I slipped into the dimly lit bar. The Three Broomsticks was emptier than I had ever seen it. Just a few wizards brooding darkly over their firewhiskey. The hustle and bustle that normally brightened the place was gone now, and the aura of the bar was oppressive. I sat down in front of the barman and cleared my throat. He looked up from the glass he was wiping and looked at me shrewdly.
"Firewhiskey, if you don't mind," I asked.
He stared at me briefly, then appeared to shrug off the fact that I was wearing my Hogwarts robes and was very clearly underage.
The glass he handed me was cool in my hot hands and I sipped it and shivered the burning drink down. A wizard further down the bar was reading The Daily Prophet, and its foreboding headline jumped out at me.
"3 Muggleborns Missing; Ministry Suspects Death Eater Involvement"
I'd read the article at breakfast that morning, and the thought of it filled me with anxiety. My hands shook slightly as I took another sip. Muggleborns and even Muggle families were disappearing with frightening regularity. Hardly a day went by without a report of another. One of the three from today was not 20 miles from my Muggle town. The pit of anxiety in my stomach deepened.
A gust of air burst in through the door, bringing the sounds of two familiar voices talking over one another. Of course it was them. Potter and Black would be in Hogsmeade illegally on a weeknight. So are you, I thought to myself as they sat down at the bar with me, unwrapping scarves and removing coats.
"Alright Evans?" Black said. "Surprised to see you here."
"Just couldn't handle being at the castle tonight," I replied, looking back at the headline of The Prophet.
Potter followed my gaze. "You really shouldn't be reading that stuff, Evans. It's not good for you."
"It's better than not knowing," I said. He grunted noncommittally. "Did you read it?"
"Course I did. It's not something you miss. But try not to worry." Potter said to me kindly.
"I have to worry. One lived close to my parents."
"Things are getting worse," said Black. "Not just this, is it? Did you hear about those Death Eaters torturing that Muggle family?"
I almost choked, and Potter patted me forcefully on the back. "What?"
"It happened right around the holidays."
"That's why I didn't see it - I don't get the Prophet at home," I said.
"The Ministry received a tip that the Dark Mark had been found over a Muggle house, and they had to take the entire family to St. Mungo's. The Cruciatus Curse, you know," Black related matter-of-factly.
"One of the kids was just three," Potter said quietly.
I shook my head slowly. Things really were getting worse. This wouldn't have happened a year ago.
"And what's the Ministry doing to stop all of this?" I said, anger tinging my voice.
"Don't be stupid, Evans. What can they do? Anyone who speaks out against it will just disappear as well." Black said.
"My dad reckons the Death Eaters might try to infiltrate the Ministry next," Potter said, waving at the barman for a drink.
"But this - this can't be right. Someone has to stop all of this. Someone has to speak out!" I said.
Black barked a short laugh. "You wanna have a go at You-Know-Who, Evans?"
"Yeah, I'd rather take my chances than do nothing and die anyway!"
Potter's hazel eyes lingered on me briefly. "Brave sentiment, that. I dunno what we can do now though. Hogwarts is probably the safest place to be. And Padfoot's the only one who's of age anyway."
"Are you two going to fight - when the time comes?" I ask.
Black stared at his firewhiskey. Potter's jaw clenched and then he answered.
"It's like you said, isn't it? We can't do nothing."