The Dominator's most basic paralysis technique can take down an adult elephant; even if the person isn't the murderer, they couldn't possibly be just an ordinary wizard passing by.
Hunter pulled the trigger repeatedly without hesitation, but all the beams of light he fired were fixed on the man.
On the other side, five figures leaped out of the van and ran into the garden. Like Hunter, they made the same choice: without hesitation, they drew their pistols and pulled the triggers.
The result was the same; the bullet was also stopped in front of that person.
A blinding flash of light appeared, and the figure that should have been standing in the center of the garden vanished without a trace.
While remaining vigilant, Hunter contacted Vincent. After a brief exchange, he looked up and saw the five men who had gotten out of the van staring at him from a distance.
Although no gun was pointed at him, he had clearly been exposed.
Despite his ordinary attire, he reacted swiftly, especially with the gun in his hand that emitted a ghostly blue light and could fire energy beams—this was enough to prove that he was no ordinary person who had come to the garden to kill time.
Hunter looked down at the Dominator Pistol in his hand. Although he had been mentally prepared, he hadn't expected this day to come so soon.
Just as the two sides were locked in a stalemate, a black and white vortex suddenly appeared near the garden entrance.
With a crackling sound, Vincent's figure emerged from the vortex.
He first glanced at Hunter, who was smiling wryly to his left, then turned to look at the other side.
Good news, one of them is an acquaintance.
Bad news, they are MI6.
"Looks like I've missed the best part." Vincent's gaze lingered on the oak tree in the center of the garden.
He walked straight past, ignoring the standoff between the two sides.
Two lingering magical energies remained: one was the trace left by the murderer who escaped through Apparition, and the other was the faint but not completely dissipated aura of curse.
"Eastward..." Vincent muttered to himself, turning around to look at Hunter and Carlton. "Mr. Carlton, Lieutenant Colonel Lane is my friend, you don't need to be so nervous."
He raised his Serpent Staff. "I'm going to track down the killer now. We'll talk when I get back."
After saying that, he disappeared into the black and white vortex.
Hunter slowly put away the Dominator, and Carlton also put away his pistol.
Vincent followed the trail left by the killer's Apparition directly to this Knockturn Alley.
The musty smell, the inferior Potions ingredients, and the undisguised aura of Dark Magic permeating the air felt strangely familiar to him.
Several malicious gazes were cast from the shadows, but when they touched Vincent's calm face, they recoiled as if startled, as if they had seen something that shouldn't be there.
Vincent's gaze swept over the dilapidated buildings on both sides, finally settling on a few conspicuous gold characters.
He took a metal cube from the Flamel Ring, which contained portions of the cursed entities extracted from the bodies of several victims, far more dangerous than the black mist that had previously emerged from the isolation pod.
The area around Knockturn Alley is populated by a diverse group of people; taking any rash action would only alert them further.
But since we're already here, we might as well ask the professionals here.
Vincent walked straight ahead and eventually stopped in front of a shop with a window display of strange trinkets.
He ignored the shrunken head, the throbbing unidentified organs, and the clearly cursed jewelry, and gently pushed open the shop door.
The hoarse doorbell rang like the cough of a dying patient. The Borgin -Bock store remained as dimly lit as ever, with unpleasant things scattered everywhere.
The shopkeeper, Caractacus Burke, also known as Mr. Borgin, sat with his back to the door, wiping a brass balance covered in suspicious stains at the dirty counter.
Upon hearing the bell, Mr. Borgin, without turning his head, said in his signature slick tone, "Welcome to Borgin -Bock, where we buy and sell rare, unique, and historically significant items. Feel free to browse, but please do not touch any items that are not priced; you will be responsible for any consequences."
"I don't need to see it, Burke." Vincent's voice was crystal clear in the quiet shop.
Bock abruptly stopped wiping and slowly turned around.
When he saw who it was, his small eyes widened instantly, and the soft cloth in his hand fell onto the counter with a "thud".
His face appeared somewhat pale in the dim light. "You... you are... that... Wayne? Vincent Wayne?"
He lowered his voice, his tone filled with terror and disbelief, "How dare you... The Ministry of Magic is after you! They have informants in Knockturn Alley too!"
Vincent approached the counter, his finger casually brushing against a glass case containing an egg-shaped object that was constantly screaming. "So, you're planning to go and snitch right now and collect that hefty bounty?"
He looked at Mr. Borgin, his deep blue eyes revealing no emotion, yet sending a chill down the latter's spine.
"Think about it, Caractacus, when Ministry of Magic officials storm into your shop and search me, they'll 'incidentally' discover those undeclared smuggling records in your ledgers, and those cursed items of dubious origin in your basement. Who do you think will be in more trouble?"
Mr. Borgin's forehead was covered in cold sweat.
He knew this man all too well. Years ago, when Vincent was just a kid, he dared to swagger into Knockturn Alley alone, showing off a shape- Transfiguration Alchemy Bracelet.
He then offered 400 Gold Galleons to buy it, but that was the end of it; a simple "not for sale" left him speechless.
A few months later, the Wizarding World's first shop specializing in legitimate Alchemical Item opened at the end of Knockturn Alley.
Mr. Borgin knew then that this boy was no good, and now he was the most wanted criminal in the English Ministry of Magic, known by wizards as the Dark Lord of the new era. His presence here could not be anything good.
Mr. Borgin's lips trembled slightly. "I... I'm just an honest businessman..."
Vincent tossed him the metal cube. "Caractacus, do you recognize what's inside?"
Mr. Borgin frantically caught the cube, and as soon as he opened it slightly, his pupils shrank to a tiny dot.
"I don't recognize it..." he instinctively denied. "Mr. Wayne, I only care about the condition, age, and market price of an item. This lingering aura of curse... is too abstract; it could come from many things."
Vincent stared into his Winky eyes. "You're lying, Caractacus."
Mr. Borgin's face grew even paler.
Could it be Legilimency? How could he be completely unaware?
Vincent's lips curled into a slight smile as he withdrew the metal cube he was clutching. "I'm not one of those bureaucratic employees at Ministry of Magic of Magic wielding rulebooks. I have absolutely no interest in those little gadgets in your drawer that violate the 'Prohibition of Abuse of Dark Magic Items Act'."
He stepped back, seemingly giving Mr. Borgin a breather, "What interests me is its maker, that antisocial pleasure-seeker."