Chapter 882: Vincent is defeated

When Vincent was treating the physical injuries of the special team, a ball of red flame suddenly burned in the air behind him.

Dumbledore looked at the scene before him and sighed silently as if he had expected it.

"Professor?" Vincent didn't look up, still concentrating on treating them. "Those rats walked away in front of me in a swagger."

"Child, you—"

"I'm fine. At least I didn't let them go back intact."

Is it all worth it?

worth it.

Dumbledore looked into Vincent's determined eyes and knew that he would not regret his choice tonight.

If he hadn't continued to pursue the Death Eaters, the special team would certainly not have been struck by the vicious curse.

If he had ignored the unusual smell of dark magic in the gym, the camp would not have been attacked by Death Eaters tonight.

So his choice was wrong?

Is it right to let the Death Eaters go?

No, it was the Death Eaters who were wrong, it was Voldemort who ordered them, and it was the fucking prophecy that decided everything on its own.

Under Vincent's treatment, the special team's shriveled skin has become plump again.

It’s just that their mental state is a little sluggish, and it seems they need to rest for some time.

Wales, who was knocked down first, was in the worst condition. The poison curse left a small charred mark on his chest that could not be healed by magic.

Fortunately, it did not spread outside, and could only be taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for further treatment.

After completing all this, Vincent slowly lowered his caduceus and asked, "Professor, what's the situation at the camp?"

Dumbledore smiled with satisfaction. "Thanks to you, everyone gradually came together after watching you repeatedly play the video, and rescued all the injured people."

The gloom on the Vincent family's faces disappeared.

In the face of sudden disasters, there will always be someone who steps forward.

Although individual abilities are limited, as long as we unite we can create miracles.

"Professor, let's go back."

"it is good."

The flames brought by Fox enveloped everyone.

The next second, they appeared in the camp.

The belated British Ministry of Magic officials temporarily set up several tents as a command center and medical station, and Vincent and Dumbledore were soon invited by them to understand the situation.

When they heard Peter Pettigrew's name, their faces turned extremely ugly.

Fudge forced a smile, "Vincent, are you sure you didn't see it wrong?"

Vincent glanced at the special team members who were about to be taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. "I am sure and certain that I am not mistaken. They are all witnesses."

Although Dumbledore did not see it with his own eyes, he guaranteed that Vincent would not lie about it.

Fudge nodded and motioned for him to continue.

Vincent looked at Fudge's sour face with a playful expression.

Sure enough, after hearing that a Death Eater was pretending to be him, Fudge's face became even more sour.

The expressions of other senior executives also became playful.

Who can Fudge blame? Blame Wales for being stupid?

"What a bunch of despicable bastards!" He could only curse the Death Eaters.

He is dedicated to his duties and loyal to the Ministry of Magic. He is certainly not a fool.

“After the special team fell into the trap, I could only watch them walk away in a swagger.”

Vincent's eyes were full of self-blame when he said this.

He was not acting, but felt deep remorse from the bottom of his heart.

This has nothing to do with the fact that he does not regret his choice tonight. He just simply feels that his strength is not strong enough and his heart is not cruel enough.

Fudge gently put his hand on his shoulder, "Vincent, you have done well enough, leave the rest to us."

The top executives have left, but a lot of messes are still waiting for them to deal with.

Counting the losses, comforting the people at home and abroad, investigating and calming the incident, responding to condemnation from foreign magical governments, resolving doubts from the international community, and deciding whether the Quidditch World Cup should continue to be held, etc.

Vincent and Dumbledore walked out of the tent, where their friends and adults were already waiting outside.

Everyone looked a little dusty and dirty, probably because they had just joined in the rescue.

He swung his right arm, which had not yet fully healed, vigorously. "It's just a minor injury. It will heal soon."

Although his face was still a little pale, everyone's eyes were no longer as worried as before.

Only the Waynes and Hermione, who were particularly familiar with him, knew that he was just holding on.

The more you downplay the situation, the more serious it is in reality.

However, the three of them did not point it out until they returned to the tent and came to his room.

The wounds caused by black magic cannot be completely healed in a short period of time. They can be easily ignored from a distance, but once you get close, it is no longer a trivial matter.

Eric came from the military, so of course he could understand what those white "caterpillars" on his arms meant.

The skin and muscle tissue were torn by sharp objects. If there was no magic, this arm would have been completely useless.

His face was still pale even after such a long time, which was a sign of someone in great pain.

Vincent, who was seen through, stopped pretending and took a deep breath. "Actually, my whole body hurts a lot. It feels really bad to be torn apart by the Shattering Curse."

The spell had been lifted long ago, but the damage it had caused to the body would not disappear with it.

The pain from having the skin, muscles, blood vessels, internal organs and bones torn apart will not disappear, and the only way is to use healing spells to heal the wounds all over the body bit by bit.

Evelyn brought the medicine box and Hermione raised her wand.

Vincent looked at his right arm, which was wrapped thicker and thicker, with a smile on his face. "Mom, this is affecting my normal movements."

Evelin glared at him, “If you’re injured, don’t move around. Stay here and heal your wounds.”

Vincent pouted and looked at Hermione on the other side.

Her healing spell was extremely comprehensive, not sparing any inch of skin, not even the fingernails.

"Uh...actually..."

Vincent was glared at again and quickly shut his mouth.

Eric on the side tried hard to hold back his laughter.

Although now is not the time to laugh, my kid has basically never been humiliated since he was a child. It takes several years to see this happen. This long-lost feeling really makes me feel happy.

Half an hour later, Evelin finally finished bandaging.

Vincent looked helplessly at his right arm which was wrapped as thick as his thigh.

These bandages are layered on top of each other, and it would take a long time to remove them even without magic.

As for Hermione, she had finally managed to get her upper arm treated.

At this rate, it may not be finished before dawn.

“Ahem—” Eric winked at Evelyn, who understood and stood up.

"After a night of hard work, it's time for us to go back and rest."

Eric winked meaningfully at Vincent before walking out of the room.

Vincent glared back with a big eye roll.

The middle-aged man has a really dirty mind. His relationship with Hermione is very pure.

……

……