These days, Old Tom wasn't the only one holding a newspaper.
As a way of giving back to his customers, Old Tom had been unusually generous this time. He subscribed to more than twenty copies of the Daily Prophet and spread them across the bar at the Leaky Cauldron for everyone to read.
The result was a bizarre sight.
Dozens of fierce-looking burly men, who looked like they should be drinking and feasting, were instead hunched over the counter, reading the newspapers with complete focus. Those with poor eyesight even pulled out magnifying glasses while muttering the words under their breath.
A handful of illiterate people scratched their heads and begged others to read it aloud for them. They were so serious that anyone who didn't know better might have thought this was an O.W.L. examination hall.
Of course, the scene only lasted for a short while.
The moment everyone finished reading this issue of the Daily Prophet, especially after seeing the giant W-shaped and sea monster shield magical marks blooming over the French Ministry of Magic, the entire Leaky Cauldron erupted.
"ROAR! Long live the Ministry of Magic! Long live Lord Flamel!"
"We won!"
"The French frogs! They were nothing!"
———
The deafening cheers made Old Tom's ears ring, yet his face was covered with the happiest smile imaginable.
Because he knew today's alcohol sales were definitely going to set another record.
Of course, not everyone was that excited.
Quite a few people in the crowded tavern still wore puzzled expressions.
One young boy walked over to Old Tom and asked cautiously,
"Mr. Tom, if I remember right, our British Ministry's army only left yesterday, didn't it? So how did they already announce they've conquered the French Ministry of Magic and Lionheart Street today? No matter how I think about it, that doesn't make sense."
The smile on Old Tom's face vanished.
He turned and looked the boy up and down with a hint of expectation.
"You're... not British, are you?"
"Ah, that's right. I'm Irish. I've been studying alchemy with the leprechauns. I heard the British Ministry was recruiting soldiers recently, so I hurried over, but by the time I arrived, they weren't taking anyone anymore."
The boy spoke quickly.
He had noticed several people nearby were already giving him unfriendly looks.
Old Tom, however, showed a trace of disappointment.
The last time they caught spies, he'd earned quite a hefty reward. The Leaky Cauldron had been renovated so quickly thanks to that money.
He'd thought he'd stumbled across another one this time.
Instead, this boy had been taught by leprechauns.
That made it understandable why he knew so little.
After all, for the past century or so, leprechauns had been living alongside Muggles. That basically meant the boy had grown up receiving a Muggle education.
"Kid, wars between wizards are very different from wars between Muggles."
Old Tom wiped a glass as he spoke. It should have been his assistant's job, but the assistant had already enlisted.
"First of all, there aren't many wizards. They're incredibly destructive, and to wizards, things like distance and space have never really been obstacles. There aren't any supply line problems either, so battles naturally end much faster."
"But more importantly, our opponent this time was the French Ministry of Magic!"
"You know what France is like, don't you?"
As he spoke, Old Tom waved the rag in his hand.
The entire Leaky Cauldron burst into laughter.
Even the boy scratched his head awkwardly.
The joke about the French Muggles was famous even in the wizarding world.
But amid the laughter, Old Tom suddenly turned serious.
"Still, when all's said and done, it's because our forces are just that strong! And that's all thanks to Commissioner Link Flamel's leadership! Commissioner Link Flamel is the greatest official I've ever seen! His governing ability, leadership, and planning are on par with Ulric Gamp, who founded the British Ministry of Magic!"
"Not only that, Commissioner Link Flamel is personally the strongest Minister of Magic in history."
"I've got plenty of friends who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. They all said Dumbledore was driven back again and again by two mysterious Dark Wizards. In the end, it was only after Commissioner Link Flamel arrived that the situation was turned around!"
"Come on, everyone! Let's raise a glass to Commissioner Link Flamel!"
With that, Old Tom lifted his mug high.
Everyone followed.
As countless glasses were raised, the thunderous cheers nearly blasted through the ceiling and into the sky.
"Long live Commissioner Link Flamel!"
———
At the same time, inside Hogwarts Castle.
The same cheers had already spread throughout the entire castle.
Compared to people elsewhere, the students at Hogwarts were celebrating for a much simpler reason.
They were genuinely happy for the British Ministry of Magic and excited that Link had avenged them.
And that pure joy naturally came out in an even crazier way.
The students' excited shouting was so loud that even the merpeople hiding in the Black Lake poked their heads above the surface to see what was happening.
Looking at the joyful students before him, Dumbledore let out a helpless sigh.
Professor McGonagall, standing beside him, finally relaxed her tightly pressed lips and said impatiently,
"Dumbledore, I'll go send people to restore order and get these students back to class!"
"Let's not, Minerva."
Dumbledore shook his head.
"With how they are now, even if you lock them in classrooms, they won't have any interest in studying. We'd be better off letting them enjoy themselves. After all, they've endured this for far too long. It's time they had a chance to relax."
Hearing that, Professor McGonagall visibly relaxed before rolling her eyes at him.
"Then why are you standing there looking so troubled?"
"You don't understand. It's true Link and the others defeated the French Ministry of Magic, but this victory isn't complete. In fact, I don't even consider it a victory, because the real purpose behind this war still hasn't been achieved."
"You mean... Voldemort?"
Professor McGonagall's face turned pale.
Dumbledore sighed.
"In any case, the war will continue, and it'll only become more intense. But none of that concerns the students. Let's hold a feast at Hogwarts tonight. Like I said, they've endured enough. It's time they relaxed."
With that, Dumbledore turned and walked toward the fireplace.
As he walked, his light gray outer robe shifted and changed shape until it became a magnificent pure white robe embroidered with delicate golden thread.
"Albus, where are you going?"
Professor McGonagall called after him anxiously.
Dumbledore simply waved a hand.
"To do what I must. I'll leave Hogwarts to you for now, Minerva. I trust you completely."
BOOM!
A burst of emerald-green magical flames rose from the fireplace and swallowed Dumbledore before disappearing.
Professor McGonagall froze.
Panting, she grumbled angrily after a long pause, "Again! Again! Every single time, he dumps all the work on me! Sometimes I really wonder who's the Headmaster of Hogwarts..."
She complained without stopping.
If Dumbledore had still been there, he probably would have been scolded to death.
Yet despite her anger, once she finished venting, Professor McGonagall collected herself and slowly headed toward the Great Hall.
At least Dumbledore had been right about one thing.
The students had endured for so long. It really was time for them to relax.
Of course, relaxing didn't mean letting them run wild like this. Holding a proper feast and keeping the celebration within manageable limits was a good idea.
At worst, arranging the banquet would just be a bit troublesome.
Naturally, Dumbledore knew nothing about that.
In fact, while Professor McGonagall was still complaining, Dumbledore had already arrived in the Floo reception hall of Flamel Castle through the Floo Network.
Contrary to his expectations, the entire castle wasn't filled with laughter and celebration like everywhere else.
Instead, compared to his previous visit, the atmosphere was even more solemn.
That much was obvious just from the house-elf who came to greet him.
The last time he'd visited, the Flamel family's house-elves had been unbelievably attentive. Before he had even fully stepped out of the fireplace, they'd already cleaned every speck of ash off him with a Whirlwind Cleaning Charm.
Then they'd elegantly guided him toward their master's room, looking at him the whole time with the adoring eyes of a puppy gazing at its owner.
But today, the house-elf named Little Button was unusually cold.
It merely carried out the bare minimum expected of a servant and didn't say a single word to Dumbledore the entire time.
That wasn't a good sign.
Although house-elves ranked below every wizard in wizarding society, they didn't bow and scrape before every wizard they met.
To them, their master was everything.
When welcoming guests, they were more like mirrors reflecting their master's feelings.
Only people their master valued would receive warm treatment or humble service.
As for their master's enemies, or people their master simply didn't care about, their attitude would be cold beyond measure.
Little Button's behavior made it obvious to Dumbledore that the master of this castle wasn't especially pleased by the victory on the front lines and wasn't particularly happy to see him either.
Letting out a helpless sigh, Dumbledore followed Little Button through half the castle before finally arriving at a dim reception room.
"Good afternoon, Lady Flamel, Emily. I hope I haven't disturbed your rest."
Dumbledore spoke first.
Only then did Lady Flamel and Emily, who had been sitting on opposite sides of the fireplace watching the flames, turn toward him.
Emily remained polite. She stood and greeted Dumbledore with a smile.
As for Lady Flamel...
Dumbledore's arrival only made her expression even colder.
She gave him a slight nod, looked him over from head to toe, and then said calmly,
"Professor Dumbledore, what brings you to my humble home?"
"I assume you've already received news from the French front. Link conquered nearly eighty percent of the French magical world in only half a day. That achievement has thrown the entire British wizarding world into celebration."
"I don't think there's anything worth celebrating."
"Oh, my dear Lady Flamel! You should visit Diagon Alley. The people there are nearly out of their minds with joy! I'd say this is the greatest celebration since Voldemort fell more than ten years ago! It's truly a remarkable achievement!"
"No, Professor Dumbledore. You've misunderstood what I meant. As a mother, the achievement I want my son to have most is returning safely from the battlefield."
Dumbledore lowered his head.
The smile slowly faded from his face.
"So you've already heard, haven't you?"
"If you're referring to the Sky City deterrence, then yes, I know. You know what Link is like. That child has never hidden anything from me."
At those words, Dumbledore couldn't help twitching his lips.
He had to admit Link really was extraordinary.
So extraordinary that he had gone beyond what ordinary people could understand, someone who could truly be described as appearing only once every five hundred years.
But saying he "never hid anything from his family" was taking it a little too far.
The things Link had done outside were far wilder than Lady Flamel imagined.
Still, under Emily's repeated looks, Dumbledore suppressed the urge to expose Link. He forced himself to nod.
"Yes, Link truly is a good child. No one could deny that. Since you already know about the Sky City deterrence, then I'll get straight to the point. Given the current situation, I sincerely suggest that you and Emily relocate to Hogwarts. It is undoubtedly the safest place in Britain, and perhaps all of Europe. Besides, Emily hasn't finished this year's studies yet, so she can..."
Before Dumbledore could finish, Lady Flamel raised a hand and interrupted him.
"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore, but I don't agree."
Dumbledore paused.
"Oh? With all due respect, Hogwarts' safety is beyond question. Although it was attacked not long ago, that was only because it was ambushed by two legendary wizards. If the British Ministry of Magic had been attacked by such terrifying power instead of Hogwarts, the casualties would likely have been even greater."
"I know."
Lady Flamel smiled.
"But I still stand by my opinion."
Dumbledore was about to argue further when, before he could speak, a surging killing intent swept toward him from every direction.