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"It's been a while, Severus," Madam Rosmerta said, placing a tray on the table and pulling up a chair with a light, graceful motion.
Her long chestnut hair cascaded down to her waist, and her wine-red lips curved into a charming smile.
To Pandora, she said, "Little miss, your Butterbeer, as usual."
There was a distinctive floral scent about Madam Rosmerta. In the warm, cozy atmosphere of the pub, it drifted like a cool breeze, tickling Severus Snape's nose.
"Try this," Madam Rosmerta said elegantly, pinching the cork of a bottle with her fingers. With a flick of her wrist, it popped open with a soft pop, and she poured some amber-hued mead, flowing like liquid honey, into two glasses. "One drink, and I'll have to get back to the bar."
"Thank you, Madam," Snape said with a slight nod, lifting his glass to clink gently against hers.
The oaky aroma and honeyed sweetness lingered and Sheffield, United Kingdom and blended on Snape's tongue. He had never tasted mead this fine before, but he found himself quite fond of it.
"That's not fair," a muffled voice piped up. "I want a drink with you too!"
Mundungus Fletcher, a grimy black pipe clenched between his teeth, was vehemently slapping the table.
"Shut it, Mundungus!" Madam Rosmerta snapped without turning her head. "Keep slapping that filthy hand of yours, and you'll be banned from the Three Broomsticks too!"
"Cough, cough." Mundungus took a deep drag from his pipe, only to choke on a cloud of ash, his face flushing red as he quickly withdrew his hand.
He'd already been banned from the Hog's Head last year, and with Aberforth's sharp memory, he'd probably have to disguise himself as a witch to sneak back in. If he got banned from the Three Broomsticks too, he'd have nowhere left to go.
Once his coughing subsided, Mundungus stuffed the pipe back into his pocket. The smoke cleared, but the acrid stench of burnt socks lingered stubbornly in the air.
Madam Rosmerta poured Snape another half-glass of mead, left the bottle on the table, and returned to the bar to resume her work.
"Is it good?" Pandora asked, eyeing the mead in Snape's hand with curiosity.
"Not bad," Snape replied. "Want to try some? I'll get you a clean glass."
With that, Snape stood and headed to the bar to fetch a fresh glass.
As he passed Mundungus, he overheard him whispering to a hooded wizard sitting nearby.
"Heard about it?" Mundungus's voice was low, as if squeezed through his teeth. "Burke's been carted off to St. Mungo's."
"Oh, I knew that at the start of the month when I visited Borgin and Burkes," the hooded wizard replied, his voice equally hushed. "Borgin said he's been sent to the fifth floor, the special ward for people whose minds got messed up by magic…"
"Yeah, yeah, the Spell Damage ward," Mundungus said with a nod. "Burke was always dabbling in some obscure Dark Magic. I knew it was only a matter of time before he landed himself there." A smug, almost gleeful expression crossed his face.
"That's good news for us, though, right?" The hooded wizard let out a sly chuckle.
"Agreed. Borgin's no saint, but he's a damn sight better than Burke. That old git always lowballed me. Last July, I brought him a vial of Acromantula venom, and he had the nerve to say it wasn't high enough quality—gave me just twenty Galleons!" Mundungus's voice grew heated, his chin trembling with indignation.
"Come off it, Mundungus. You expect me to believe that vial wasn't diluted with something else?" the hooded wizard teased.
"Excuse me," Snape interjected, unable to hold back any longer as their conversation veered off track. "Are you talking about Caractacus Burke?"
"Who else would it be? Oh, it's you, kid," Mundungus muttered, noticing Snape. His face twisted with mild annoyance. "What's it to you, Rosmerta's little man?"
"Mr. Fletcher," Snape said, forcing himself to ignore the pungent odor wafting from Mundungus and keeping his tone patient, "do you know when Caractacus Burke was admitted to St. Mungo's?"
"Hahaha, you hear that?" Mundungus let out an exaggerated laugh, turning to the wizard beside him. "He called me Mister!"
"So, you don't know?" Snape pressed.
"Mind your manners, kid," Mundungus drawled. "But since you called me Mister, I'll be generous and tell you.
"It was back in September. Burke's mind went kaput. Word is, Borgin waited days for him to show up for his shift at the shop. When he couldn't take it anymore, he went to Burke's place.
"And guess what? He found him sitting on the floor, clutching his wand, babbling nonsense like a fool, just going 'abba abba' over and over.
"If Borgin hadn't checked on him, Burke would've probably starved to death."
"What happened to him?" Snape asked, pressing further.
"Dark Magic!" Mundungus slammed the table with a bang, though he immediately shrank back, glancing nervously toward the bar to make sure Madam Rosmerta hadn't noticed.
Regaining his composure, he continued, "Borgin said he used a Prior Incantato spell to check the last spells cast by Burke's wand. Apparently, it was some wicked ancient Dark Magic—really risky stuff…"
"It's not that simple," the hooded wizard cut in, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper. "Borgin tried to probe Burke's memories, but there was nothing there—just a jumbled mess, like porridge."
"What did the Ministry say?" Snape asked.
The hooded wizard let out a derisive snort. "You kidding? Borgin would never let the Aurors poke around in Burke's head. For all we know, he might've stirred up Burke's brains himself."
"Hey, kid," Mundungus said, beckoning Snape closer with a sleazy grin and lowering his voice. "I've answered all your questions." He pointed slyly at the empty glass in front of Pandora. "How about giving me that glass, eh?"
It was the glass Madam Rosmerta had used, still bearing the faint imprint of her wine-red lipstick.
Pandora was looking over now, seemingly wondering why Snape was lingering so long.
"Goodbye," Snape said, the corner of his mouth twitching as he grabbed the empty glass and hurried back to Pandora.
"It's really good," Pandora said, taking a sip of the mead Snape poured for her. Her eyes lit up. "Mmm… sweeter than Butterbeer."
"But Butterbeer has that crisp, malty freshness, doesn't it?" Snape replied.
"True. Let's go, shall we? Explore somewhere else."
"Oh, one moment." Snape drew his wand and murmured, "Evanesco!"
The glass and Butterbeer mug vanished into thin air, dissolving into nothingness.
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