Rodolphus's fingers paused on the tabletop. Then he spoke, his voice far steadier than it had been a year ago, carrying the composure of someone who had regained his confidence. "Last week, the London initiative sent over a newcomer. They said he was an ordinary clerk transferred from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He seemed very interested in sentencing matters at Azkaban."
"What did he look like?"
"Thin, with dark blond hair and an unsteady gaze," Rodolphus said. "When he asked questions, he kept staring into your eyes. The pressure was intense. I don't believe he was some clerical worker transferred over. He looked like one of the elites among the Hit Wizards."
"Before he left, he also asked what we thought about the higher-ups wanting to permanently station a team of Hit Wizards here to replace the uncontrollable Dementors." Bella turned to Betty for help, worry written all over her face.
"Looks like someone inside the Ministry of Magic wants to make a big move... It doesn't matter. Just carry on as usual. Anyone who dares set their sights on us won't meet a good end. Whoever they are, if they get in the way, deal with them."
Betty reassured them both and set down her teacup. Her fingertip circled the rim once, and she did not speak right away. She looked at Rodolphus, then at Bella, pausing long enough for the weight of her next words to settle.
"Madara has new arrangements for the two of you," she said.
Bella's brow twitched. The hand holding her teacup did not shake, but her thumb tightened around the handle as she waited for Betty to continue.
"Someone will come into contact with you soon. Not one of ours—a middleman sent by the Death Eaters. Their goal is clear: they