Room 1
Sean stopped quietly beside the fireplace.
Fudge watched him with that smooth, oily smile, the way a man might admire a priceless artifact.
"How much longer until you graduate, Mr. Green? I hear you'll be starting your third year soon. Who would've thought—our dear Mr. Green is still a student who hasn't even sat his O.W.L.s yet?"
Fudge's flattery didn't feel insulting. It was simply… practiced.
Sean gave a small nod.
"I mean, a wizard of your caliber. What do they call you these days—the Future Greatest Wizard? The youngest name ever on a Chocolate Frog card? Or… the one destined to surpass Dumbledore himself?"
Fudge chuckled warmly.
"They say your talent already outshines Dumbledore's. I wonder if that's true."
"Headmaster Dumbledore is far greater than I am," Sean replied without hesitation.
"Ah, well, that's now. The future, Mr. Green—the future belongs to you."
Fudge circled the point like a man testing thin ice.
Sean stared at him in silence. Those vivid green eyes had a way of seeing straight through people.
He understood exactly what Fudge wanted.
Minister for Magic—the highest office in Britain's wizarding world, at least on paper. The man who kept the whole machine running.
Yet Fudge had never quite managed the authority that should have come with the title. Because Britain already had one wizard who stood above everyone else.
Albus Dumbledore. The Greatest Wizard of the Age.
"Oh, I just wanted you to know—I'll be supporting you, of course…"
Fudge finished with another slick smile, eyes glued to Sean's face.
But that face remained perfectly calm.
"Thank you," Sean said.
"Wonderful! Well, the Ministry has urgent business, so I must leave you for now. But know this—my heart is with you."
Fudge patted his large belly and headed for the door. Just before he stepped out, he gave Sean a conspiratorial wink.
"Hoo-hoo—"
Right on cue, Bai Yi swooped in through the open window. The white owl tilted her head, staring after Fudge's retreating back with clear disapproval.
Magical creatures always had sharper instincts than wizards.
So… what kind of man was Cornelius Fudge?
Slick, ambitious, perhaps a little greedy. But undeniably a politician, and a clever one at that. A wizard with no outstanding magical talent had still become Minister through pure political maneuvering.
That "support" he'd just offered had probably been whispered to Dumbledore a hundred times before.
As Hagrid once put it: "Old Cornelius Fudge hasn't got a brain in his head. Always messing things up. That's why he sends owls to Dumbledore every morning asking for advice."
Sean pictured Dumbledore waking up buried under a flock of owls and couldn't help a small smile.
Was Fudge offering support to Sean himself?
Maybe. But what he really wanted was a wizard who could stand as a counterweight to Dumbledore.
What Fudge didn't know was that Sean had been Dumbledore's man most of the time.
And what Sean didn't know was that, long ago, Dumbledore had quietly become the little wizard's man—completely and without reservation.
Outside the Leaky Cauldron, the sky was shifting fast—from deep velvet blue to chilly grey, then slowly to a pink streaked with gold.
Fires crackled warmly in Rooms 1, 10, and 11.
Outside Room 11, Harry followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door marked with a brass 11.
Tom unlocked it and pushed the door open.
Inside was a comfortable-looking bed, gleaming oak furniture, and a cheerful fire dancing in the grate. On top of the wardrobe—
"Hedwig!"
Harry cried out in delight.
The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto his arm.
"That's a clever owl you've got there," Tom said with a soft laugh. "She arrived five minutes after you did. If you need anything at all, Mr. Potter, just ask."
He bowed and left.
If Hedwig's arrival had eased some of the tension in Harry's chest, the next sound tightened it right back up.
Knock knock knock.
Sean stood outside, glancing at the brass 11, then at the 10 right beside it.
Will had told him Sirius was in the next room.
By some strange twist of fate, Harry and Sirius were separated by nothing more than a single wall.
Sean raised his Magic Hand Mirror. The surface rippled, showing a respectful Will and a gaunt Sirius Black hunched over a newspaper, reading intently.
Sean pressed his ear to the wall. His eyes, however, stayed fixed on every line about "Green" in the paper.
"The wizard who defeated Voldemort's servant"… "The wizard who discovered the Chamber of Secrets and slew the basilisk"… "The wizard who pulled Gryffindor's sword"…
Sirius's brow was deeply furrowed. In the decades he'd been locked away in Azkaban, a genius like this had appeared in the wizarding world.
"An ignorant wizard," Will muttered.
"You're right, Puck," Sirius whispered.
He had already figured out who Will was. What filled him with almost unbearable joy was the news that someone had just taken the room right next door. Unless his ears—tortured for years in Azkaban—had deceived him, Tom the landlord had clearly said the name—
"Harry."
Sean looked at the open door and spoke softly.
"Sean!"
Harry's face lit up with surprise.
They sat down together. Harry had no idea that on the other side of the wall, a trembling ear was pressed flat against the plaster.
"You said I wasn't in any danger, Sean. Why? That criminal, Sirius Black, he—"
Harry asked carefully, testing the waters.
"He won't hurt you, Harry," Sean said calmly.
"But—why—"
Harry was completely lost.
His mind spun. Maybe Sirius was coming after Sean instead—after all, Sean had ruined Voldemort's plans over and over. Or maybe Sirius still blamed him, Harry Potter, for making Voldemort disappear in the first place.
Next door, Sirius was already fighting the urge to burst through the wall.
"Wait! You idiot—you'll get caught! You want to ruin my master's plan?!"
Will drew his bow and blocked him.
"Let me…"
Sirius knew he couldn't get past the goblin in his current weakened state. His voice cracked with desperation.
"Please… ask your master… just let me see him once…"