England, The Leaky Cauldron.
Since Voldemort's rise, The Leaky Cauldron had not seen so many customers in a very long time.
Yet Old Tom, the pub's owner, was anything but pleased. He wiped glasses absentmindedly while secretly watching the foreigners in the establishment from the corner of his eye, seemingly worried that these outsiders would bring trouble down on him.
Old Tom dearly wanted to find an excuse to throw every customer out, but years of running a pub told him it would be best not to do that. Otherwise, he would definitely end up in serious trouble.
What had happened in Hogsmeade Village the night before last had not appeared in the Daily Prophet, but Old Tom knew about it.
Like most wizards, he secretly listened to Wizard Watchtower broadcasts, so he could naturally guess that the people before him were all Dark Wizards from abroad.
Judging by the fury in their voices, it was not difficult to tell just how much they hated Death Eaters.
It was best not to provoke them right now, especially since most Dark Wizards were not the sort willing to reason with others.
But Old Tom was truly worried that a Death Eater might suddenly walk into the pub. If that happened, something truly terrible was bound to occur.
Yet sometimes, what you feared most was exactly what came to pass.
Just as he handed a glass of Firewhisky to the Frenchman at the bar, who spoke in broken English, Old Tom spotted a familiar figure at the entrance. His heart leapt into his throat.
The newcomer was a nasty piece of work named Rudolph.
It was said that, because he was a Pure-blood wizard, he had been exceptionally invited to join the Death Eaters.
Ever since Rudolph had joined the Death Eaters,