Chapter 179: Small Talk
The Leaky Cauldron was as dim and noisy as ever.
When Harry stumbled into the hidden wizarding pub on Charing Cross Road, dragging his heavy trunk behind him, old Tom was wiping the bar with a dirty rag.
Beside him stood a short, stout man in a pinstriped suit and a lime green cloak.
"Oh, thank goodness! You're finally here, Harry!"
The moment the stout man saw Harry, the anxiety on his face transformed into a smile of relief.
He hurried forward and eagerly reached for Harry's trunk.
Harry instinctively stepped back half a pace, avoiding his hand.
His emerald green eyes looked unusually cold in the dim light.
Of course he recognized the man standing before him.
Cornelius Fudge.
The Minister for Magic.
Harry had seen him before on the night at Hagrid's hut.
Just as Harry's muscles tensed, preparing himself for judgement and the wrath of the Ministry of Magic, the battered wooden door of the pub opened again.
Tamara Riddle stepped across the threshold with a trunk of her own, her pace calm and unhurried.
Fudge's gaze moved past Harry's shoulder.
The moment he saw Tamara, he visibly froze.
"Oh? Miss Riddle?"
His sparse eyebrows rose in surprise.
"How unexpected. Did you also arrive on the Knight Bus in the middle of the night? Well, perhaps this is for the best. Since both of you underage wizards are here, you may as well come along together."
Fudge turned toward old Tom.
"Tom, prepare a private parlour for us and bring up a pot of hot tea."
A few minutes later, the three of them were seated around a circular table in a reasonably clean private parlour on the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron.
Tamara naturally chose the armchair beside the window.
She casually surveyed the plain room while calculating that, once she had finished dealing with this hypocritical Minister for Magic, she would immediately head to Knockturn Alley to purchase alchemical materials.
Harry, seated opposite Fudge, was nowhere near as relaxed.
During the journey here, he had rehearsed the coming confrontation countless times in his mind.
He had considered how he would defend himself.
How he would use the sharpest possible words to refute whatever accusations the Ministry made.
He had even prepared himself for the worst possible outcome, surrendering his wand and being expelled on the spot.
"All right, Harry, there's no need to look so nervous."
Fudge took a sip of tea and spoke in a generous, almost ingratiating tone.
"Regarding those... little accidents you had in Surrey, everything has already been settled."
Harry froze.
Every defence he had prepared lodged itself in his throat.
"Settled?" he asked dryly.
"Of course, of course."
Fudge waved a hand, smiling broadly.
"Ministry officials have already deflated your Aunt Marge and modified her memory. She remembers nothing about what happened. As far as she is concerned, she merely suffered a bout of indigestion after overeating."
Fudge continued cheerfully, "No one was injured, and certainly no one is going to Azkaban over a minor loss of control like that. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Harry."
Harry's mind went blank for a moment.
He had believed he had just completed an act of rebellion with his entire future on the line.
He had even been prepared to fight the injustice of the Ministry of Magic to the bitter end.
Yet now Fudge, with a few casual words, had reduced that struggle, filled with anger and determination, to a ridiculous little accident in which he had accidentally inflated his aunt like a balloon.
And just like that, he had been forgiven.
No punishment.
No trial.
The Ministry of Magic had simply cleaned up the mess for him.
Harry suddenly found the entire situation almost laughable.
His clenched fists slowly loosened.
An indescribable mixture of helplessness and absurdity rose within him.
Tamara, who had been sitting silently to the side, suddenly widened her eyes slightly when she heard Fudge's explanation.
Inflated a Muggle relative?
Tamara turned her head in surprise and, for the first time that evening, truly looked at Harry.
In her mind, the so called saviour whom Dumbledore favoured without restraint was little more than a mediocre and untalented boy who survived only because others repeatedly saved him.
Even in front of his Muggle relatives, he had always seemed willing to endure everything without resistance.
As for why he had managed to kill her time and again, that was because of the damned blood protection, their twin wand cores, or the backlash from the Elder Wand.
In short, it certainly was not because Harry Potter had ever been stronger than her.
But this genuinely surprised her.
This captive little pet had actually dared to resist?
And had even used magic to send one of his own relatives into the air?
Tamara did not even notice the faint curve appearing at the corner of her mouth.
It had nothing to do with affection or personal approval of Harry Potter.
It was simply the Dark Lord's most instinctive reaction.
The satisfaction of seeing the law of the strong imposed upon the weak.
The pleasure of watching a lowly Muggle crushed by magic.
Harry, who had been secretly watching her from the corner of his eye, caught that expression perfectly.
At that moment, genuine joy surged through him.
He had seen the surprise in Tamara's eyes.
And that fleeting trace of approval contained no politeness and no pretence.
It was as though the rebellious act he had committed tonight had finally earned a little sincere recognition from her.
What am I doing?!
Harry abruptly lowered his head and cursed himself inwardly.
He had sworn on the Knight Bus that he would never care about her again.
He knew perfectly well that she was cold and ruthless.
Yet now, because of one insignificant look of approval, the defences he had only just built around himself had already developed a shameful crack.
"All right. Since that misunderstanding has been resolved, let's discuss the important matter."
Fudge had noticed none of the strange undercurrents passing between the two young wizards.
He put away his smile, his expression becoming more serious than before.
"The reason I waited here for you in the middle of the night is that the current situation is extremely dangerous. I assume you have both seen the wanted poster in the Daily Prophet."
He paused.
"Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban."
Harry's attention immediately returned to Fudge.
He stared at the Minister blankly, not understanding what the name Sirius Black had to do with him.
"He is an extremely dangerous murderer, Harry, and..."
Fudge hesitated, clearly unwilling to say too much.
"In any case, he is very dangerous. Until school begins, I want you to go nowhere except Diagon Alley."
Then Fudge turned toward Tamara.
"Miss Riddle, I would also ask you to exercise particular caution. The wizarding world has not been peaceful lately. Not only here in Britain, but even eastern Europe has seen serious trouble."
"Oh?"
Tamara raised an eyebrow politely, displaying exactly the right amount of curiosity.
"According to internal reports from the Department of International Magical Cooperation, some kind of evil Dark Arts entity appears to have awakened in a forest in Albania."
Fudge's expression grew heavier.
"Several camps belonging to Dark Wizards were slaughtered to the last man overnight."