No one replied, they just turned their heads, resumed their own conversations, and continued to chat in low voices.
It was as if they were saying, "It has nothing to do with me,"
instead of, "I chickened out."
Draco felt a bit awkward, as people were treating them as if they didn't exist. However, Harry was quite satisfied; this was the effect he wanted.
"Thank you, but you didn't have to." Nagini nodded slightly, expressing her gratitude politely and distantly.
She remained wary of Harry.
"It's fine." Harry nodded slightly and said no more.
At the same time, Aberforth came over, carrying two bottles of liquor. His brows were furrowed with inquiry. Nagini apologized and walked towards Aberforth, beginning to whisper what had happened.
After hearing what had transpired that day, Aberforth's face darkened, and he said in a deep voice, "How many times has this happened today?"
"This…" Nagini paused, then softly said, "It's my first time seeing them."
"No." Aberforth shook his head. "I'm asking how many times these scoundrels have harassed you… Never mind, you don't have to answer me!"
Having been alone for too long, Aberforth was always insensitive to the feelings of others. A century of time had made him see through most things, and he felt indifferent to anything.
Nagini had definitely not been harassed for the first time. He was familiar with the scoundrelly behavior of these patrons—even verbal harassment wasn't enough to send someone to Azkaban; many "good people" had done such things.
But he would never allow it!
"If such a situation happens again in the future, you don't need to tolerate it, and you don't need to save face for me. Just retaliate directly." Aberforth said sternly.
"Understood, sir." Nagini nodded.
Aberforth nodded helplessly, opened a bottle of liquor, poured a glass, and said, "Nagini, I told you, you don't have to do these trivial things. You can choose your own life. I've thought many times about what you would do after waking up, but only…"
"Sir, this is my choice." Nagini smiled, picked up the glass, and walked towards Draco and Harry's table.
"Your tequila." she said softly.
"Thank you." Draco nodded slightly. After Nagini left, he eagerly took a sip.
A moment later, he suppressed a grimace: "It's boring… I've always liked the name of this liquor, but the taste is a bit…"
Harry patiently listened to Draco's evaluation of the liquor—presumably some vocabulary he had learned from Lucius.
A moment later, when Draco had said enough, Harry looked back at the fireplace.
"He didn't come…"
"Wait a bit longer?" Draco also looked impatient.
Just as they were speaking, flames suddenly rose from the pub's fireplace, and a bow-legged man quickly stepped out, his face flushed. His murky yellow eyes, like a rat's, constantly scanned the pub.
Then, his gaze fell on Harry, and he swallowed. Seeing that the two hadn't noticed him, he quickly patted his face, forcing himself to be alert.
Fortunately…
Then, he quickly walked up to the two of them, skillfully pulled up a chair, and sat down.
Draco glanced at him, then twitched his nose: "You're late… Have you been drinking? It seems our business is far less important to you than your drinking sessions!"
"No… it's not." Mundungus quickly waved his hand, wanting to explain.
"Explanations are useless, just get to the point." Draco said, "Where are the things we asked for?"
"I have them! I have them!" Mundungus nodded quickly. "I pulled some strings and found two people. I'm really sorry, it's not that I didn't try hard enough.
People who come out of Azkaban are either too depressed to interact with outsiders, or they've already committed suicide due to depression. There are also some who are completely crazy and incoherent, totally unable to communicate.
I really struggled to find these two, and…"
"And what?"
"As I said, people who come out of Azkaban are a bit…" Mundungus whispered, "For example, the first person I found, he's currently doing delivery work in Diagon Alley, barely earning enough for food every day.
And the second one is a bit crazy. You might even know him; he's the one-legged beggar in Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley."
"I don't know him." Draco said, "But… who's the delivery guy? Is he available tonight?!"
At least this one could still earn a living on his own, so he should be more normal to communicate with.
"Of course! Of course! His life is very difficult." Mundungus nodded quickly. "Would you like me to contact him?"
"Right now." Draco nodded.
As soon as he finished speaking, Mundungus jumped up as if from a torture chair and quickly re-entered the fireplace, disappearing.
"I thought he'd say for us to go there or something…" Draco whispered.
"We wouldn't go anyway." Harry said.
"Only a fool would go." Draco's lips curved upwards. "But this guy is really… unreliable, reeking of alcohol. Do you think he might just pull in a familiar swindler and team up to trick us?!"
Harry was silent for a moment. Logically, Mundungus, with them holding leverage over him, shouldn't do such a foolish thing, but… it was indeed possible.
"It's possible, let's be careful later."
With that, the two also fell silent, listening to the other patrons in the pub chattering and recounting recent events.
Lloyd caught a cold two days ago and tried to mix some alcohol into his cold medicine, which resulted in him sleeping for two days, and his family began preparing his funeral.
Edson was walking in London yesterday and bumped into a Muggle. They got into an argument, so he secretly followed the guy and used his wand to turn the other person's wallet and keys into rats…
All sorts of trivial magical anecdotes swirled around their ears.
More than ten minutes later, the fireplace once again flared with dazzling green flames.
Mundungus and a haggard man with a sunken eye socket, looking listless and dejected, walked out of it.
"He's right here." Mundungus said.
"What?" The man seemed a bit dazed. "Who?!"
"It's the person I just told you about, remember?!" Mundungus quickly reminded him.
"Oh… oh, yes." The man nodded. "So it's about that."
As he spoke, the two of them walked over to Harry and Draco's table.
"Let's talk outside." Harry and Draco stood up and walked out.
Outside, the cold wind blew, quickly dispersing the languor that had risen in the warm room.
"Introduce him, Mundungus." Draco said softly, while also noticing the large, cracked pit in the muddy country road.
Clearly, that was where Harry had taken action earlier.
"His name is Paul Shaner. Five years ago, after getting drunk, he walked out of the Leaky Cauldron into London via Diagon Alley, and on the way, he injured a Muggle, also causing multiple people to witness a magical event. He was sentenced to… I think it was two years."
"Ah… that one… that was truly a desperate experience." Paul looked ahead with vacant eyes.
Mundungus reminded them, "I knew this guy before… He wasn't like this then, but he's been like this ever since he came out of Azkaban, dazed, having nightmares every night, he's already…"
As he spoke, Mundungus tapped his temple with his hand, then showed his yellow-stained teeth, with a fawning smile.
"But he definitely knows everything about that place."
"Yes." Paul's eyes regained a bit of their sparkle. "However, I need money. After getting out of there, my life went completely awry—I must have money!"
"Good." Draco nodded. "As long as your information is indeed what we want!"
"You can ask, I can tell you everything I know."
"Then tell us everything you know." Draco said.
"Okay." Paul nodded, then began to speak: "Azkaban, it's called the most terrifying prison. Actually, I don't know if that's true or false—after all, it's the only prison in Britain."
As he spoke, he seemed to drift off again, pausing for a long time.
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