Chapter 116: Conversation between the Three Broomsticks
Hermione Granger was of course aware that everyone was staring at her.
She had just come out of Honeydukes, eating a large piece of cream-filled chocolate and mumbling to herself.
It made her look like a mentally disturbed schoolgirl, rather than the level-headed, know-it-all Gryffindor lady she was rumored to be.
No one knew that right next to her, her good friend Harry Potter was hiding under the invisibility cloak, also chewing a piece of cream-filled chocolate in his mouth.
"Look, they're wearing their Cedric badges, but no one's talking about you or that stupid article anymore," she said grumpily. "Well, please take off your Invisibility Cloak for a while. No one's going to bother you."
"Oh, really?" said Harry. "Look behind you."
Hermione glanced back, then nimbly slid close to the wall, avoiding the rumormongering Rita Skeeter, who was coming out of the Three Broomsticks with her photographer friend, and took the invisible Harry through the still-swaying pub door.
The pub was particularly lively today. In addition to Hogwarts students, there were wizards from all over Britain, some foreign wizards, and even banshees, dwarves, and trolls.
Hermione turned her head away, determined not to let her eyes linger on anyone else for too long - that would be a bit rude, wouldn't it?
However, she couldn't ignore a few familiar faces: Lee Jordan and several senior Gryffindor students who were excitedly showing off their new species of spider; Hufflepuff students Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott who were exchanging Chocolate Frog pictures with the people at the next table; and Ravenclaw Seeker Cho Chang and her large group of girlfriends from the same house.
There was an even more formidable presence - Hagrid's huge, shaggy head - who was sitting with Professor Moody, nervously discussing something.
Hermione noticed that Madam Rosmerta was glaring at the curved flask in Professor Moody's hand. She probably thought it was a great sin to be in her tavern and not drink her warm mead.
In the corner, on an empty table with three glasses of butterbeer, Ron was sitting alone, smiling and waiting for them to come. Hermione greeted him happily and slowly moved among the crowd with the invisible Harry.
"Here?" said Ron cheerfully, slipping the Butterbeer under the table.
"Yeah. Why don't you come with us to Honeydukes first and then come here? At least I can talk to myself less awkwardly." Hermione said, shaking her head.
"Don't be silly. It's so hard to find a seat at the Three Broomsticks on open day! I have to come here first to reserve a seat." Ron said as a matter of course, "Listen, today's Butterbeer is mine as an apology for what happened recently."
"Thank you. Try this," Hermione handed Ron a packet of cream-filled chocolates and looked around the tavern. She said thoughtfully, "By the way, maybe I should recruit some villagers to join SPEW."
Hermione was relieved that "Ron and Harry reconciled". She finally had time to reconsider her SPEW cause.
"Yeah, that's right," Ron said. His expression made the boy under the cloak laugh. Harry took a swig of Butterbeer and said from under the table, "Hermione, when are you going to give up this SPEW thing?"
"When the house-elves get decent wages and decent working conditions!" Hermione said confidently. She took out a notebook - which contained the list of SPEW members - and started scribbling on it with a quill.
"I see you just want to win the bet with Draco," Ron said with a smirk. "To recruit ten members, right?"
"You don't understand!" Hermione said stubbornly, "I want to develop not only ten members, but a hundred members, or even more. Whether he becomes my member or not, I will continue to do this."
Ron shrugged, deciding to drop the subject. He looked down the table and said, "Harry, why don't you just show up? No one here will bother you."
"Still not," Harry's voice whispered into the nothingness. "Look at them, they're all wearing badges."
Ron turned and saw a row of "Support Cedric Diggory" badges flashing at Ernie's table.
"I thought you had overcome this psychological barrier." Hermione stopped writing with her quill and said in surprise.
"Why don't you try being me?" Harry said bitterly. "Every morning when you open your eyes, your mental barriers rise anew like the morning sun."
Harry thought he was probably the least popular warrior.
These days, Cedric is surrounded by chattering admirers - he often seems nervous and excited; Fleur Delacour is surrounded by stammering admirers - she is indifferent and calm; Viktor Krum is always followed by a group of fans asking for autographs - but he seems to enjoy poring over the books in the library more.
Only Harry was the least popular.
Wherever he appeared, he was followed by a cacophony of ridicule, which was too much for a sensitive 14-year-old boy who longed for recognition.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," Ron said uneasily, a look of guilt on his face. "I didn't stand by you all those times before... I won't stand by you again."
At this time, Hagrid and Professor Moody seemed to be leaving the bar. They made a special trip around to Hermione's table and greeted them with a smile.
Hermione looked up and smiled at Hagrid, and nodded to Professor Moody. Lately, she had noticed that Draco seemed to have become a little kinder since Professor Moody stopped giving him trouble.
Now, as he bent over her in a friendly manner—seemingly looking over her SPEW list—his mutilated face whispered something under the table.
His voice was so low that Hermione couldn't hear what he said. The only thing she noticed was a strange taste coming from his open mouth.
Hagrid also lowered his head, seemingly speaking to Ron, but actually mumbling to the void under the table. After a while, with Hermione and Ron looking at each other in confusion, the two Hogwarts teachers left quickly without staying for long.
"What did they say?" Ron asked the table in surprise.
Hermione took a sip of her butterbeer and stared at the rickety wooden door at the entrance of the pub, thinking about that familiar smell - she must have smelled it somewhere.
As Hermione pondered the source of the smell, Draco Malfoy was having a conversation with Sirius Black, directly above her.
This was a private room on the second floor of the Three Broomsticks. A bottle of Firewhisky lay overflowing on a transparent coffee table in front of the sofa. On the wall, the hands of a magical clock ticked away. Numerous anti-interference spells, locking spells, and silencing charms enveloped the area, ensuring their conversation was difficult for even the most intrusive gnats to overhear.
"How was your trip?" Draco said with interest, standing at the window and studying the people coming and going outside the tavern.
"It's very disappointing - it's fruitless." Sirius sat in the armchair in front of the fireplace, fiddling with the wine glass in his hand absentmindedly.
"I don't mind you elaborating," Draco said flatly.
"During the Quidditch World Cup, I took Kreacher to that cave by the sea. You know, the one Regulus went to," Sirius said softly, his grey eyes clouded. "I saw everything Kreacher had described."
"And then?" Draco turned around and took a sip of the sparkling water in his hand.
"There's no trace of Voldemort. It's filled with Inferi," Sirius said gravely. "I didn't touch the basin. I only wanted to find Regulus... For three days and three nights - Kreacher and I - we searched one by one. But in the end... there was no result, no solution, no hope."
Draco saw a trace of pain on that handsome face.
"As for the Gaunt mansion, I've been there too. There's nothing left, just ruins - and I don't think Voldemort or Quirrell would stay there." Sirius said dejectedly.
"I'm sorry about that. I thought—" Draco said casually, choosing a cleaner armchair and sitting down, "You know, that resurrection spell… if he knew about it, he would probably use it."
"I understand what you mean. But I just can't find him." Sirius's eyes reflected in the crystal wine glass, "A wandering soul, a half-dead walking corpse, disappeared just like that..."
"At least," said Draco, "we can eliminate two possible places the Dark Lord might have gone.
"That doesn't give me much comfort."
"I don't expect to comfort you," Draco said wearily. "I'm just stating a fact."
The two were silent for a while.
"Not long ago, I learned about the house-elf Hokey in London, and I immediately informed Dumbledore. The elf used to serve Hepzibah Smith. I wonder if it will be of any help to his research." Sirius began to drink his firewhisky as if no one was around.
"I imagine finding that elf won't be easy." Draco glanced at him.
"I used some connections from old friends. After all these years, I didn't expect—" Sirius said in a daze, "that they still remember me."
"It's hard for them to forget you, right? The innocent Black family who's been wrongly accused for over a decade. The Daily Prophet has been reporting on you for a whole month." Draco rolled his eyes. "You've been quite successful. My search for the ring has yielded nothing."
He had tried to find out more about the ring among the Slytherin family, but the few pureblood descendants who might know about the Slytherin relics seemed to be extremely insensitive to the information about the ring.
Either they are completely unaware of this, or they are hiding it too well.
"Dumbledore said he wanted to visit Gaunt House again, right? I'd be happy to go with him, and maybe even look through old Tom Riddle's grave." Sirius's eyes were fixed on the void, a hint of weariness appearing on his face. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin, and Harry has been inexplicably dragged into it again. Dumbledore can't leave now. He must stay at Hogwarts and keep an eye on any destabilizing factors. He'll probably have some free time after the first project is over. Before then, I don't know if I can—"
"Well, Sirius Black, stop being in a daze! Go and be with your godson now, immediately. He is very depressed and in extreme danger." Draco said in a somewhat rough tone.
He gradually discovered that when Sirius Black was alone, his state was different from the one he appeared in front of Harry. He was often quiet to the point of being disturbing. His gray eyes no longer contained joy, but often retained some marks left by Azkaban - a dull and melancholy look.
It was a dangerous look—it reminded Draco of himself looking in the mirror in first year—and it was definitely not a healthy state.
Sirius Black probably needed a distraction, something to do - before the dullness and melancholy ruined the vitality in his eyes - this was the thought that inexplicably came to Draco at this moment.
"Why are you so sure that he would be in extreme danger? You've been reminding me of this since the very beginning, before the Goblet of Fire even appeared." Sirius turned his dull eyes to him, gradually flashing with some sharp sparks.
Draco looked at him calmly, without blinking, "Because I believe him. I believe his dreams, I believe his scar hurts for a reason, and I believe he didn't throw his name into the Goblet of Fire."
Sirius looked at him blankly.
"I don't mean to be nosy. But I think you need to make one thing clear to him—that you trust him—rather than acting like, 'I understand you, if it were me, I would also secretly put my name in,'" Draco said. "Excuse me, you seem to be avoiding this issue."
"I admit, I think it's possible that he threw it in himself." Sirius said nonchalantly, his eyes filled with a hint of eagerness that had been awakened from the ice and snow. "If it were me—"
Draco had imagined this in his previous life, but he would never be so shallow, arrogant, or conceited as to make the same assumption again in this life.
"He's not you, and he's not James Potter," he said sharply.
The silence ended abruptly.
After a while, Sirius Black looked at a dead leaf flying past the window and sighed softly with melancholy.
"I know that his character is more like Lily's in some ways, very kind and noble." His tone was bitter. "I just - I miss the feeling of going on adventures with James."
"But this is unfair to Harry," Draco said tartly. "He is not like you and me, born and raised in the wizarding world, with everything in this world at our fingertips. He is just a boy who knows nothing about this world. What he needs is a guide, not just a buddy. You are his godfather, and the responsibilities and issues you have to pay attention to are far more than just sending an owl to deliver a basket of candy. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Sirius said, waving his hand. "But I don't want to make the atmosphere too heavy. I want him to be happy. He's been doing well lately, hasn't he? The tone of his last letter was more lively than before."
"Please! When he's in front of you, he'll suppress his unhappiness - he doesn't want you to worry. But think about it, Sirius Black! How could he still be happy at this moment?" Draco said impatiently, hoping that the handsome man in front of him would mature quickly.
"What does this mean?" Sirius asked.
"Let me tell you a fact - I guess Harry will never tell you this - at the moment, except for the Gryffindor students, almost everyone is dissatisfied with him and thinks he is cheating. Harry is not the kind of person who does his own thing and doesn't care about the outside voice. He doesn't wear the invisibility cloak and doesn't even want to come to Hogsmeade. You have to enlighten him. Otherwise, before he even faces that damn dragon, he will be overwhelmed by the voices of opposition." Draco finished his long speech in one breath, raised his glass, and drank the glass of sparkling water.
"Why are you so concerned about my godson?" Sirius looked at him with a half-smile. "Who said that I'm not his godfather and don't intend to take care of him?"
"That's not the problem!" Draco glared at him, standing up abruptly, intending to end the conversation as quickly as possible. "The problem is that the gossip around him is wearing down his morale, and the reports haven't had any positive impact on him. I've noticed that he lacks confidence and concentration when practicing spells, which has greatly affected the effectiveness of his spells."
"Okay, I'll talk to him again." Sirius said with a smile, "Thank you, Draco. With all due respect, you are the epitome of duplicity."
Draco pursed his lips and said nothing more.
——He always felt that he was meddling in other people's affairs.
He seemed to be less and less like a Slytherin who didn't care about anything else - and was being invaded by some kind of Gryffindor-style stupid thinking of meddling in other people's affairs - which made him feel a little at a loss.
So he opened the door angrily and walked out quickly, leaving Sirius Black's meaningful gaze in the room.
As it got darker, the lights on the staircase walls came on.
He slowly walked down the stairs and found that the smoky pub's first floor was also lit with a few candles. Several Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students were lazily walking out the door, their faces slightly flushed from the butterbeer.
Through the gaps created by the five banshees, two dwarves and a troll sitting in the hall, Draco spotted Hermione's striking brown hair in the dim light.
She was holding a quill, writing something at her desk; Ron, who was sitting next to her, was holding up his cup with great interest, pretending to drink his butterbeer, and occasionally saying a word or two to her with a smile.
In an instant, a sour emotion filled his heart.
Heartless Hermione Granger!
Finally, one day, she didn't have to worry about Viktor Krum staring at her in the library, but was sitting alone, intimately, and happily with other boys in the tavern in Hogsmeade.
Draco took a step forward and stood beside her in no time.
He tried hard to control his raging temper and his failing expression, so he gritted his teeth and didn't speak immediately.
At this moment, he saw her turn her head and said to Ron seriously, "But the smell on him is really very familiar-"
They were too close! Draco's efforts were immediately thwarted.
He couldn't help but use a questioning tone: "What are you doing?"
"Draco? When did you get here?" Hermione hurriedly rolled up the parchment in front of her, fearing that he would see her sparse membership list and show a smug look on his face as if he had known this.
She said hurriedly, "You—you scared me!"
"Why are you panicking?" Draco glanced at the parchment she had bound tightly and said in a hurt tone, "What little secret are you hiding?"
"Nothing important," Hermione said perfunctorily, rolling the parchment tighter. Then she interrupted, "Would you like to sit down and have a drink with us?"
We? Draco frowned – he didn't like that word.
"Oh, yes, Draco, I could buy you a drink too," said Ron cheerfully. "Thanks to you -"
Also? What do you mean? Is Ron buying Hermione a drink? Draco's face fell.
"No need," Draco interrupted rudely, looking at Hermione reproachfully. "He offered you a drink—and you just accepted it?"
"What's wrong? Is there something wrong?" Hermione asked in surprise, "What's wrong with you today? Are you a little fussy?"
"What a fuss—" Draco showed a strange smile, glared at Ron who was a little confused, then glanced at Hermione who had a calm expression, and felt a toothache.
His tone grew even colder. "Perhaps, I'm making a fuss out of nothing. I won't bother you any more then." He turned and walked away.
"Wait!" Harry - under his Invisibility Cloak - suddenly grabbed the edge of Draco's robes and whispered anxiously, "And me! I'm under the table! Have you forgotten me?"
"Oh—" Draco turned back and stammered, "Huh, Harry?"
He felt his cold face begin to heat up. It seemed he had completely misunderstood.
For some reason, his impulsive brain completely forgot about the fact that "Harry was wearing an invisible cloak".
He stooped and peered under the table, and saw Harry's face emerging from the shadows, then a hand clutching an empty butterbeer mug.
Harry said with a stifled laugh, "Since you've come all this way, could you please put the cup on the table for me?"
"Of course, of course." Draco said dryly, putting the cup on the table, feeling at a loss.
"Draco, what's wrong with you?" Hermione asked, pushing the cup towards the center of the table for him. "I thought you were mad at me. This temper comes like a tornado. It's a bit strange, isn't it, Ron?"
"I thought he was mad at me—" Ron said to Hermione. "I'm pretty sure he just gave me a nasty look." He turned and looked at Draco in confusion. "I didn't piss you off, did I, Draco?"
Draco coughed dryly and whispered, "Of course not."
At this moment, the bad mood in his eyes disappeared, replaced by a sincere look mixed with joy.
"I was completely mistaken," he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite grasp the situation. Well, shall I buy you another drink? It'll be right up—" Without giving them a chance to refuse, he hurried over to Madam Rosmerta to order the drinks.
"Don't you understand what's going on? You awkward Slytherin!" Ron said to his friend under the table, "Harry, do you understand?"
"I don't understand. I don't understand at all," said Harry gravely. "However, I'd love to have another hot, sweet butterbeer. The air is so pungent with lemon..."
Ron shrugged. "Anyway, I forgive his quirkiness, considering he's so sincere."
"Haven't you noticed he's been acting really strange lately?" Hermione complained to her friends, staring at the tall, graceful young man at the counter. "There's something off about him! He's more unpredictable than the weather in June!"
Harry's mischievous laughter came from under the table, and he said meaningfully, "Yeah, I have no idea why, Hermione.