
"Goodbye," Scrimgeour said, trying to keep a straight face. "I have a way of dealing with Fudge."
Vincent nodded with some skepticism. "Director Scrinker, life has worn you down after all."
Scrimgeour's lips twitched violently.
He just wanted to apologize to Fudge in a humble manner, but it's being described as if he's going to transform from a fierce old lion into a docile kitten.
Even if we take a step back and say that the current situation is entirely Vincent's fault.
If he had firmly disagreed back then, would things have turned out differently?
As Scrimgeour looked at Vincent's calm face, the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably again.
He was almost certain that his rejection would not only not make things better, but would make them worse, worse than he could imagine.
……
……
