"Good evening, Mr. Scrimgeour."

"Oh yes, good evening! Come in soon ..."

The smile of our Minister is still a bit stiff, which undoubtedly shows that he is still not used to dealing with those who need him to show kindness with a richer expression.

However, Maca was quite happy about it. Because he thought that if one day Scrimgeour would smile at him very naturally, then when he went to face Scrimgeour again, he would need to pay more attention.

Unfortunately, once fully adapted to the position of "Minister of Magic", it means that the huge power temptation will be faced.

At some point in the future, it is unknown whether Scrimgeour will consider a sorcerer such as Maca as a potential competitor.

After all, although his position is amazing in power, the longest interval between elections is only 7 years.

"Mr. McLean, it is rare for you to come to the Ministry of Magic. I hope you didn't bring anything ..." Scrimgeour greeted Maca as he greeted, "Look what I said ... Come, please Sit down! Would you like something to drink? "

When Maca at the door saw the door open, she lowered her knocking hand and walked into the minister's office.

Compared to other rooms, it can be said that it is quite spacious, but in fact there are nothing worth mentioning. Oh, except for the large picture frame hanging on the wall-there is a wizard who has made remarkable achievements in the post of Minister of Magic of Britain.

This is actually similar to Hogwarts's principal's office ... Of course, Hogwarts's principal has a long tenure, so it is more than enough to hang every portrait on the wall.

On the walls of this office, there are not many portraits that can be included in it.

"No need to bother. I came from the bar. I just drank enough ..." Maca sat down casually on the sand and smiled softly. "Then you can rest assured that I am No bad news came over. "

"Oh, is it?"

Scrimgeour was relieved at first-he was still wondering if something had happened so much that Maca had to come over and talk to him!

So Scrimgeour sat down peacefully on the sand opposite Maca and looked at the latter with a hint of doubt.

"So ... is there anything I can help you with?"

He can be regarded as working all day in his post. Even if everything seems to be back on track today, there is not much to do.

The pressure from the Dark Lord is gone, but the long-standing backlog of government affairs is not so easy to clear. The documents that require his final ruling can be said to be piled up every day.

It can be seen that Scrimgeour's most obvious face at that moment was the exhaustion that had nowhere to hide.

"I believe you have a lot of work to do, I'll go straight to the subject," said Maka, looking at Scrimgeour across the coffee table. "I need to visit a prisoner in Azkaban-not long ago, I The alchemy attacker entrusted to you. "

Scrimgeour was surprised when he heard what he said.

"The witch of the African delegation?" He wondered, "She can now be interrogated in the Wizarding Prison of the International Federation of Wizards. Do you know what we have done there? Before you leave, aren't you? Let the female reporter of the Daily Prophet ... "

When Maca saw him mention the old witch, she waved at him immediately.

"No, it's not her," Makar explained, "I mean the previous one-remember? The bald witch attacked during the event had an alchemy tattoo on it ..."

"Oh! Is he?" Scrimgeour suddenly said, "If you're going, then of course you can! I'll give you a passport and then ..."

He said, getting up from the sand and turning to his desk.

I saw him rummaging in the pile of documents on the table, probably looking for the staff of today's night shift or something, and then quickly raised his head again.

"I have an Auror on the night shift to accompany you. There must be no obstacles there." Scrimgeour said as he pulled out a piece of paper from a file basket and leaned down to write.

Azkaban is now very different from the past.

Voldemort controlled the events of the Dementors, so that the Ministry of Magic no longer fully believed in the monsters, but instead sent a wizard who was good at the guardian curse to be responsible for the outposts. The escape from Maca caused the Ministry of Magic to add to the cell Many defensive spells have been added to minimize the possibility of prisoners escaping.

Of course, this is certainly not enough to stop Voldemort's powerful wizard, and the Maca in front of Scrimgeour is naturally the same.

So, after understanding Maca's intentions, his heart was still quite pleasant-at least Maca did not run to Azkaban on his own, which is a valuable respect for the Minister of Magic. .

...

The former poker face director of the Auror office was very efficient. Soon after, Maca passed the only doorway in the Ministry of Magic to the island where Azkaban was located. He walked again. The distance.

Unlike the last time he came here, this time his hands and feet were not locked in shackles, and the Auror who came with him would not treat him as a criminal.

In fact, he was followed by an acquaintance-the elite member of the Order of the Phoenix Kingsley Shackle.

At this moment, Maca was walking on the slab road paved with black rocks. In the surrounding barren land, there are no more erratic dementors everywhere, and only some stones exposed on the ground show traces of seawater scouring.

This small island in the North Sea is often hit by violent maritime storms. At its worst, the surging waves can even flood the entire island.

At that time, it was impossible to see the existence of the island itself, only the towering Blackstone Fortress stood on the sea.

"Kingsley, I heard that you may be promoted? The seat of Auror's office director is not far away?" Maca congratulated as he walked. "Congratulations, a busier day is coming."

"Yeah, busier days ..."

Kingsley's expression could not tell whether he was happy or otherwise. It seemed a little complicated. After a short while, he shook his head, as if he was setting aside his emotions.

"Don't mention that little thing about me," he glanced at Maca, and said with amusement. "Sinner in the Quidditch World Cup, lord benefactor of the British magic world-how do you feel coming back here again?"

Maca looked around the scenery. Since it was early in the night, it was hard to see clearly when looking into the distance. After a few glances, he pouted.

"Well, maybe I really miss the Dementors ..."

The black stone fortress has a large area, and the two of them basically did not say a few gossips, but just walked a few minutes forward, and the iron gate under the fortress was almost in sight.

Maca still remembers that this heavy door was still completely lifted by the hinge, because no one would have thought in the past that a prisoner escape would actually occur.

Today, this door has finally played its role, and it has landed in the groove of the ground steadily.

At the door, Kingsley took the initiative to show Scrimgeour's signed document. As the winch was turned and turned by the watchman inside, the gate slowly rose, allowing Maca and Kingsley to enter the real prison area.

"Oh," Maca blinked as soon as she got inside. "Do you know ... I've only found a little bit of the feeling of being here again when I get here."

The forecourt of this Blackrock Fortress is much cleaner than in the past. The dry black and yellow weeds have been removed, and the broken bricks and stones have disappeared. Even the cracks that should have been on the wall seem to have been repaired.

If there were no wandering dementors, it would actually be possible for people to come in and live here normally-although the thing that most misses Maca here is the group of "cute" dementors.

This time you come to Azkaban to find someone, you don't need to spend too much time on Fermaka. A wizard who was guarding him took him to the prison door of the old bald old man, and even helped him drive away the dementors nearby.

"Trust me, please!" Maca whispered softly.

The caretaker glanced at Kingsley, and after the other person nodded his head for sure, he pulled out his wand and opened the lock on Maca's cell.

Makara opened the iron door and made a harsh "creak", which sounded a little bitter.

In this cell, the bald head was curled up in a pile of old straw, with a dirty prison uniform on his body. The sound of Maca's opening door seemed to have no effect on him at all, and did not even make him move slightly.

"Wake up."

Maca came to him and squatted down, and patted him on the back, but there was still no response ~ lightnovelpub.net ~ If you really want to ask questions, you must find a way to pry him open. Mouth, but Maca didn't need him to actually speak.

Seeing this guy lying like a dead body lying on the ground, his back was completely motionless, and Maka turned it over with force, and opened his closed eyelids.

He came to see this bald alchemist tonight, in fact, he just wanted to confirm if he missed anything when he performed the devotional magic last time.

The next moment, a lot of memories flashed in Maca's mind one by one, and his eyebrows became more and more wrinkled.

It's okay if you just flip through the memories selectively, but if you do a lot of screening, it will not be easy for the spellcaster.

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