Chapter 640: A Great Deed

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White walls, crimson desks, gilt lamps with dark green shades, and the beautiful marble fireplace opposite. From here, you can see a tall mirror when you turn your face sideways. When you are not calm occasionally, you can use it to objectively examine yourself.

If you need a breath of fresh air, it's even easier - open the side window and you can see the drizzle and cool sky, which is the most wonderful view in London.

If I have to say it, there are a few sentimental oil paintings on the opposite and back walls, which are actually not bad.

Of course, the one in the corner had to be excluded, because no one would want to see a bald guy with eyes and teeth staring at you every day, don’t you think?

This is No. 10 Downing Street, an old house full of stories.

"Jingle Bell--"

A sudden ringing of the phone broke the silence of the room once again. To tell the truth, it was not a good phone, the ringtone always had some rough noises, which was uncomfortable for the ears. But forget it, after listening to it for so long, you should get used to it.

The man sitting at the table sighed slightly, then grabbed the receiver of the phone. He knew that even if he didn't answer, the ringtone would keep ringing, endlessly.

"Hello, please pay attention to the call around 2:00 pm. The policy group may communicate the latest discussion results, and the press office will follow up at the same time. I will transfer the call to you at that time."

"Okay, I know."

With a concise and clear answer, the receiver returned to its original place again.

Here, efficiency is always the top priority, and those guys below seem to never need a rest in their lives. But while the man was secretly complaining, he didn't remember that when he was still struggling for this chair in the past, how could it not be a virtue?

The man sighed heavily again, then pushed aside all the documents and papers in his hand, and then leaned his head heavily on the back of the chair, making a "creak" sound.

He drooped his eyelids, took off the eyes on the bridge of his nose, and pinched between them vigorously.

In the past year, too many things happened. Although those events were over, the remaining sequelae have not completely dissipated until now.

These include multiple headless cases across the UK. Although there are no dead, the injured and missing persons actually exist, and there are even some unprovoked explosions and building collapses.

And these messy incidents, in the final analysis, will be involved with him. As long as he is still sitting in this seat, there will be a disaster from heaven that he cannot escape.

Maybe many people have seen his scenery, but behind the scenery, there are more endless fatigue and hard work day and night.

To be honest, this man felt that he was indeed a little tired.

He was half lying and half sitting on the back of the chair, feeling the cool wind blowing in from the window. Right now, it was raining lightly outside, pattering against the window sill, and there was still some misty rain drifting across his forehead, just enough to cool down his aching head.

There is still some time until two o'clock in the afternoon, let's take a break! Files can wait until after the phone call to continue viewing. Anyway, I definitely need to work overtime to stay here tonight, there is no need to be busy now.

But just as he took a short nap and tried to soothe his tired spirit, a voice suddenly sounded.

"To the Muggle Prime Minister," said the voice without warning, spreading across the room, "ask for a meeting at two o'clock in the afternoon, please reply immediately... Yours faithfully, Rufus Scrimgeour."

Oh yes! He knew it, he knew that fellow Scrimgeour! That's right, there have only been three people who have been called by the strange title of "Muggle Prime Minister" since he took office, and this Scrimgeour is the latest one.

You don't need to look to know that the oil painting in the back corner started to move by itself again-what the hell!

Of course, of course he didn't want to respond, not at all. Because he knew that every time the portrait started to speak, every time the person asked for a meeting, the result would always be bad. But can he not speak? Trying to pretend you're asleep? No, even if he doesn't answer, the other party will still come over when the time comes, from the damn fireplace opposite!

"Cough, um..." He cleared his throat and said vaguely, "Two o'clock? No, I had an important call at that time... yes, very important... from a president..."

God forgive me, a lie is needed here to elevate the matter so that it might shut the guy up - I hope!

Unfortunately, to the man in the frame, the lie clearly meant nothing.

"It's okay, you can rearrange it," the portrait replied without any hesitation, "If it's inconvenient for you, we can adjust it for you. Mr. President will forget to make this call... How do you feel about tomorrow morning?"

This is definitely not what he wants to hear, but for some reason, he just feels that there is no sense of disobedience when these words come out of the other party's mouth, as if it should be so naturally—even if they are talking about the president of a country Same!

"No, no need... I'll arrange it myself," said the Prime Minister dryly. "Yes... oh... I mean, yes, two o'clock in the afternoon? I'll see Mr Scrimgeour."

Hearing the prime minister's positive reply, the portrait immediately stopped moving, and the entire office returned to its previous tranquility.

The Prime Minister raised his neck and looked at the clock, then subconsciously glanced at the fireplace, and sighed for the third time this afternoon.

"Click click."

He pressed twice on the phone and dialed the secretary's internal number.

"I have an important arrangement at two o'clock in the afternoon. I postpone the call from the policy group to three o'clock—no, three thirty! What... no, that matter is very important, and you can just notify me as I said."

"Crack."

After all, the handset returned to its proper position again, and the phone was hung up by the prime minister.

When was the last time he met Scrimgeour, the Prime Minister would naturally not be able to forget.

It was an urgent meeting. The ugly little man in the portrait disappeared at some point, and was replaced by the dark-skinned bald man. It was a cold winter's night, yes, in the last days of a tumultuous sequence of events.

Suddenly, a thick male voice rang out in the office, startling the prime minister who was still working overtime. And at the moment when he agreed to meet, green flames suddenly rose in the fireplace, and a man with a straight face came out of it like the previous Fudge.

That man was Rufus Scrimgeour. According to his self-introduction, he was the guy who replaced Fudge as the new ruler of "that world"—well, maybe a similar position, who knows?

As soon as he came, he not only told him a lot of bad news, but also frankly said that there might be worse things about to happen in the future, so he was ready to deal with emergencies at any time.

Fortunately, the established bad news cannot be erased, but his so-called "worse event" does not seem to have happened, which is also a blessing in misfortune.

However, bad things are always bad things and never become good things. This time he came here, probably because he was going to tell him the reasons for a bunch of scalp-numbing incidents... No, it seems that nothing major has happened recently, right?

While the Prime Minister was hesitating and thinking, half an hour easily passed away. When he caught a glimpse of a large piece of green suddenly rising from the corner of his eyes, accompanied by a soft "bang", he quickly sat up straight.

Before he could raise his hand to straighten his slightly crooked tie, the slightly thin figure immediately strode out from the green flames. I saw the other party stepping over the iron fence in front of the fireplace, casually patted the strange robe on his body, and walked straight towards the desk.

To be honest, even though he has seen this scene several times, every time he sees it, he still feels his heart beating for a while. Of course, as the Prime Minister, he does not lack concentration, no matter how much shock is in his heart, the calmness on his face will not be lost...

Well, at most there is just a little bit of stiffness! I am not kidding!

"Prime Minister," Scrimgeour, still in a rush, reached out his hand immediately after walking quickly to the desk, forcing an awkward smile on his face, "Good afternoon, very pleased Nice to meet you again."

"Oh, um... hello!" The Prime Minister shook hands with him hastily, and then made a gesture of invitation to a chair in front of the table, "Is there any place...do you need me to help you? "

He really didn't want to say this, but he also knew that what should come will always come. Rather than being given a stomachache by the other party's unceremonious demands, it's better to take the initiative to speak up.

"Yeah...it's a long story," Scrimgeour sat down on the chair neatly, and took off his hat, "In the second half of this year, we will have a world-class Something big happened—"

"what!"

The Prime Minister's face that pretended to be calm couldn't even hold back.

Originally, he was already mentally prepared to listen to troublesome things, but the word "world-class" still broke through his inner defense - world-class troublesome things? Is some terrible organization coming to bomb the prime minister's mansion? Or a big mushroom crashing to the ground, bursting out with sparks of life?

"...Huh? Oh... Take it easy," Scrimgeour grinned, but Mr. Prime Minister seemed to be sneering no matter how he looked at it. "That big event is actually a good thing! It's a big good thing!"

"boom!"

Before he could finish his words, a flash of fire suddenly flashed in the distance, which made our Prime Minister tremble with fright.