Hogsmeade.
The lingering glow of sunset spilled over a cluster of Victorian redbrick houses behind the street.
At a glance, their pointed rooftops seemed draped in gold.
Wisps of cooking smoke rose like clouds in the sky, complementing the golden rooftops and painting Hogsmeade as a heavenly kingdom.
But that was how the world worked: wherever sunlight fell, darkness followed, and once the sun set, night would come.
In one corner of this residential district, a group sat around a round table, discussing something in the basement of a small house where an American wizard merchant was temporarily staying.
Apart from the three at the head of the table, who wore cloaks embroidered with the Double Serpent Cross, everyone showed their true faces.
Had Barty Crouch Sr. been there, he would have recognized many of them: senior officials from various countries' Ministries of Magic and powerful pure-blood figures.
Among them was Tuka Tiwari, the deputy minister of India's Ministry of Magic, who had previously been taken away by the Purple-Robed Wizarding Police for disturbing the peace.
The middle-aged man, who had stuck garlic up his nostrils to pass himself off as someone important, grumbled indignantly.
"What are these English people trying to do? They actually refuse to give pure-bloods and powerful people any privileges! I was locked up for three whole days and had to pay compensation before they released me on bail."
The Cloak Figures at the head of the table held a green scepter entwined with two hands. Dissatisfaction and disdain flashed through his exposed emerald eyes.
He turned to the man beside him.
"Is this the sort of trash that passes for the Pure-blood Association's old guard now? Why was he allowed into our secret meeting?"
The man he questioned did not explain the Tiwari family's influence