章 148: Chapter 148: The Cursed Gold Coin (Edited)

Tom had wondered if Evans' prophecy might have been a dead end, but he didn't think it likely. After all, it could be considered a coincidence that the Demon King had walked out of his trap, but the trajectory behind it was all too accurate. Who knew that this man could actually rule the British magical world from the shadows? After all, although the Ministry of Magic still had a shiny exterior, a flourishing appearance, no one knew that it was already so weak that it could collapse at the slightest push.

It was so scandalous that the British Ministry lasted two years between Voldemort's resurrection and the Ministry's fall. If you count from Dumbledore's death, it probably only lasted a few months, barely a few days longer than the French in World War II.

This is 1992, who knew?

So Tom sat back a bit, wanting to hear Evans continue, but Evans was still going in circles, going back and forth with platitudes about the Demon King getting out of trouble and disaster.

"So, there must be a savior?"

Evans didn't disagree with this, there would be a savior, the Demon King's greatest enemy.

Tom was getting impatient, stuttering as an adjective was still very annoying and he really didn't want to continue the conversation, so before ending it, he said to Evans, "If you can guess, you can read people's faces, can't you?"

Evans nodded.

Tom pulled out his wand, tilted it towards the table and transformed it into Hermione's shape.

"Here, look at this one, please."

"Can she be the Minister for Magic?"

"Let's see..." stepped Evans closer and took a good look at Hermione's face.

"Tsk tsk, that's not a good face, I don't think it's going to happen."

Tom shook his glass, "Please take a closer look."

"That won't be necessary," Evans waved his hand and the pattern on the table disappeared, "I'm always very accurate."

"This one is a natural, destined to be Minister of Magic, and you call her a bad face." Tom almost burst out laughing.

"A man who could have been Minister of Magic, I think you have to find the key variable." Evans smiled, indicating that fate was fickle and that perhaps a single unintentional act could affect a person's future.

"A dozen butterbeers, pack them up and take them with you, on his tab." After hearing Evans' prophecy, Tom wanted to simply order and leave. But Evans stopped him, not to make Tom pay for the drink, but to hand him a bag of dragonskin money.

"I know you have some connection to Dumbledore, don't be so quick to deny it," Evans said with a flash of light in the lenses of his monocle, and snapped his fingers, creating an invisible barrier around the two of them, blocking out sound. Even the waiter a few feet away couldn't hear their conversation, "Give him this package from me. It's an interesting trinket with a very powerful curse that I've been working on for some time. It's of no value to me, but I think you need it."

"Remember, don't open it yourself, give it to Dumbledore." Evans was still a little uneasy and repeated the warning.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Tom, taking the leather bag in his hand.

Evans turned his head and looked at Tom, "A name is just a code name, it doesn't matter. I can be Evans, I can be Kline, Lucifer, a monkey if you want, that's fine with me. I'm just a transient, trying to do a little business with you."

At that moment, the waiter pushed the butterbeer packet over, Evans obediently removed the barrier and waved his hand at Tom, "Well, until next time."

Tom pocketed the leather pouch, loaded up the butterbeer and walked out the door of the Pig's Head. At that moment, the witch sitting in the corner also stood up with her hands in her sleeves, and Tom drew his wand with a flourish.

"Expelliarmus!"

A wand spun and flew.

Suddenly, as if rummaging through a hornet's nest, all the guests at the pig-headed bar stood up, only Evans was still sitting there quietly drinking watching the spectacle.

"What does that mean?" The witch questioned Tom in a very hoarse and harsh voice.

Tom didn't even bother to explain, "You mean you stand up with your wand when I go out?"

Tom kept his wand pointed at the witch, and the other patrons were on high alert, their wands clenched in their hands under their robes. The air in the bar almost froze, and a fight seemed imminent.

Just then the tall bartender banged on the table, "Come out fighting!".

He looked at Tom, "Put that thing away, I promise you the bar is perfectly safe, I'll let this guy leave later."

Tom looked at the witch dressed as a witch and laughed, "Hidden rat, that's a terrible disguise, but only a blind man couldn't tell you're dressed as a woman."

The "witch" heard this and shuddered, she never thought her disguise could be easily spotted! She felt cold beads of sweat break out on her forehead as she saw the eyes of the people around him. She felt a twinge of remorse that she had been caught this time, that she had wanted to follow him quietly to see if she had a chance to win some gold galleons, but she had run into a tough guy.

Tom lowered his wand, but at the same time readied his basilisk form and made his way out of the pig-headed bar, bit by bit. As he stepped out onto the road, Tom saw Dumbledore standing by the post office from a distance, looking with interest at the notices posted outside the post office window.

"Professor, sorry to keep you waiting." And with that, he handed over the butterbeer in his hand. "This is a Hog's Head butterbeer, it's quite good and has a distinctive flavor. You might want to try some, Professor."

Dumbledore took the beers with a smile, then used a cleansing spell on them.

"The butterbeer there is very authentic, but the bottles are a bit dirty." His blue eyes were fixed on the beer bottles, examining them carefully, trying to find any remaining dirt on them.

"Professor, there's another weirdo, who asked me to give this to you." Tom handed him the leather bag and then repeated what Evans had said.

Dumbledore took the bag and opened it with the tip of his wand, and a yellow-orange gold coin rolled out of it.

Tom had a feeling that this coin was not so simple.