I told you the Ministry couldn't be trusted! I'm going to Gringotts to withdraw my money!

"The North Sea, the Dark Mark!"

Those words made Cornelius Fudge feel as though a dried toad covered in spines had been stuffed down his throat.

He staggered back a step, his heel striking the stone steps of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, and nearly fell backward into the laps of a family of three enjoying toad-and-mint ice cream at the next table.

His face instantly went from red to white, then from white to blue, finally turning a purplish color that mixed terror with oxygen deprivation.

"The Dementors are there... I have Dementors... This is definitely a false alarm! Your company's equipment is faulty!"

Fudge muttered to himself, but all conviction had drained from his voice, like a punctured balloon.

Azkaban, the Dark Mark.

Either of those two terms alone was enough to send a magnitude-eight earthquake through his political career.

Now, they had actually appeared together.

Just as Fudge felt his world spinning and collapsing.

A man squeezed his way over.

"Mr. Black? Oh, Merlin, and Mr. Lupin too!"

When the man saw Sirius and Lupin, an expression mixing delighted surprise and anxiety appeared on his face, as though he had spotted water in the desert only to find a dragon guarding it.

"Excuse me, have you seen Douglas? He promised to give me the first draft of Magic Apprentice this summer!"

Slane never even noticed Fudge's face, which looked on the verge of a stroke. He only had eyes for the manuscript.

"The readers are about to tear down the publisher's Owlery! The Howlers they've sent have piled into a small mountain there, and every morning, staff members get shouted at so badly they have to go to St. Mungo's to have their ears treated!"

Sirius and Lupin quickly exchanged a glance, the amusement hidden in it