Night gradually fell over Hogsmeade and the Three Broomsticks, which had been bustling with afternoon crowds, began to empty as students and villagers made their way home. The tavern's atmosphere grew more intimate as the crowd thinned, leaving only the most dedicated patrons nursing their drinks by the crackling fireplace.
Adrian couldn't remember exactly how many butterbeers he had consumed throughout the long afternoon. Tonks was a very lively girl, at least that's what he thought. In just one afternoon, they had almost become close friends.
From Remus's account, Adrian learned about their encounter on the night of the recent full moon. Honestly, these two did seem to have some inexplicable connection—what others might call fate.
Adrian had always thought that Remus would remain obediently within the Shrieking Shack during his monthly transformations, but unexpectedly he had run to the Forbidden Forest.
"Tonks, shift change in half an hour."
The voice interrupted their comfortable conversation with authority and exhaustion. Adrian looked up to see a middle-aged man approaching their table with thinning hair and deep fatigue in his eyes.
"Oh, alright, Mr. Jameson," Tonks replied with immediate obedience, her posture straightening slightly as she shifted from friend back to subordinate. "Would you like some butterbeer?"
Jameson lowered himself into the chair beside Tonks with a grateful sigh. He nodded politely to Adrian and Remus with the kind of automatic courtesy that came from years of public service.
"Sean Jameson, from the Ministry of Magic's Auror Office," He introduced himself. "Good evening, Professors. I hope our young Tonks here hasn't been troubling you too much—she's still learning."
Adrian noticed that although Jameson appeared listless and worn down by his duties, his eyes were in constant, subtle motion, observing their surroundings.
This was clearly the behavior of an experienced Auror, someone who had survived years in one of the most dangerous professions in the wizarding world by never truly relaxing.
Jameson didn't linger at their table for long. After downing his butterbeer with the efficiency of someone accustomed to snatching meals and drinks between duties, he stood with another weary sigh and made his excuses.
"Jameson has a young daughter to take care of," Tonks explained once the older Auror was out of their sight. "He's been raising her on his own for the past two years now. That's why our Chief is making sure he gets proper rest during the Christmas holidays—everyone knows he's been pushing himself too hard."
Adrian didn't press for more details about Jameson's personal situation, because it certainly wasn't something appropriate to discuss.
"Anyway, things should become significantly easier once this current security period is over," Tonks said, standing up and stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied groan. "After Christmas, those Dementors will be returning to their posts around Hogwarts. We can go back to our regular duties instead of playing glorified security guards."
"After Christmas?" Adrian couldn't help but repeat.
"Oh, didn't Professor Dumbledore inform the faculty?" Tonks paused in her stretching, her eyes widening as she realized she might have revealed confidential information. "I just assumed you all knew about the Ministry's decision. It's been the talk of the Auror office for days."
"Well, we certainly know now," Adrian replied with a slight smile.
He hadn't expected those Dementors to recover so quickly. Hopefully, after this lesson, they would be more well-behaved. After all, when those Dementors had gathered together in such numbers around the stadium, it had most likely not been on direct orders from the Ministry, but rather their own spontaneous behavior.
"Oh no," Tonks said with distress, her hair shifting to an anxious shade of muddy brown. "I think I might have revealed something I really shouldn't have... Well, it should be fine, right? You would have found out soon enough anyway. I really should learn to keep my mouth shut when I'm off duty."
She grabbed her cloak from the back of her chair and waved hurriedly at both men. "Goodbye, I really have to go report for duty now. Sean will have my head if I'm late for the night shift."
With that, she rushed out of the pub, her hair brightening to a more optimistic purple as she disappeared into the evening crowd.
"What an interesting young girl," Adrian observed meaningfully, turning to study Remus's face with calculating eyes. "Don't you think she's quite remarkable?"
"Ah, yes," Remus agreed wholeheartedly. "She's... she has a very unique perspective on things."
Adrian smiled secretly to himself.
The current Remus had no idea that this vibrant young Auror would eventually become far more than just a casual acquaintance. Although the overall plot of their world might undergo various minor changes due to Adrian's influence and presence, he had always believed in the truth that two truly compatible people would inevitably find their way to each other, regardless of the circumstances that brought them together.
The Hogsmeade visit became a cherished memory as it faded into the past, and the Christmas holidays fell upon Hogwarts like a peaceful blanket of snow and silence.
The castle was always remarkably quiet during this time of year, as most students eagerly departed for their family homes, leaving behind only a small group of those who had nowhere else to go or who simply preferred the magic of Christmas at Hogwarts to whatever awaited them beyond the castle.
This year, the number of students remaining for Christmas was particularly small—perhaps two dozen in total scattered across all four houses. Among them, as had become tradition, were Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
Harry was fortunate to have two good friends, otherwise he would have had to spend this Christmas alone. As for the possibility of returning to Privet Drive for the holidays—the thought had never seriously crossed his mind. He couldn't escape from the Dursleys fast enough during the summer months; the idea of voluntarily returning to their place was thoroughly unappealing.
Unfortunately, Adrian's annual tradition meant that Harry's favorite professor would not be available for Christmas companionship. Every year without fail, Adrian traveled to America to visit his family.
On Christmas morning, Harry and his two friends made their way to the Great Hall, which had been transformed into a winter wonderland that took their breath away.
The walls were draped with garlands of fresh holly, their red berries gleaming like jewels in the morning light, while clusters of mistletoe hung from the ceiling at intervals, causing the remaining students to cross carefully around certain areas.
More than a dozen magnificent Christmas trees surrounded the hall, each one decorated with hundreds of tiny, flickering candles that filled the air with the warm scent of pine and magic.
Although the hall felt somewhat empty with so few students scattered across the four tables, the Christmas decorations and the general atmosphere of celebration more than compensated for the lack of crowds. If anything, the intimacy made the holiday feel more special, more personal—like a family gathering rather than a school function.
After thoroughly enjoying the sumptuous breakfast prepared by the house-elves, the trio decided to venture outside to enjoy the winter weather. Heavy snow had been falling throughout the night, blanketing the castle grounds in a layer of white that sparkled like diamonds in the pale morning sunlight.
The courtyard was transformed into a winter playground, with snow piled in deep drifts against the stone walls which actually added to the fun.
After Harry cast a Warming Charm on his clothes and shoes, he began having a snowball fight with his friends. Although they initially agreed not to use wands, somehow someone started it, and the ordinary snowball fight gradually turned into a magical battle.
For a while, magical snowballs that could change direction flew everywhere, and the sound of Shield Charms being cast rose and fell.
However, in the midst of this magical chaos, an unexpected accident occurred. One particularly large snowball—the product of Hermione's attempt to combine a Growth Charm with a Tracking Spell—seemed to develop a mind of its own.
Instead of following its intended trajectory toward Ron, who was crouched behind a makeshift snow fort, the projectile veered wildly off course, tracing an arc through the air.
With what seemed like malicious precision, the runaway snowball struck a lone figure who had been walking along the corridor that bordered the courtyard, minding his own business and completely uninvolved in their winter warfare.
"Oh no!" Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in horror.
Harry's trio immediately stopped and hurried over to check on their unintended victim.
It was a middle-aged man they didn't recognize, rather ordinary-looking with little hair, holding a piece of parchment in his hand.
"Sir, we're terribly sorry!" Harry called out as they approached, his voice carrying genuine concern and embarrassment. "Are you hurt? We didn't mean for that to happen—"
The middle-aged man calmly brushed the snow from his shoulders and the front of his robes, showing no signs of anger or even mild irritation at the unexpected assault.
"It's perfectly fine, young man," He replied with surprising calmness. "These things happen when magic is involved. Just be more careful with your spell work in the future."
After delivering this gentle admonishment, the man simply turned and continued on his way and disappeared around a corner of the castle.
"How strange," Ron muttered under his breath, watching the man's retreating figure with puzzled eyes. "I've never seen that person before, and I thought I knew most of the staff by now. He didn't even seem annoyed about getting hit."
"He's most likely from the Ministry," Hermione explained. "Don't you remember? Ministry Aurors are currently stationed here at Hogwarts for security purposes. He was probably making some sort of official rounds or delivering reports."
"Hmph," Ron nodded thoughtfully, brushing snow from his own robes. "I suppose Aurors don't look particularly intimidating when they're not on active duty. I was expecting someone more... I don't know, more impressive? More obviously dangerous?"
Students at Hogwarts had all heard stories about the legendary Aurors and their reputation as elite magical law enforcement officers. After all, under normal circumstances, any student hoping to join their ranks after graduation would need to achieve at least five subjects at "Exceeds Expectations" level in their N.E.W.T. examinations—a standard that was well beyond the reach of most ordinary students.
The idea that such elite wizards could look so thoroughly unremarkable was somehow both reassuring and slightly disappointing.
As the mysterious Ministry official disappeared from view, Harry was thoughtfully at the spot where the man had vanished. Throughout their brief interaction, he had gotten the impression that the stranger had been staring at him the whole time.
But after a moment's consideration, Harry shrugged off his unease. After all, he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and his lightning bolt scar made him instantly recognizable to almost every witch and wizard in Britain. Most strangers who realized who he was couldn't resist staring.
The small incident, combined with the increasingly heavy snowfall that was beginning to make their winter battle less enjoyable ended their outdoor festivities. The trio decided to go to the warmth and comfort of Gryffindor Tower, leaving the courtyard to return to its peaceful, snow-covered silence.
As soon as they climbed through the portrait hole and entered the common room, Harry and Ron immediately collapsed onto the comfortable sofas near the crackling fireplace.
The warmth of the room was a blessed relief after their time in the cold, and they could feel sensation gradually returning to their frozen fingers and toes.
Hermione, however, seemed immune to the exhaustion that had overwhelmed her friends. Instead of joining them in their comfortable stretch, she produced a thick book from somewhere in the depths of her robes—how she had managed to conceal such a substantial tome was a mystery that neither Harry nor Ron cared to investigate—and sat into an armchair to begin reading.
"Please, Hermione, it's the holidays," Ron complained weakly, one arm thrown dramatically across his eyes as he spoke. "Can't you put down whatever academic torture device you're holding and just relax with us for once? We're supposed to be on vacation from learning."
Hermione looked up from her book with the kind of patient expression usually reserved for small children or particularly slow students.
"Don't forget about your Potions homework, Ronald," She said rolling her eyes with pointed emphasis. "You were scolded severely by Professor Snape during our last class, and I seem to recall some rather creative threats about what would happen if you didn't improve your work."
They had, in the spirit of holiday celebration, managed to temporarily forget about the dreaded essay on Wolfsbane Potion that Snape had assigned just before the break began. Or rather, they had forgotten about the fact that their previous attempts at completing this assignment had been... less than successful.
Harry had indeed finished the required twelve-inch essay within the specified timeframe, but upon reflection, the content of his work could charitably be described as creative fiction.
While it wasn't completely unrelated to the actual topic of Wolfsbane Potion, it was riddled with inaccuracies, unsupported theories, and what Snape had termed "wildly irresponsible speculation that could get someone killed."
Ron's attempt had been even less successful, if such a thing were possible. In fact, with the exception of Hermione, whose essay had been so comprehensive and well-researched that it could have served as a reference text, almost every student in the class had received a sarcastic critique from their Potions master.
"Wolfsbane Potion... I still don't understand," Ron covered his eyes. "Why do we need to learn about that stuff?"
Harry shrugged. Maybe Snape was just trying to make things difficult for them—after all, that was his style.
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