Conference Room 1.
Sean quietly stopped beside the fireplace.
Fudge watched him with that polished, slippery smile of his, as though he were appraising some priceless treasure.
"How long until you graduate, Mr. Green? I hear you're about to enter your third year.
Really, who would have imagined it? Dear Mr. Green is still only a student who hasn't even taken his O.W.L.s yet."
Fudge's flattery somehow didn't sound particularly irritating.
Sean only gave a slight nod.
"I mean, for a wizard as exceptional as you.
What do people call you these days? The future greatest wizard? The youngest wizard ever to make it onto a Chocolate Frog card? Or… the one destined to surpass Dumbledore and become the most powerful wizard in the magical world?"
Fudge said this with a smile.
"They do say your talent will surpass Dumbledore's. I wonder how accurate that really is."
"Headmaster Dumbledore is far more accomplished than I am."
Sean answered without hesitation.
"Ah, ah, that's for now. But the future? The future belongs to you, Mr. Green."
Fudge said it in his usual roundabout way.
Sean looked at him in silence, those green eyes carrying their usual air of seeing straight through people.
He more or less understood what Fudge wanted.
Minister for Magic. Theoretically the highest office in British magical society.
The one who oversaw the running of magical Britain.
And yet Fudge clearly did not possess the standing that should have matched that power, because British wizarding society had always contained one wizard who stood above ordinary politics—
the greatest wizard of the age, Albus Dumbledore.
"Well, I simply wanted you to know that. I'll be supporting you, you know…"
Fudge finished in his oily, practiced tone, then focused all his attention on Sean's face.
That face, however, remained calm and unreadable.
"Thank you."
Sean said.
"Oh, splendid, splendid. The Ministry has pressing business to attend to, so I must leave you now.
But you see—you know this already—my heart is with you."
Fudge waddled out, his large stomach leading the way.
Before leaving, he gave Sean a wink.
"Coo-coo."
Right on cue, Bai Yi flew in through the window.
With its head tilted up, it stared at Fudge's retreating figure, clearly meaning it did not like the plump wizard one bit.
Magical creatures always had sharper instincts than wizards.
So then… what sort of person was Fudge?
Smooth-tongued, perhaps. Driven by self-interest, certainly. But undeniably, he was a politician, and he possessed the basic intelligence of one.
A wizard with few natural advantages had become Minister for Magic not through overwhelming ability, but through political skill.
That "support" he spoke of was probably something he had already offered Dumbledore countless times.
After all, as Hagrid had once put it:
"Old Cornelius Fudge is the daftest bloke alive, always making a mess of things.
That's why he sends owls to Dumbledore every morning asking him what to do."
The image of Dumbledore waking up to find himself surrounded by owls made Sean smile a little.
Was Fudge trying to support Sean himself?
That was certainly part of it. But what Fudge wanted even more, most likely, was to support:
a wizard who could stand against Dumbledore.
What Fudge did not know was that, most of the time, Sean was very much on Dumbledore's side.
And what Sean did not know was that, long ago, Dumbledore had already quietly become, completely and utterly, a person on the little wizard's side.
Outside the Leaky Cauldron's windows, the sky was changing quickly, from velvet-deep blue to a cold gray, then slowly into pink streaked with gold.
Rooms 1, 10, and 11 all had cheerful fires crackling in their grates.
Outside Room 11, Harry followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door marked with the brass number 11.
Tom unlocked it and opened the door for him.
Inside was a bed that looked wonderfully comfortable, a few gleaming oak furnishings, and a roaring, cheerful fire in the grate—and perched on top of the wardrobe—
"Hedwig!"
Harry shouted in delight.
The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto Harry's arm.
"That owl of yours is a clever one,"
Tom said with a small smile.
"She showed up five minutes after you did. Mr. Potter, if there's anything you need, just say so."
He bowed again and left.
If Hedwig's arrival relaxed Harry a little, then what came next—
Knock knock knock.
There was a knock at the door.
Sean stood outside, looking first at the brass number 11, then at the number 10 next to it.
Will had told him Sirius was in that room.
By some strange twist of fate, Harry and Sirius were separated by only a single wall.
Sean took out the magic hand mirror. Ripples spread across its surface, showing the ever-polite Will and Sirius, gaunt and haggard, intently reading the newspaper.
His ear was pressed to the wall, but his eyes were locked on every article about Green printed in the paper.
"The wizard who destroyed Voldemort's servant," "the wizard who found the Chamber of Secrets and defeated the basilisk," "the wizard who drew Gryffindor's sword"…
Sirius's brow was tightly furrowed. During all the long years he had been locked in Azkaban, a genius like this had appeared in the magical world.
"Pitifully ignorant wizard."
Will let out a quiet snort.
"You're right, Pukwudgie."
Sirius had already figured out what Will was. What delighted him even more, impossibly so, was that someone had just taken the room next to his. And if his ears—after all those years of torment—had not deceived him, Tom had said the name—
"Harry."
Sean said it softly as the door swung open.
"Sean!"
Harry looked absolutely delighted.
The two of them sat down, completely unaware that, on the other side of the wall, an ear was trembling.
"You said I'm not in danger, Sean. Why?
But that criminal, Sirius, he…"
Harry asked cautiously, confused.
"He won't hurt you, Harry."
Sean said.
"But… why?"
Harry was completely lost.
His thoughts were a mess. One moment he wondered whether Sirius was actually after Sean, too busy settling scores with him to bother with Harry—after all, Sean had ruined several of Voldemort's schemes.
The next moment he thought: no, he, Harry Potter, was the one who had first made Voldemort disappear. How could Sirius not want to hurt him?
Meanwhile, in the next room over, Sirius was on the verge of crashing straight through the wall.
"Wait! You idiot, you'll get yourself caught—do you want all my master's planning to go to waste?!"
Will drew his bow and blocked him immediately.
"Let me…"
Sirius knew he couldn't get past him. Will was far stronger than he was in his current weakened state. His voice turned into something close to a plea.
"Ask your master… let me see him just once…"
~~~
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