Chapter 1310 Voluntarily Putting on Shackles
Arthur was the first to react. His throat moved, and his grip on the wand tightened and loosened repeatedly.
He stared intently into Vincent's eyes, trying to discern something from those calm pupils.
"Director Weasley, weren't you going to arrest me?"
Arthur took a deep breath and gestured to the wizards around him, signaling them to remain vigilant but not to make a move.
Then he put away his wand and took out a heavy pair of magical shackles from the inside pocket of his robe.
Vincent examined it with great interest. The dark gray metallic surface had a slight luster unique to mithril, and the edge was marked with the emblem of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The glowing, fine magic, such as the Niven combination, could suppress magic power, making it impossible for the wearer to cast even the simplest spells.
Arthur unlocked the shackles, and the cold metal rings snapped onto Vincent's wrists.
Just before they closed, Vincent winked at him, which made Arthur pause.
Without a word, the shackles were locked in place with two soft clicks.
Vincent looked down at his wrists, his handcuffed hands hanging naturally in front of him.
He didn't try to break free, nor did he frown.
Instead, his movements seemed to become cautious.
Yes, very carefully.
He gently rotated his wrist, as if testing the tightness of the shackles.
Then he raised his hand, slowly and gently, as if afraid that too much movement would damage the exquisite alchemical artifact.
His fingers deliberately avoided the glowing magical runes on the shackles, as if handling a fragile antique.
This eerie "protective" gesture is more unsettling than any violent break-out.
A young employee couldn't help but whisper, "What...what is he doing?"
Vincent seemed to hear it, and he looked up toward the source of the sound.
Then, he did something that made everyone hold their breath: he turned around, looked at Aiden in the Fiery Cage, gently raised his handcuffed left hand, and snapped his fingers.
There were no spells, no wands, and not even any obvious fluctuations of magical power.
But in the next second, the fiery cage that had trapped Aiden vanished without a sound.
A collective gasp filled the courtyard.
The Ministry of Magic staff raised their wands again, but this time, their hands trembled slightly, and their expressions changed from wary to confused.
Even though he was wearing the highest level of suppression shackles, and the magic was glowing and functioning like Niven, why was he still able to...?
Only Arthur was not frightened; in fact, he seemed to take it all for granted.
“I forgot to remind you,” Vincent suddenly spoke, his voice still calm, “Remember to bring him along too, Aiden Selwyn. He’s the mastermind behind this series of cursed attacks, and his testimony should be very valuable.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Arthur, then over the other employees, before finally settling on the shackles on his wrists.
“Now,” he urged politely, “can we return to the Ministry of Magic? I have only one request: the fastest way possible.”
Freed from the cage of Fiery Inferno, Aiden collapsed to the ground, his handsome left side of his face contorted into a grimace, almost as grotesque as his right, yet somehow comical.
He wanted to say something; his lips moved, but no sound came out.
Arthur slowly approached Aiden and put the same pair of shackles on him as well.
"Everyone, escort the two prisoners back to the Ministry of Magic and take them to the temporary detention room on the ninth floor."
Arthur drew his wand and personally escorted Vincent.
……
……
In the distance of the courtyard, behind a half-open window on the second floor of a palace, Lucius was quietly observing through an expensive monocular magic telescope.
When he saw Vincent voluntarily put on the shackles, he almost dropped the binoculars he was holding tightly.
"Merlin..." His voice trembled, losing its usual composure.
He wasn't completely ignorant of Vincent; on the contrary, he knew the Muggle-born kid quite well.
Even though she clearly guessed that he was hiding somewhere in Buckingham Palace, she voluntarily put on shackles and even asked to return to the Ministry of Magic as quickly as possible.
This was a signal, a signal specifically sent to him.
"I know your plot, but I don't like your script."
Lucius's fingers unconsciously rubbed the snake-headed cane, his mind racing.
why?
Even if you can't defeat everyone, you can still run away.
Lucius's pupils suddenly contracted.
Why? To avoid alerting those who are already in action!
There are too many Ministry of Magic employees trying to capture Vincent, and more are joining in. Taking action would be a waste of energy, and flying there would attract the Ministry of Magic's pursuit. Making such a commotion would immediately alert certain people.
But if it were a “successfully captured prisoner” being “escorted” back to the Ministry of Magic, it wouldn’t alarm anyone, much less disrupt their plans.
What chilled Lucius even more was that Vincent made no attempt to conceal his true intentions, revealing them so openly that he found himself caught in the middle, torn between the two sides.
According to the original plan, he should feel relaxed and even proud now. He has perfectly completed the decoy mission and successfully attracted all attention to Buckingham Palace and Vincent.
But now...
It's no longer possible to remain safely behind the scenes. Vincent is going to the Ministry of Magic, and if he issues a warning, if the plans are abandoned or changed because of his warning, then all the risks, all the arrangements, including the sacrifice of Aiden as a pawn, will be in vain tonight.
And he, Lucius Malfoy, will once again prove his incompetence before his master.
Lacking both loyalty and ability, his fate was predictable.
But he didn't issue a warning, in case Vincent really did sabotage the plan...
Cold sweat trickled down Lucius's temples. He was acutely aware that he was standing on a narrow bridge between two abysses, and whichever way the bridge collapsed, he could be doomed.
“Shrewd…so shrewd…” His voice was a mixture of fear and admiration.
Assessing the situation and acting accordingly has always been the Malfoy family's survival rule. He looked at the jewel-encrusted magical communicator on his wrist—no, it should be the other communicator hidden under his sleeve, which was slightly warm, indicating that the operation was going smoothly.
Lucius turned his gaze back to the courtyard; Vincent had already been teleported away by Arthur through his attendants.
He slowly lowered the binoculars, took out a silk handkerchief from his pocket, and roughly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
He knew that a true dark lord had appeared.
He is not a foolish politician like Fudge, nor an idealistic old wizard like Dumbledore, but a true Dark Lord who is shrewd, ruthless, knows when to show his power and when to hide his fangs, but does not rely on terror or abuse violence.
……
……
