Diagon Alley, which had only just regained a little of its former bustle after the war, was once again nearly deserted following the recent chaos.
Amosta led the young wizards down the street.
The main avenue was a picture of desolation.
Many of the shops lining Rammed Earth Avenue had shut their doors and fled in haste when the marchers knocked down the partitions and sparked the riot, terrified that their lives might be endangered.
Amosta led the uneasy young wizards to The Leaky Cauldron.
There was not a single customer in the spacious pub.
However, having made a tidy profit earlier when the Ministry had spent a considerable sum ordering lunch for the marchers, old Tom did not mind the dismal business at present.
Humming a cheerful tune, he stood behind the bar polishing glasses.
"Why, Mr. Breen?"
The moment he saw the group enter the pub, old Tom's eyes lit up. Moving with the agility of a lad in his teens or twenties, he dashed out from behind the bar to Amosta.
"May I have the honor of buying you a drink, Mr. Breen, to celebrate your great victory just now?"
"Oh—"
Amosta chuckled.
"I had only planned to get something to eat, but all right. A glass of sherry for me—plain, please—"
Amosta glanced back at the students behind him.
"And five glasses of orange juice."
Old Tom immediately hurried off to prepare them.
"Sit down—"
After looking around, Amosta chose a spot by the window. He pushed two tables together, sat down first, then gestured for Harry and the others to take their seats.
"How is your summer homework coming along?"
Amosta folded his hands over his raised leg, his calm gaze resting on the young wizards sitting primly before him.
Everyone gave an affirmative answer.