Chapter 493: One Wall Apart

Room 1 meeting room.

Wizard Sean silently stopped beside the fireplace.

Fudge regarded Wizard Sean with his slick smile, as if inspecting some treasure.

“How long until you graduate, Mr. Green? I hear you’re about to enter third year.”

“Oh my, who would have thought? Dear Mr. Green is still a student who hasn’t even taken his O.W.L.s?”

Fudge’s flattery did not sound offensive.

But Wizard Sean merely nodded slightly.

“I mean, a wizard as outstanding as yourself.

How do they refer to you—future greatest wizard? Youngest wizard on Chocolate Frog cards? Or… the one destined to surpass Dumbledore, the foremost wizard in the magical world?”

Fudge said with a beaming smile,

“People say your talent will surpass Dumbledore—no one knows if that’s true.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore is far superior to me.”

Wizard Sean replied without hesitation.

“Ah, ah, that’s now—what about the future? Mr. Green, the future is yours.”

Fudge circled around the subject.

Wizard Sean stared at him silently, those green eyes always possessing the power to see through a person’s soul.

Wizard Sean probably understood Fudge’s purpose.

Minister for Magic, the theoretically highest position in British wizarding society.

In charge of the operation of British wizarding society.

Yet Fudge did not seem to hold the status befitting his power, for British wizarding society always had one transcendent wizard—

The greatest wizard of the century—Albus Dumbledore.

“Ah, I just want you to know this—I will support you…”

Fudge finished his oily words and fixed all his attention on Wizard Sean’s face.

But that face remained calm, revealing nothing.

“Thank you.”

Wizard Sean said.

“Oh, that’s good then—the Ministry has urgent matters. I must take my leave.

But you see, you know—my heart is with you—”

Fudge departed, his large belly swaying.

Before leaving, he winked at Wizard Sean.

“Goo—goo—”

Just then, Bai Yi flew in through the window.

It tilted its head, staring at Fudge’s back—clearly, it did not like the fat wizard.

Magical creatures’ senses are always keener than wizards’.

So… what kind of man was Fudge?

Perhaps oily and smooth-tongued, perhaps greedy and corrupt—but undeniably, he was a politician, possessing the basic wisdom of one.

A wizard with few real advantages, holding the post of Minister for Magic not through convincing strength, but through political maneuvering.

His so-called support had probably been spoken countless times to Headmaster Dumbledore.

After all, as Hagrid said:

“Cornelius Fudge is the most clueless man alive, always messing things up.

So every morning he sends countless owls to Dumbledore asking for advice.”

Thinking of Dumbledore waking up surrounded by owls, Wizard Sean couldn’t help but smile faintly.

Did Fudge want to support Wizard Sean himself?

He may have considered that—but likely he wished to support:

A wizard capable of opposing Dumbledore.

But Fudge did not know that Wizard Sean was, for the most part, Dumbledore’s man.

And Wizard Sean did not know that long ago, Dumbledore had quietly become, utterly and completely, the little wizard’s man.

Outside the Leaky Cauldron.

The sky was changing rapidly—from velvet deep blue to cold gray, then slowly to pink streaked with golden light.

Flames crackled merrily in Room 1, Room 10, and Room 11.

Outside Room 11, Harry followed Tang Mu up a beautiful wooden staircase to a door bearing a brass plaque labeled 11.

Tang Mu unlocked it and opened the door for Harry.

Inside was a very comfortable bed, several gleaming oak furnishings, a warm, crackling fire in the hearth, and atop the wardrobe—

“Hedwig!”

Harry cried out excitedly.

The snowy owl tapped her beak and flapped her wings onto Harry’s arm.

“Your owl is remarkably clever,”

Tang Mu said with a soft smile,

“She arrived just five minutes after you came. Mr. Potter, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

He bowed again and left.

If Hedwig’s arrival had slightly eased Harry’s tension, then next—

“Knock, knock, knock—”

The door knocked.

Wizard Sean stood outside, studying the brass plaque of Room 11, then turning to that of Room 10.

Wei had told him Sirius was somewhere in this building.

Perhaps it was a strange fate—Harry and Sirius were separated by only one wall.

Wizard Sean pulled out his magical hand mirror; its surface rippled, revealing Wei bowing respectfully and Sirius, gaunt and focused, reading a newspaper.

He pressed his ear to the wall, his gaze fixed on every word about Green in the paper.

“The wizard who defeated Voldemort’s followers,” “The wizard who discovered the Chamber and defeated the Basilisk,” “The wizard who drew the Sword of Gryffindor”…

Sirius frowned deeply—during his decades in Azkaban, such a genius had emerged in the wizarding world.

“Ignorant wizard.”

Wei gave a quiet snort.

“You’re right, Pukeqi.”

Sirius had figured out Wei’s identity, and even more joyfully, someone had just checked into the room next door—if his ears, tortured for decades, hadn’t deceived him, the Leaky Cauldron’s owner Tang Mu had said—

“Harry.”

Wizard Sean looked at the open door and said softly.

“Wizard Sean!”

Harry looked genuinely delighted.

They sat down; Harry had no idea that on the other side of the wall, an ear trembled.

“You said I’m not in danger, Wizard Sean—why?

But that criminal, Sirius—he…”

Harry asked, puzzled and tentative.

“Hmm, he won’t hurt you, Harry.”

Wizard Sean said.

“That’s—why—”

Harry was baffled; he couldn’t make sense of it.

His mind churned—was Sirius seeking revenge on Wizard Sean for foiling Voldemort’s plots, and ignoring him because of that—after all, Wizard Sean had thwarted Voldemort multiple times;

Or was it because he, Harry Potter, had been the one to make Voldemort vanish for the first time—why wouldn’t Sirius come to harm him?

Meanwhile, on the other side, Sirius was about to burst through the door.

“Wait! Fool, you’ll get caught—you’ll ruin my master’s plan?!”

Wei drew his bow and blocked him outright.

“Let me…”

Sirius knew he couldn’t pass—Wei was far stronger than his weakened self now; he nearly pleaded,

“Please, ask your master to let me see him…”