Defence Association "How are things on your end?"
"Same as always. What about you?"
"Busy lately. The Death Eaters and the thugs under them have been causing trouble all over Britain. The Muggle Mediation Committee has had to run all over the place cleaning up their messes. Everyone's nearly been driven mad by them. I heard the Minister is considering giving anyone they catch causing trouble a good whipping first."
Truman raised his glass and lightly clinked it against Cedric's. After draining his Butterbeer, he looked up at Old Tom across the bar. "Business at the pub hasn't seemed very good lately."
"There used to be a few customers. Thanks to Minister Scrimgeour, there are fewer and fewer people coming into the shop." Tom gloomily polished the glass in his hand. Scrimgeour had thrown most of the wizards who dared come to the pub for a drink into Azkaban Prison.
"I'm considering whether to close this pub or find someone else to take it over."
"At a time like this, I doubt anyone would want it." Truman shook his head. "Without some real ability, they'd be out of business within days."
"There's no helping it. The whole wizarding world is unsafe, and no one dares wander around these days." Cedric set down his glass and smiled at Truman. "All right, we should head back too. Try not to stay out at night, in case we run into trouble."
"You're right. Safety comes first."
Truman took two silver Sickles from his pocket and placed them on the table, then left with Cedric.
The moment they stepped out of the pub, they both Apparated away.
Watching their retreating figures, Old Tom muttered something under his breath.
Cedric and Truman did not go straight home. Instead, they appeared together in a remote, desolate,