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They sat in the Filthy Wand, an ancient pub in the heart of Knockturn Alley that served the best bitter in all of England—made by monks who did only ritual magic, eschewing wand use—and had the best chips and IPA battered cod in the world.

They watched the others in the pub, wondering when their master would again call them into battle.

The two wizards turned in opposite directions when they heard shouting. While one watched the card game get heated, the other made sure it wasn't a distraction.

A witch appeared in the door, her face shielded by a cloak but a diamond cutout in her robes revealed impressive if wrinkly cleavage.

She joined the two, flicking her hood down and stealing some chips. "My niece invited me to her kids' halloween party. Wanna come be chaperones to give her a night off?" And get away from all this, was the unasked question.

Both shrugged. "Sure."

A flick of the fingers and the bamboo and paper that protected the table from the food turned into a panda shaped bamboo box with a hemp string as a handle.

As they left Knockturn Alley, they apparated away, making use of the anti-anti-apparition-jinx hex their master had taught them, thumbing their nose at the ineffectual aurors.

They awoke. Their master was dead. They could feel it. Sleep pulled them back to their pillows. Time enough to mourn in the morning.

Late that morning, when both were awake, a bottle of firewhiskey was removed from a pocket and three tumblers transfigured from empty crisp packets were generously filled.

"To James, may he Wield we—"

"James and Lily are dead," came the witch's stricken voice from the front door. She had stepped out to see if the Prophet had arrived yet.

They turned to her, their faces now as pale as hers. "But… Harry?"

"Alive. The paper is calling him the Boy-Who-Lived. Survived the killing curse. Albus has placed him somewhere it seems."

The drinks were held up but the toast changed. "To the Potters. Your losses are the worst tragedy."

"It says all Death Eaters are being rounded up," she said.

"Then our duties in England are complete," the second wizard said, revealing an Egyptian accent. "I extend the offer of hospitality you have extended me."

They accepted his offer. They had no claim to Harry Potter and had committed many crimes in their Master's employ. They had only stayed in England after his disappearance because they could feel he still lived. If the next Wielder needed them, he would send his messengers to retrieve them.