On the afternoon of the third day,
The continuous high-intensity, high-precision reading and analysis had greatly drained Vincent's energy.
Wearing Scrimgeour's appearance, he rubbed his brow hard and leaned against the file shelves as he reorganized his thoughts.
The failure to find any useful clues meant that either the killer had hidden perfectly beyond official records, or he had been searching through the wrong type of files.
His gaze swept over the injury reports again, especially the descriptions of difficult treatments and unusual burns.
A thought gradually became clear: the injury assessments and detailed descriptions in all the reports relied heavily on diagnostic records from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The Ministry of Magic's Aurors and accident investigators were not medical experts, and descriptions in their reports such as corrosive burns and traces of unknown curses had all originated from St. Mungo's examination department.
In other words, the Ministry's records concerning injury details were all secondhand information, filtered through the Healers' professional interpretation and possible information screening.
If he wanted the most original descriptions, he had to search at the source of the information.
Vincent straightened, his eyes sharp.
His days of searching for a needle in the ocean might have been pointed in the wrong direction, but they had not been wasted.
If his guess was correct, then St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries' medical records would certainly contain clues about the killer.
As he left the archives, the old administrator looked up and peered at him through thick lenses. "Director Scrimgeour, did you find the clues you needed?"
Vincent slowed his steps. "Just another vague lead."
The old administrator nodded without another word and lowered his head to continue sorting the index cards before him, which seemed as though they would never be