"I'll go grab two bottles of butterbeer first, and then we can talk about what's going on."
Hermione glanced at the two boys sitting opposite her with "lowered heads," patted Lynn on the shoulder, stood up, and stepped over the Christmas tree branches to head out.
"Merlin... I hope she isn't angry."
Only after Hermione had walked far away did Ron dare to carefully turn his head and whisper to Harry.
"I don't know," Harry also lowered his voice to the minimum and shook his head honestly.
How would he know if Hermione was angry! But... looking at her, even if she were angry, she probably wasn't that angry.
Otherwise, she would have given both him and Ron a rap on the head already.
"Hermione isn't truly angry." Lynn's calm voice suddenly joined the conversation. Her eyes stayed on Harry, half dead and half tranquil.
"According to micro-expression analysis, she's just worried you'll be hurt by Black if you're out, but mostly she's happy for you that you can come out for a stroll during the Christmas holidays."
"Ah," Harry scratched his head with a bit of guilt, "I'll be careful. I'm sorry."
"Why the sudden apology?"
Hermione stepped back into the booth and handed one of the two bottles of butterbeer to Lynn.
"Thanks." Lynn took the butterbeer and had a large gulp.
Harry pursed his lips and looked up at Hermione. "I'm apologizing for being reckless and sneaking out, making you all worry."
Hermione was stunned for a moment before she realized what happened. She glanced at Lynn, who was drinking her butterbeer in silence.
"Lynn told you?"
If Lynn hadn't told him, Hermione didn't believe Harry and Ron could have guessed her concerns so accurately or realized she wasn't truly angry.
"Yes," Harry nodded.
"Actually, it's nothing, Harry," Hermione shrugged. "We've all broken school rules; we're all kids this age."
At this, Hermione reached out and gently twirled Lynn's hair, raising her eyebrows at the two boys opposite her.
"If one isn't young and reckless now, then when?"
The conflict and guilt on Harry's face quickly faded, replaced by a look of profound disbelief.
Ron also snapped his head up to look at Hermione. This... Hermione hadn't been "corrupted" by them, had she?
Seeing the two boys' surprised expressions, Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Please, I'm a Gryffindor too."
Before Harry and Ron could say anything more, Lynn, feeling a cold wind blowing in, instinctively looked toward the entrance of The Three Broomsticks pub.
There, Minister for Magic Fudge, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Hagrid were walking in.
Without thinking much, Lynn quickly withdrew her gaze. With a slight movement of her eyes, Harry felt a massive force pressing him down under the table.
The momentum was so fierce he almost spilled the butterbeer in his hand.
"What's happening?"
Ron froze for a moment, instinctively looking back in the direction Lynn was staring, and immediately gasped.
Hermione had the same reaction; she even reached out a hand and pressed down on Harry's head under the table to stop him from climbing out.
"What's going on?"
Out of trust for Lynn, Harry stayed extremely still under the table with his butterbeer, having no intention of trying to climb out.
Realizing this, Hermione awkwardly withdrew her hand.
Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, and Fudge have come in together."
Ron turned his back to them and whispered with his head down.
"What?!"
Harry felt his whole body stiffen for a moment. Why would the Professors think to have a drink with Fudge, and even come to Hogsmeade for it?
Couldn't they have gone to the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley... With them here, he couldn't even get out from under the table.
Harry's question was soon answered. The Landlady of the Three Broomsticks pub personally walked over to the booth where Professor McGonagall and the others were to take their order.
After taking the order, she also asked warmly, "What brings you here, Mr. Minister?"
Fudge gave a formulaic fake smile. "Didn't Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall go to the Ministry of Magic a while ago to voice some concerns about the Dementors? So I came over to confirm if they are doing their jobs properly."
"And to ensure they aren't doing anything else they shouldn't be."
He said the last sentence to Professor McGonagall, nodding with a smile at the same time.
Professor McGonagall snorted inwardly, but on the surface, she still gave a polite nod in response. Regardless, outward courtesy had to be "maintained."
"Oh, that matter..." The Landlady of the Three Broomsticks pub couldn't help but frown after hearing his words.
"If you ask me, those Dementors really should leave. You don't understand, Mr. Minister, they've seriously affected our business. No one dares to go out at night."
"Haha, well," Fudge laughed awkwardly and spread his hands to show he was powerless. "Isn't it for safety's sake?"
"And we must protect Mr. Potter."
"Mr. Potter? Harry Potter?" the Landlady of the Three Broomsticks pub asked in confusion.
"What does that have to do with the boy?"
"Sigh..." Fudge let out a long sigh. "The Ministry of Magic has never publicly explained this matter because it—it is truly disgraceful."
Then, accompanied by Fudge's slightly somber voice, everyone at the table, the Landlady of the Three Broomsticks pub, and the four people nearby including Lynn heard the "truth" from thirteen years ago.
Sirius Black was originally The Potters' best friend, or rather, James Potter's best friend.
When The Potters were being hunted by Lord Voldemort, Headmaster Dumbledore developed a Charms that protected a secret within a person's soul.
This way, as long as that Secret-Keeper did not leak the secret, the secret they were responsible for keeping would never be known by others.
In The Potters' case, as long as the Secret-Keeper didn't actively provide information to Lord Voldemort, no one would ever know where they lived.
Even if Lord Voldemort pressed his ear against their bedroom wall, he wouldn't hear the slightest sound or discover anything.
For this Secret-Keeper, Headmaster Dumbledore originally wanted to do it himself, but The Potters chose Sirius Black.
It was this very choice that cost them their lives and left Harry without parents.
"What does that mean?" the landlady asked with a trembling voice.
"The meaning is obvious, isn't it?" Fudge nodded with a bitter smile. "Black betrayed them, and then they were murdered."
"Damn it!"
Hagrid suddenly roared. His cheeks, already flushed from drinking, grew even redder as he slammed the table hard.
"I can't believe I ran into him when I went to get Harry. I should have... ripped him... to pieces!"
"Don't be impulsive, Hagrid," Fudge frowned. "Black is dangerous. Even the most experienced Aurors in the Ministry of Magic would find it difficult to deal with him."
"Later, another friend of theirs went to find Black, wanting to avenge his friends, The Potters, and was then murdered by him."
Peter Pettigrew..." Professor Flitwick said softly. "I will always remember that name."
"Yes," Professor McGonagall closed her eyes, which were now slightly moist. "Black and James were always inseparable, and he was always following behind James and the others—a boy who wasn't particularly bright."
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