Chapter 159: Blue Eyes

At the heart of breakfasttime, Sherlock Forester was found engrossed in his toast and steaming cup of milk. Snape, having finished his meal, got reclusive once more, returning to his sanctuary with the day's Daily Prophet in his hand. The cover story had stretched away from the exhausting pattern of Death Eater incidents to something rather more scandalous. The headline read, "Mrs. Evans Weds Anew, Packs Up for Germany; New Husband is Deputy Minister of Magic."

The gossip involved Taylor Evans' former wife switching life partners yet again. The components of the news were mundane enough; a simple remarriage in Germany. Not exactly front-page material had it not been for the lady in question. Mrs. Evans had gone through this matrimonial cycle six times in as many years, each of her husbands an elevated official within the British Magical Ministry. The humblest post among her roster of ex-husbands had been an office director. Mrs. "Evans" was thus only her current identity, and just she used to be known as Mrs Nelson or Mrs. Andrew she will soon be known under a new name once her new marriage passes. They say that she possesses bewitching charm, leaving men spellbound at first sight. Whispered rumors hinted at her being an Veela, with any man in her crosshairs being helpless to her allure. Growing weary of the British magical community's games, she divorced her current husband, found another in Germany, and this unexpected tale naturally fed the Prophet's pages amply. Along with her shift to the Magical Department in Hohenlohe, Germany, subtly the Prophet laid the blame on the Ministry's high-ranking staff; tarnishing their image with tales of spouse seduction and blame for the crumbling magical world affairs.

Sherlock paid the gossip column no mind, preferring his toast to the tabloid, but the folks in the pub, weary of the ceaseless stories of Auror and Death Eater fighting each other, found the variations in the narrative quite refreshing. A lively discussion ensued, as idle chatter always does.

"I heard she had a child with her first husband, some regular Auror captain."

"And she kept playing her game after having a child?"

"Looking at her I would've never guessed she's a mother!"

"The rumors about her being a Veela might not be baseless, I mean just look at how silver her hair is."

Deeming the chatter irrelevant, Sherlock rose to vacate the premises, heading upstairs to the solace of his room. A mere minute following his departure, two wizards garbed in black robes walked in. Characterized by wide brim hats which veiled their faces, their arrival was rather unobtrusive. Their ensuing actions, however, sent a wave of unease through the room.

Before Tom could engage their visit, wands were drawn, a spell was uttered, all before the two men thrust their wands firmly into the ground. An immediate reaction ensued; almost everyone in the pub sprang to their feet as the wizards revealed two menacing faces. An ominous green pattern materialized, marking their allegiance to the Dark Lord - the Dark Mark! Death Eaters!

Many scrambled to make their escape, the Apparation spell their chosen means, but the magic fizzled, their bodies flickering only momentarily before returning to their original places. The Anti-Disapparition Jinx had been employed by the Death Eaters as their entrance act, crumpling hope for an easy escape. Their faces were familiar to all, Igor Karkaroff and Antonin Dolohov, the right-hand men of the Dark Lord. Both men had left their mark in the recent Welsh encounter where four Aurors fell.

Karkaroff, a lean, tall figure with a voice smooth as silk yet icy eyes to match, dominated the silent space. "I urge you all to listen, we are here on the Dark Lord's instructions. As long as you all cooperate nicely, no one has to get harmed. If try to be a hero, look forward to hearing the people sing praises for you, that is after you've turned into a ghost!", he laughed.

The bar fell into an eerie silence; the people made no move. The mere pair of Death Eaters held the attention of an entire bar full of people. With the flick of their wrists, their fellow Death Eaters could be summoned through the Dark Mark. None dared to cross paths with these formidable foes. Karkaroff's satisfaction was evident from the reaction he received. He strolled across the bar floor, lifting a piece of toast lazily held by an uncontrollably trembling Tom. He bit into it casually as though he was just another patron partaking in breakfast.

"You've got a talent for cooking, Tom. A waste, I'd say, to toil under the Ministry of Magic the way you do." Karkaroff commended.

Tom's face twisted into a ghastly smile as he stuttered, "I, I'm just trying, trying to make ends meet..."

"Don't be so nervous," Karkaroff comforted him with a hollow smile, patting his shoulder, causing Tom to shake even more violently. Lowering his gaze, he interlocked a frigid stare with Tom.

"The Dark Lord seeks someone, and I suspect she might be hiding within your establishment," he quietly conveyed.

"You- you mean..."

"A young girl, by the name of Butler."

Tom hesitated for a moment, then swallowed nervously before replying, "There's no one of that name in my pub, sir."

Karkaroff continued to bore into him with his unwavering gaze. "I suggest you think carefully, Tom. Buttered toast is enjoyable, and sweet apple cider is a delight. I assume you want to keep relishing these small pleasures of life in the future, don't you?"

Tension caused beads of sweat to form on Tom's brow. His life could hang in the balance, based on what he admitted next. "I promise, sir, no patron named Butler has checked in recently."

Karkaroff remained silent, keeping his piercing gaze locked onto Tom's, as though burrowing into his thoughts. As Tom's legs began betraying him, threatening to buckle under the intensity, Karkaroff finally broke the silence. "Let us disturb the peaceful slumber of your guests for just a moment, why don't we? Would you bear any objections?"

"Of-of course not, you're most welcome," Tom managed a strained smile, leaning heavily on the counter for support. Karkaroff walked back to Dolohov, whispering in hushed tones. "Go look through the rooms upstairs, bring down every child you find. I'll stay here and make sure no one causes any trouble."

Dolohov, the burly man with a tough, rugged face, nodded in affirmation, taking his wand and proceeding towards the staircase. After ensuring Dolohov was on his task, Karkaroff turned to the anxious crowd at the bar hall flashing an amicable smile and said, "Calm down everybody! We're reasonable people, don't believe the defamatory words of the Ministry."

"Come on get back to what you were doing! How about today's Daily Prophet? Ah! Thank goodness that woman finally left, she would've exposed every male in the Ministry at this pace, haha! And we wouldn't want the Ministry to lose face like, now do we..."

The instant Karkaroff and Dolohov initiated the Anti-Disillusionment Charm, covering every nook and corner of Leaky Cauldron in its radius, Professor Sherlock Forester and Professor Snape could sense the peculiar shift in the atmosphere. Wordlessly, they stepped out of their rooms, exchanged glances and without speaking both apprehending that something was amiss. Something was amiss, and they had to leave immediately.

They quickly retreated to their respective rooms. However, Sherlock, upon reentering his room, noticed a crack suspiciously appear in his window! His room was empty, save for him. The muffled voices of disgruntled guests were audible as searches continued from room to room. Gradually, the protesting voices quieted down, replaced by a silence that seemed almost unnatural. The search entourage approached Snape's Room 12, Sherlock's neighbouring chamber.

Sherlock overheard the creaking sound of the door opening, followed by an exchange between Snape and the intruding party. "Who are you looking for?"

"You better cooperate, mate. You should recognize my face and know who I work for. Now step aside, I need to inspect your room!"

Snape responded by stepping aside and letting him in. Meanwhile, Sherlock released his control magic and meticulously searched his room, finally discovering something odd beneath his bed. He bent over, peering under the bed, only to find nothing. Yet, he didn't give up. He reached under his bed, his hand colliding with an invisible silky fabric. Gripping the mysterious material gently, he uncovered a small figure.

Shimmering sapphire eyes blinked up at him, quietly meeting his gaze. After what felt like an eternity of sharing this silent exchange, Sherlock carefully put the invisibility cloak back over the little girl, and stood tall again. Precisely at that moment, the intruder had completed inspecting Snape's room. Without missing a beat, he used an unlocking charm on Sherlock's locked door.

"What's going on here?" Sherlock frowned at Dolohov as he stepped into the room. Dolohov cocked a suggestive eyebrow.

"Not very educated are you? Read the Daily Prophet, mate, you'd recognize my face if you did. Now shut up and let me search your room."

Sherlock hardly needed his reminder. Dolohov's photograph had been featured twice in the Daily Prophet in recent months, once as a wanted criminal by the Ministry of Magic, and the other in relation to the attack in Wales. Without opposing, Sherlock allowed the daunting man into his room, silently observing as his wardrobe, the space under his bed and his bathroom underwent investigation. When Dolohov found nothing amiss, he shot Sherlock a frosty glare.

"If you happen to find a kid named Butler, it would be in your best interest to surrender her to us. The Dark Lord will reward you generously. If you attempt to hide her after finding her, well..." The consequences hanging in the air wrapped the room with chilling implications. After Sherlock conceded with a nod, Rook left his room to tap into the adjacent Room 10.