Fudge shrugged off his striped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up his dark-green suit trousers and sat down across from Harry.
"Harry, I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic."
Harry already knew exactly who he was. He'd seen that round, cheerful face in the newspapers plenty of times—most recently right below Sirius Black's photograph.
Tom the landlord reappeared, apron tied over his nightshirt, carrying a tray loaded with tea and crumpets. He set it down between them and slipped out again, closing the door softly behind him.
"Well now, Harry," Fudge said as he poured the tea, "I'll be honest with you—you gave us quite a scare, running off from your aunt and uncle like that! I thought… but you're safe now, and that's what matters."
Fudge helped himself to a crumpet, spread butter on it thickly, and pushed the plate toward Harry.
"Go on, eat up. You look half-starved. Don't be shy, Mr. Green."
Fudge gave Sean another warm, slightly too-bright smile.
The seating was oddly arranged: Harry sat against the wall, while Fudge had placed Sean right beside himself. It almost looked like the two of them were jointly questioning Harry.
"Just think—your Aunt Marge inflated like a balloon, and then you vanished. Hard not to put two and two together…
But you were clever, Harry. You found help. Thanks to Mr. Green here, the Ministry has already handled the unfortunate business with Miss Marjorie Dursley. I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear it.
Two hours ago, two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad went to Privet Drive. Miss Dursley has been deflated, her memory modified, and she hasn't the faintest recollection of the whole affair. No harm done."
Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup, the picture of a kindly uncle regarding his favorite nephew.
Harry could hardly believe his ears. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then opened it once more.
"Ah, you're worried about your aunt and uncle's reaction?" Fudge went on. "Well, I won't lie—they're furious, Harry. But they've agreed to let you come back next summer. They simply ask that you stay at Hogwarts for Christmas and Easter."
"I always spend Christmas and Easter at Hogwarts anyway," Harry said.
He waited for the hammer to fall.
"Now, as for the last three weeks of your summer holiday," Fudge continued, taking a second crumpet and loading it with butter, "I suggest you rent a room right here at the Leaky Cauldron—"
"Wait," Harry cut in. "If you knew it was me who used magic, what were you planning to do about it?"
Fudge blinked.
"Punish you?"
"I broke the law!" Harry exclaimed. "The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery!"
"Oh, my dear boy, we wouldn't punish you for a little thing like that!" Fudge waved his crumpet dismissively. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban for blowing up their aunts!"
This was nothing like Harry's previous run-ins with the Ministry.
"Last year I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding at my uncle's house!" Harry frowned. "The Ministry said if any more magic was used there, I'd be expelled from Hogwarts!"
For a split second—unless Harry imagined it—Fudge looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Circumstances change, Harry… we have to look at the bigger picture… and obviously you don't want to be expelled, do you?"
"Of course not," Harry said.
"Well then, no need to dwell on it, eh?" Fudge chuckled lightly. "Now eat your crumpet. I'll go see if Tom has a room ready for you. After that, I'd like a word with Mr. Green. I've been looking forward to this for quite some time."
Fudge strode out of the private parlour. Harry stared after him.
Something felt very wrong. If Fudge wasn't going to punish him, why had the Minister of Magic been waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron in the middle of the night? And why would the Minister personally handle an underage magic violation anyway?
"Sirius," Harry muttered.
He looked up sharply at the pale moonlight outside the window.
"Sean… it's about Sirius, isn't it?"
He knew who to ask.
"Yes," Sean nodded calmly.
"He was Voldemort's most loyal servant. He escaped from Azkaban, and he wants to…"
What else could it be?
He'd blown up an entire street. If Harry Potter had been on that street, Sirius Black probably would have laughed himself sick.
A cold wave of dread washed over Harry.
A dangerous fugitive had broken out of the most secure prison in the wizarding world. No one knew how, but everyone knew what he wanted.
To kill Harry Potter.
"That's why the Minister came…" Harry's throat felt tight. "It wasn't really about Aunt Marge at all…"
"No, Harry," Sean said quietly.
"Sean… can I come back to Hogwarts with you?"
Harry asked carefully, almost pleading.
It would feel so much safer near Sean.
But Sean shook his head.
"I see," Harry said, his voice suddenly hoarse.
"Harry, listen to me," Sean said as Harry stared blankly ahead. "You won't be in any danger."
"What?"
Before Harry could process that, Fudge returned with Tom the landlord.
"Room 10 is taken, but Room 11 is free, Harry," Fudge announced cheerfully. "I think you'll be very comfortable. Just one small thing—I'm sure you'll understand: I'd rather you didn't wander off into Muggle London. Stay within Diagon Alley. Be back here before dark every evening. Tom will keep an eye on you for me.
Now then, Mr. Green—might I have a moment of your time?"
Without waiting for Harry's reply, Fudge beamed and practically ushered Sean out of the room.