Chapter 310: Various Factions
Although most Ministry of Magic officials are perfunctory and prefer to gloss over things, they do have their strengths.
For example, they are exceptionally skilled with the Obliviation Charm, effortlessly and swiftly erasing days of memories from a group of people.
Another example is their high proficiency with Restoration and Scouring Charms.
In just about ten minutes, the parking lot was restored to its original state. All the slime and blood inside and outside the truck vanished, and the glass broken by the spiders, the rearview mirror knocked off during the bearded man's fight, and the dents on the cars were all perfectly restored.
As for the group of people lying on the ground, the Ministry of Magic officials kindly stuffed each of them into different cars, as if worried they might catch a cold. In reality, they were just worried someone might discover a large group of people lying on the ground and cause a fuss by calling the police.
"What will they think when they wake up?"
A young Ministry of Magic employee looked back at the people they had left behind, asking worriedly,
"Appearing on a ship out of nowhere, they'll definitely call the police, right? It might even cause a sensation."
"It's fine,"
an older employee said with a smile. "They just need to ask their relatives, friends, or the ship's crew, and they'll know they walked onto the ship themselves. As for the memory loss..."
Another person added, "There are too many factors that can cause memory loss—like accidentally hitting your head or medication. How could foolish Muggles ever suspect magic?"
Everyone burst into laughter, their mirth filled with disdain for the other group.
They chatted and laughed as they returned upstairs, ready to continue enjoying their trip.
Wade, the Animagus Peregrine Falcon, peeked out from behind a pipe, watching the group walk away without a care, and shook his head helplessly.
No wonder someone like Fudge could hold onto the position of Minister for Magic. If it weren't for the fact that Voldemort's resurrection was revealed in the story, he could have even slandered Dumbledore as an old madman and had him expelled from Hogwarts, and most Ministry of Magic officials wouldn't have openly opposed him.
Because for many, Fudge also represented their interests—no need to be too serious, no need to be too responsible, making mistakes was fine, and work could still be slacked off...
The abilities and style of those in power influence everyone below them.
Wade left the parking lot, dealt with the bomb installed on the ship, and then returned. He waited above the pipes, patiently observing the people below as they began to stir.
It wasn't long before someone woke up.
He found himself in an unfamiliar car, frantically pulled out a weapon, scanned his surroundings, and only after confirming it was safe did he carefully open the car door, furtively slipping out.
Soon after, this person ran out of the parking lot, using other vehicles to conceal his movements the entire time.
The others also woke up one after another, their actions almost identical replicas of the first person's.
Because the Ministry of Magic had placed them all in different cars, the awakened individuals seemed to only feel that they had been ambushed, not realizing there were multiple "companions" also in the parking lot.
Some were more meticulous, first gathering information inside the car, but they, too, only took a minute or two before quickly leaving the unsettling place.
The white-haired old man, due to his age, was the last to wake up.
To be precise, he was woken by the ringing of his phone.
The people who had left the parking lot earlier, after roughly understanding their situation, called the white-haired old man to report what had happened to them, and then were surprised to find that he was in the same predicament.
"Wait, don't talk about it over the phone."
The white-haired old man sat in the car, vigilantly looking around, then whispered, "Gather the others, we'll discuss it back at the safe house."
He hung up the phone and also left in a hurry.
Wade quietly followed them, discovering that their so-called safe house was a room on the seventh floor.
It was the white-haired old man's bedroom, with a small living room. Six or seven people crammed inside made it feel very crowded.
"...So that's the situation. Cutler, Julie, Tom, and I—we've all lost the past three days of memories. Sitaya lost five days. What are everyone's thoughts? Let's hear them."
The white-haired old man said, trying to remain calm.
Everyone spoke up in turn—
"Magic."
"Obliviation Charm."
"I've heard of that... the Spell is Obliviate!"
"But the information we received was that a group of Werewolves kidnapped a group of Alchemist, right? Most Werewolves shouldn't be able to use that kind of Spell."
"That's usually true, but we can't rule out exceptions."
"But I think... it's very likely that someone else was involved—like British Aurors coming to rescue Alchemist."
"The Obliviation Charm is indeed the Ministry of Magic's favorite Spell."
"In that case, those Werewolves must have been taken down."
"Can we still contact the person who sold us the information before?"
"More importantly, I want to ask—are we really safe discussing this here? Could there be a Wizard hiding nearby right now, and we wouldn't even be able to detect them?"
The room fell silent for a moment, and no one spoke, their suspicious gazes involuntarily darting to every corner of the room.
"Don't worry."
The white-haired old man was the only one not looking around nervously. He said calmly,
"I considered this on the way here. The Ministry of Magic generally looks down on Muggles and won't play tricks on us—if they wanted to know something or do something, they would have done it already while we were unconscious."
"So, panicking now won't help either. Cutler, keep trying to contact that bounty hunter and see if the Werewolf is still around. Julie, find a way to get the ship's surveillance footage…"
He assigned tasks one by one, getting his subordinates busy, then rubbed his forehead and leaned back in his chair.
After a long silence, the white-haired old man suddenly spoke. "Mr. Wizard, do you have any other instructions? Or rather… what do you want from us?"
The room was utterly silent.
After another long pause, the white-haired old man rubbed his temples and muttered, "No one? Seems I was overthinking things…"
He struggled to push himself up from the sofa and wearily walked towards the bathroom.
Only when the sound of water could be heard from inside did Wade use a Shrinking Charm to shrink the tracking Book of Friends into a tiny object, tucking it into a crevice in his suitcase. Then, he opened the door and quietly left the room.
He used the same method to locate another group of Muggles searching for a Wizard, hoping to cure cancer.
Wade understood their pursuit of magic, but he couldn't lie on an operating table to be studied, nor could he tolerate others being treated that way.
[Wade: Ms. Skeeter, please keep an eye on someone for me.]
[Rita: No problem! This ship is much more interesting than I expected! I have a feeling I'm going to get a world-shattering scoop from here!]
[Wade: Be careful. An Animagus Beetle isn't foolproof! Don't get caught.]
[Rita: I know, don't worry… Oh my god, you wouldn't believe what I've seen. That Umbridge character…]
Skeeter was so excited that her quill flew across the parchment, and she quickly forgot she was messaging Wade.
Watching the unfinished words linger on the parchment for a while before gradually disappearing, Wade smiled and put away the Book of Friends.
A journalist's pen, a murderer's knife.
He and Skeeter currently had a relationship that was a mix of threat and cooperation. They weren't friends, not even allies.
This level of cooperation was naturally not very reliable.
If Skeeter were to register as an Animagus with the Ministry of Magic one day, it would mean she would definitely write something unfavorable about Wade.
How could he make this knife stand on his side?
Wade thought this, feeling a bit tired.
Initially, he had only wanted to accompany Professor Murray to a private exhibition… and then he thought about eliminating threats to his relatives and friends…
But the situation was becoming increasingly complex, and it seemed to have deviated quite a bit from his original goal.
But…
Since he couldn't immediately find the leader of that group of Werewolves, his previous concerns about some people valuing human life too much no longer applied.
Perhaps now was the time to ask for their help.
…
The freckled driver and the man with the mustache only discovered that their companions were gone when their shift changed the next morning.
The truck was empty, not even a single hair was left, clearly having been meticulously cleaned.
Besides them, who else could know the secrets on this ship?
"Damn it!" the man with the mustache said angrily. "Dar must have abandoned us to hog all the money himself!"
The freckled driver looked bewildered. "…What money?"
Only then did the man with the mustache realize he had accidentally spilled the beans. His face darkened, and with a "bang," he knocked the driver unconscious, then made a call himself.
"It's me, Garo." The man with the mustache lowered his voice. "Things aren't looking good… Dar and Donovan emptied the entire truck while we were off resting during our shift! They must be Wizard spies!"
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before a voice spoke. "What about Lars?"
"He went to check Dar's room, to see if he could find any clues."
The man with the mustache kicked the freckled driver lying at his feet, his tone anxious and self-reproaching. "I'm sorry, this transport mission failed! But I swear, everything I'm saying is true! Dar is definitely a spy."
The other end of the phone said, "…No, he's not."
The voice was faintly choked with emotion, and the man with the mustache froze. "You mean…"
"Dar came back, but he… he's already… "
The man with the mustache said in disbelief, "What happened? How… how did he get back? The ship is still at sea! Did just the two of them take all Alchemists?"
"No, there were no Alchemists, and no Donovan, only Dar… and an Acromantula."
The person on the other end of the phone tried hard to speak clearly. "The Wizards are too cruel. Dar was injected with fatal venom by an Acromantula, and they cruelly pierced his head…"
In the clean hospital room, Dar lay on the bed with several obvious holes in his head, and the blood flowing out was black.
He was dead, but his face still held an expression of extreme terror and ferocity.
The person on the phone's whimpering gradually turned into wailing. The man with the mustache held the phone in silence for a long time, feeling a knot in his stomach.
After a long while, seeing the other person's crying gradually subside, the man with the mustache quietly hung up the phone. He took a few deep breaths, calmed himself, then turned and dialed a new number—
"Donovan must be a Wizard spy. He killed Dar and stole all Alchemists!"
The voice on the phone this time sounded much calmer:
"Have Alchemists left that ship?"
"I suppose so, Wizards can Apparate."
"There will be countless opportunities after we catch Alchemist, but a traitor can never be forgiven! Find Donovan and kill him!"
"Yes."
"I'll send people to assist you. Do well; don't disappoint me a second time."
"Yes!"
"Get rid of the guy next to you and go back to lying low... I hear there's a Werewolf Mutual Aid Society in London, Britain, now. That's your next target."
"...Yes."
After hanging up the phone, the man with the small mustache lifted the freckled driver, dragging him to the rear of the lower deck's gunwale. From there, he could see the propeller churning up sprays of water.
He pushed the freckled driver overboard. A moment later, a dark red stain rapidly spread across the surface of the sea.
"Sorry, brother."
The man with the small mustache looked at the blood and murmured, "You weren't bad or anything, but with you around, I can't hide... A Werewolf can always sniff out another Werewolf, right?"
...
The ship finally docked.
The tourists on board had no idea their massive vessel had almost been lost at sea. They simply disembarked happily, carrying their luggage.
This time, the inspection at the American port was unusually strict and dragged on for a very long time. The passengers waited impatiently, finally receiving permission to leave.
"I must say, Muggles are truly inefficient!" Umbridge couldn't help but complain to her subordinate, "If it were us, these procedures would take mere seconds, or wouldn't even be necessary at all."
Her subordinate didn't point out their own inefficiency but merely smiled and nodded, taking the opportunity to flatter his superior.
Umbridge quickly put on a smile and trotted to catch up with the French official ahead of her. A small beetle was clinging to the hem of her robes, but Umbridge didn't notice it.
Nor did she notice that when she uttered the word "Muggle," several pairs of eyes secretly turned towards her.
"Wizards..."
"These are all Wizards..."
Eyes exchanged glances in the shadows. Some became excited, while others' eyes filled with hatred.
Wade, however, didn't linger. As soon as the ship approached America, he transformed into an Animagus Peregrine Falcon and flew to a nearby airport, then immediately bought a ticket to London, Britain.
This was much less effort than flying back himself.
The reason for Wade's haste was a message he received in his Book of Friends:
[Harry: The Ministry of Magic wants to take Sirius. I can't reach Dumbledore, what should I do?]
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