Chapter 755

"Good evening, Mr. schlinger."

"Oh, yes, good evening! Please come in..."

Our minister's smile is still quite 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, Maka is happy about it. Because he thought that if one day slinger would naturally smile at him, he would need to pay more attention when he faced slinger again.

Unfortunately, once fully adapted to the position of "Minister of magic", it means facing the temptation of so much power.

One day in the future, it is unknown whether scrimger will regard Maka, a wizard with great influence, as a potential competitor.

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

"Mr. McLean, it's a rare thing for you to come to the Ministry of magic on your own initiative. I hope you didn't bring anything..." scrimger said as he got up to meet Marca. "Look what I said... Come on, please sit down! Would you like something to drink?"

When Maka saw the door open, she put down her knocking hand and walked into the minister's office.

Compared with other rooms, it can be said to be spacious, but in fact, there are no objects worth mentioning. Oh, except for the big picture frame hanging on the wall - there is a wizard who has made remarkable achievements as Minister of magic in Britain.

In fact, this is similar to Hogwarts' principal office... Of course, Hogwarts' principal has served for a long time, so it is more than enough to hang every portrait on the wall.

On the wall of this office, there are few people who can put their portraits among them.

"Don't bother. I came from the bar. I've had enough just now..." Maka sat down casually on the sofa and smiled. "Then, you can rest assured that I didn't bring any bad news today."

"Oh, really?"

Scrimgeour breathed a sigh of relief at once - he was still wondering if something big had happened so that Maka had to come and talk to him himself!

So, slinger also sat down on the sofa opposite Maka and looked at the latter with a trace of doubt.

"Well... Is there anything I can do for you?"

He has been busy at his post all day. Even today, when everything seems to be back on track, he needs to do not much less.

The pressure from the Dark Lord is down, but the long backlog of government affairs is not so easy to remove. It can be said that the documents that need his final ruling are piled up every day.

It can be seen that the most obvious thing on slinger's face at the moment is the sense of fatigue with nowhere to hide.

"I'm sure you have a lot of work to do, so I'll get straight to the point," Marca said, looking at scringer across the coffee table. "I need to go to Azkaban to visit a prisoner - the alchemy attacker I entrusted to you not long ago."

Slinger was stunned when he heard the speech. He seemed surprised.

"The Witch of the African delegation?" he wondered. "She has been interrogated in the wizard prison of the International Federation of wizards. You know about our handover there? Before leaving, didn't you let the female reporter of the prophet daily..."

When Maka saw him mention the old witch, she immediately waved to him.

"No, it's not her," Marca explained. "I mean the previous one - remember? The bald wizard who attacked during the competition, with an alchemy tattoo on his body..."

"Oh! It's him?" slinger suddenly said, "if you want to go, of course! I'll sign a passage document for you now, and then..."

He said, got up from the sofa, turned and walked to his desk.

I saw him rummage through the pile of documents on his desk, probably looking for today's night shift staff list or something, and soon looked up again.

"I'll ask an Auror on the night shift to accompany you, and there will be no obstruction," said scrimger, drawing a piece of paper from a file basket and bending over to write.

Now Azkaban is very different from the past.

Voldemort's control of Dementors made the Ministry of magic no longer fully believe in those monsters, but sent more wizards who are good at patron saint's curse to take charge of the peripheral sentry; The prison break caused by Maka made the Ministry of magic add many defensive spells to the cell to minimize the possibility of prisoners escaping.

Of course, this alone can't stop Voldemort's powerful wizards at that level, and so is Maka in front of scrimgeor.

Therefore, after understanding Maka's intention, his heart was quite happy - at least Maka didn't run to Azkaban, which was a valuable respect for his minister of magic.

……

The former poker face director of Auror's office was still very efficient. Before long, Maka passed through the only gate leading to the island where Azkaban was located in the Ministry of magic and took another trip he had taken.

Different from the last time he came here, his hands and feet were not shackled this time, and Auror who came with him would not treat him as a criminal.

In fact, he was accompanied by an acquaintance, Kingsley schacker, an elite member of the order of the Phoenix.

At this moment, Maka was walking on the flagstone road paved with black rock. There are no wandering Dementors in the surrounding barren land, only some exposed stones show the traces of seawater erosion.

This small island in the North Sea is often hit by violent sea storms. At the worst, the surging waves will even submerge the whole island.

At that time, the existence of the island itself could not be seen. Only the towering Blackstone fortress stood on the sea.

"Kingsley, I heard you might be promoted? The position of Auror's office director is not far away?" Marca congratulated as she walked. "Congratulations, the busier day is coming."

"Yes, busier days..."

Kingsley's expression was not clear whether it was happy or anything else. It looked more or less complicated. After a while, he shook his head, as if to put aside his feelings for the time being.

"Let's not mention my little thing," he said with a smile, glancing at Maka. "How does it feel to be here again, your excellency, the sinner of the Quidditch World Cup and the benefactor of the British magic world?"

Maka looked around at the surrounding scenery. As it was already night, it was dark and hard to see clearly when she looked into the distance. After a few glances, he turned his mouth.

"Well, I'm not sure. I really miss those Dementors..."

The Blackstone fortress covers a large area, and the two people and their party basically didn't say a few gossip. They just walked forward for a few minutes, and the iron gate under the fortress was close in front of them.

Marca remembers that the heavy gate was still completely hung by hinges, because no one would have thought of a prisoner's escape in the past.

Today, the door finally played its due role and landed steadily in the groove on the ground.

At the door, Kingsley offered to show scrimger's signed document. As the winch rattled and was waved by the wizard on duty inside, the gate slowly rose, allowing Maka and Kingsley to enter the real prison area.

"Oh," said Maka with a twinkle in her eyes as soon as she got inside, "you know... I only found a little feeling of revisiting my hometown here."

The vestibule of this Blackstone fortress is much cleaner than before. The dry, black and yellow weeds have been removed, the broken bricks and stones have disappeared, and even the cracks on the wall seem to have been repaired.

Without those wandering Dementors, people can actually come in and live normally here - although what Marca misses most here is the "lovely" Dementors.

If you come to Azkaban to find someone this time, you don't need too much effort from fermaka. A wizard guarding here accurately took him to the prison door of the bald old man, and even took the initiative to help him drive away the nearby Dementors.

"Please open the lock!" Maka whispered.

The watchman glanced at Kingsley. After the other party must nod his head, he took out his wand and opened the lock on the prison door for Maka.

Makara opened the iron door and made a harsh "creak", which made people feel a little sour.

In this prison, the bald man was curled up in a pile of old straw, wearing a dirty prison uniform. The sound of Maka's opening the door seemed to have no effect on him at all. It didn't even make him move a little.

"Wake up."

Maka went to him, squatted down and patted him on the back, but there was still no response.

If you really want to ask, you must find a way to pry open his mouth, but Maka doesn't need him to really speak.

Seeing this guy lying on the ground like a dead body, with his back to him and no intention of moving at all, Maka turned him over and opened his closed eyelids.

He came to see the baldheaded alchemist tonight just to make sure if he missed anything when he last performed the art of taking God and reading.

The next moment, a large number of memory pictures flashed in Maka's mind one by one, and his eyebrows became more and more tight.

It's nothing if you just read the memory selectively, but it's not easy for the spell caster if you screen it in large quantities.