touchnovel Chapter 272 Results
Chapter 272 Results
Chapter 272 Results (5K) (2/2)
Perkins, an old bureaucrat who had spent most of his life in the department, knew all too well that "a higher rank can crush you" and hated trouble the most, was terrified by the minister's outburst.
He just wanted to end this awkward situation as soon as possible, so how could he dare to strictly follow up with those tedious verification procedures?
His immediate thought was to get the "unhappy" minister to finish his business and leave quickly, so as to avoid further trouble.
"Alright, alright, Minister, we've crossed the waterfall without any problem, and our identities are confirmed," Perkins said quickly, bending down to guide "Fudge" toward the last door—a large black oak door.
"Fuji" paused almost imperceptibly; the intelligence report had not mentioned the existence of this door!
His face was grim as he muttered curses under his breath about the "foolish design" and "utter lack of decorum" of the anti-theft waterfall, while vigorously shaking the water droplets off his cloak. He didn't immediately head towards the oak gate at the back, but deliberately slowed his pace, as if to tidy his wet and extremely displeasing appearance.
This slowed pace gave him—or rather, gave Tonks, who was in disguise—precious time to think.
Her gaze quickly swept over the black oak door at the end of the corridor, which served as the final barrier.
The door was unusually tall, almost reaching the ceiling. It was made of thick, dark wood with naturally twisted grain, its surface polished to a deep, eerie sheen that seemed to absorb most of the surrounding light. There were no handles or patterns visible on the door; it was as smooth as jade. The only unusual feature was a small, protruding hole, about the thickness of an index finger, inlaid in the very center of the door panel. Its material was neither jade nor bone, and it gleamed with a pale, faint light.
It was quietly embedded there, like the closed eyes of a sleeping creature, waiting to be awakened by a specific key.
Just as "Fudge's" gaze lingered thoughtfully on that strange hole, and he seemed to hesitate slightly because of "memory," Perkins, who had been cautiously following behind, immediately came forward enthusiastically.
The old official wore a fawning smile. "Minister, it's very simple. Just insert your wand into this life lock," he explained solicitously, pointing to the pale hole. "And then say the password for this month."
A fleeting, almost imperceptible look of understanding crossed Fudge's face, quickly replaced by a slightly displeased "of course I know" expression. "I know, Perkins," he said curtly, pulling the wand that truly belonged to Minister Fudge from his inner pocket. "I was just thinking—what was that damn password again?" He frowned, staring at the hole as if trying to recall.
Perkins, unsuspecting, saw this as an opportunity to shine and immediately lowered his voice to remind him, "It's the one we just got at the beginning of the month, sir, for enhanced security—"
"Just changed it at the beginning of the month?" Fudge whirled around, his voice rising sharply as if his pent-up frustration had finally found an outlet. "Perkins! Look at me now! My head is full of Black's escape, public discontent, and newspaper nonsense! You guys keep changing the passwords all the time, who can remember so many meaningless words?! Is this thing meant to keep out thieves, or is it just a test of my memory?!" He brandished his wand, his beard trembling with rage.
This outburst of anger was perfectly justified, perfectly capturing the image of a minister overwhelmed by a major crisis and utterly fed up with cumbersome internal procedures.
Perkins was completely flustered by the shouting, and his principle of "strict confidentiality" was no match for the minister's thunderous rage.
His only thought was to immediately fulfill all the minister's demands so that he could get in quickly and escape this awkward and dangerous situation.
"Yes, yes, please calm down, Secretary! I completely understand, you're so busy—" Perkins almost pleaded, his voice lowered, speaking quickly and clearly, "The password is—for public safety," that's it. Please, please—
Fudge let out a heavy snort, as if barely suppressing his anger. He turned away from Perkins and steadily inserted his wand into the pale bone hole. A soft silver light instantly flowed through the magical runes on the door. Facing the door, he spoke in an unquestionable, nasal tone: "For public safety."
The oak door slid open silently.
"Don't let anyone bother me."
"Fudge" said curtly and walked inside, leaving Perkins outside. Perkins breathed a long sigh of relief, thankful that he had seen off this grumpy Buddha.
Inside the door were filing shelves that reached the ceiling, filled with the peculiar smell of parchment and aged ink.
Tonks' heart was pounding in his chest, but Fudge's face showed only his usual focused, slightly agitated expression.
She quickly located the target area—the top-secret files under the category of "Department of Supernatural Creatures—Non-human Intelligent Creatures—Dementors".
She pulled out the heavy folder labeled "Communication Protocols and Binding Measures - Ministerial Level" and quickly flipped through the old parchment.
The whole process took no more than five minutes.
She restored everything to its original state, took a deep breath, and let her face once again display the same weary yet impatient expression that Fudge had when tormented by tedious tasks and immense pressure, before pulling open the heavy black oak door.
Outside the door, Perkins was almost pacing in place. As soon as the door opened, he jumped up like a startled bird, forcing a fawning and nervous smile onto his face.
Minister Fudge emerged, his face still grim, but the words he muttered seemed more specific than when he went in. His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for Perkins, who was nearby, to hear clearly: "--Just as I thought--- Vague terms, ambiguous constraints---" As he spoke, he habitually straightened his cuffs, which were already half-dry, his brows furrowed, completely immersed in the role of a minister whose annoyance was amplified by the terrible old files.
"Minister—Mr. Minister?" Perkins asked cautiously, "Have you found what you need?" He carefully observed Fudge's face, trying to determine if the other's mood had improved.
"Fudge" seemed to only then notice him, lifting his eyelids and glancing at Perkins with a look that was a mixture of weariness and annoyance. "Sort of, Perkins," he sighed, his voice hoarse, "a pile of old papers, enough to make your head spin. Just confirmed some unpleasant suspicions." He waved his hand, indicating that the other didn't need to ask any more questions, and turned to leave, as if staying even a second longer would be torture.
Just then, Perkins paused very slightly: "Huh?"
He seemed to notice that the wrinkles in the minister's pinstripe cloak when he came out seemed slightly different from when he went in. Or was it simply because it hadn't been properly tidied up after passing through the anti-thief waterfall? Or perhaps, when the minister complained just now, the tone of the last word was slightly different from the way he remembered Minister Fudge usually pronounced it?
But this thought, like a pebble thrown into a black lake, sank quickly without even creating a ripple.
Questioning the minister?
Just because of this feeling, which is even more subtle than the finest downy hairs and almost an illusion?
After the minister was clearly in a bad mood and had just dealt with the highly sensitive matter of "Blake's escape"?
Just think about the potential consequences—a lengthy report, a possible investigation, the minister's wrath—no, absolutely not! He must have been too tired from working the night shift and was just imagining things.
"Fuji" had already taken a few steps when it seemed to sense the quiet behind it, so it stopped, turned around halfway, and gave a questioning glance.
His eyes held obvious impatience: "What else is there?"
That glance completely shattered any remaining doubts in Perkins' mind.
"No! Absolutely not, Secretary!" Perkins quickly straightened up, his tone full of certainty. "Thank you for your hard work! Good night, Secretary!"
"Um.
""
"Fuji" made a short syllable from his nose as a response, then turned around and, with the same slightly hurried pace as when he came, as if he always had something urgent to do, quickly disappeared around the corner of the corridor.
After the figure in the pinstripe cloak disappeared at the end of the corridor, the real Tonks—with her signature bubblegum pink short hair and wearing a simple robe more befitting an ordinary office worker—emerged from around the corner of another corridor.
She walked briskly, her face carrying a hint of relaxation as she left work, just like countless other low-ranking employees in the Ministry of Magic who hurried about.
On the corridor leading to the Magical Transportation Network Administration, she brushed past an equally unassuming witch carrying a file folder.
At the very moment of their intersection, the wand in Tonks' hand, which had just completed its "important task" and belonged to Minister Fudge, silently slid into the opening of the other's file folder.
Without eye contact, without a moment's pause, like a drop of water merging into a river.
The wand would soon be returned to Fudge's desk by an agent from the High Wand Maintenance Office under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, before Fudge concluded his lengthy meeting about Sirius Black, through internal procedures, under the guise of "completing the monthly mandatory maintenance."
Tonks, meanwhile, strode across the hall, expertly stepping into an empty fireplace and grabbing a handful of Floo Powder.
"Trembling Owl Lane, Apartment 13B!" she said clearly.
She vanished instantly, enveloped in green flames.
A few seconds later, she staggered out of the fireplace in her living room.
She habitually patted her robe, only to find that this Floo Powder provided by the Stone Tower Merchant Guild did not have the drawback of bringing out furnace ash like the older version.
Tonks looked around her own little space, which was arranged haphazardly—even somewhat messily—and finally relaxed completely, a smile on her face that was a mixture of extreme exhaustion and a great sense of accomplishment.
She knew she had succeeded.
The Ministry of Magic's security, with its glittering detection magic and layers of regulations, ultimately failed to overcome her innate talent and her flexible and calm response!
"May I assume," a deep, hoarse voice suddenly broke the silence from the deepest shadow in the corner of the living room, "that our little adventure has come to a happy ending?"
The sound was like ice water being poured over his head, freezing Tonks instantly.
Almost instinctively, she whirled around, hastily and somewhat awkwardly drawing her wand and pointing it at the source of the sound. Her heart pounded in her chest; the ease and comfort she had felt moments before vanished completely.
The shadow shifted, and the figure of a man slowly emerged.
He looked like an extremely ordinary, even somewhat mediocre, middle-aged wizard who would disappear instantly if thrown into a crowd at the Ministry of Magic.
But Tonks recognized the voice—the hoarse, sandpaper-like sound.
It was the person who prompted him to take such a risky step tonight.
Looking at his ordinary face, a thought flashed through her mind: he must have used a compound decoction, this is definitely not his real appearance.
Recognizing who it was, Tonks lowered her wand slightly, but didn't retract it. She growled angrily, "Even though I agreed to do this for you because of my mother, that doesn't mean you can barge into my house with impunity! We agreed to meet outside!"
"I apologize for this," Reggie's voice was still hoarse. He nodded slightly, but his posture showed no remorse. "Intruding into your private space. But please understand, this is to ensure that—this message is not heard by a second pair of ears." His words carried an undeniable caution.
Without waiting for Tonks' response, he slowly drew his wand.
This action made Tonks tense up again, and almost reflexively she raised her wand high, aiming it at him.
"Relax, Miss Tonks," Reggie's voice was steady, carrying a strange, soothing quality. "As we agreed, I need that memory. Firsthand experience is always more reliable than hearsay, isn't it?"
Tonks stared at him, his chest heaving with rapid breathing.
She knew he was right; details about Dementors' communication methods were indeed most accurately extracted from memory.
Because she was not yet proficient in the delicate magic of memory extraction, she gritted her teeth and, despite great reluctance, slowly lowered her staff-holding arm.
Reggie took a step forward.
As he approached, an aura mixed with the dust of a journey and some kind of cold magic potion wafted out.
Tonks instinctively took a half step back, his body tensing slightly.
To her, Reggie was ultimately a stranger who had suddenly appeared through her mother's introduction, his identity and purpose unknown, and this level of closeness made her instinctively resistant.
Noticing her hesitation, Reggie stopped and stood a few steps away from her.
In the shadow of the hood, he seemed to be watching her.
"I swear on my life," his hoarse voice was unusually solemn, "I will never hurt you, Nymphadora Tonks."
Although the voice sounded rough, like it had been sanded, and even a little scary, for some reason, the words were like an invisible spell, strangely soothing the strongest unease in Tonks' heart.
Perhaps it was the firmness in his tone that made her take a deep breath and make up her mind.
"----hurry up."
She whispered, then closed her eyes, tilted her head back slightly, and let the cold, unfamiliar tip of the wand gently touch her temple.
A cool sensation came over her, accompanied by a faint magical pull. She felt that the memory of the top-secret file was being carefully and slowly pulled out of her mind.
But then, the traction suddenly intensified and expanded!
It wasn't just that document—the tension of infiltrating the Ministry of Magic, the discomfort of crossing the Thief's Fall, the quick wit in dealing with Perkins, the joy of success—all the fragments of memory related to tonight's operation were as if grabbed by invisible hooks, forcibly dragged out from the depths of her consciousness!
This goes far beyond simply extracting a specific memory; it is a brutal act of plunder.
The forced stripping away of too many memories at once has a tremendous impact on one's mental state.
The moment the silver thread of memory, shimmering with complex images, finally left her temple, Tonks felt a sharp, piercing pain and dizziness wash over her, as if her mind had been hollowed out.
Before she could even utter a cry of alarm, everything went black, and her body slumped forward.
Reggie seemed to have anticipated this. He stepped forward and used one hand to firmly support her unconscious body, preventing her from falling to the ground.
He silently placed her on the slightly messy sofa, letting her lie down in a relatively comfortable position.
He then took out a small crystal bottle and poured the silvery substance from the tip of his wand, which was longer and shimmered with more light than a normal memory, into the bottle.
They hovered and coalesced within them, containing all the secrets and risks of the night.
He put the stopper back on the bottle and looked down at the unconscious Tonks. His face, which had regained its original innocence and still had a touch of childishness, looked exceptionally peaceful due to the brief loss of consciousness.
His hoarse voice whispered in the silent room, carrying a complex emotion that was almost imperceptible: "Forgive me, Tonks. But this way—it's the safest for you."
As soon as he finished speaking, he turned around without hesitation, his black robe swirling in the air with a slight current.
With a barely audible crack, he used Apparition to vanish without a trace.
The next morning, the first rays of dawn shone through the window, illuminating the dust particles floating in the air.
As Lynch walked down the stairs, he immediately noticed the empty hourglass on the desk.
He walked to his desk, opened the drawer, and a piece of parchment lay quietly inside.
He picked up the parchment, his gaze slowly sweeping over its contents. As he looked, a mocking smile slowly crept onto his lips: "No wonder the Ministry of Magic has kept this information so secret."
"Besides the importance of the Dementors themselves, this is also a major reason..."
'
Lynch raised his head, and a ball of eerie blue flame rose from his hand, turning the parchment to ashes.
His gaze pierced through the window, reaching into the Forbidden Forest in the early morning, as if penetrating the trees to see the Dementors lurking in their shadows.
"A dark magic ritual..." he murmured to himself.