The short, fat wizard leapt three feet into the air. Ignoring Vaughan, he launched into a torrent of abuse at Lupin. "Merlin's feet! Bastard! Piece of shit! How dare you tell him my name?"
Lupin had no way to defend himself and was just about to say something.
But Vaughan had already tapped the table. In an instant, ripples spread outward in rings.
Magical ripples enveloped the table.
It was as though this patch of space had been draped in a thin veil. Light and shadow warped under an unseen force, leaving Vaughan and the others as nothing more than blurry outlines in the eyes of the bar's other patrons.
The transmission of sound was also disrupted by magic, turning into a dull buzzing that could not be made out at all.
Behind the bar, Aberforth—who had been halfheartedly wiping glasses with a filthy rag while secretly keeping an eye on Vaughan's group—gave an annoyed snort at the sight.
Across from him, a wizard who had been staring at the rag in his hand for quite some time reminded him, "That looks awful. Why don't you use a Cleaning Charm on that rag?"
Aberforth glared at him viciously. "Quit your nonsense. Drink if you want to drink. If not, get lost!"
The wizard's face reddened, but he did not dare say another word.
The Hog's Head was quite famous throughout England. Since the century before last, it had always been a renowned gray-market establishment. Its owners, generation after generation, had never been easy to deal with—or rather, the fact that they could openly run a gray-market pub in Hogsmeade without Aurors coming to cause trouble said plenty on its own.
Inside Vaughan's magical barrier.
Mundungus curiously reached out and touched the warped light beside him. Through the magical fluctuations, he