Eu, que abandonei Hogwarts, faço um discurso na taverna

July 1, 1990.
Nightfall.
Hogsmeade, England.

Sean Phillips was in a foul mood as he wandered aimlessly through the streets of Hogsmeade. Despite it being July, the bleak English weather seemed to have forgotten the meaning of summer, the chill making him question whether it was truly summertime at all.

A biting wind swept through the empty streets, amplifying the desolation. Sean instinctively tightened his collar and slipped his hands into the slightly chilled folds of his robe. His fingers brushed against the leather-bound notebook in his pocket, and instantly, his spirits plummeted.

Yes, today was his first day working as a journalist for the Daily Prophet under his new identity.

Yet, the day had been anything but smooth. For reasons unknown, the senior reporter Rita Skeeter had made his work a constant torment—her cruel sneers seemed designed solely to mock him.

Lost in these aggravating memories, Sean found himself at a street corner.

This place was even more desolate than before; the wind howled sharply, much like Rita’s aggressive tone that afternoon.

A dim outline of a tavern emerged—a weathered wooden sign hung crookedly from a rusted bracket outside the door.

Painted on the sign was the severed head of a wild boar, blood seeping through the white cloth that wrapped it. The wind set the sign creaking in harsh, grating sounds.

Sean paused, looking up at the sign, hesitating for a moment.

Should he go in?

Why not have a drink?

The thought had barely formed bef