Chapter 392: Fudge

Kyle and Kanna braved the snow and wind to make their way to The Three Broomsticks. The pub was bustling, far livelier and louder than the calm, frilly ambiance of Madam Puddifoot's Teahouse, and the freshly made Butterbeer was steaming, releasing a warm, frothy mist.

Behind the counter, the barman, a curvy, good-looking woman, was busy serving a rowdy group of wizards.

"I'll get the drinks; you find us a seat," Kyle said. "Hope we're not too late—seats are always scarce here."

Kanna headed to the back of the pub and found a small table tucked between a window and a Christmas tree, conveniently next to the cozy fireplace. Soon, Kyle joined her, with a large tray floating behind him. It was loaded with two bottles of Butterbeer, two plates of meat pies, and a dish of freshly baked pine nut cookies, filling the table with delicious aromas.

Kanna took a big bite of her pie, then sipped her Butterbeer, her face lighting up with satisfaction. "I really do like this," she said through a mouthful.

"Me too," Kyle replied, taking a bite of a pine nut cookie before lifting his glass. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" Kanna replied, and their glasses clinked softly together. Kyle took a hearty sip, warmth spreading through him as he drank.

This is good, but it would be nice to have something a bit stronger, he thought. Kyle had originally wanted to order Ogden's Old Firewhisky, a pub specialty, but Madam Rosmerta had said it contained Firewhiskey and couldn't be served to students. So, Butterbeer it was. But he knew from Fred and George that on quieter days, Madam Rosmerta was a bit more lenient; they'd managed to buy mead, which also had Firewhiskey, from here before.

Setting down his glass, Kyle glanced around and noticed a few familiar faces. Behind the Christmas tree sat Harry, Hermione, and Ron, well-hidden in the corner, with Harry positioned farthest back. Kyle might not have seen them if Hermione hadn't waved to him. It seemed Fred and George had already given Harry the map.

As he was mulling over this, a cold gust blew through the pub as the door opened. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick entered, followed by Hagrid and the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, all bundled up and brushing off snow. Behind them came a clanking noise as Ron and Hermione quickly shoved Harry under the table.

There were no empty tables left in the bustling pub. Some wizards, recognizing Fudge, immediately offered him their seats, but he waved them off with a friendly smile, insisting he was here simply as an "ordinary customer" and everyone should carry on as they pleased.

Just then, not far behind Kyle, two wizards hurriedly finished their drinks, got up, paid their bill, and left. An empty table had opened up.

"What luck! I was beginning to think I'd have to stand and drink," Fudge remarked with a broad smile as he walked over, nodding greetings to various patrons along the way. He even recognized Kyle.

"Good to see you here, Kyle," he said warmly. "The youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin—quite an accomplishment. I remember that day as if it were yesterday."

"I remember it well, too, Minister," Kyle replied with a polite nod.

"A shame I couldn't present the award to you myself," Fudge chuckled. "They did ask me, you know, but I thought it more fitting for Dumbledore, your headmaster, to handle it since it was at school."

Behind him, Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. She recalled that Fudge had actually resisted the idea of awarding Kyle the Order at all, though no one had heeded his objections. This brand of excuse-making seemed all too familiar to her—she'd seen it often enough in a few of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professors.

Once they'd settled in, Madam Rosmerta approached with her usual ease, calling out each person's drink preferences: Gillywater for Professor McGonagall, four pints of mead for Hagrid, and a Cherry Syrup and Soda for Professor Flitwick.

"And for you, Minister, a Red Currant Rum," she said.

"Thank you, Rosmerta," Fudge replied cheerfully. "Good to see you again. Will you have one with us?"

Madam Rosmerta readily agreed and went to fetch their drinks.

Kyle wished he could overhear their conversation, but the din of the busy pub and the distance between tables made it impossible to pick up more than fragments. Words like Sirius Black, Dementor, despicable, and vile traitor floated over, thanks mostly to Hagrid. When Hagrid got heated, he couldn't help raising his voice, and nearly half the pub could hear him.

"They're talking about Sirius Black, aren't they?" Kanna whispered, having heard some of Hagrid's outbursts herself.

"Obviously," Kyle murmured, taking a sip of Butterbeer. "If anyone could get Fudge to come all the way to Hogsmeade right before Christmas, it'd be Black."

"But why?" Kanna asked. "Aren't there already Dementors here? Why would the Minister come himself?"

"That's the question," Kyle replied, shaking his head. "I think he's probably here to speak with Professor Dumbledore about letting Dementors search the castle. Today's a Hogsmeade visiting day, so there aren't many students left in the castle. If the remaining ones were gathered together and protected, the Dementors could enter and search without too much risk."

"I'll bet the headmaster didn't agree," Kanna said without hesitation.

"Of course not," Kyle agreed. "If he had, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick wouldn't be escorting Fudge to The Three Broomsticks for a drink. But that's just a guess. Fudge might also just be here to make sure the Dementors are doing their jobs."

"Is the Minister really that worried about Black?" Kanna asked, surprised. "I heard he's more interested in attending parties."

Kyle picked up a biscuit. "He doesn't have a choice. No one's ever escaped from Azkaban before, and Black is the first. It's a huge blow to the Ministry's reputation. If they don't act quickly, people will start questioning the Minister's competence."

Just then, Hagrid's gruff voice carried over the noise, louder and rougher than before.

"I met him, you know. After Lily and James died, the boy was pale, shakin'…" Hagrid was nearly growling now, his words cutting through the pub's chatter. "D'you know what I did? I comforted the traitor! I comforted him!"