The remainder of their Egyptian excursion consisted of unremarkable shopping and sightseeing. Time passed swiftly, and their seven-day trip concluded with Tom and his companions returning to England.
...
Hogsmeade Village, the only entirely wizarding village in England, possessed a unique charm, its architecture echoing a quaint 20th-century European style. During the holidays, enchanted candles adorned every tree, casting a beautiful glow upon the village at night. It was also the final stop of the Hogwarts Express, the train that transported young witches and wizards to school.
Nearly midnight, at the Three Broomsticks Tavern in Hogsmeade Village, Minister Fudge trailed behind Tom, effusively thanking Madam Rosmerta for opening the tavern past its usual hours.
Madam Rosmerta, the proprietress of the Three Broomsticks, was a woman of enduring grace and beauty, admired by many a young Hogwarts wizard. Oblivious to Fudge, she smiled at Tom's courteous gratitude and said, "It was my pleasure to assist you, no need for such formality… Though, I would be even happier if Tom would join me for a drink sometime."
Tom, having spent two years working at Hogwarts, had visited Hogsmeade frequently. Time had transformed the villagers' initial fear into a harmonious relationship. Madam Rosmerta often flirted with Tom; after all, what mature woman wouldn't enjoy a bit of banter with a handsome young gentleman?
"It would be my pleasure, Madam," Tom said with a suave smile, readily accepting her invitation.
Fudge, standing behind him, appeared to be swallowing a bitter draught. The two had completely ignored him, the Minister of Magic. Still, he dared not show his displeasure, lest he risk another one of Tom's unpleasant "favors."
Tom and Fudge, led by Madam Rosmerta, entered the tavern. Candlelight flickered from the chandeliers, casting long shadows and creating a cozy atmosphere. The roaring fireplace provided warmth, making the tavern even more inviting.
Hearing the crackling fire, Fudge took a generous gulp of the still-warm butterbeer that Madam Rosmerta provided, then sighed in relief. He looked up at Tom. "Professor, about what I mentioned earlier…"
Daring neither to call Tom by his full name, nor refer to him as the Dark Lord, Fudge usually addressed him as "Professor," a title Tom tacitly accepted.
"You refer to Sirius Black's escape?" Tom mused aloud, as if the matter were trivial.
"Yes, because he was once your subordinate, and so…" Fudge hesitated, unsure how to proceed. Afraid of angering Tom, the fact that "Sirius Black escaped Azkaban" hadn't been made public yet.
This guy isn't exactly my henchman. Tom considered as an idea took root.
Taking a sip of his butterbeer, Tom spoke calmly, "Issue a warrant for his arrest. You may set the bounty as you see fit."
"I understand. Thank you for your understanding, Professor," Fudge said with a relieved sigh. Sirius was still at large, and any misstep in this situation could jeopardize his chances of re-election.
Just as Fudge was contemplating this, he heard a voice in his ear, "Also, add me to the wanted list."
Fudge stared at Tom in disbelief, then instantly broke out in a cold sweat. He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his brow, feigning composure as he stuttered, "Well, you know what they say, as people get older, their hearing isn't what it used to be... I didn't quite catch what you meant, Professor…"
"Never mind that, just do as I instruct… And you may set the reward yourself."
Do I need to spell out that this is a trap? The real problem was that Tom had been lacking in "rare things" lately. He was toying with the idea of a double-cross.
"Yes, Professor, certainly, Professor." Having ascertained that Tom wasn't angry or about to kill him, Fudge immediately acquiesced. "Whatever you say."
"Oh, right…" Fudge seemed to suddenly recollect something, glancing cautiously at Tom. "Since Sirius escaped from Azkaban, perhaps we should involve the Dementors in his capture?"
Hearing this, Tom was puzzled. "Why not?"
"What if those brainless freaks wander somewhere they shouldn't? Like Hogwarts or something," Fudge's voice trailed off, afraid Tom might lose his temper.
"It's fine, let them come if they wish." Tom didn't care; it wouldn't harm his own interests.
Hearing this, Fudge finally relaxed. He realized how overwrought he had been and gulped down another large mouthful of butterbeer.
Bang.
The wooden mug struck the wooden table. Fudge seemed to recall something further. "One more thing. I was wondering if we should…"
"Why are you so meddlesome… Let them stay where they are," Tom said, offering no explanation, but Fudge knew better than to pry.
Madam Rosmerta, wiping glasses behind the bar, glanced at the two, "drinking without speaking," with some confusion. She was unaware that Tom had cast a silencing charm when she opened the door.
Even if she knew, she wouldn't care; after all, she wasn't particularly interested in their conversation.
After they finished their butterbeer, Madam Rosmerta finally heard Tom say, "The bill."
Of course, Tom expected Fudge to pay.
…
A London street. A disheveled middle-aged man in tattered clothes, hair unkempt, and beard overgrown, shuffled along carrying a worn leather suitcase. After what seemed like an eternity, he spotted an old tavern across the street. A wooden sign proclaimed, "The Leaky Cauldron."
"Have I come this far?" the man murmured, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes.
Ding-ling—
The wooden door of the Leaky Cauldron creaked open, and an old wizard in a thick coat emerged.
Seeing the Daily Prophet in the wizard's hand, the middle-aged man quickly approached and asked if he could borrow it.
The old wizard looked at him with suspicion. Reaching the Leaky Cauldron confirmed the man was a wizard, but his attire suggested a state of destitution.
"Sigh… young man, I've finished reading this. Here, take it," the old wizard said, patting the middle-aged man on the shoulder. "Don't wander about outside anymore; times are turbulent."
The middle-aged man nodded, indicating his understanding, and opened the newspaper.
The headline made his eyes widen in disbelief.
---