Mundungus

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From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Tonks in disguise subtly shift as she adjusted herself. It wasn't a big change—just a slight movement in the set of her shoulders and the tilt of her head—but it was enough to confirm she was still keeping tabs on him. Harry's mind raced, considering his options. He needed to throw her off, but it had to be subtle.

Deciding to test the waters, Harry casually pushed his empty mug toward the edge of the bar, signaling for a refill. He then let his attention drift back to Avery II, who was still sitting in the corner, nursing his drink. If Tonks was focused on him, she might miss whatever information he could pull from the former Death Eater. That would be a win in his book.

Harry took another sip of his butterbeer, deep in thought. 'The pub's entrance is protected by runes to keep out anyone using Polyjuice. That must be why they sent her. She's a real Metamorphmagus, not a fake like me. But she's just an Auror-in-training. Could there be another Metamorphmagus, a full-fledged Auror, backing her up?' He scanned the room, searching for anyone else who might be keeping an eye on him. No one stood out, but Harry knew that didn't mean much. If someone was good enough, he wouldn't notice them until they wanted him to.

Just then, an arm moved toward his shoulder, and before the man could touch him, Harry's wand was already at the man's nose. "I'd suggest you not get too close all of a sudden," Harry warned, his voice calm but carrying enough of an edge to make his point clear. "My wand hand's not the steadiest, and I might accidentally fire off a spell."

The Carrow siblings, who had been watching Harry closely, got to their feet. They clearly weren't the type to allow any trouble in their establishment, but before they could intervene, the man who had approached Harry laughed as if nothing had happened.

"Ah, sorry, brother," the man said, grinning widely. "Didn't mean to startle you. I just felt you were a kindred spirit and thought we could share a drink."

Harry lowered his wand slightly, keeping his eyes on the man. He quickly checked the system for any information on him and learned his name: Mundungus Fletcher. The name wasn't one he was familiar with, but the system flagged him as a small-time crook and occasional informant—someone who might be more trouble than he was worth, but possibly useful in the right circumstances.

Harry kept his wand close, but a small, measured smile crept onto his face. "Is that so?" he said, the tension in his voice easing ever so slightly. "Sorry for my rashness, then. Next round's on me."

Mundungus grinned, visibly relaxing now that Harry wasn't about to hex him. "All is well, all is well. The name is Fletcher, Mundungus Fletcher" he said, waving over the bartender. "You're new around here, aren't you? Knockturn Alley isn't exactly a place for first-timers."

Harry gave a nonchalant shrug, taking a sip of his butterbeer. "You could say I've got a knack for finding interesting places," he replied, keeping his tone casual. "But I'm not here just for the atmosphere. Heard there might be some valuable information floating around."

Mundungus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Information, eh? So you're really after Bellatrix. That's a dangerous game, mate. What's a bloke like you want with a witch like her?"

Harry, maintaining his casual demeanor, took another sip of his drink, letting the question hang in the air for a moment. "Let's just say I've got some business that needs tending to, and Bellatrix happens to be in the middle of it. Not that it's any concern of yours, of course."

Mundungus chuckled, a rough sound that fit his appearance. "Fair enough, fair enough. I ain't one to poke my nose in where it don't belong… unless there's a bit of gold involved, of course." He grinned, his crooked teeth on full display, clearly fishing for an offer.

Harry eyed him for a second, weighing his options. "You're not wrong, Mr. Fletcher. Gold can make people talk. But you'll have to prove you've got something worth listening to before any coins change hands."

Mundungus leaned in a bit closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Word on the street is, Bellatrix has been laying low. Heard she's been seen around Albania. You'll need more than just deep pockets to find her, though. That place ain't exactly welcoming to strangers."

Harry nodded, filing the information away. Albania made sense, given what he knew about the last movements of certain two faced Professor. Harry kept his expression neutral, not letting on how valuable that information could be. "Interesting. And how much are you thinking that tidbit's worth?"

Mundungus's eyes lit up at the prospect of payment. "Oh, I reckon a couple of Galleons would do. Information like that don't come cheap, you know."

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch, the clink of coins inside drawing Mundungus's full attention. He tossed it on the table in front of the man. "Consider it an investment. If it pans out, you might find yourself with more work in the future."

Mundungus snatched up the pouch with a greedy smile, weighing it in his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Riddle. I'll keep my ears open, see if anything else comes up that might be of interest."

Mundungus leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "So, where are you from, Mr. Riddle?" He was fishing, and Harry knew it. The man's eyes were sharp, a stark contrast to his rough appearance. He wasn't just curious—he was looking for something specific.

Harry met his gaze evenly, letting a small, calculated smile tug at his lips. "Here and there," he replied casually, taking a sip of his butterbeer. "I've traveled a bit, picked up a few things along the way."

Mundungus nodded, though Harry could see the wheels turning in his head. He was trying to piece together a puzzle with the few scraps of information Harry had given him. "Ah, a man of the world, eh? Always good to keep moving, never know what you might find." He chuckled, though the laugh didn't quite reach his eyes. "You know, I've got friends all over. They like to stay in touch, keep me in the loop. If you ever need anything, I'm your man."

"Is that so?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of friends are we talking about?"

Mundungus grinned, leaning back as if to appear more relaxed. "The kind that hear things, see things. You'd be surprised what people let slip when they think no one's listening."

Harry's smile didn't falter. "I'm sure. But I tend to keep my business to myself, Mr. Fletcher. Less chance of things getting messy that way."

"Smart man," Mundungus agreed, though Harry could tell he wasn't quite satisfied with the answer. "But you know, even the smartest men need a bit of help now and then."

Harry shrugged, not giving him anything to latch onto. "If I need help, I know where to find you."

The conversation shifted, Mundungus trying to steer it back toward more harmless topics, but Harry kept his guard up. He wasn't about to let this man get more information than he was willing to give. He could tell Mundungus was getting frustrated, but Harry was content to let him squirm. It was clear now that Mundungus was more than just a small-time crook—he was connected to something bigger, and Harry wasn't about to let that slide without finding out what.

Mundungus finished his drink, setting the empty glass on the bar with a thud. "Well, Mr. Riddle, it's been a pleasure. If you ever find yourself in need of a favor, you know where to find me."

Harry nodded, not bothering to hide his skepticism. "I'll keep that in mind."

Mundungus gave a short laugh, clapping Harry on the shoulder before slipping away into the crowd. Harry watched him go, his mind already working through the possibilities. The man was too eager, too interested. Whatever he was after, Harry wasn't about to let him get it without a fight.

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