Britain, 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 far from pleased. He absentmindedly polished a glass while secretly watching the foreigners from the corner of his eye, seemingly worried that these outsiders would bring trouble to his door.
Old Tom wanted badly to find an excuse to throw every customer out, but his years of experience running a pub told him not to do that. Otherwise, he would surely end up in serious trouble.
What had happened in Hogsmeade two nights ago had not appeared in the Daily Prophet, but Old Tom knew about it.
Like many other wizards, he had been secretly listening to the Wizard Lookout Station broadcasts. Naturally, he could guess that the people before him were all Dark wizards from abroad.
Judging from the fury in their voices, it was not hard to tell just how deeply they hated the Death Eaters.
It was best not to provoke them right now, especially since most Dark wizards were not the reasonable sort.
But Old Tom was truly worried that a Death Eater might suddenly walk into the pub. If that happened, something terrible was bound to occur.
Yet sometimes, the very thing one feared most came to pass.
Just as he handed a glass of Fire Whiskey to the Frenchman at the bar, whose English was atrocious, he saw a familiar figure appear at the entrance. Old Tom's heart leapt into his throat.
The newcomer was a scoundrel named Rudolph.
Rumor had it 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, he came here for drinks whenever he had the