No denying it.
Though the meal was expensive, the food made it worthwhile. Even Tiger, who was particularly picky about taste, felt the French chef's respect for ingredients.
The pan-seared foie gras was delicate and smooth. One taste brought instant joy. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.
She suddenly understood why Mrs. Granger couldn't forget this restaurant. Wait, who did Mother come here with?
The steak was cooked perfectly. Paired with red wine sauce, it elevated the meat's flavor to another level.
Tiger nodded with satisfaction.
In Britain, not seeing the ingredients' dying resentment was already rare, let alone this being his only chance to access alcohol.
Neville ate with his head down, occasionally wrapping cut meat in chocolate sauce and feeding it to Venom's tendrils under the table. He liked sharing delicious food with friends.
Harry seemed distracted.
As if worried about something, his eyes kept glancing toward the restroom...
The brilliant violet on the horizon was gradually eroded by pale blue and deep gray. The light outside grew dimmer until the last trace of sunset disappeared.
The restaurant's quiet was finally broken.
Somewhat chaotic footsteps and panicked whispers rang out near the restroom.
However, at that moment, Tiger and the others had just left the restaurant.
Seeing the freckled male waiter keep his head down, never daring to meet his gaze, the emerald eyes hidden behind glasses gradually deepened. As if in this moment, a door to a whole new world had quietly opened for Harry...
In the following days, Harry completely adapted to life at the Shelby pub. This was freedom like breaking free from shackles, a liberation he'd never felt before.
"The law sentences me to death!"
"Morality proves me innocent!"
"Let those who oppose us fend for themselves!"
"To the Shelbys, to hell!"
He loved leaning on the railing, watching the Shelbys below laugh and curse, loved roaring along with their celebrations.
That exhilarating sense of release captivated him deeply...
He suddenly understood.
As a gang with cruel and brutal methods, why the Shelby Family had such high prestige in Surrey and surrounding areas.
To the Shelbys, violence wasn't a mad means to oppress the weak and trample the good. It was a sharp weapon for ordinary people to defend justice, seek fairness, and fight for their future.
It was dangerous.
That instant rush of controlling fate could make people ignore the costs and risks behind it, until they were trapped deep in the mire, unable to escape.
But it was also effective!
It could cut through thorns, break through困境, dispel confusion.
Harry stroked his burning heart. His eyes grew colder, but also brighter.
Just then, John walked out from the study.
Seeing Harry staring downstairs in a daze, he stepped forward, threw an arm around Harry's shoulders, and raised an eyebrow:
"Hey, kid!"
"New shipment at the docks. Good stuff from the Soviets. Real exciting."
"How about it? Want to check it out?"
His frivolous tone carried demonic temptation.
For "honest guys" like Harry, John always had a soft spot. Because guys like this were always trustworthy and had "infinite potential."
After all, those unbelievable major cases were never committed by experienced criminals...
Harry's eyes flickered slightly, as if some spark had been lit. He turned to John, unable to contain his excitement and curiosity, and nodded firmly.
"Now?"
"Oh, Merlin's beard..."
"What's been going on lately!"
Inside the Ministry of Magic, Fudge slammed the Daily Prophet heavily on his desk.
Looking at Sirius's crazed, twisted smile appearing repeatedly in the paper, his thick cheeks were full of worry.
He'd already issued a gag order, but the news still leaked. Howlers flew into the Ministry like snowflakes.
Not just because of Sirius's escape, but because of the Death Eaters in Azkaban.
Those cruel, mad people always stirred up chaotic memories of the past. The wizarding world didn't want to see such things happen again. Sirius's escape was undoubtedly a dangerous omen for them.
More importantly, the Savior's safety. If anything happened to Harry, angry wizards would send him to the gallows before the next day...
With this thought, Fudge stood up and rang the golden bell beside his desk. Steady footsteps walked in from outside the office.
"Minister."
Kingsley Shacklebolt looked at Fudge with a calm expression, his fingertips lightly touching his sleeve, ready to draw his wand and fight at any moment.
This was an elite Auror's habit, especially for Aurors like him who'd survived turbulent times.
"Shacklebolt, come with me."
"Bring a few more people."
"We need to see Harry."
"If necessary, we need to arrange him somewhere safe enough."
Fudge picked up a briefcase and sighed quietly.
If possible, he'd rather not have Harry as the Savior.
Harry wasn't like Voldemort's nemesis. He was more like a knife tip hanging over his head as Minister of Magic.
As flames flickered in the fireplace, Minister of Magic Fudge and Aurors like Kingsley stepped across the boundary separating two worlds, then walked out from a seemingly dilapidated house.
The glaring sunlight made everyone instinctively squint. Noticing unusual stares around them, Kingsley quickly drew his wand.
However, looking around, there were only ordinary Muggles. But for some reason, they were all frowning at him. Their eyes weren't very friendly either. Even the children were the same.
"Let's go, Shacklebolt."
"If I remember correctly... the place Dumbledore told me... should be... this way..."
"Right, walk this way."
Fudge identified the direction, then took the lead heading east, not noticing the stares around him.
Kingsley Shacklebolt didn't relax his vigilance. He followed closely behind Fudge, gripping his wand reversed in his palm, hidden in his wide sleeve, his peripheral vision constantly monitoring the surroundings.
However, what puzzled him was that the unfriendly stares gradually turned to confusion, then absurdity, finally transforming into sympathy and ridicule.
"Ah, we're here!"
Fudge looked at the Shelby pub's sign, habitually pulled on a kind smile, straightened his hat and clothes slightly, then pushed the door open and walked straight in...
Inside the Shelby pub, it was still lively.
All Shelby members gathered together, inspecting the "big guys" brought back from the docks today.
Incredulous exclamations rose one after another.
Tiger's face was full of infatuation as he sniffed the dangerous scent from the steel jungle.
Compared to the grenade launchers lined in the corner and the heavy machine guns on the table, the mortars had become tiny.
Looking at the densely packed "Miss Hails" in the wooden crates, big brother Arthur's lips curled somewhat sourly.
"Damn..."
"Are the Soviets all crazy?"
"How dare these drunks sell even this?"
John rubbed his throbbing temples, his face full of worry.
"I don't know either. I just told them this was the last deal. Asked them to bring some big stuff..."
"Where are they?"
"We can't take this."
"Damn it!"
"We're a gang, not a terrorist organization. If MI5 finds out, there'll be big trouble."
"Even Manny couldn't stop it."
Mother Polly took a deep drag on her cigar, flicked ash on the brand new shells, her face very grave.
"Uh..."
John scratched his nose somewhat awkwardly.
"Since it was the last deal... I wasn't planning to pay... you know..."
Obviously, a double-cross.
But wasn't this eating a bit too much?
Mother Polly narrowed her eyes at her son. Big brother Arthur also sighed speechlessly.
Motherfucker.
One dared to send, the other dared to take!
"Hey, this isn't my fault!"
John pulled Harry to his side, putting on an innocent face, trying to shift blame.
"This kid fired first!"
Harry: "???"
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