It was destined to be a long night, Fudge was not the only one who stayed up all night in London.
The rain finally stopped when the first rays of the grey morning light rose above the River Thames.
The last few drops of water from the pipe dripped down the eaves, making a crisp sound on the stone pavement, and then everything returned to calm.
The air was filled with a damp smell, washed by the rain, mixed with the scent of earth and grass, as if the entire city had been washed clean from head to toe.
The first to leave was the milkman. As he rode his clanging old bicycle into the alley, he saw the bakery owner standing at the door, clutching a wet newspaper, his face showing the expression of someone who had seen a ghost.
"Did you hear that sound last night?" the bakery owner asked immediately, skipping any greetings.
"What's that sound?" The milkman propped up his cart and took the tin box off the back seat.
"The radio was saying something about 'invading London,' and my wife woke me up in the middle of the night, saying there were people shouting outside."
The bakery owner turned to a page in the newspaper and leaned close to the milkman. "Look, there's nothing in this morning's paper. Nothing at all!"
The milkman frowned. "Maybe someone's radio is having a problem?"
"How could a crosstalk broadcast cause such a commotion? The whole street could hear it!"
Before they could continue arguing, a series of hurried footsteps came from the street corner.
The accountant's wife who lived next door rushed out wrapped in a thick bathrobe, her hair still uncombed, holding a small radio in her hand.
"Listen! Listen!" She turned the volume up to the maximum, and the BBC announcer's signature calm voice came from the radio.
"... A government spokesperson issued a statement early this morning explaining the unusual broadcast signals heard in parts of London last night."
"After investigation by the technical department, the signal was determined to be a long-distance broadcast crosstalk caused by reflection from the atmospheric ionosphere, a rare but completely normal physical phenomenon."
The government is reminding the public not to panic...
"That's it?" The bakery owner's eyes widened. "That's it?"
"There's more to come," the accountant's wife lowered her voice, bringing the radio closer. "Listen."
The announcer paused for a moment, then spoke again with an undisguised excitement in his voice:
"According to another cabinet source, the governments of Great Britain and Gaul reached an important trade and economic understanding last night."
" The Gaul side agreed to take into full account Great Britain's special circumstances when discussing monetary integration at the upcoming Europe Community finance ministers' meeting."
"And pledged to provide Great Britain with more favorable transitional arrangements in the areas of tariffs and financial services..."
The bakery owner's mouth dropped open, and the milkman nearly dropped the bottle he was holding.
"You heard me right." The accountant's wife took the radio back and hugged it to her arms, her face showing the expression of someone who had just won the lottery. " Gaul has conceded! For the first time in decades!"
The bakery owner stared blankly for a while, then suddenly slapped his thigh. "My God! That sound from last night—"
"It was a broadcast malfunction," the accountant said, clearly not concerned about the sound from last night. "The government has already addressed it."
By this time, people were starting to emerge from the alley, pushing open their doors and walking out. They were holding morning newspapers and teacups, gathering in twos and threes.
The news on the radio continued, the announcer's voice drifting through the open window and reaching everyone's ears.
"... The government spokesperson emphasized in the statement that Great Britain's central role in Europe affairs is unshakeable, and any claim that our country will be marginalized is baseless..."
"Well said!" An old man in overalls raised his teacup and toasted it towards the sun.
"It should have been done a long time ago! The French should have given in by now!"
"That's right!" The shopkeeper next door, leaning against the doorframe, shelled peas as she loudly agreed.
"I knew it! When did we, Great Britain, become the ones being told what to do?"
The bakery owner at the alley entrance had no time to chat with the milkman anymore. He turned around, rushed back into the shop, shoved the unbaked bread onto the counter, grabbed the phone, and started dialing.
"Hey? Old John! Did you hear the news? Over in Gaul— "
An equally excited voice came from the other end of the phone. "I heard it! I was just about to call you! Do you think this is real?"
"Could what's broadcast on the radio be false?"
Similar conversations spread like wildfire throughout London over the next hour.
From the working-class neighborhoods of the East Side to the upscale residences of the West Side, from the farmers' markets on the South Bank to the factory districts of the North Suburbs, the first thing people say when they meet is no longer "Good morning," but rather "Have you heard?"
On the streets and alleys, people's faces were filled with an irrepressible excitement.
Those office workers who were frowning yesterday because of the economic downturn are walking down the street with their backs straighter today.
The elderly women walking their dogs in the park no longer gathered around the benches to discuss the weather or their grandchildren's grades, but rather the extent to which the Gaul would concede.
Do you think they will lower the tariffs to the lowest possible level?
"That's not necessarily true, but at least there should be some information regarding the currency."
"My son works in the City of London, and he said the whole office was talking about this this morning."
"Of course, this is a big deal."
Even those who don't usually pay much attention to politics bought a newspaper today, which is unprecedented.
The newsstand owner was incredibly busy, taking money and saying to each customer, "See that? This is Great Britain!"
"I knew it! When have we ever lost?"
The statement about the "broadcast malfunction" was like a pebble thrown into the ocean, creating only a tiny ripple on the surface before sinking Silencio to the bottom.
Nobody really cares what that sound from last night was all about.
No one bothered to investigate whether "atmospheric ionospheric reflection" could actually produce that deafening effect.
Faced with this bombshell news, all those doubts became insignificant.
Someone in a bar even shouted while holding a beer, "Who cares what that sound is! Maybe it's someone from the Gaul who's drunk and shouting!"
The people around burst into laughter, clinking their glasses together.
However, just as this nationwide excitement reached its peak, someone discovered something new.
It was Mary, a clerk at the flagship bookstore on Oxford Street, who first noticed it.
She arrived half an hour earlier than usual this morning because the heavy rain last night had blown the promotional materials in front of the store into disarray, and she had to clean them up before opening the store.
She walked out of the subway station wrapped in her coat and headed toward the bookstore on Oxford Street, still calculating in her mind how much stock she needed to restock that morning.
Then she turned the corner and glanced up in the direction of Bloomsbury Publishing.
As a result, he was frozen in place as if he had been Petrificus Totalus.
On the outer wall of the publishing house, where yesterday's poster for " Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Part 1)" was hanging, a huge new poster has now completely covered it.
The poster's main color is a deep, almost inky dark green, like the depths of Forbidden Forest illuminated by moonlight.
In the very center, a huge serpentine creature coiled around an ancient stone wall, its scales gleaming with a cold silver light in the dark green shadows.
At the center, encircled by the snake's body, is a line of large, silver-plated, ornate characters:
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Part 2)
At the bottom of the poster, there was a line of smaller text, slightly smaller than the main title, but also foil-plated, Winky in the morning light:
"Released globally on November 15th."