Scrimgeour, far across the ocean, received a death order from the Ministry of Magic: he had to capture Vincent and bring him back for trial within a month.
Bringing him back for trial meant taking him alive. Scrimgeour laughed in anger.
That fucking bastard Fudge! The manhunt had already been an arduous task. Wayne was a natural master of Occlumency, so tracking spells were completely useless. They could only follow the traces of residual magical aura.
Scrimgeour and his people had been in the United States for ten days. From Radio City Music Hall to Wall Street, then BMG Records, and now Sony Music, they had been running around like idiots every day, yet they still could not figure out Wayne's true purpose in coming to the United States.
Acquiring music copyrights? That was very likely just a cover. There had to be some deeper purpose behind it.
After another afternoon of running around, Scrimgeour learned that the music copyrights had already changed hands and had even been gifted to a Muggle star for free.
After going in such a huge circle, he had given the copyrights he acquired to someone else?
Scrimgeour immediately felt as though he had been played, but after thinking it over carefully, he found it unlikely. After all, that was several hundred million dollars, nearly eight hundred thousand Gold Galleons. There had to be some unspeakable secret behind it.
Investigating a Muggle star was not difficult. The difficult part was that this star was incredibly famous, the kind where even the slightest disturbance would make the newspapers.
To avoid exposing their identities as much as possible, Scrimgeour contacted the Magical Congress, and they quickly sent someone over.
When the Aurors from Britain saw that it was Sam, wearing an openly displeased expression, they all sensed