Hermione had never cared about what others thought. Once she set a goal, she was the kind of person who would persevere until she achieved it.
Vincent said nothing, merely tightening his grip on her small hand.
Their eyes met. Some things did not need to be spoken outright; a simple look was enough.
After a moment, Vincent gently patted Hermione's hand. "I'm going to speak with Professor Dumbledore."
Hermione nodded, her expression instantly becoming complicated.
Judging by her reaction, the situation at Azkaban did not seem very optimistic.
Vincent rose and sat down at the bar. Dumbledore smiled and shook his head at him.
"Professor, over at Azkaban..."
"All the prisoners escaped. I caught some of them, and I tried tracking the rest, but I failed."
Since it was Voldemort's handiwork, it naturally could not have been some minor disturbance.
"The ones who escaped were Death Eaters?"
Dumbledore remained silent, which amounted to an admission.
Vincent sighed and looked at Aberforth behind the bar. "Mr. Dumbledore, a whiskey, please. No ice."
Aberforth simply took out a bottle of whiskey and set it in front of him.
Vincent picked up his glass and waved it before Dumbledore. "Professor, would you like a drink?"
Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. "No, my boy. I still have a great many things to deal with later."
The Death Eaters from Azkaban had escaped, and Fudge had chosen this very moment to order Scrimgeour to lead a team in arresting Vincent. Luckily, Fudge had not dared to put Dumbledore on the wanted list. Otherwise, with the Ministry of Magic's pathetic fighting strength, Voldemort could march in and occupy it whenever he pleased. Umbridge, that supreme bootlicker, might even personally hang up banners to welcome him.
At the thought of that image, Vincent nearly spat