The Silent Witch of Hogwarts

Chapter 518 Invite the Witness

Chapter 518 Invite the Witness

"Cough cough—cough cough cough—"

The small room next to the Ministry of Magic's Wizengamo Council was rather cramped; it served as the waiting area for witnesses, as most cases only had one or two witnesses, so the room wasn't very large.

And now—there are five people sitting here.

Edward Parkinson, who was coughing incessantly, was one of them. He sat there somewhat awkwardly watching the others.

He didn't know anyone else—and for a moment he didn't know how to start the conversation.

It was indeed a bit strange that he was sitting here, since almost everyone here represented the Ministry of Magic and was about to identify Loila—but he was here precisely for Loila's sake.

As Professor Hamilton's friend (whom he considered himself), her only ally in the Ministry of Magic (whom he considered himself), and her former colleague, Edward Parkinson naturally did not want Professor Hamilton to be sent to Azkaban.

However, as an ordinary employee of the Ministry of Magic, there was nothing he could do for the time being—so after much thought, the only way he could think of besides helping Miss Hamilton escape was to become a witness.

Not only can you recant your testimony on the spot as a witness, but you can also turn the tables on others—doing such a thing in front of a crowd is just too cool, isn't it?

So he volunteered to be a witness and claimed he would identify Professor Hamilton's crimes. Of course, he didn't have much hope for this, as he had already prepared the key and disguise to infiltrate the makeshift prison.

To his surprise, no one, from Ms. Burns to Director Scrinker, raised any objections. In particular, Director Scrinker, who knew that Professor Hamilton had a good relationship with him, tacitly approved of the matter.

Parkinson didn't think he wouldn't have thought of this—which surprised him quite a bit—could it be that Director Scrinker also wanted to help Professor Hamilton?

Parkinson, anyway, didn't know much about the matter—but now that he had become a witness, it was too simple. He could find out clues about the other witnesses in advance and then secretly learn some information from them.

Finally, after the trial began, he turned the tables and accused Professor Hamilton of innocence.

However, the plan has not gone smoothly from the start. The Ministry of Magic deliberately did not inform the other witnesses of their identities in advance, and he was only notified to come here this morning.

Now, there are five people sitting here, including himself—he doesn't recognize any of the other four.

One of them was a girl sitting next to him. She didn't look very old and was probably still a student—but she wasn't wearing a school uniform, so Parkinson didn't know which college she was from.

Looking at her black hair and cold, dark eyes, Parkinson knew that this person, who was about the same age as his sister, would not say anything to him.

After all, my younger sister is the same way—except when we talk about Professor Hamilton. —Sigh—raising children is really difficult.

Does this seem like we've gone a bit off-topic?

Parkinson blinked and looked at the other people.

Of the remaining three people, one looked expressionless. He sat there with a dark face, his eyes closed and never opened, only occasionally glancing over—as if he were secretly observing something.

This guy looks a bit suspicious—could he be Minister Fudge's private soldier?

Parkinson had heard stories about fire sprites in the Ministry of Magic, but those were complete rumors; how could the Ministry possibly have a place to keep such creatures? — But there was the story about Minister Fudge having a group of secret agents, the Aurors.

He still had a sliver of belief—the person in front of him was very likely—and it seemed that because Parkinson was staring at him, the man stopped secretly observing and kept his eyes closed.

He's suspicious—but I figure I won't get anything out of him.

After passing him, what came into view was a person who looked a little nervous.

She sat fidgeting in the chair, fidgeting with her leg and scratching her face, looking extremely nervous.

Was it the tension of having to lie to identify Professor Hamilton?

Or does she also have some secret?

"Hello, miss—" Thinking of this, Parkinson coughed slightly and asked, "May I ask your name?"

"Ah—you—hello, Mr. Parkinson's."

"Huh?" Parkinson looked at the person with some surprise. He had never seen her before—but she seemed to know him?

Have we met before?

"No—no—oh no, I've seen her!" The woman's nervous reply made Parkinson's lips twitch.

"You are—you are a very famous person," the woman said softly. "Edward Parkinson of the Parkinson family, everyone says you will be the next head of the family."

"6

"That was a joke." Parkinson pursed his lips and brushed the matter aside, then asked, "But now that we're all here, we're in the same boat."

"Aren't they all here to identify Miss Hamilton?"

J

'

"Cough cough————"

Suddenly, Parkinson heard several coughs.

"————" His lips twitched slightly as he looked around, but he couldn't hear who was coughing.

"Yes—yes." The woman raised an eyebrow and said, "We're all here for this reason—"

"May I give you a little hint—are you here to identify Miss Hamilton or something?"

"Ah—" The woman paused, then stammered a few words: "I—I—Miss Hamilton once stole the roses I planted."

"?"

Parkinson looked at her with a confused expression, unsure how to respond.

Are you kidding me? You'd become a witness for something like this?

"Then you—and what about you?" the woman asked, as if realizing something herself. "Why?"

"I—my words—" Parkinson was momentarily speechless. He had never really thought about this question before, but fortunately, he reacted relatively quickly.

"Because Miss Hamilton did indeed do such a thing." His answer was so vague that it was as if he had not answered at all.

Please, my five years at the Ministry of Magic weren't for nothing—I could talk to you about that all day.

After examining the people in front of him, Parkinson looked at the last person, who sat in the corner without saying a word from beginning to end. He not only never spoke, but he didn't even raise his head.

"Um—sir—excuse me—"

"Could you please be quiet?" Unexpectedly, it wasn't the person who answered Parkinson's, but the girl with black hair and dark eyes that he had noticed at the beginning who spoke up.

As soon as she opened her mouth, Parkinson noticed that her accent didn't sound very British.

It actually has a slightly different flavor.

"Are you British?" he asked slowly.

"This is none of your business —"

Before the girl could explain anything, the door to the room was opened.

"Get ready, the trial is about to begin."

As Scrinker spoke, his gaze lingered on Parkinson for a few seconds.