London.
In an unremarkable French restaurant, a few elegantly dressed middle-aged patrons occasionally came and went, some satisfied, others full of anticipation.
For certain London customers with especially high standards for food, this place was a hidden gem worth visiting every day.
But today, it welcomed a guest who ought to have been very familiar, yet was coming here for the first time.
Tver Fawley.
The moment Tver stepped into the restaurant, the manager, who had been waiting for him, strode forward to greet him.
"Mr. Fawley, your guests have already been seated. Shall I show you over?"
Tver swept his gaze around the somewhat empty restaurant and quickly spotted his two guests sitting in the corner.
"No need. I've already seen them." He nodded slightly. "I'm here to meet guests today, not inspect the restaurant. You don't need to be so nervous."
Yes, this was the French restaurant run by Tver's father, Mills Fawley.
Even while running a restaurant like this, Mills had inherited the Fawley family's laid-back nature perfectly.
After setting the restaurant's core philosophy around food quality, he barely involved himself in its operation, aside from occasionally coming in to act as a guest chef or deal with employees who took advantage of his absence.
As for Tver, this was his first time here. That was why the restaurant manager was both surprised and a little tense.
After all, a boss who delegated power and did not care about losses was not someone you could find a second example of in London.
"Mr. Fawley, may I ask where the owner is now? After all, he hasn't appeared at the restaurant in a year," the manager asked cautiously.
"Of course, if it's inconvenient, just pretend I never asked."
"It's nothing." Tver waved casually. "He and my mother are traveling around the world. Even I haven't seen them for a while."
In truth, their trip around the world had ended long ago. But considering the turbulent state of the British wizarding world, Tver had pushed them into a second world tour.
He had even sent the house-elf Jeff along to protect them. The two of them probably did not even know that Fawley Manor had once been surrounded and attacked by Vampires.
After saying this, Tver did not delay any longer and walked toward the corner.
"Sorry. A few things held me up."
Although the appointed time had not yet arrived, Tver still sat down between them with a trace of apology.
On his left was the cold and indifferent Snape. On his right was Dumbledore, who was reading the menu with great interest.
Yes, a headmaster and two professors having a meal outside school during the holidays was perfectly normal.
As if.
If Dumbledore had not invited them in the name of dealing with Voldemort and protecting Harry, Tver never would have imagined himself sitting down for such a proper meal with Snape.
Snape felt even more so.
He had always carried a degree of distrust toward Tver, feeling that Tver was hiding some unspeakable secret from everyone.
"It's fine. It would actually be better if you came even later. Then we could simply have dinner while we were at it."
"…"
Tver checked the time. Lunch had only ended not long ago. How late would he have to be to drag things out until dinner?
He could not help nodding in admiration. Snape's skill at sarcasm really did grow stronger year by year.
"That's good. If Professor Snape is lonely, we can keep you company through supper as well."
"Just a reminder, I'm paying today. Professor Snape can enjoy himself without worry." He smiled with a voice thick with mock sweetness.
Ridiculous. When it came to sarcasm, Tver would not lose.
"In that case," Dumbledore said helplessly, setting down the menu, "I assume you won't mind if I order some afternoon tea to stop those sharp tongues of yours?"
"Of course. The pastries here are quite good."
Since Dumbledore had spoken, Tver naturally had to give him face. Of course, part of it was also to make sure Snape had no chance to continue.
After he said that, Tver saw Dumbledore's eyes brighten a little and immediately called over the waiter standing not far away.
Dumbledore did not hold back. His finger moved across the menu, ordering one dessert, then another, and then another.
Only when he saw Tver and Snape staring in stunned surprise did Dumbledore belatedly close the menu.
"Sorry. I forgot the two of you hadn't ordered yet."
"…"
Fortunately, potions in the wizarding world were miraculous enough that there was no need to worry about Dumbledore developing problems from eating too many desserts.
While waiting for the three of them to be served, it was not suitable to start discussing business directly. But if they did not talk business…
What exactly could the three of them talk about?
So a brief silence fell over the table.
"By the way, Tver, have you been busy with something? This is the first time I've seen you arrive later than I did."
Dumbledore was looking for something to say, though he seemed to have accidentally revealed something.
"Er… mainly the Weasley brothers."
Just thinking of those two living disasters made Tver sigh.
Their understanding of the muggle world was far too skewed. Under Mr. Weasley's influence, although they knew many muggle things, especially technological products, they had clearly gone astray in one obvious direction.
For example, they saw that muggle firearms were powerful, so they wanted to create a firework stick that could fire continuously.
The problem was that in a complex combat environment, wizards, especially Death Eaters skilled in combat, could dodge an uncontrolled firework stick with absurd ease unless they were caught completely off guard.
So Tver had no choice but to spend some time making them focus on developing defensive support equipment instead.
Most of these things were meant for the Joint Operations Office, or for the muggle police and soldiers working under it.
Lethal weapons in their hands might not allow them to grasp the magical significance behind them, but a practical spell-proof robe, or even a device capable of reflecting spells, could produce an unexpected effect against Death Eaters.
Then all they needed was something like a locator to help Aurors arrive in time to provide support.
"From the look on your face, it doesn't seem to be going very smoothly?" Dumbledore asked.
He cared quite a bit about this. After all, he knew that the things the Weasley twins were researching could benefit the war against Voldemort.
And that reason alone was enough for him to pay attention.
"Not really. The spell-proof robes are working quite well. They're even helpful to Aurors and can reduce a lot of unnecessary injuries."
Among the results the Weasley twins had produced, the only thing that satisfied Tver, or could even be called a pleasant surprise, was this.
"At this rate, the Aurors alone will be able to arrest the Death Eaters," Snape said with a complicated tone.
According to his information, because of the hunting plan, many newly joined Death Eaters had fallen into trouble.
On one hand, Voldemort had paid no attention to whether they lived or died. He had simply scattered them across Britain like expendable materials, using them to cause trouble for the Ministry of Magic.
On the other hand…
The wizards responsible for hunting them were far too strong. They had no power to fight back at all.
Once their location was discovered, unless they could Apparate away before that mysterious Auror arrived, they would end up either dead or badly injured.
But the problem was, if they were skilled enough at casting spells to do that, they would not have been chased all over the place in the first place.
Now there was even a spell-proof robe on top of that. As a former Death Eater who had once gone astray, even Snape could not help praying for these newcomers.
May you die early and be reborn early.
Ridiculous. Snape could not wait for these vicious dark wizards to die out as soon as possible.