"A surname of Reynolds… ah.. alright then." Wade paused, then asked again, "After you were beaten, do you know where he went?"
"No… by the time we came to, he was already gone," the man replied honestly.
Wade did not press further.
A guy looking like him, and bearing that surname… there was a ninety-nine point nine percent chance that person was not someone to be trifled with.
"You should count yourselves lucky to still be alive," Wade said, waving a hand as he returned to his seat at the bar.
Seeing that Wade did not intend to make things difficult for them any further, the burly men quickly helped each other up and hurried out.
As for the other wizards who had been watching the spectacle, they all settled their tabs and left one after another. In no time, the tavern was empty.
Old Paul said nothing.
The few Galleons Wade had put down earlier were more than enough to cover the damage.
Besides, he had been about to close for the night anyway.
Wade took the mug of butterbeer Old Paul handed him, took a sip, and then said leisurely, "They can leave, but you… Andrews, you're not going anywhere."
One of Andrews's feet had already stepped out the tavern door. Hearing this, he felt as if the sky had collapsed.
His companions, upon hearing that Andrews had to stay, immediately fled without hesitation, afraid they might be kept behind as well.
Andrews stared in shock as those who had been calling him brother just moments ago abandoned him, despair written all over his face.
By now, Andrews was completely sober. Even Old Paul suspected this boy might be a powerful wizard disguised with Polyjuice Potion, so how could Andrews not have his own suspicions?
In any case… he knew he could not win. Since this person was keeping him here, it probably meant… he was finished.
Just as Andrews's mind was in turmoil, torn between making a desperate run for it or submitting quietly…
"Come here." Wade beckoned to him.
Under Wade's casual gaze, Andrews instinctively shrank back. In that brief moment, he felt as if he was not being watched by a person, but by a venomous snake.
He abandoned any thought of running and slowly walked over to Wade.
"Have a seat, Andrews." Wade pulled over a chair.
Andrews sat down stiffly.
He thought to himself that since this boy had not simply cast the Killing Curse on him, things might not be as bad as he had imagined.
"Mr. Paul, get him a drink. It's on me," Wade said.
Old Paul did not dare say anything more.
He poured Andrews his usual Firewhisky, then brought over the steak Wade had ordered before leaving the bar.
Old Paul understood that a powerful young wizard like this calling Andrews over must mean he wanted him to do something.
It would be inappropriate to stay. It was better not to know what these strange people were planning.
With trembling hands, Andrews picked up the Firewhisky and took a small sip.
The tavern fell quiet. The only sounds were Old Paul and the staff repairing the damaged tables, chairs, and walls, along with the scraping of Wade's knife against the plate as he cut into his steak.
"What's your name?" Wade asked suddenly after putting a piece of steak into his mouth.
"Andrews…" he replied softly.
"Full name?"
"Andrews Ivanov…"
"Good. Mr. Ivanov, what do you do for a living?"
"I… I don't have a job…"
"You're not telling the truth, Mr. Ivanov. An unemployed drifter wouldn't have your kind of skill." Wade set down his knife, his sharp gaze settling on Andrews once more. "I'll give you one more chance. Don't try to lie to me again."
Andrews could not help but take another sip of Firewhisky.
He could not understand why a boy who looked so harmless could exert such overwhelming pressure. Even if he was powerful, his presence should not have been this terrifying.
It felt as though he was facing not a boy, but a forceful Minister for Magic… damn it.
"I'll ask you again. What do you do?" Wade repeated.
"I…" Andrews glanced around and, seeing that no one was listening, lowered his voice. "I don't have a fixed job, but sometimes I go out with others… into the wild to find magical creatures, and then…"
"Poaching? Smuggling?" Wade said, taking a sip of butterbeer.
"Both…" Andrews admitted dejectedly.
Wade nodded. No wonder he had been reluctant to say it. Poaching and smuggling magical creatures were serious crimes in any country.
After all, magical creatures were an important source of materials for wizards, and most species had been growing increasingly scarce in recent years.
Under Wade's knowing gaze, Andrews felt his weak resolve being pierced.
"I didn't want to do this either! But… when a person is desperate and destitute, they don't think that far ahead!"
Wade let out a quiet acknowledgment before smiling. "So you weren't originally in this line of work?"
"Of course not! I… I used to be an Auror. After graduating from Durmstrang, I joined the Ministry. Everyone said I had a bright future. But… I was framed! No one was willing to believe me!" Andrews grew increasingly agitated. "By the time I got out after ten years in prison, everything had changed…"
Wade quietly watched Andrews's eyes. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "You're not lying, Mr. Ivanov. In that case…"
He raised the glass in his hand. "I have a drink, and you happen to have a story. Why not tell it to me?"
He turned toward Old Paul, who was pretending to be busy in the distance. "Mr. Paul, another drink for him."
With things already at this point, even if Andrews did not want to revisit those painful memories, he had no choice but to recall them.
The story itself was not complicated.
A talented young Auror with a promising future, not long out of school, already on track to become the youngest captain in the Auror Office.
But during a mission to protect an important witness, something went wrong.
The witness was killed. Clearly, someone within the Auror team had leaked the information.
After the investigation, Andrews, whose account had somehow gained thousands of Galleons, was arrested.
Overnight, a promising young Auror became a corrupt official who had taken bribes and leaked information to Dark Wizards.
Then came ten years in prison. Talent, potential, all of it came to nothing.
"Hm… crude. The method used to frame you was really quite crude… So you ended up like this without even knowing who your enemy is?" Wade asked.
"I… I don't know… I really don't…" Andrews said painfully, downing the Firewhisky in one gulp.
"You were about to become a captain back then, right?" Wade asked.
"Yes. If not for what happened…"
"Then who took your place as captain?" Wade continued.
"Brusky Yuryev…"
"And what position does this Mr. Yuryev hold now?"
"Heh…" Andrews let out a bitter laugh. "He's already the head of the Auror Office…"
Wade smiled. "Judging by how upset you look, do you think that if you hadn't gone to prison, you would be the head of the Auror Office now?"
"I… I do think so! Back then, he was inferior to me in every way! If I had stayed, how could my achievements possibly be lower than his?" Andrews raised his glass gloomily, only to find it empty.
Old Paul picked up the bottle and poured him another drink.
At some point, Old Paul had moved closer. Perhaps the urge to hear gossip was a universal human trait.
"Is Yuryev a pure-blood?" Wade asked Old Paul.
"Ha, the Yuryev family is a well-known pure-blood family! Some say they existed even before the Muggle Tsars came to power," Old Paul replied.
Wade pointed at Andrews. "What about him?"
"Ivanov is a Muggle surname, and… Andrews is an orphan," Old Paul answered.
"Why are you asking all this?" After a few more drinks, Andrews grew bolder and started questioning Wade.
"Of course, to figure out who framed you," Wade said with a smile.
Andrews's eyes widened. "Then… have you figured it out?"
Wade smiled. "Generally speaking, when someone is framed, you only need to look at who benefits the most to have a good idea of who did it. After all, no one harms another person for no reason. There has to be some gain involved… of course, there are exceptions, people who do it for their own twisted amusement."
"You mean… Yuryev framed me!?" Andrews asked in shock.
"A thousand Galleons… that's a huge sum. To spend that much just to frame someone isn't something just anyone can do. No wonder no one believed you back then. Aside from Pure-Blood Wizards who come by money easily, who else could it be?"
"But… just for a squad captain's position? He would spend a thousand Galleons to frame me? That…" Andrews looked utterly confused.
"A squad captain? He's now the head of the Auror Office," Wade said with a smile. "In fact, those thousand Galleons were not just used to frame you. Think about it. After they were confiscated from your vault, whose pocket would they end up in?"
"This… this…" Andrews finally understood.
"That was the price on your life. You should be grateful you're Muggle-born. The pure-bloods didn't consider you important enough, otherwise, do you think you would have walked out of prison alive?"
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