Chapter 233. You Indulge Him Too Much
In mid-October, the students saw an exhilarating notice on the noticeboard—Hogsmeade would open at the end of the month.
That meant that on Hallowe'en, all third-years and above who had permission could go to Hogsmeade.
For Harry and the others who had just started third year, this was something new.
Harry suddenly felt a bit fortunate—thankfully, he had used certain special means to get his guardian—his aunt—to sign the permission form.
Otherwise, he would only be able to watch his mates head off to Hogsmeade.
Over the next few days, Harry kept looking forward to the opening day of Hogsmeade.
Until one morning, Professor McGonagall came over to him in the Great Hall with the permission form.
"Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said sternly, "although your permission form bears your guardian's signature, you cannot go to Hogsmeade."
Hearing this, Harry hastily put down his fork and shot to his feet.
Across from him, Ron and Hermione also stopped what they were doing and looked over.
"Why?" Harry asked, bewildered. "I clearly have a signed—"
Harry broke off mid-sentence, because he had more or less guessed the reason.
"These are special circumstances, especially for you," Professor McGonagall's expression softened. "Black could make a move at any time."
Harry fell silent for a moment.
He knew Professor McGonagall was right, but he very much wanted to go to Hogsmeade.
"Black won't attack me in broad daylight," he argued urgently. "Hogsmeade will be packed with people—he wouldn't be foolish enough to strike with that many witnesses."
At that, Professor McGonagall sighed, and her tone turned severe again. "Mr Potter, you underestimate the madness of an Azkaban escapee. Black has nothing left to lose."
"But—"
Harry still wanted to say more, but Professor McGonagall cut him off. "Don't put us in a difficult position, all right?"
This time, Harry had no way to argue.
He knew he was putting Professor McGonagall in a bind.
He slumped, suddenly dejected.
Just then, an unexpected voice broke in.
"Let Harry go, Professor McGonagall," Wesson came over, smiling. "I'll keep a close eye on him. With my protection, Black won't be able to harm Harry at all."
Harry looked at Wesson in delight; his eyes lit up at once.
Professor McGonagall adjusted her glasses.
"Professor Wesson," she sighed, "you indulge him too much."
Wesson gave her a smile.
That, in effect, meant Professor McGonagall wasn't objecting.
She had absolute confidence in Wesson's abilities.
"All right," Professor McGonagall relented at last, though her gaze remained severe. "Keep a good watch on Harry, Wesson—you know how serious the situation is."
"Of course," Wesson answered lightly.
He knew better than anyone that Black's target wasn't Harry at all—Harry was perfectly safe.
At a time like this, let the children have their fun.
Hogsmeade was an interesting place.
After Professor McGonagall left, Harry let out a long breath. "Thank you, sir."
Wesson smiled gently and ruffled Harry's hair. "Enjoy your trip to Hogsmeade, Harry."
He winked and went on, "Though I do hope you and your friends won't mind a professor tagging along while you wander the shops."
At that, Hermione immediately stood up.
"How could we mind?" she said in delight, eyes shining. "You're welcome any time, Professor Wesson."
Hermione didn't mind in the least—in fact, she was rather pleased—and Ron nodded vigorously beside her.
"That's wonderful," Wesson said with a grin, nodding. "As it happens, I go to Hogsmeade quite often—there are plenty of interesting places there."
Hermione and Ron exchanged a look.
It seemed they had just gained a guide.
By the end of October.
Today was the first day Hogsmeade was open to students.
Everyone was looking forward to the trip.
Early in the morning, students began wolfing down breakfast and then heading out in groups.
Harry and his friends were no exception.
Soon, Wesson was leading the three of them down Hogsmeade's main street.
The weather was uncommonly fine today—even at the tail end of October, the sun finally peeped out and brought a touch of warmth to everyone.
Wesson took the trio to nearly every place in Hogsmeade.
Honeydukes, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, Zonko's Joke Shop—
At midday, Wesson brought them to the Three Broomsticks.
Everyone but him had pockets stuffed with sweets.
All from Honeydukes.
And all on Wesson's tab.
Of course, the three of them were very restrained at first and didn't take much—until Wesson said there was no need at all to spare his purse; he'd recently made a tidy sum, enough to buy out half a roomful of sweets.
The Three Broomsticks was especially lively today, mostly filled with students from Hogwarts.
Harry and his friends picked a spot by the left-hand corner wall.
While Ron was staring, dazed, at Madam Rosmerta's retreating figure, Wesson waved to them and took his leave.
His time minding the children was over.
From here on, they could enjoy themselves.
Wesson glanced around, then turned and stepped into a private parlour at the back of the pub.
It was a room of modest size, with a few small tables and lots of chairs.
Several professors had already arrived.
Sprout, Flitwick, Lupin…
Professors needed a bit of recreation too, didn't they?
To avoid putting pressure on the students outside, they had booked a room at the Three Broomsticks especially for this.
On the table in front of Professor Flitwick sat a brightly coloured drink—his favourite specialty at the Three Broomsticks.
When he saw Wesson, he quickly beckoned. "Come over, Wesson."
Wesson strode across.
"I heard from Professor McGonagall you were looking after that boy Harry today," Professor Flitwick said, standing on his chair. "Looks like we've nothing to worry about."
Wesson shrugged. "Harry's out there—perfectly fine."
"There, you see, Pomona," Professor Flitwick said, winking at Sprout beside him. "I told you Harry would be fine. You ought to have a bit more faith in Wesson."
"Oh—" Sprout gave Wesson an embarrassed smile. "That's not what I meant—I was just a little worried…"
At that moment, Madam Rosmerta brought over some Butterbeer.
Sipping his Butterbeer, Wesson listened to the professors' conversation.
It seemed they all cared very much about Harry.
Or rather, they were paying close attention to Black, lurking in the shadows.
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